The door closed behind Ludger with a quiet thud, and the echo of his fading footsteps left an odd stillness in the guild hall.

For a few seconds, nobody said anything, they just listened to the faint sound of papers rustling from the adjacent office as if Ludger were still there, still working.

Then Selene exhaled through her nose and crossed her arms. “That kid doesn’t stop, huh? He’s either building bridges, dissecting magic, or rewriting entire combat systems before lunch.”

Harold chuckled, shaking his head. “I swear, I’ve never seen anyone that young work that hard and look that tired doing it. He’s like an old man trapped in an eleven-year-old’s body.”

Aleia smirked faintly. “At least he doesn’t spend his time drinking and picking fights like some Guildmasters I know.”

Arslan’s eye twitched. “I am diligent, thank you very much.”

Cor grunted. “Sure. You’re diligent when someone’s about to die or there’s gold involved.”

The others laughed, but Arslan only scratched the back of his head, half-smiling and half-defensive. “Come on, I work hard. I’ve been running this guild for—”

Selene cut him off with a grin. “Yeah, but your son’s out there quantifying magic and solving world problems between naps. You’re… not really in the same league, Boss.”

Arslan opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, his smile fading a little.

“…He really does take on too much,” he muttered.

The laughter quieted. Cor nodded once, solemn. “Yvar said the same thing a while ago, on several ocassions. The boy’s got too much weight on his shoulders. Always thinking, always planning, like he’s carrying the world in his head.”

Harold frowned slightly. “You think it’s because of us? The guild? The warfront stuff?”

“Maybe,” Arslan said, staring at the table. “Maybe it’s just him. Even when he finally gets a break, his idea of relaxing is finding another problem to solve. He can’t switch it off.”

Aleia looked toward the window, where the sun filtered through the glass, catching motes of dust. “He’s got your stubbornness. And Elaine’s stubbornness as well. Dangerous combination.”

Selene smiled faintly. “At least he’s not wasting his talent.”

Arslan rubbed his chin, the humor gone now. “Yeah… but talent’s a heavy thing to carry when you’re that young.”

There was a short silence after that, the kind that always followed when Ludger’s name came up in a serious tone.

Finally, Harold clapped his hands together, breaking the mood. “Well, until he burns the world down testing those Overdrives, I say we let him rest. He earned it.”

Selene snorted. “Knowing him, he’ll wake up halfway through the nap because he thought of a better way to calculate fire resistance.”

Cor gave a quiet grunt of agreement. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Arslan smiled faintly again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He looked toward the stairs where Ludger had disappeared.

“…Yeah,” he said softly. “Wouldn’t surprise me either.”

When Ludger woke up, the world felt wrong. Not dangerously wrong, just off.

He blinked a few times, staring at the wooden ceiling of one of the guild’s spare resting rooms. He didn’t remember walking here. The mattress under him was soft but smelled faintly of dust and herbs, like it hadn’t been used in months.

Then came the tugging. Something was pulling at his face.

A sharp pinch at his left cheek. Then another, firmer one on the right.

He cracked an eye open, and froze.

Two tiny humans were standing at the edge of the bed, their little fingers stretching his cheeks like dough, completely serious about their mission. Elle and Arash.

The twins were giggling softly as they worked, eyes full of the kind of focus only toddlers could have when performing a crime.

“Oi—” Ludger muttered, his voice muffled by small, pudgy hands.

They didn’t stop. If anything, they redoubled their efforts, apparently offended that he dared to talk while being cheek-pulled.

From the doorway came a familiar voice, warm, amused, and utterly merciless.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Elaine said, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. “Or well… mid-afternoon, technically.”

Ludger exhaled slowly through his nose. “…Mom.”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s going on?” he asked flatly, gently prying Elle’s hands off his face while Arash giggled and tried to climb his chest.

Elaine’s expression was sweet, in that “you’re not escaping this” kind of way. “I’m dropping some work on your hands.”

Ludger frowned. “Work?”

“Babysitting,” she clarified cheerfully. “You’ve been too busy trying to find new ways to blow up half the continent. It’s time you did something less destructive.”

