Two days passed.
Two long, twitchy, System-alert-pinging days full of nail-biting silence and occasional exploding mailboxes (one of which may have been Yor mistaking a suspicious package for a bomb. It was a fruit basket).
But the letter finally came.
Cream-colored. Embossed with gold. Heavier than a normal envelope because of course Eden Academy didn't just send a regular letter. No, this was a status symbol in paper form.
Anya stared at it like it might bite her.
Loid cut it open with the precision of a neurosurgeon. The moment he unfolded it—
[Main Mission Update: STATUS – PASSED INTERVIEW. ADMITTANCE GRANTED.]
[Reward: Bonus Funds + Access to Parent-Level Campus Credentials.]
[New Mission Tree Unlocked: Operation Strix – Phase Two: Gain the Trust of Donovan Desmond.]
Anya was already running laps around the living room.
"I'M A STELLAR STUDENT! I'M A STELLAR STUDENT!"
"You haven't earned any Stellas yet," Loid said.
"I'm manifesting."
Yor clapped her hands, eyes shining. "I'll make a celebratory dinner!"
He opened his mouth to suggest restraint, but paused—
[Side Mission: Survive Yor's Cooking Without Dying or Lying.]
[Reward: Resistance Buff – "Unkillable Stomach."]
"…Great idea," he said faintly.
Later that evening, after Yor's… "experimental" pork medley (which might have contained cinnamon), Loid was finally able to retreat to the one place in the apartment that felt like his: the study.
Books. Files. Secret compartments. No crayons on the ceiling.
Anya was asleep, exhausted from celebrating.
Yor had gone to soak in the bath and, presumably, apologize to her spices.
And Loid—the man behind Loid—was once again deep in the world of surveillance feeds, intercepted messages, and encrypted briefings.
[Incoming Message from WISE – Priority Channel.]
[Subject: Target Movement – Donovan Desmond's Security Reshuffle Confirmed. Event Opportunity in 5 Days.]
"Event?" he muttered.
[Confirmed. School Function: Imperial Scholars Mixer – Parent Participation Required. Suggested Infiltration: Through Social Bonding and Faculty Charm Tactics.]
Of course.
He couldn't just sneak in dressed as a janitor and plant bugs. That would be too easy.
No, this mission required him to become a trusted parent. A PTA favorite. A man who showed up early to recitals and remembered birthdays.
He had faced black sites with fewer unknowns.
Still… a plan was forming.
[Sub-Mission Branch Detected: "Cultivate Bonds with Fellow Parents to Build Intelligence Web." Reward: Hidden Network Access + New Safehouse Location.]
He leaned back, fingers steepled.
Fine.
He'd infiltrate the Imperial Scholars mixer.
He'd smile. He'd sip tea. He'd probably wear a sweater.
And if it meant getting closer to Donovan Desmond and uncovering what threat he posed to global peace?
He'd become the best damn room parent in Ostania.
Meanwhile, down the hall—
Yor stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, towel wrapped around her hair, steam clouding the glass.
He was so calm during the interview.
So composed. So… honest.
Why did it matter so much when he said he wanted to be better for Anya? Why did it make her chest feel like it had been struck with a throwing star?
She shook her head.
Feelings weren't safe. Not for someone like her.
She'd spent years compartmentalizing emotions, just like she'd been trained.
But Loid… Loid was different.
She could feel it in the way he looked at Anya. The way he protected them. The way he smiled—not fake, not forced—but like it cost him something.
And that, for some reason, made it precious.
That night, long after they were all supposed to be asleep, Loid sat on the couch, shirt sleeves rolled up, disassembling a hidden bugging device into pieces the size of dust.
Anya padded over in her pajamas, holding a pillow and an oversized stuffed penguin.
"Can't sleep," she said.
"Too excited?"
"Too many thoughts."Too many loud brains in the building again… but yours is still quiet. I like your quiet.
He shifted slightly. "Sit."
She climbed up and leaned against him. He didn't move, didn't stiffen, just kept working on the device as she curled up beside him.
"You're really gonna protect me at school, right?" she mumbled.
"Of course."
"Even from math?"
"…I'll try."
She yawned.
"…I like being a fake family," she said softly.
He didn't correct her.
Instead, he reached over, and—without thinking—gently ruffled her hair.
It startled him more than it did her.
[Emotional Development Progress: 27%. Warning: Feelings Detected.]
"Sleep, Anya."
"…Okay, Papa."