"Does that mean..." Adi began, his voice barely a murmur as he looked down at his boots, "that the person who lived here before was... exceptionally handsome?"
The girls exchanged glances, a bittersweet tension filling the air.
"He was the one who walked out on us," Rem said, her voice tinged with a sharp edge of resentment. "He was pathetic, honestly. But yes... he was beautiful in his own way."
Adi tilted his head, his expression carefully neutral. "How pathetic can one person be?"
Rem scoffed, leaning against the wall. "He was a disaster. He stared at the washing machine like it was some alien artifact, asking if such 'magic' really existed. When we handed him his guild card, he just blinked at it. We thought he was joking, but he genuinely had no idea how to even activate it. He was helpless."
Adi's heart hammered against his ribs, but he kept his voice steady—the voice of a stranger who had never known the name Ash. "What was his name?"
"Ash," Maria replied, her eyes narrowing as she tried to read his face. "But why the sudden interest?"
Without a word, Adi pulled a guild card from his cloak. It was a ruin of plastic and ink—deeply creased, bent at the corners, and scarred from years of neglect. The girls didn't even hesitate; one of them snatched it and flicked it toward the corner of the room, dismissing it as rubbish.
Adi watched the card settle in the dust. For a split second, a cold, predatory anger flared in his eyes—a silent storm brewing behind his calm exterior. His fingers twitched, but he forced the rage back down into the dark corners of his mind. He couldn't break character. Not yet.
He followed them into the living quarters, where a fresh bed had been prepared for him.
He stared at it, the surprise momentarily breaking through his stoic mask, though he refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. He simply stood there, a ghost in a room filled with memories of a man they thought they knew.
Adi sat on the edge of the new bed, his gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the courtyard was a hive of activity. Adventurers were hauling in carcasses of monstrous prey—beasts he recognized all too well. He had been the one to fell them, using his hidden powers from the shadows to ensure the guild's survival, yet they remained oblivious.
"Tch... so even here, the world hasn't changed," he muttered, a trace of exhaustion leaking into his voice. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, exhaling a long, jagged breath that seemed to carry the weight of two lifetimes.
As he lay there, his eyes caught a glimpse of the laundry basket. It was overflowing with the girls' clothes, sitting neglected near that "alien artifact" of a washing machine.
With a quiet sigh, he stood up. His movements were fluid and practiced, a stark contrast to the "clueless Ash" they remembered. He flicked the switch, measured the detergent with surgical precision, and balanced the load. He didn't just run a cycle; he handled the machine with the expertise of someone who had mastered the mundane. Once the chime rang, he methodically dried and folded the garments, leaving them in a neat, professional stack.
His stomach gave a sharp, demanding growl. He hadn't tasted a single morsel since arriving in this realm.
Stepping into the kitchen, he surveyed the pantry. The grains were familiar—almost identical to the high-quality stock of his former world. Without a second thought, he moved among the pans. The kitchen became his stage. The rhythmic sound of chopping and the sizzle of the pan filled the quiet room as he prepared a feast—not just for himself, but enough for everyone.
An hour later, the girls returned, the heavy scent of savory spices and caramelized herbs hitting them the moment they crossed the threshold. The aroma was elegant, complex, and utterly mouth-watering.
"Is that... food?" Maria whispered, her eyes widening.
They moved toward the kitchen, but stopped short at the laundry nook. Maria ran a hand over the freshly cleaned fabrics. "He... he already did the washing. And he did it perfectly."
They turned toward the bedroom, their footsteps softening. Adi was fast asleep, sprawled across his bed. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a golden halo across his features. In the soft light, the "predatory anger" from before was gone, replaced by a calm, youthful innocence that made him look breathtakingly handsome.
For the first time, the girls stood in silence, looking at the "pathetic" stranger who was starting to feel far too much like a master of their world.
Hours later, Adi's eyes drifted open. The room was no longer silent; the air was thick with the rich, lingering scent of his cooking and the rhythmic clinking of silverware. He watched from the shadows of his corner as the girls sat huddled around the table, their usual sharp bickering replaced by a stunned, appreciative silence as they devoured the last of the food.
He stood up, his body feeling heavy and hollow from hunger. He made his way to the kitchen, reaching for the main container. He lifted the lid, expecting a warm meal, but his heart sank. Empty.
He checked the kettle, tilting it back. Not even a single drop of tea remained to soothe his parched throat. They had polished off every single thing he had made.
Adi turned slowly, his gaze leveling on the group. The girls froze, a piece of bread halfway to Maria's mouth, looking like guilty children caught in an act. The silence stretched until Masha, looking genuinely sheepish, nudged a small plate toward him. On it sat two lone sandwiches—the final survivors of the feast.
Without a word, Adi took the plate. He retreated to his new bed and sat on the edge, his back against the wall. It was an old, ingrained habit—eating in his own space, his own sanctuary, where no one could touch him.
He had just taken his first bite when the peace was shattered. A frantic, heavy pounding erupted at the door, vibrating through the wood.
Adi didn't flinch. He set the plate down, walked over, and swung the door open. A messenger stood there, his face ashen, gasping for air as if he'd run across the entire kingdom.
"Hey!" the guy wheezed, his eyes darting past Adi. "Call the girls… now!"
Adi didn't raise his voice. He simply glanced over his shoulder. "They're here."
The girls approached the doorway, Rem leading with a cold, piercing stare that usually made men wither. "What is it?" she demanded, her voice like a winter frost.
Adi didn't say a word. He stepped back into the shadows, pointing a single, steady finger toward the trembling messenger.
The guy swallowed a lump in his throat, his voice cracking as he delivered the words that turned the room to ice.
"We found the body at the edge of the Abyss," the messenger whispered, his eyes wide with a terror that hadn't yet faded. "It's over. Ash is dead."
The room plummeted into a suffocating silence. Maria dropped her fork; Rem's cold mask shattered into a look of pure, unadulterated shock. They all turned instinctively toward the corner—toward Adi—who stood there in the dim light, his face an unreadable void.
The man they were mourning was dead, yet the man they were looking at felt more like a ghost than the one they had lost.
The room plummeted into a suffocating silence, but it wasn't the silence of grief. It was the silence of cold, hard realization.
Maria's eyes snapped toward the desk, her face twisting—not with sorrow, but with sheer irritation. "Died? You have to be joking!" she snapped, her voice rising in a frantic pitch. "No way. This is a disaster! The paperwork alone will take weeks, and we haven't even finished our first official mission. If the guild finds out he's dead before the report is filed, we're finished!"
She paced the room, her boots clicking sharply against the floor. Then, she stopped dead. Her head turned slowly, her gaze locking onto Adi, who was still sitting calmly on his bed, the half-eaten sandwich in his hand.