Sharon's Old House

"Xia Lun, do you remember? This sofa was something we bought together from the market. You haggled with the furniture vendor for so long back then, finally bargaining it down from ten gold coins to three. At the time, I didn’t feel much about it—I even found it hard to understand why you’d waste your breath over such a trivial matter, since the money wasn’t a big deal… But now, I think you were amazing.

Xia Lun, this bookshelf was made by your own hands, meant to hold all my grimoires… You probably didn’t know, but the ones I placed here were my most treasured forbidden spells. Remember how I couldn’t reach the top shelf? You’d always lift me up so I could grab them… Even though I could’ve easily summoned them with magic, I’d still call for you to hold me. Looking back now, I realize I must’ve already loved you back then.

Xia Lun, building this staircase took so much effort… Heh, you weren’t exactly a professional carpenter, so it kept collapsing at first. In the beginning, I had to carry you up using flight magic. But later, you went to the city to learn from a proper craftsman and finally got it right. If people knew the legendary Hero was actually so clumsy with his hands, they’d never let you live it down.

Xia Lun, this is the bed…"

Xia Lun: "…"

After all that, Aina finally revealed her true intentions.

"I know, I can see that. It’s a bed," Xia Lun nodded, stating the obvious with perfect seriousness. "So, what’s the story behind this one?"

"We lived here for nearly thirteen years. We did it two thousand, three hundred and twenty-one times on this bed." Aina licked her lips, reciting the number with unsettling precision.

Xia Lun’s mouth twitched. His wife’s mental state was… decidedly concerning.

"Are you sure about that number?" He’d much prefer it if she were just teasing him with a random figure. Otherwise, it was downright terrifying.

"Oh, that count’s actually low. There were also five hundred sixty-two times on the sofa, three hundred sixty-seven on that wicker chair, the carpet…" Aina listed them off like a merchant tallying inventory.

Xia Lun: "…"

"Surprised? Xia Lun, don’t forget—I spent an entire millennium bringing you back to life. These memories… I’ve chewed them over so many times I could spit out the pulp."

Aina suddenly grabbed Xia Lun’s collar and yanked him down. The Demon King’s claws tore through his buttons, leaving faint red marks on his skin.

"You’ll need… to create endless new memories with me to make up for all those empty years." She pounced, and they tumbled onto the bed together. Flames engulfed them as monstrous wings, dripping with an eerie aura, unfurled from Aina’s back.

His clothes got burned again. Xia Lun sighed inwardly.

Maybe it was the nostalgia? Aina seemed unusually spirited today. He might actually get a proper workout.

In the depths of Aina’s desire-clouded crimson eyes, Xia Lun saw his own reflection.

"Let’s begin, Xia Lun… Our two thousand, three hundred and twenty-second time…"

……

"I heard this was Xia Lun’s son’s room…" Joli cautiously pushed the door open.

Unlike the other rooms in the cabin, this one seemed neglected—dust had settled, and a faint musty odor lingered in the air.

But it wasn’t a problem. Joli had brought his own bedding, wrapped in the outermost layer of his giant pack.

The bed didn’t look dirty either; a quick wipe would do.

The room was simple but spacious—a desk, a bed, a wardrobe… On the desk sat a few small wooden animal carvings. They weren’t masterpieces, but the care put into them was evident. Strangely, the carvings were spotless, as if regularly polished. Their presence was the only hint that this had once been a child’s room.

"Put me on the desk," a voice floated from the storybook in Joli’s arms.

"Ah, right. Of course, Musen."

And so, the storybook became one of the room’s few whimsical decorations.

The desk drawer wasn’t locked, slightly ajar. After a moment’s hesitation, Joli couldn’t resist opening it.

Inside were rows of small glass vials, each coated in thick dust, obscuring their contents.

Curious, Joli picked one up and wiped away the grime. Inside was the long-dead corpse of a tiny insect, preserved for who knew how many years.

"Did Xia Lun’s son… like collecting bugs?" Joli muttered.

A perfectly normal hobby for a young boy. He thought little of it.

"Still, Xia Lun had a child? He looks so young."

Clearly, Joli didn’t know Xia Lun’s true identity, assuming he was just Liyana’s current teammate. Family matters weren’t his business to pry into.

Musen didn’t offer any explanations either. He knew Aise was a thorn in Xia Lun’s heart, best left untouched.

The wardrobe had slatted windows, revealing nothing inside. Joli didn’t bother opening it.

After laying out his bedding, Joli yawned and quickly fell asleep.

……

"Ah, the nostalgia… Xia Lun’s cabin. I can’t even remember the last time I stayed here." Liyana flopped onto the bed and rolled around.

Mo Lini hesitated. The bed wasn’t large—they’d have to squeeze in together. She was wary of Liyana taking liberties.

"Still, how has a wooden cabin lasted this long?" Mo Lini ran her fingers along the walls, intrigued.

"Normally, it wouldn’t. But Aina clearly has her ways."

Liyana could sense it—every plank of wood in the cabin pulsed faintly with magic. Aina had taken measures against decay.

Stretching on the bed, Liyana showcased her flawless figure… though Mo Lini’s gaze never lingered, instead scanning the room’s layout.

Hmm… utterly ordinary. Nothing extravagant, yet nothing lacking either. No luxurious furnishings, just cleanliness and warmth—the unmistakable feeling of home.

Mo Lini would’ve enjoyed it more if not for the idiot elf on the bed.

Night fell, draping the world in darkness.

"Mo Lini, look outside."

Following Liyana’s finger, Mo Lini stared out the window, momentarily spellbound.

Fireflies danced through the night, a swirling river of stars.

"Beautiful."

Liyana grinned. "Great spot, right? I was the one who recommended this place to Xia Lun."