The next project was the uniforms.
Elena and Miri's maid outfits were standard issue — functional, well-made, but ordinary fabric. They wouldn't last long under heavy use, and they offered nothing beyond basic modesty and professionalism.
Yuki could do better.
He set up in the main room with his materials — boar leather for the shoes, mana thread for the fabric, blue mana stones for the enchantments. Elena watched with professional interest as he worked.
The new uniforms were mana-woven from the ground up. Same black-and-white colour scheme, same cut and style — Elena had been adamant about maintaining the traditional look — but the fabric was tougher than leather while being softer than silk. Stain-resistant. Self-cleaning at a low mana cost. Temperature-regulating.
Then the enchantments. Passive healing — a low-level regeneration field that would ease muscle fatigue, mend small cuts, and keep the wearer healthy. Strength and agility enhancement — subtle, nothing dramatic, just enough to make carrying heavy trays and climbing stairs easier. The shoes got special attention — mana-woven leather, cushioned interior, with a healing enchantment specifically for feet. A maid spent all day on her feet. These shoes would make sure it never hurt.
He handed the finished sets to Elena. She held them up. Examined the stitching — invisible. Felt the fabric — impossibly smooth. Tried the shoes — and her expression shifted in a way that told Yuki her feet had been hurting for a very long time.
"Sir," she said carefully. "These are enchanted."
"Lightly."
"These are heavily enchanted. I served a noble household for eight years. Lady Harmond owned one enchanted garment — a winter cloak — and it was a family heirloom worth more than the house."
"Well. Now you have two outfits."
Elena looked at the uniforms. Then at her daughter, who was bouncing on her toes waiting for her set. Then at Yuki.
She bowed. Deep. The kind of bow that wasn't professional — it was personal.
"Thank you, Lord Yuki."
"Just Yuki is fine."
"Thank you, Lord Yuki."
He wasn't going to win that one either.
By evening, the house was transformed.
Hot water in every room. Climate control on every floor. A basement laboratory that could contain a war. Enchanted uniforms on a maid who moved through the kitchen with renewed energy and shoes that didn't hurt.
Elena had been cooking dinner for the past hour and the house smelled incredible — she was, as Lira had promised, an excellent cook. Whatever she was making involved roasted meat, fresh herbs, and something with the sunbloom citrus that made the entire ground floor smell like warmth.
The evening routine settled into place with a naturalness that surprised him.
Couch. Projection pyramid. Family.
Yuki had loaded new episodes into Kana's glass projection pyramid that afternoon — a full season of a fantasy adventure anime constructed and loaded by his parallel minds. She set it on the low table in front of the couch and pressed the top facet.
Light bloomed. The opening theme played. Three children went motionless.
Yuki sat on the couch with Lira beside him — closer than usual, her shoulder pressed firmly against his arm, her thigh against his. Warm. Deliberate. He felt his pulse tick up and forced himself to focus on the screen.
Hana was in her spot. His lap. She'd climbed up without asking — at this point it was less a request and more a territorial claim. Her black tail curled around his forearm. Her ears tracked the music.
Kana was on the floor.
Not just on the floor — on the floor directly in front of the projection, her face maybe thirty centimetres from the light display.
"Kana. Back up."
Silver ears didn't move.
"Kana. That's too close. It's bad for your eyes."
"My eyes are fine."
"They won't be if you sit that close."
Beside Kana, also thirty centimetres from the projection, was Miri. Cross-legged, maid uniform pristine, completely absorbed. She'd been shy for exactly one afternoon before Kana's gravitational field had pulled her into orbit. Now she was a full convert — sitting on the carpet in front of the TV like she'd been doing it her whole life.
Yuki looked at the little maid, sitting on his living room floor, watching anime. His lip twitched.
My baby maid is watching cartoons.
"Kana. Miri. Back up. Both of you."
Nothing. The show had reached an action sequence and both girls were gone — absorbed, unreachable, existing in a dimension where parental instructions didn't penetrate.
Yuki sighed. Cast his magic hand — a telekinetic construct, invisible, shaped like a broad palm — and gently gripped both girls' collars. He pulled them back a metre and a half.
