Waking from the dream left Zeming weighed down by bone-deep exhaustion. Today had been anything but easy.

But home was different. Here, he felt reborn—his soul redeemed, liberated. Truly resurrected.

"Home... it’s good to be back."

He flopped onto the sofa the moment he stepped inside, sinking into its soft embrace. Pure freedom. The kind only he could feel. Even stripping naked would be...

*Heh. Maybe not.*

"Daddy, were you tired today?"

Vivian sat beside him, tiny hands cradling a popsicle, lips gently sucking the chill away.

"A little," he admitted. "Had some trouble at school. The kind that leaves you feeling... not great. Actually, pretty awful."

Entering that dream strained his body. He hadn’t practiced transforming in ages—let alone been dragged back into that world today. The mental toll was obvious, compounded by the sudden battle.

His spirit had changed, somehow letting him shift forms within dreams. The *how*? Unclear. And honestly, he couldn’t be bothered to figure it out.

*Science can wait.*

"Sorry, Vivian. Too wiped to play today."

"It’s fine..." Her cheeks puffed like a squirrel’s, betraying her grumpy sigh. "I’ll play alone. Where’s Mom?"

Zeming knew that look. Knew exactly what to do.

He stretched back on the sofa, clearing space beside him.

"Boring..." Vivian grumbled. Then, swift as a shadow, she scrambled behind him. She clung to his back like a koala, arms looping his neck, cheek pressed warm against his shoulder.

"Just us two resting... not bad."

"Mm."

"What’s wrong? You’ve been quiet since I got home."

"Mm... Met a weird older sister at school today. She said lots of strange things... then vanished."

"Sounds like a horror movie. Don’t scare your old man—I’m easily spooked."

Silence settled.

*Click-clack.*

The front door swung open. High heels shattered the calm. Vivian’s ears perked up like a startled rabbit’s.

"Mommy’s home~!"

Eira stepped in, head bowed, her crisp OL uniform a stark contrast to her slumped shoulders. Not the vibrant woman they knew.

She kicked off her heels carelessly. Trudged forward. Then—without warning—collapsed into the space before Zeming, her head thudding against his chest.

*...1... 2... 3...*

*What the hell?! Is the world ending?!*

Zeming froze, trembling. Eira had *never* leaned on him first. Never sought *his* warmth.

Her arms slid around his neck. Pulled him close. Tight.

"...Zeming. You *have* to help me."