Elle clapped her hands as if in agreement, and Arash made a happy squeal before landing a triumphant slap on Ludger’s cheek.

He sighed. “…So this is my punishment.”

“Think of it as rehabilitation,” Elaine said. “You’ll watch them for a while. No experiments, no manuals, no elemental Overdrive nonsense. Just you and them.”

Ludger stared at her. “I fought runic golems. You think I can’t handle two babies?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Elaine said with an all-knowing smirk. “Good luck, Vice Guildmaster.”

And with that, she turned and left, closing the door behind her before Ludger could form a counterargument.

The twins immediately decided that meant playtime.

Elle tried to climb onto his shoulders, while Arash proudly presented him with something that looked suspiciously like a half-eaten biscuit he’d found somewhere.

Ludger groaned and flopped back on the bed, resigned to his fate.

“…Great,” he muttered to himself. “From destroying monsters to surviving toddlers. Truly, a downgrade in difficulty.”

Arash giggled again, then smacked him in the forehead with the biscuit.

Ludger sighed. “Okay. Maybe not a downgrade.”

Ludger rubbed his sore cheek and sat up, hair sticking up on one side from sleep and toddler assault.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, gently detaching Elle’s grip from his sleeve. “Let’s play something that involves less pulling of flesh… and fewer smacks. Preferably on my face.”

The twins just blinked at him, heads tilting in perfect synchronization, identical sparks of mischief in their green eyes. Then, as if on cue, they both beamed and chorused,

“Lu-lu!”

Ludger pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t Lu-lu me.”

Arash giggled and repeated it louder, “Lu-lu!”

Elle clapped her hands. “Lu-lu!”

He exhaled through his nose, slow, deliberate, the kind of sigh that could wear down mountains. “I said speak this world’s version of English,” he told them dryly, pointing a finger like a teacher. “You two were born here. You’ve got no excuse.”

Both toddlers stared at him in complete silence for a full second… Then Elle let out a tiny snort of laughter and Arash echoed it, falling back on his rear with a soft thump.

Ludger gave up and leaned back on his elbows. “Right. Of course. Talking sense to you two is pointless.”

The twins laughed triumphantly,  small, chaotic victories in their ongoing war against reason.

“Fine,” he said, eyes half-lidded but amused. “New plan. We’re gonna play a game called ‘Don’t make Lu-lu die of stress.’ The rules are simple: you sit there, be adorable, and don’t destroy anything.”

They blinked again, completely unbothered. And then, like a pair of gremlins, they both climbed up onto the bed and collapsed against his arms, giggling and chanting, “Lu-lu! Lu-lu!” in perfect unison.

Ludger stared at the ceiling, utterly defeated. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Definitely the hardest battle I’ve ever fought.”

While Ludger wrestled with the twins’ energy in the resting room, Elaine was sitting calmly in the Guildmaster’s office, a porcelain cup of tea steaming between her fingers. The faint noise of chatter and footsteps from the guild hall drifted through the half-open window, yet she wasn’t really listening.

Her eyes stayed on the cup for a long moment before she sighed. “It feels wrong to relax while Ludger’s looking after the twins.”

Across from her, Arslan was sitting behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, brows furrowed in concentration. A small flicker of red flame floated above his right palm—Tinder. It sputtered, grew, and nearly singed his glove before he snapped his hand closed with a hiss.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking out his fingers. “This was my order. The Vice Guildmaster has to obey the Guildmaster, after all.”

Elaine arched an eyebrow. “You’re invoking guild authority over your own son now?”

He grinned, trying and failing to hide the scorch mark on his desk. “I call it delegation. Builds character, for both of us.”

The flame flickered to life again above his palm, steadier this time, and he nodded in quiet satisfaction. “Besides, Ludger doesn’t hate the twins. You’ve seen him with them. Interacting with those two is the closest thing he has to a hobby. One that doesn’t involve improving already deadly techniques.”

Elaine’s gaze softened a little, but only for a moment. “At this rate, the twins will end up closer to him than to their father.”

