Hey! Here is a small slice of life chapter.
I have been sick for the last few days, and I wanted to at least give you something while I recover.
'*'*'
In a sleek, modern house nestled in one of the wealthier corners of the city, the new owner was orchestrating controlled chaos in a kitchen that looked like it had been ripped from the pages of a luxury lifestyle magazine. State-of-the-art appliances gleamed under ambient lighting, and the scent of sizzling oil, spiced vegetables, and grilled meat filled the air like an aromatic promise.
The man responsible stood barefoot on the cool tiles, his lean, feline frame moving with practiced ease. Sunless, ever sharp even in domesticity, wore nothing but a pair of worn gray jeans and a snug black tank top, leaving little to the imagination. His sculpted arms flexed as he stirred, plated, and adjusted heat with effortless control, the serpent tattoo curling along his inner forearm catching the light like a brand. And yet, beneath all the aesthetic perfection—dark hair tousled, movements honed and precise—there was the pink apron tied confidently around his waist, proudly declaring in bold letters: *Kiss the Cook*.
Despite its ridiculousness, it suited him.
Ten generously stuffed breakfast burritos sat neatly on a tray, each wrapped in foil and still steaming. On the counter beside them, an array of traditional Korean side dishes added color and complexity to the spread—kimchi, seasoned spinach, marinated lotus root, and soft rolled eggs arranged with the kind of attention only a man raised on military efficiency and wartime hunger could muster. Two full English breakfasts rested on heavy ceramic plates, still piping hot, and next to them stood a pitcher of freshly pressed juice alongside two delicate cups of rich, dark Turkish coffee.
Now, he was finishing the final touch: a skillet of menemen, its tomatoes bubbling gently as he stirred in crumbles of soft cheese. Sunless glanced at the clock, turned off the flame, and let the dish rest. Breakfast was ready.
Leaving the kitchen behind, he moved into the adjacent room where a freshly cleaned wheelchair waited. He grabbed it with quiet familiarity and pushed it towards the hallway that led to the sleep pod chamber.
Inside, bathed in the low, gentle glow of soft white LEDs, a pod filled with nutrient-rich fluid housed the curled figure of Effie. The device hummed faintly, filtering out fatigue and trauma on a cellular level—top-grade tech for people who needed more than a good night's rest. It wasn't hers, not really; it was a run of the mill model he bought . But they were taking turns using it until her personalized pod—specially fitted to accommodate her condition —arrived.
Alice had stayed for a time too, though she'd since been collected by a Saint of House Night, disappearing with a duffel bag and a wink. That left Effie here, living with Sunless in the meantime. Her' home didn't have the infrastructure to support someone in her condition—nor could they power a sleep pod for more than a few hours at a time—so she'd moved in by necessity, and stayed by mutual agreement.
Four days had passed like that. Quiet, strange, and oddly domestic.
Sunless stood beside the pod as Effie began to stir, her breathing changing, fingers twitching just slightly in the nutrient fluid.
"Hey, doofus," she mumbled thickly as the pod lifted her from its cradle, her voice still coated in sleep. He met her with a tired smile, slipping a towel around her shoulders as he carefully helped her into the wheelchair.
She wasn't wearing much—just a synthetic bra and panties so thin and tight they were practically second skin, designed not for modesty but for long-term use inside the pod. The materials were clinically efficient, breathable and hypoallergenic, avoiding the chafing and pressure that normal clothing would cause when worn submerged for days on end. Still, she looked absurdly underdressed, and he made a deliberate effort not to comment.
"You're lucky I'm not in the mood to bicker in the morning," he muttered instead, wheeling her toward her bedroom so she could change.
"Shut up," she muttered back, groggy and half-smiling as he pushed her down the hall.
A little while later, she reemerged dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, her hair a damp halo around her face. Sunless rolled her into the dining room, where the smell of breakfast drew an audible, almost feral groan from her stomach.
"Smells like you're trying to seduce me with cholesterol," she muttered as he poured her a cup of coffee.
He raised an eyebrow. "If I was, you'd already be mine."
They sat down together, mismatched and tired, the kitchen around them filled with sunlight and steam.
'*'
Effie wasn't the kind of girl to stress the details. Life threw stuff at you—either you swam through it or let it knock your teeth in. So when Cassie had shown up with her Seeing-Eyes-of-Doom routine and asked her to "keep an eye on Sunless," Effie didn't exactly kick and scream. She rolled her eyes, sure. Mocked the blind girl a little. But in the end, she went along with it.
Because that's who Effie was. Go with the flow—as long as the flow was heading somewhere interesting.
And naturally, being her usual unsubtle, in-your-face self, she hadn't tiptoed around the arrangement. No drawn-out talks or delicate negotiations. She just told the glum-faced idiot that she was moving in. Declared it like a weather forecast. *Congratulations, you've got a new roommate. Try not to cry about it.* He hadn't protested, not really.
Because what Effie hadn't expected—what really caught her off guard—was how absurdly accommodating the guy would be.
He cooked. Like, actually cooked. With seasoning and technique and stupid little garnishes. He'd figured out her dietary quirks in two days flat and learned how to make the kind of food that made her want to kiss her plate. The burritos alone should've been illegal. He footed most of the bills without blinking. And every now and then, he'd slide her a soul shard with all the casual generosity of someone handing over a cup of sugar.
At this point, it didn't even feel like babysitting. It felt like being pampered by a very broody, very hot househusband who just happened to have muscles in all the right places.
Effie wasn't above admitting she was tempted to just laze around and enjoy herself. Like, *seriously* tempted.