They slid across the carpet without breaking eye contact with the screen.
Lira burst out laughing. The sound was bright and warm and made the whole room feel lighter.
"They're hopeless," she said.
"They're still just babies."
"You're seventeen and you're using archmage-level telekinesis to enforce screen distance."
"Parenting requires all available tools."
She laughed harder. Her head dropped against his shoulder. Her hand found his arm. His cheeks began to blush at the sudden display of affection
This is nice. This is really nice.
Elena served dinner on the big table. Roasted boar — Kana and Hana's kills from yesterday — with herb crust, roasted vegetables, and a citrus glaze made from sunbloom fruit. The presentation alone made Yuki's homestead cooking look like cave-man fare.
"Elena," he said after the first bite. "This is incredible."
She bowed her head. "Thank you, Lord Yuki."
Yuki was unable to get her to agree to let Miri eat with the kids at the table. Instead, she helped serve the table and stood on standby while the family ate. Both Elena and Miri would be able to eat the same meal, just in the staff kitchen, which this house apparently had.
After dinner, back on the couch. Two more episodes. The theme song had been collectively memorised — Kana danced in front of everyone singing it at full volume, Miri danced and hummed along beside her, and Hana's tail wagged in perfect rhythm from Yuki's lap.
Elena sat in the back of the living room with a cup of tea and watched her daughter dance.
Miri was laughing. Really laughing — the kind that came from the belly, the kind that made her stumble mid-step and grab Kana's arm to steady herself. She was full. She was warm. She was spinning in a living room with friends, wearing shoes that didn't hurt, in a house where the water ran hot and no one was coming to take anything away.
Elena's tea blurred. She blinked and felt the warmth on her cheeks before she realised she was crying.
She didn't wipe her face. She just sat there, hands around the cup, watching her daughter dance with a full belly in a safe home, and let the tears come quietly.
It was the first moment of joy she'd had since the night they ran.
Miri stopped mid-spin. She'd caught sight of her mother across the room — the tea, the still hands, the wet cheeks. She broke away from Kana and padded over, her small shoes quiet on the floor.
She stood in front of Elena and looked up at her face.
"What's wrong, Mama?" Her voice was small. Worried. "Why are you sad?"
Elena set the tea down. She cupped her daughter's face with both hands — gently, the way you hold something you almost lost.
"I'm not sad, darling." Her voice cracked on the word. She smiled through it. "I'm happy."
Miri studied her mother's face the way children do — searching for the lie, checking if the adults were pretending again. She found nothing but warmth and wet eyes and a smile that trembled but held.
"Okay, Mama," Miri said. Then she climbed into Elena's lap, tucked her head under her mother's chin, and stayed there.
Elena held her. One arm around her daughter, the other reaching blindly for the tea. She didn't find it. She didn't care.
Across the room, Yuki watched. Lira's hand tightened on his arm. Neither of them said anything. Some moments didn't need commentary.
Kana looked between her dancing partner's sudden departure and the scene in the back of the room. Her ears drooped — not sad, just soft. Understanding beyond her years. She grabbed Hana's hand and pulled her to the floor near the projection, giving Elena and Miri their space without being asked.
The episode played on. The living room was warm.
Yuki was about to start a third episode when his barrier pinged.
Someone at the front gate. Not one person — many. He extended his mana sense.
Twelve soldiers in formation. Armed. Official. And one man in the centre wearing something that wasn't armour — finer, more ornate. A noble's travelling clothes.
They were walking up the path to his front door.
And there it is.
The loud knock came three seconds later. Heavy. Authoritative. The kind of knock that expected to be answered.
Hana flinched and pressed into Yuki's chest. Kana's ears flattened. Miri looked at her mother, who had appeared in the kitchen doorway with a ladle and an alert expression.
Lira's hand tightened on his arm.
Yuki sighed. Gently lifted Hana off his lap and set her on the couch beside Lira. Stood up.
"Pause the show," he said. "I'll be right back."
He walked to the front door. Rolled his shoulders. Composed his expression.
Flying in public. Pulling fifteen giant serpents from a magic bag. Soloing Gold quests on day one. And I'm surprised someone showed up at my door.
He opened it.