The station was still there.

  Kazen stood at the edge of Ptform 4A, watching as the ethereal rail glyphs spun beneath the translucent tracks. Floating carriages glided in with a soft hum, the air shimmering slightly as their mana barriers flexed against the weight of the arriving crowd.

  From above, the city sparkled — not with stars, but with enchanted nterns shaped like tiny runes. Roads glowed blue under reguted traffic glyphs, pedestrians’ personal shields shimmered faintly like soap bubbles, and the skyline was carved with light lines — invisible to the untrained eye — marking mana zones and cssified districts.

  “Mana rails,” he murmured to himself.

  This world’s magic system still confounded him — no grimoires, no spell incantations. Everything was technical, internalized, streamlined. Magical cores were cssified by color, function, and resonance compatibility. Public transportation ran on wide-area enhancement cores powered by fusion ley reactors. And tickets?

  You tapped your wrist sigil against the glyph terminal, and the fare deducted itself via mana signature.

  He stepped onto the nearest car as it hissed open. Inside, seats floated slightly above the floor, self-bancing even as the train began to move. The lighting adjusted to passenger comfort levels. A soft voice, genderless and polite, echoed in his ear:

  “Next stop: East Twelve, Ward Seventeen. Estimated time: three minutes. Weather in Ward Seventeen: mild winds, 18 degrees Celsius.”

  He remembered all of this from Kazen’s memories — the internal database of his life unfolding like files slowly syncing after a long disconnection. But living it now, with fresh eyes and three lifetimes of perspective yered atop it?

  He was amazed.

  He just didn’t show it.

  He leaned back, eyes closed, as the train soared across the city skyline.

  By the time he reached Ward Seventeen’s residential district, the artificial sky had shifted to twilight hues. Home was only five minutes away — an apartment tower nestled between a public shield station and a corner convenience enchantment shop. Safe. Quiet. Well-maintained.

  He remembered punching in the code to the elevator door.

  He remembered forgetting to add a voice ID for the girls.

  He remembered barely ever coming home.

  And now?

  Now his fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the door chime.

  The light above the door glowed blue. A soft tone pyed. Then a voice from the other side:

  “One second!”

  The door opened.

  She stood there in a soft blue apron, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted in flour. Her blonde hair was tied into a tight bun, and a mana comm-link pulsed faintly around her wrist.

  Arielle, the nanny.

  Certified by three legal cores, trained in early-stage mana development, and personally recommended by a high-ranking council staffer.

  She blinked at him.

  And kept blinking.

  “Sir... Prosecutor Arlow?”

  He managed a nod. “Yes.”

  “You—uh—I mean, you’re—” she stepped back, unsure. “You're home?”

  “I live here,” he said, then immediately realized how cold that sounded.

  Arielle stared for a beat longer. “You haven’t been home in three weeks.”

  He didn’t flinch. “Where are they?”

  She blinked again, snapped out of it. “Oh—Rei and Nia are in their room. I just finished cooking dinner. Was about to call them, actually.”

  He looked toward the hallway. “Have they eaten yet?”

  “No. I was giving them a few more minutes. They were drawing, I think.”

  “Good,” he said, then paused. “I’ll join them for dinner.”

  Arielle hesitated. “You... will?”

  “If they’ll allow it.”

  A surprised smile broke across her face — not mocking, not sarcastic, just warm. “You’re their father. Of course they’ll want you there.”

  He nodded once. “I’ll freshen up first.”

  “Of course. Their dinner’s almost ready.”

  Kazen stepped through the apartment — clean, organized, child-friendly. His shoes clicked softly against the polished wooden floor. Floating cleaning runes drifted around the ceiling corners like enchanted dust mites.

  He paused at the door to the bedroom he used to share with Lira.

  The room smelled faintly of vender. The sheets were neatly made. On the dresser, her comb still y next to a mana-charged night mp. Her clothes hung, untouched, in the wardrobe.

  He didn’t open it.

  Instead, he moved to the sink and spshed cold water on his face.

  The shock jolted more memories loose.

  A memory of sitting at this very dining table, young Rei feeding Nia pudding with her hands, Lira ughing despite being covered in food. Another of Rei asking him to stay for dessert. Another of him checking the time, sighing, and standing up mid-meal with a muttered, “Duty calls.”

  He dried his face and stood there for a long moment.

  Then, without ceremony, he changed into a simple dark t-shirt, gray pants, and house slippers. He ran his fingers through his hair — still neatly combed from work — and stepped out into the hallway.

  The dining table was already half set.

  Arielle looked up, blinking again as if unsure whether he’d vanish.

  She called softly, “Girls? Dinner’s ready.”

  Silence.

  Then the sound of a door opening. Light footsteps.

  Two sets.

  First came Nia — six years old, bck hair in two poofy tails, her tiny hands smudged with pastel chalk. She entered the room mid-sentence.

  “—and then Rei said I couldn’t have the sweetberry cookie but it wasn’t hers and—”

  She stopped.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Daddy?”

  He didn’t even have time to respond before she squealed and ran at him full speed, flinging herself into his arms.

  “Daddy!! You’re here!”

  He crouched and caught her, the breath leaving him in a stunned ugh as her tiny arms wrapped around his neck like a vice.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

  Behind her, Rei walked in.

  Eight years old. Silent. Stoic. She held her drawing pad to her chest like a shield. Her expression was unreadable.

  She stopped at the edge of the table. Said nothing.

  He looked at her. “Hey.”

  She blinked. “Are you… staying?”

  He met her gaze. “If you’ll let me.”

  Rei sat down slowly. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t look away either.

  Nia climbed into the chair beside her sister. “Rei says no sweets before dinner,” she said with a pout. “But I was so hungry!”

  “She’s right,” Kazen said. “No sweets before dinner.”

  Nia frowned. “You’re on her side?”

  “She’s older.”

  “She’s mean.”

  “She’s responsible.”

  Rei blinked. Nia stuck her tongue out. Kazen just chuckled — a real one, surprised by its own sound.

  They ate together for the first time in what felt like years. Arielle quietly served rice, steamed vegetables, and honey-gzed chicken with mana-neutral seasoning. She didn’t say much — just observed, cautious but hopeful.

  Nia babbled between bites — about school, about how she made a bunny float with her core spark, about how Rei made a perfect circle in mana control css and the teacher said it was ‘exceptional for her age.’

  Rei stayed mostly silent, eating methodically.

  Until midway through the meal.

  “When will you be back?” she asked, quietly. Her eyes never left her food.

  Kazen paused.

  “There aren’t any major cases right now,” he said. “I’m assigning oversight to my juniors. So... I’ll be spending some time at home.”

  Rei looked up. Finally.

  He met her gaze and added, “Since school starts tomorrow... how about I take you both there?”

  Nia gasped. “Really?!”

  He nodded.

  Arielle blinked. “I mean... that’d be great. I was actually going to ask if I could visit my sister for a few days. She's due soon.”

  Kazen turned to her. “Take the time. We’ll be fine.”

  Arielle looked between him and the girls. “You sure?”

  “We’ll manage.”

  She nodded, biting back emotion. “Okay. I’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow, then.”

  Later that evening, as she stepped outside with her travel bag, Arielle turned back and looked at the apartment door.

  She lingered.

  And thought: Will they be okay in there... together?

  The silence answered for her.

  Not perfect.

  But maybe okay.

  Maybe.