Hero is already extinct.

Zeming was deeply disappointed. After all, he himself had been one of the main reasons the Hero craze started back then.

Maybe in the past, he’d just wanted to have fun, to play around. But he never realized everything was wrong.

Humans treated danger and salvation as mere entertainment. When others fell into perilous abysses, their first thought wasn’t how to save them—it was to wait quietly nearby, hoping a Hero would appear.

Everyone abandoned their own potential to create miracles. They gave up thinking too much, surrendering their space for growth. People trivialized every danger, treating it like boring side dishes to kill monotony.

Is this what Hero is now…? Truly disappointing.

"We’re back. Time to get dinner ready, okay?"

Zeming walked out carrying vegetables. Tonight, he’d cook something healthy and light for the patient.

Clear soup was best for sick people—dry foods caused heatiness too easily. Maybe vegetable-meat porridge would work too.

Shaking off his heavy mood, Zeming shifted his thoughts. What should he cook to treat his wife tonight?

Caring for patients needed full attention. One slip could worsen things. Besides, Eira’s body wasn’t naturally strong. Her health came from hard-earned exercise.

Elusa had told him Eira was frail as a child. Her weak body struggled to stay healthy. Only later did training boost her immunity enough to barely fend off illnesses.

"Leave this to me. You go check on my sister."

Elusa followed behind. The moment she kicked off her high heels, she snatched the grocery bags from Zeming’s hands.

"Huh?"

Zeming hadn’t even glimpsed her black-stockinged feet when something else hit him.

Elusa grabbed his collar, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

Such terrifying strength… No wonder she was Eira’s sister!

"That ‘huh’—were you pleasantly surprised by my domestic skills? Or were you doubting I’d cook for you? Which ‘huh’ was it exactly?"

She smiled, but a chilling aura of killing intent clung to her face. Honestly, that expression was pure nightmare fuel.

"Look at you, sis! Of course I’m overjoyed, speechless with happiness…"

Right. A smile was a smile. Zeming forced one out. This was the only orthodox move.

"Better be."

"Absolutely! You misunderstood, totally misunderstood…"

As the pressure on his neck faded, Zeming finally grasped his situation.

Lowered slowly, he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.

Women were scarier than monsters by miles!

Watching Elusa stride into the kitchen with the groceries, her back view was lovely—but did she look like someone who could cook?

She was a muscle-flaunting oni demon in apron form!

Uneasy, Zeming entered the house. The eerie silence made him curious.

"Huu…"

"Hahaha… Mama…"

In his bedroom, a heartwarming sight eased his terrible day.

Eira lay peacefully on the bed. Her thin clothes were slightly sheer. Long strands of hair scattered across her body. Her fair face and cherry-red lips looked like a painting when she was silent.

Vivian nestled in the crook of Eira’s left arm, like a secure cradle. Asleep, she smiled softly. For this pure little angel, beauty needed no praise—her innocence was enough.

Mother and daughter shared silvery-white hair. Together, they looked like a sea of moonlight.

"You two, sorry to interrupt, but dinner’s almost ready~~"

Zeming leaned on the bed, itching to roll in and nap with them. But no—this perfect scene didn’t need a man’s intrusion.

"Hmm… Evening already? How long did I sleep?"

"Haa! Mama’s awake! Papa!!"

Vivian launched herself at him the moment she saw him. Such a clingy little thing.

"Yes, yes, I’m back. You’ve slept nearly five hours, Eira. Time to eat."

"The whole day? Unforgivably lazy. No exercise at all."

Eira lowered her head. A life without routine was her personal hell.

Zeming’s hand bravely crossed the gap. One finger gently brushed her cheek.

"What are you doing?"

Her face flushed crimson instantly. Her fierce stare sent chills down his spine.

"Hair strands stuck all over you. Especially around your mouth."

"My mouth!?"

Eira frantically patted her face. Sure enough, strands clung everywhere.

"Rare to see you like this~"

Every morning, Eira was already exercising when he woke—always tidy. He’d never seen her messy before.

"Darn it…"

"Hehe, angry now~~"

As Zeming laughed, his cheek stung. Vivian was yanking it hard.

"Papa can’t bully Mama." The kid even knew how to protect her mom now.

"Yes, yes. This little traitor only helps her mom."

Papa’s heart turned icy cold.

"Nothing bad happened today, right?"

"Nothing at all! You hit a lucky day~~"

Of course he’d never tell her. Her sister had silenced every reporter and bystander on the spot, threatening: "Speak out, and you’ll be humanely erased." She’d even beaten half-dead some guy trying to call it in. Eira would never know.

"You’re really gentle."

Zeming smiled.

Eira was different. Her kindness reached every vulnerable soul.

Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to this fake marriage. Only with her did he feel safe.

"You’re rude. I really want to punch you!"

Eira shot a glare. If Vivian weren’t here, she’d have thrown the fist.

"Hehe, see how sweet our daughter is~~"

Zeming ruffled Vivian’s hair, rubbing his face against hers.

The cozy moment shattered. Knocking at the door—and that pungent stench—cut through the air.

"Zeming! What did you cook? This smells like my sister’s old banana-sausage stir-fry!"

Eira covered her nose, gagging.

"Mama, Papa… the smell… Vivian feels sick."

Mother and daughter stared at him, teary-eyed. His superhuman nose couldn’t handle it.

"Sister! My precious niece! Dinner’s ready~ I made my specialties: banana-sausage stir-fry, durian chicken stew, and stir-fried mugwort. You’ll adore them~"

That sugary-sweet voice… coming from *her*?

If it were just this, he might only die. But *he* came too!

"Zeming, my old buddy! Came for soda and chats. Open up!"

Damn it. That damn cop should’ve stayed put. Why show up now?!