The faint pattering sound began just past dawn.
At first, it was soft—like gentle raindrops tapping against the tall glass windows that lined Alvin and Xavier's room. But something about the rhythm was off. Thicker. Heavier.
Xavier stirred, blinking himself awake to the strangely muffled sound. He sat up slowly, hair disheveled, and turned his head toward the large balcony doors.
Then he saw it.
Rain. But not water. Not translucent drops gliding down the glass. These fell heavy and red, like slow-falling rubies sliding along the panes.
His brows pulled together in a frown. "Alvin."
Still in bed, sprawled in the white sheets, Alvin looked up at him. His sky-blue hair was slightly tangled, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. He looked serene—until his eyes followed Xavier's gaze to the window.
"…That better not be blood," Alvin muttered.
Xavier stood and walked to the window, pressing his hand against the glass. The red liquid smeared thickly under his palm. "It's not regular rain. It's… denser. Like plasma."
Alvin sat up with a sigh. "And here I was hoping for a quiet morning."
After dressing quickly, the two made their way downstairs.
The grand staircase gave a wide view of the main hall, where Daniel, Alex, Jax, and Luis were already gathered, seated in the lounge area around the long coffee table.
They looked up as Alvin and Xavier descended.
Daniel lifted his mug. "Good morning. Or whatever this crimson hell counts as."
Alvin's eyes flicked toward the stained windows. "So we're all seeing the same thing then."
"It started about twenty minutes ago," Alex said calmly, though his fingers drummed against his cup. "Not a storm. No wind. Just... falling blood."
Alvin sat down beside Xavier, his fingers laced thoughtfully. "That's not a natural weather anomaly. This world's corrupted."
Luis, still in his half-buttoned shirt, shook his head slowly. "The fog, I could write off as environmental pollution. But this?" He nodded toward the window. "This is apocalyptic horror at its finest."
Jax, chewing on a protein bar like a soldier resigned to nonsense, added, "If I see frogs raining from the sky, I'm out."
Daniel looked at Alvin. "Do you think this is otherworldly magic. Could this be a spell effect?"
Alvin's brows furrowed. "This world wasn't magical. But something might have changed. The virus... I thought it was a biological plague. But these signs—fog that dulls senses, now blood rain—it implies something more."
Xavier leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're saying this isn't just a zombie outbreak. It's something… bigger?"
"Possibly," Alvin replied. "Something unnatural is manipulating the natural laws. Maybe a convergence. Or worse—a corruption of the world will."
At that moment, Sasha's voice rang out from the dining room.
"Children, help set the table! Diana, no licking the jam spoon! Mina, stop feeding the cat cereal!"
The family glanced toward the kitchen doors.
"…At least some things are still normal," Alex muttered.
-
Alvin glanced back toward the rain and thought. "This is what bothers me—when I first arrived in this world, I sensed dormant threads of magic, as if they had been long suppressed. But now… it's like the seal is breaking."
The world will chimed in:
"And the virus is the trigger?"
"Could be. Or the byproduct," Alvin said. "Think about it. If evolution is being forced onto humans through suffering and trauma… what else is being awakened? The earth's energy is reacting."
"So... what? This planet has magic again?"
"Or someone's forcing it back."
Alvin rolled his eyes, this world's will was useless.
Xavier stood up and walked toward the glass doors. The rain continued to fall, coating the yard in crimson streaks. It didn't steam. It didn't hiss. It just... soaked everything.
"No lightning. No thunder. Just blood," Xavier muttered.
Alvin stood beside him. "We'll take samples. See if it contains mana... or virus strains."
"You're not going out in that," Xavier said immediately.
"I'm immune. And it wouldn't be the first time I've been rained on by weird substances."
Jax muttered, "That's an unsettling sentence."
Alex crossed one leg over the other, sipping calmly. "We need a lab, then. Somewhere we can analyze it safely."
"I'll convert one of the upper storage rooms," Daniel said. "We'll need sealed containers, filtration masks, UV scanners…"
Xavier sighed. "The world ends and we become scientists."
"Correction," Alvin said. "We become survivors. The scientists just die smarter."
Luis raised a hand. "Noted."
A moment later, Sasha appeared at the hall entrance, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She looked at Xavier and Alvin, then at the window.
"Is it spreading?" she asked.
Xavier nodded. "Slowly. South and east sectors are already red-washed."
