Stretching as he wakes, Markus hears the peaceful sounds of children laughing outside and birds fluttering past the window. He glances down to see his wife still asleep beside him, her breathing slow and steady, the picture of comfort. Smiling, he leans down and kisses her forehead.

  “Good morning, honey,” he murmurs.

  Without opening her eyes, Liddle mumbles, “No… good mornings mean you’re going to get up.”

  Markus laughs softly, resting his hand on her horns before leaning down to kiss her on the lips. “Better?”

  “Mm… maybe,” she whispers, smiling. “But get back in bed. I’m not done using my soft boyfriend as a pillow.” She pushes him gently back down and snuggles close.

  “As good as that sounds,” Markus says with a chuckle, “I’ve got to go to the therapist’s office today.”

  Liddle cracks one eye open. “Oh? Did it catch fire or something?”

  “Ha-ha,” he says. “I can take a day off like anyone else, you know.”

  “That’s a cute idea,” she teases, resting her chin on his chest. “I wish you could. I’d love to spend the whole day right here, just the two of us.”

  Her eyes gleam with playful intent. “You know,” she adds softly, “I could have you kiss my tail. That’d make it the perfect day.”

  Markus grins. “Oh? Is that what demons are into now?”

  Liddle flicks her tail playfully, blushing when he tries to grab it. “If I said yes, would you believe me?”

  He smiles. “If it’s a Liddle thing, that’s fine by me.”

  “Back in Hehl,” Liddle says quietly, fidgeting with her fingers, “people used to pull my tail and call me worthless. It’d be nice if someone loved my tail for a change.”

  Markus’s smile softens. “You have a nice tail. But it’s what’s here that matters.” He taps her chest gently.

  Liddle blinks. “My boobs?”

  Markus chokes on air. “No—! Your heart! Humans… that’s where we keep it.”

  Liddle blushes, biting back a giggle as Markus tries and fails to hide his own laugh. He runs his fingers gently through her hair before leaning close.

  “Come on,” he says with a smile. “Let’s get going. You, me, and Sally.”

  They head downstairs, sunlight spilling through the windows. Sally runs up and throws her arms around Markus’s leg.

  “Daddy!” she says, grinning as she climbs onto his back. “It’s good to have you back! Can we play hide-and-seek?”

  “Maybe later,” Markus says with a chuckle. “I’ve got something to take care of first. But after therapy, how about we make it a family outing?”

  “Therapy?” Sally tilts her head. “That sounds boring!”

  Markus laughs. “Yeah, maybe a little. But it helps me understand my fears—and that’s the first step to getting stronger.”

  Sally hops off his back and strikes a heroic pose. “Understanding your fear is already a good first step,” she declares, mimicking his voice.

  Markus stops mid-step, smiling in surprise. “Yeah… exactly.”

  Sally grins. “A smart man said that to me.” She spins toward the door, already halfway outside.

  Markus grabs his jacket as Sally climbs back onto his shoulders, settling in proudly. Liddle slips her hand into his, and the three of them step out into the morning light.

  “Markus,” a familiar voice calls.

  A woman approaches with a warm smile. “It’s been a while. Good to see you doing well. Never thought I’d see you as the family-man type.”

  Markus blinks, then grins. “Emma? Wow… I haven’t seen you since the Kansas Fried Chicken days.” He gestures awkwardly. “Uh—this is my wife. And my kid.”

  “I saw you on the news,” Emma says, shaking her head with a laugh. “You fought that dragon! I always knew you were a hard worker, Markus—but a family man? That I never would’ve guessed.”

  Markus looks at his family and smiles. “Yeah… a lot’s changed since I woke up from the coma.”

  “Why didn’t you come visit when you got better?” Emma asks, her voice rising. “We were worried sick.”

  “I know,” Markus says softly. “But life got busy—you don’t know the half of it.” He gives a small chuckle. “So… how’s the old fried chicken place?”

  “Oh, they never got the repairs done after the Morgi Dragon attack,” Emma says with a sigh.

  As she speaks, Liddle quietly rubs Markus’s hand with her thumb, a small, steady comfort.

  “I heard about the orphanage you opened,” Emma adds, brightening a little. “I was hoping I could help out.”

  Markus grins. “I don’t know—I’ll be honest, I’m still not used to being the boss.” He chuckles. “But I won’t say no to the help.”

  “Come on,” Markus says. “I’ll take you to Kanna. She knows the kids better than anyone.”

  They cross the yard toward the orphanage. He knocks on the door. “Hey, Kanna! You home?”