Still, if she was being honest with herself—and she hated that—it wasn't just about the food or the eye candy. The real reason she'd agreed to Cassie's favor (instead of dumping it on sweet, golden-retriever Kai) was because, like her, Sunless had plans. Big ones. He'd made it crystal clear: he was going to challenge the Second Nightmare.
And Effie? She wasn't stupid. Having someone that crazy on her side, someone who could push her to sharpen her edge even further? That was a deal she'd sign with blood and glitter.
And watching him over the last few days had only confirmed it. The idiot wasn't just training—he was *scheming*. Turns out, under all the sulking and melodrama , Sunless had a mind like a finance demon. He'd shown her his latest little hustle just last week, grinning like a man who knew exactly how evil he was: taking old Memories from the now-inaccessible Forgotten Shore, slapping the label *collector's edition* on them, and selling them as historical relics. It was half scam, half genius. The demand had exploded, and they were now flipping them for six to ten times their actual value.
All those credits? Recycled into more Memories, better gear, bigger plans.
Not that they were all work, no play. Life had gotten…busy.
Effie was juggling the production of an animated series based on her pre-Nephis adventures (with *very* firm input on how she was portrayed), navigating sudden fame, and trying not to ghost every friend she had left.
Sunless, meanwhile, had been reconnecting with his little sister—sweet, shy thing, the type you wanted to wrap in a blanket and protect from the world. But when he wasn't doing the wholesome big brother act? He'd been…out. Three nights running, he'd hit the clubs like it was a job. Came back around dawn, freshly showered, unbothered, not even pretending to look tired.
Effie didn't ask for details. She didn't *need* to. He was tall(er), rich,and tragic. That was catnip for a certain type of club girl. Judging by the half-washed scent of perfume and occasional lipstick smudge he'd missed, he wasn't exactly going home alone. Not that Effie cared. Let him blow off steam however he wanted. Especially in a way she would be doing after getting her legs back.
As long as he showed up for training, she couldn't care less how he spent his nights—or who he spent them with.
Besides, when they weren't getting distracted by fame, finance, or flirtations, they were doing what really mattered: carving through the Chained Isles like a two-person apocalypse. Fallen beasts fell before them like wheat under scythes. Dread wolves were going to be on the brink of extinction in a few weeks thanks to their teamwork—her raw power and resilience, his precise ambushes and vicious efficiency.
It worked.
Well enough for them to be a recognized by the locals, despite being only active for a few days.
'*'
Sunless had been grocery shopping almost every day lately. Sometimes even twice, depending on how voracious Effie's appetite got—which was, to put it kindly, *formidable*. But he didn't mind. Not even a little. After picking up a beginner's cookbook on a whim, cooking had gone from survival chore to quiet passion. The blend of unfamiliar spices, the layering of flavor, the warmth of something *intentional*—it was a world away from the nutrient slop he'd grown up with on the outskirts.
And cooking for Effie? That just gave him the perfect excuse to go overboard.
With her to feed and the rest of his responsibilities always looming, his days rarely slowed down. He liked it that way. Constant motion meant no time to dwell. No empty silences. No ghosts sneaking up on him when he stopped moving.
The bell above the shop door chimed softly as he pushed it open, and a wave of warmth and cinnamon-sweet air hit him square in the face.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite bottomless pit supplier," Miss Hy called from behind the counter, pulling a tray of golden bread from her oven. She had the same teasing sparkle in her eye as always.
Sunless rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to look too guilty. "Hey, Miss Hy."
"Back again already?" she asked, brow arched.
"I, uh… Effie's hungry again," he muttered, glancing at the loaves.
Miss Hy chuckled. "That girl's gonna eat you out of house and home if you let her."
"Wouldn't be the worst way to go," Sunless deadpanned, then added, "I was also hoping you had some birthday cakes? For, uh… winter solstice."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows shot up, expression warming. "Well, happy early birthday, sweetheart! What kind you looking for?"
"Something small," he said. "But, like… nice. My sister and I are hanging out that morning. First time doing something like that since, well, everything."
"Aww." She smiled, softer now. "That'll be good for you. And after that?"
"Karaoke and barbecue with friends," Sunless replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Then maybe I'll swing by that club again."
Miss Hy gave him a look. "You've been doing a lot of that lately."
Sunless shrugged. "Don't need sleep. Might as well fill the hours."
"Mmhmm," she hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Well, let's see what we've got in the back. Aurora!"
The back door creaked open, and her niece emerged. Aurora looked exactly the same as last time: giant round glasses, bobcut, oversized hoodie covered in holographic mechs, and enough keychains on her belt loop to jingle like a wind chime.
Sunless nodded politely. "Hey again."
Aurora blinked at him, then immediately perked up. "Oh, hi! You're the guy who asked about the plasma knife balance ratios, right?"
"Uh. Yeah. That was me."
She beamed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about that! Honestly, if you reduce the weight by three grams and shift the stabilizer crystal just slightly forward—"
He grinned. "You wanna draw me a diagram again?"
Aurora turned a faint pink but nodded eagerly. "Do you have a pen?"
By the time Miss Hy returned with a pair of small decorated cakes, the two of them were deep in a ramble about thermal shielding and weapon recoil, with Aurora half-sprawled on the counter sketching enthusiastically and Sunless just trying to keep up.
"You've got her started again," Miss Hy said, clearly amused.
"Can't help it," he said. "She's passionate."
"Mmhm. Let me box these up for you."
As he took the bag and turned to go, Aurora glanced up quickly. "Um, happy early birthday. And if you want... I could show you my grad project sometime?"
Sunless blinked. "Yeah. That'd be cool."
He stepped out of the store smiling to himself. Cakes in hand, wind tugging at his coat, the street already flickering with solstice lights strung across balconies. A quiet moment. And for once, it felt like things were shifting in the right direction.