Sasha's lips thinned. "How long do we have before the roads rot?"
Alvin raised an eyebrow. "You knew?"
"I'm a mother," Sasha said flatly. "Mothers know when the sky is bleeding, something's wrong."
Alvin blinked. "…Fair."
Sasha turned to Xavier. "Don't let him go outside alone."
Xavier smirked. "I'm always with him."
"Exactly," she said. "You're the leash. Make sure he doesn't run toward lightning again."
Alvin huffed. "I like lightning."
Everyone ignored him.
-
The scent drifting from the kitchen was… confusing.
A curious mix of overcooked meat, suspiciously burnt sauce, and something that might have once been herbs now sizzling into charcoal. It wafted through the estate, making even the strongest-willed flinch slightly and wonder, Is this smoke… or flavor?
And at the center of it all stood Sasha Loid, apron tied perfectly, expression proud and determined.
She had cooked.
With her own hands.
Natasha, who had peeked in earlier, was still trying to wipe the grease spot off her blouse and emotionally recover.
But none suffered more than her devoted husband.
Alex Loid sat at the long dining table with the resigned bravery of a knight heading into battle. He held his fork with trembling dignity, glancing at the plate in front of him: a stew of uncertain texture, rice that crunched a little too enthusiastically, and meat that had clearly gone through a trial by fire. Literally.
Sasha sat across from him, smiling sweetly. "Eat, darling. I made your favorite."
Alex gave her a smile that was 40% love, 40% terror, and 20% confusion. "Ah, yes… incinerated stew with... volcanic seasoning. My favorite."
He lifted a spoonful and braced himself. One bite. That was all it took.
He chewed, slowly, as if the food might explode if agitated.
Sasha stared at him like a hawk. "Well?"
Alex's eyes watered. He coughed once. Then smiled like a true husband of decades. "It's… incredible."
"You're not lying, are you?"
"I haven't lied to you since 1997."
Sasha narrowed her eyes.
At the other end of the table, something unexpected happened.
The children — Leo, Diana, Ash, Mina, Yiso, and the rest of the chaos brigade — were happily gobbling down their food like it was a feast from the heavens.
"Grandma cooks better than Daddy!" Mina squeaked, her cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.
"Don't say that where Daddy can hear," Lily whispered, giggling.
Sasha blinked. Then smiled. Then nearly melted.
"Grandma…?"
Diana, confident as always, nodded. "You're Xavier's mom. That makes you our grandma now!"
"Yeah!" added Leo. "And Grandma gives more food than Daddy! Daddy makes us eat grass water soup!"
"That was herbal broth!" Alvin yelled from the living room.
Sasha, positively beaming, opened her arms. "Come here, you little rascals!"
In seconds, Sasha was covered in children, two on each knee, others tugging at her sleeves, and Mina braiding her hair with ribbon from the bread basket.
Sasha laughed — a loud, honest laugh that startled even herself. "Well, aren't you all shameless? Taking advantage of an old woman's kindness."
"We love you, Grandma!"
"I'll cook for you every day!" she declared.
Alex, mid-chew, nearly fainted.
In a slightly less chaotic corner of the dining room, Alvin sat beside Xavier, eyeing him with a glint in his eye as he reached for the bowl of rice.
"I'll feed you," Alvin said, lifting a spoon.
Xavier blinked. "Wait, I was going to do that for you."
Alvin raised a perfectly arched brow. "Excuse me? I asked first."
Xavier leaned in, smirking. "Too slow."
And before Alvin could protest, Xavier took a spoonful and gently pressed it to Alvin's lips.
Alvin's eyes narrowed, but he opened his mouth, chewing slowly.
Xavier looked smug. "There. Aren't I thoughtful?"
Alvin chewed. Swallowed.
Then grabbed a piece of carrot, dipped it in stew, and shoved it into Xavier's mouth.
"Fair's fair," he said sweetly.
And thus began an oddly competitive, strangely tender exchange of spoon-feeding. For every bite Alvin tried to feed Xavier, Xavier returned one with exaggerated gentleness — followed by teasing compliments, sly smirks, and foot nudges under the table.
Luis, seated nearby, watched them like he was watching a romantic play and deadpanned to Daniel, "They're like swans in mating season."
Daniel, without looking up from his drink, muttered, "If they start preening each other, I'm leaving the room."