Arslan froze mid-gesture, the flame wobbling dangerously. “Hey, that’s—”

She took a calm sip of tea, not looking up. “I’m just saying what’s obvious.”

Arslan groaned, slumping in his chair. “It can’t be helped! He’s their elder brother. Kids always stick to the one who looks the coolest and gets away with breaking rules.”

Elaine hummed. “So your plan is to lose to a eleven-year-old indefinitely?”

He straightened, puffing his chest in mock offense. “Not lose—strategically retreat. I’ll have plenty of time to show my cool side later.”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, utterly unconvinced.

The flame above Arslan’s hand flickered again, then went out completely.

He sighed. “…Eventually.”

Elaine watched in silence for a few seconds as Arslan

coaxed the flame back to life above his palm. The tiny spark wavered, then steadied, giving off just enough heat to curl the edge of a document on his desk.

She exhaled softly through her nose. “Arslan, why are you playing with magic at your age?”

He didn’t even look up. “It’s not playing, it’s training.”

“Training,” she repeated, unimpressed.

“Yeah,” he said, voice earnest. “A method Ludger came up with. Said it improves focus and helps refine elemental affinity.”

Elaine raised an eyebrow. “Your eleven-year-old son is teaching you magic now.”

He nodded, perfectly serious. “Well, he’s good at it. He did it to you too.”

She blinked, then sighed, rubbing her temples. “I swear, I don’t understand you two. When I was his age, I was trying not to burn the kitchen. When you were his age, you were trying to impress girls by showing off your sword drills. And now my son is making training programs for his parents.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. If I were him, I’d be trying to look cool in front of girls by teaching them magic.”

Elaine leaned back with a faint smile, eyes half-lidded. “That would make a lot more sense, yes.”

But the smile didn’t last long. Her gaze drifted toward the window, soft but thoughtful. “Still… even after all this time, he doesn’t interact with kids his age.”

Arslan’s grin faded. “Yeah.”

“All the people around him are adults or young adults,” she said quietly. “The closest to his age are the recruits, and even then, he keeps a professional distance.”

Arslan leaned back in his chair, flame extinguished, arms crossing as he thought about it. “He’s grown too fast,” he muttered. “Not just in strength. In how he looks at the world.”

Elaine’s fingers tightened slightly around her teacup. “He’s a child who forgot how to be one.”

For a moment, the office was silent except for the faint creak of the wood and the soft hum of the guild below.

Then Arslan forced a half-smile. “Guess that’s why I let him handle the twins. Maybe they’ll remind him what it’s like.”

Elaine’s expression softened again. “And what about you?”

He pointed to his extinguished flame and smirked faintly. “Me? I’m just trying to catch up. Our next duel can’t end with me losing, it has to be a very close match at least.”

A couple of hours later, Elaine and Arslan made their way through the quiet guild halls toward the resting rooms. The faint sound of muffled laughter and footsteps from earlier had faded completely,  replaced by a silence only achievable when exhaustion had won.

Elaine pushed the door open gently. The sight waiting for them was… oddly peaceful.

Ludger was fast asleep on the bed, one arm sprawled over his face, the other hanging limply off the edge. His breathing was steady, but his entire posture screamed drained. On top of him, nestled comfortably against his chest and stomach, were Elle and Arash, the twins sleeping soundly, their tiny hands gripping his shirt like anchors.

A faint smile tugged at Elaine’s lips. “Oh, my…”

Arslan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a quiet chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Elaine tilted her head slightly. “Looks like they wore him out.”

“Completely,” Arslan said, smirking. “Not even a giant sea beast managed to make him run, but these two?”

He gestured toward the twins proudly resting on their brother’s chest. “They actually defeated Ludger. Our future’s going to be interesting.”

Elaine smiled softly, watching the three of them. “He looks… peaceful,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Arslan said quietly, eyes softening as he watched his son’s arm twitch slightly, maybe out of reflex, maybe just habit. “Guess you were right. He needed this.”

Elaine nodded, closing the door just enough to leave them undisturbed. “Let him rest. He finally found opponents he can’t outthink.”

Arslan chuckled again as they walked away.

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