The house changed again. Not for winter this time—but for something different. Brighter. Festive.

  A celebration was coming.

  I could feel it before anyone said a word. The way my parents moved, the way the air buzzed with quiet excitement—it was everywhere.

  Eleanor and the maid spent hours in the kitchen, their voices soft, their sleeves rolled up, their movements precise. The smell of roasted meat, warm bread, and something spiced I couldn’t pce drifted through the halls like a promise.

  My father—which I found out was named Nathaniel—made his way from room to room like a man on a mission, fixing old hinges, polishing wood, even finally dealing with the door that had creaked since the first snow.

  The guest room was made up with fresh linens. The pantry looked like it had exploded with food. Laughter filled the house more often, and the fire never went out.

  Something—someone—was coming.

  I didn’t know who. But my parents kept giving each other these knowing gnces, smiles they didn’t bother hiding. Whoever it was, they mattered.

  And then it happened. A few days ter—

  A knock.

  Sharp. Confident.

  Everyone stopped. Even I froze, nestled in the maid’s arms. Eleanor and Nathaniel rushed to the door, and the maid followed close behind. I peeked around her shoulder, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t understand.

  The door creaked open.

  Cold air rushed in, chasing snowfkes and sunlight through the threshold. Four silhouettes stood in the doorway, backlit by the storm.

  Then—

  "It’s really you!" Eleanor gasped.

  "Four winters," Nathaniel said, his voice thicker than usual.

  Laughter followed. Boots were stomped clean, cloaks shaken loose, hands cpped. Warmth returned to the house the moment they stepped inside.

  I blinked.

  And then blinked again.

  A tail.

  A real tail. Long. Feline. It flicked casually behind a tall woman with what looked like cat ears on top of her head. Not part of a costume. Not some fuzzy accessory. Real. They twitched. Moved. Reacted.

  I stared.

  What the hell.

  Beside her stood a short, broad figure. Stocky. Bearded.

  A dwarf.

  Was I hallucinating? Was this part of the New Year party theme?

  No. This was normal to them. Everyone acted like it was completely normal.

  My brain short-circuited.

  The guests stepped inside. One by one, their features came into focus.

  The dwarf—chestnut beard, silver rings woven through it. He carried himself like someone used to adventure, but also like he enjoyed the sound his cane made on polished floors.

  The cat-eared woman was tall and athletic, practically oozing mischief and confidence. Her cloak swished with each step, and her grin made me feel like she was about to steal something just for the thrill of it.

  Then came another woman—leaner, younger. Sharp-eyed and fidgety. Pale hair pulled into a messy bun. Her hands never stopped moving. She looked like the rogue in a fantasy game, the one who always had two daggers hidden where you least expected.

  And st…

  A man in deep robes. Hood up. Staff in hand.

  A red gem glimmered at the tip, etched with faint runes. His silence was louder than everyone else’s conversation. The kind of silence that demanded attention.

  They all entered like old friends coming home. Coats were hung near the firepce, gloves dropped into a basket, and mugs were filled with practiced ease—steam rising, quiet ughter echoing.

  The fire fred up again, like it had been waiting.

  “Four years,” Eleanor said, handing the dwarf a warm drink. “Feels like longer.”

  “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about us,” the dwarf said, sinking into an armchair like it was his.

  “Forget you?” Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “You’d never let us.”

  “Damn right,” the dwarf muttered.

  The cat-woman gave a little spin before hanging her cloak. “Still smells like cedar and meat in here.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Eleanor said, ughing.

  “It is,” the cat-woman said with a grin. “Better than mold and goat sweat.”

  “Is that what your st inn smelled like?” the rogue asked, perched on the couch arm.

  “Only on the good nights,” she shot back.

  They all ughed—comfortable, familiar.

  And then they noticed me. Still in the maid’s arms, still stunned silent by the casual arrival of fantasy races into my living room.

  "Oh my gods, is that him?" the cat-woman gasped, ears perking.

  "He’s adorable!" the rogue added, practically teleporting to my side.

  Suddenly, I was the center of attention. Tiny hands squeezed. Cheeks pinched. A tail wrapped around my back like it was trying to help hold me upright.

  I didn’t fight it. I just… let it happen. Honestly, it wasn’t so bad.

  The robed man stayed back. Quiet. Watching. Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was smooth, confident.

  "So this is the infamous Kenji—the son of Nate and Eleanor. Hah… He really does look like a miniature version of you, Nate. But those ears? No mistaking it. That elven blood runs strong."

  Wait.

  What.

  Those words hit me like a thundercp.

  Elven blood? Ears?

  I blinked. Slowly. Then turned my gaze to Eleanor.

  She ughed at something the dwarf said—and brushed her hair behind her ear.

  Pointed.

  Elegant.

  Undeniably not human.

  My breath caught.

  SHE’S NOT HUMAN.

  How had I not seen that?

  I looked at Nate. Clearly human. Tall. Broad. Normal.

  And me…?

  I gnced at my tiny hands. My reflection in the polished window.

  Half-elf. That’s what I was.

  Not fully human. Not fully elven. Something in between.

  And weirdly… I didn’t hate that.

  I didn’t feel fear. Or rejection. I felt… curious.

  The rogue leaned in, her voice teasing. "He’s staring like he just saw a ghost."

  I let out a baby giggle—fake, of course. But inside, I was still trying to process all of it.

  Magic. Beastfolk. Dwarves. Mages with glowing staffs. And now… I wasn’t even human myself.

  And somehow… that was okay.

  I looked at my mother. My father. The firelight dancing across their faces.

  The ache in my chest didn’t vanish. But for the first time in this new life , it eased.

  This world was strange. Different. Magical.

  And maybe—just maybe—I belonged here more than I thought.

  I leaned into the maid’s arms, the warmth of the room wrapping around me like a bnket.

  This wasn’t Earth. But it didn’t have to be. Not anymore.