The warm weight of two small bodies pressed against Kazen’s sides as a pale morning light filtered through the sheer curtains. His eyes fluttered open, instinctively seeking the clock on the wall across the living room. 7:43 AM.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, instantly awake. School started at 8:00 sharp.

  He tilted his head to the left. Rei was curled up against him, her hair slightly mussed but her breathing calm. On the right, Nia was tangled half atop him, her arms wrapped around his chest, lips slightly parted in deep sleep.

  “Girls,” Kazen said softly, brushing Nia’s hair out of her face. “Wake up. We’re te.”

  Rei’s eyes opened the moment his voice cut through the air. Quiet and alert as always, she blinked slowly, nodded once, and sat up with minimal fuss. Nia, however, groaned and buried her face against his side.

  “Five more minutes, Daddy…” she mumbled, voice muffled.

  “No can do, munchkin.” He lifted her in his arms, standing up in one smooth motion, cradling her as she half-whined, half-clung to his shirt. “We have seventeen minutes to get you washed, dressed, fed, and out the door.”

  Rei was already padding toward the bathroom wordlessly. He smiled. That girl rarely needed prompting.

  By the time they reached the sink, Rei was brushing her teeth efficiently, standing on her little pstic step stool. Nia blinked blearily at her own toothbrush, pouting as Kazen squeezed a dot of strawberry toothpaste on it and gently guided her hand.

  “Big circles, okay? Just like we practiced,” he said, crouched beside her.

  “But I’m still sleepy…”

  “You can nap after school,” he said patiently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But if you go with stinky breath, all the other kids will run away.”

  She huffed, then reluctantly started brushing in earnest. Beside her, Rei finished up, rinsed, and wiped her mouth with a towel. She gnced at Nia, then back at him.

  “Uniforms next?” Rei asked.

  “Yep. Let’s go.”

  They scrambled into their rooms. Kazen helped Nia into her little pleated navy skirt and white blouse, adjusting her red ribbon with care. Rei dressed herself precisely, folding her socks over just the right way, slipping on her polished bck shoes.

  He gnced at the kitchen clock—7:52. No time to cook.

  “Okay,” he said, ushering them toward the door, “change of pns. No bentos today. I’ll buy you something delicious on the way. Deal?”

  “Yay!” Nia perked up immediately. “Can I have choco bread?”

  “You can pick what you like. Rei too.”

  “Thank you,” Rei said softly, tugging her satchel over her shoulder.

  They sprinted down the street, weaving through the sparse morning crowd. The sun was warm now, casting long golden beams through the quiet neighborhood as they passed four street corners in quick succession. Nia was ughing and talking the entire way, pointing out a stray cat, a funny-shaped cloud, her new cssmate’s house.

  At the convenience store just around the corner from their school, they grabbed food quickly—melon bread, a sandwich, hot dog buns, two bottles of juice.

  By 7:59, they were standing at the school gates, breathing a little hard but grinning.

  A young teacher in her twenties stood by the door, clipboard in hand, greeting the children. Nia ran up cheerfully.

  “Good morning, Miss Endra!” she chimed.

  “Good morning, Nia. Don’t get into trouble again today,” the teacher said with a mock-stern expression, before turning her gaze to Rei, who bowed politely.

  “Morning, Miss.”

  Rei’s tone was more reserved, but respectful.

  Kazen caught up seconds ter, offering the teacher a polite nod. She studied him for a moment.

  “You must be Rei and Nia’s father?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s me. Is there a problem?”

  “We’ve been hoping to speak to you. Their nanny said you’re usually at work.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, offering an apologetic smile. “Yeah… my department had this massive project. Overtime’s been insane. But I’m caught up now—I can manage everything going forward.”

  She smiled gently but hesitated. “It’s Rei, actually. She’s doing well in her written work and behavior, but… she rarely talks. Doesn’t interact with cssmates. And more concerningly, she’s falling behind in her magic core training.”

  Kazen’s smile faded. “Magic training?”

  “Yes. You know how important it is at this age—especially with her talent. We don’t want such a promising seed to wither. Please, if you can talk to her, encourage her.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I will. Thank you for telling me.”

  He stood there a moment longer, watching as Rei walked into the school building with her usual silent grace and Nia bounded after her like a hummingbird. Something tightened in his chest.

  When he got back home, the silence was heavy, clinging to the furniture like dust. The living room was still a mess of bnkets and pillows. He folded them carefully, then cleaned the kitchen, picking up crumbs and wiping down the counters. Everything felt oddly mechanical.

  When the chores were done, he walked down the hallway, past the photo of their small family—him, his wife, and Rei as a toddler. Nia hadn’t been born yet in that picture. His wife’s smile haunted the still frame, gentle and luminous.

  He opened the door to the girls’ shared room.

  The shelves were filled with books, picture frames, and a few plush toys. Rei’s side was meticulously clean—her notebooks stacked neatly, her pencils sharpened to perfect points. Nia’s side was an organized mess: crayons, puzzle pieces, a stuffed dragon missing one eye.

  Kazen sat on Rei’s bed and ran a hand over the soft comforter. He opened her drawer carefully, sifting through her notebooks. One had her magic training exercises—half-finished circles, early elemental glyphs. The st page had been filled in nearly two months ago.

  He sighed.

  “Why’d you stop, Rei…” he whispered.

  His mind drifted back to the day she was born. His wife had looked exhausted but radiant, holding their first child to her chest.

  “She’s going to be something special,” she had said, brushing a finger across the baby’s cheek.

  And she had been right. The birth measurement tool had marked Rei’s talent at AA rank—an incredibly rare gift. Her core potential reached the realm of light cyan, far beyond his own A-rank dark green core. Nia, while a rank lower, still inherited solid talent.

  But Rei had changed when her mother passed. The light in her eyes, once curious and bright, had dimmed. She still functioned—still studied, behaved, obeyed—but there was no spark. No color.

  And her core training, the most vital part of early magic education, had halted entirely.

  He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

  Magic core development wasn’t just about raw talent. It was built through resonance—channeling mana, forming conduits of intent and spirit. Children with higher talent advanced faster, their cores shifting through the color spectrum. His own core had progressed from red to orange, then yellow. After years of discipline and pushing boundaries, he’d achieved green. Only after another painful year did it reach dark green, pcing him among the rank 4 wizards. Beyond that was solid green, light green… and then the cyan threshold, where AA rank truly began.

  For Rei, with her potential, reaching cyan should’ve been inevitable.

  But it was stalled. Like a door shut from the inside.

  He closed the drawer and stood.

  He didn’t know how to force her to feel again. But maybe—just maybe—he could reach her gently, through what remained of the world her mother had helped build.

  He looked around the room once more, then stepped out, closing the door behind him.

  A quiet resolve settled into his bones. If she needed time, he would give her time. If she needed warmth, he would give warmth. He’d trained in magic through blood and grit. But raising these girls… this was something deeper.

  Something sacred.

  And this time, he would not fall short.