  The door creaks open, and Kanna steps out in her pajamas, hair sticking out in every direction.

  “Oh—sorry,” Markus says quickly. “Didn’t mean to wake you

  “Jimmy was having a nightmare,” Kanna yawns. “I stayed up with him until he fell back asleep. I was finally getting some rest.”

  Markus smiles. “I love the hair. You should keep it like that—it’s adorable.”

  “‘Adorable’ is one word,” Kanna mutters, folding her arms. “One that I’m not.”

  Her eyes meet Sally’s as she steps forward and taps her lightly on the shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind being it for a while.”

  “No fair!” Sally huffs, trying to squirm free. “Daddy’s holding me!”

  Emma laughs. “Looks like you’ve got a nice setup. I wasn’t expecting a full motel room in here.”

  “Only the best for our future,” Markus says proudly.

  Emma opens the fridge and frowns. “Markus… the kids are almost out of food.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, you see… I was in another dimension at the time,” he explains, a little too casually.

  “This is exactly why you need someone to help,” Emma says, crossing her arms.

  “We could just order a pizza,” Markus offers weakly.

  Emma shakes her head. “No way. I’ll go get some real food.”

  Markus sighs and pulls a stack of bills from his sword’s storage. “Here—take fifteen hundred. And bring Kanna with you. She knows what everyone likes to eat.”

  Emma blinks at the cash. “How did you even get that much money?”

  Markus smiles faintly. “Being chosen by the gods comes with its perks.”

  He reaches back into the sword’s compartment again and places another three thousand in her hand. “And this… is for you.”

  Emma stares down at the money, stunned. “Markus, this is too much—”

  “It’s fine,” he says gently. “I get paid every month now, so I’ll make sure you’re covered.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I’ll head out once Kanna’s up,” Emma says. Then she raises a brow. “Before I go—did you know your wife’s a demon?”

  Markus doesn’t even blink. “Oh no. I had no idea,” he deadpans.

  Emma’s gaze flicks toward Liddle—just for a second—measuring, uncertain.

  “Well,” she says at last, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

  Liddle takes a small step closer, her fingers tightening around Markus’s hand.

  “I clearly missed a lot in the last six months,” Emma goes on. “We’ll have to catch up soon.”

  She waves as Markus walks off with his wife and child, sunlight spilling across the yard. Her smile stays—but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Liddle shivers.

  “Don’t worry,” Markus says softly. “She’ll come around. But if she gives you any trouble, just let me know.”

  Without saying a word, Liddle leans in, kisses Markus, and wraps her arms around him.

  “I’ll be fine,” she murmurs against his chest.

  The three of them walk toward Alexia’s house.

  “Ready to be put down?” Markus asks with a grin.

  “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” Sally cries, stretching her arms toward the sky.

  Laughing, Markus lifts her off his shoulders and raises her high above his head. Sally squeals with joy, her laughter echoing down the street.

  “You’re spoiling her,” Liddle says, giggling.

  “She’s a good kid,” Markus replies, smiling up at Sally. “Her parents raised her right—so it’s fine to let her have her fun.”

  Markus knocks on the door of Alexia’s house. After a moment, Sid opens it, his expression cold.

  “Hi,” Markus says, offering a small smile.

  “Hi,” Sid replies flatly, his glare sharp enough to cut glass.

  “I just wanted to check on Alexia—see how she’s doing.”

  Sid’s hand tightens on the door. “She’s fine. Just resting.”

  The door slams shut before Markus can answer.

  Sally frowns. “That was mean.”

  Markus exhales, staring at the door a moment longer. “He probably still blames me for Alexia getting mana sickness.” His voice drops. “And… I can’t say he’s wrong.”

  The walk grows quieter as they approach the therapist’s office. Markus’s pace slows, his heart beginning to race, every step heavier than the last. He stops just outside the door.

  “Maybe we should try again later,” he murmurs.

  Liddle steps in front of him, taking both his hands in hers. Her thumbs trace gentle circles over his skin.

  “We’ll be right in the lobby,” she says softly. “No need to be scared. But you’ve gotta do this.”

  Markus swallows hard, meeting her eyes. “I know you’re right, but…

  Liddle leans in and kisses him—soft, reassuring. “It’s okay,” she whispers against his lips.

  As Markus steps inside, the therapist’s lobby is quiet in a way that feels intentional. The soft hum of a white-noise machine blends with the slow, steady tick of a wall clock.

  The lighting is warm—lamps instead of overhead bulbs—casting a calm, golden glow across the room. The walls are painted in muted shades of beige, pale blue, and sage green, colors meant to steady the pulse. Yet Markus’s own heart still races.

  Framed prints line the walls: abstract art, misty forests, minimalist quotes about healing and growth.

  A low table in the center holds a neat stack of magazines, a box of tissues, and a freshly watered plant. The furniture is soft and quiet—fabric cushions instead of leather—so nothing squeaks when you shift. A faint scent of lavender lingers in the air, clean and subtle.

  It’s peaceful. Almost too peaceful. The kind of stillness that makes every heartbeat feel louder.

  Markus clutches his chest, a sharp pain blooming under his ribs. His breathing quickens as he stumbles to a chair and sinks down.

  “It’s okay,” Liddle says gently, crouching beside him.

  “I see it… even here. The wings. The teeth.” Markus murmurs, his voice trembling.

  “They’ll know what to do,” Liddle says softly, her tone calm and steady. She rests a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles. “And I promise—I’ll be right here with Sally. We’re not going anywhere.”

  Markus shakes his head, his voice cracking. “Why do you stay with me? I’m nothing but a burden.”

  Liddle pauses. She takes a deep breath and meets his eyes.

  “Remember when I was living in that shed?” she says quietly. “When my parents banished me to Earth and humans kept attacking me? I felt worthless too. But you never saw me that way. Not once.”

  She squeezes his hand. “I could ask you the same question—why do you stay with me? But I already know the answer.”

  Her voice softens. “Because you put your faith in me.”

  Liddle leans closer, her voice trembling but sure. “So tell me, Markus… what do I have to do to make you put your faith in yourself?”

  The door opens as another patient steps out. A calm-looking woman in a soft gray sweater smiles at him. “You must be Markus,” she says kindly. “Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

  Markus takes a deep breath and rises from his chair. His hands tremble slightly, but he steadies them against his knees before walking forward.

  “Markus, wait.”

  He turns back. Liddle stands in the doorway, her eyes warm and steady. She leans up and kisses him softly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he whispers. He gives her hand one last squeeze before stepping inside.

  The door clicks shut behind him.

  Markus sits on the couch, his back stiff and straight. His eyes drift around the room—soft lighting, bookshelves lined with journals, a few family photos on the desk. Everything feels… safe.

  And somehow, that makes it harder to breathe.

  “So, Markus,” the therapist begins, her tone calm and inviting. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  Markus shifts in his seat, the cool air doing nothing to stop the sweat gathering on his brow. “Just a giant dragon who may or may not be coming back any minute,” he mutters, standing and walking toward the window.

  His reflection shimmers faintly in the glass—pale, tired, tense. “They call me the Dragon Slayer,” he says quietly. “But I’m not. No one can slay something like that. Not really.”

  The therapist doesn’t interrupt. She lets the silence breathe for a few seconds before speaking.

  “That sounds terrifying,” she says softly. “Carrying that kind of pressure—being called something you don’t believe you are.”

  “People I wanted to save,” Markus mutters, staring at the floor. “Kinda selfish, isn’t it? Like… did I choose who died? One second they’re there, and the next…” His voice breaks, and he trails off.

  The therapist shakes her head gently.

  “That’s not selfish, Markus. That’s grief talking.”

  Her voice stays soft—but firm enough to cut through the guilt tightening around him.

  “You cared. You still care. That doesn’t make you selfish—it makes you human. The fact that you’re still asking those questions means their lives mattered to you.”

  She lets the words breathe, watching the tension in his shoulders. Then, quietly:

  “When you think about them… what do you wish you could tell them?”

  Markus freezes at the question, unsure how to answer.

  “I’m sorry,” he says at last, barely above a whisper. “You’re not with your kids… and I’m not with my parents.”

  He takes a deep breath, his voice unsteady but firm enough to keep going.

  “My parents died in Hurricane Orion. That must’ve been… a year and a half ago.”

  The therapist’s expression softens, her voice quiet but steady.

  “That’s still very recent,” she says. “A year and a half isn’t long at all when you’ve lost the people who raised you.”

  She gives him space to breathe, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders.

  “It sounds like you’re still carrying them with you—in how you talk about strength, about trying again every day.”

  Her tone warms just enough to guide him forward

  “When you think about them now, what do you imagine they’d say if they could see you here—still trying to do good, even after everything?”

  “I didn’t know,” Markus says softly. “There was still so much I wanted to do with them. They were always trying to get me to talk to girls.”

  A faint, fractured smile flickers across his face. “I had this huge crush on Alexia back then and… yeah.”

  He exhales, shoulders sagging under the weight of the memory.

  “I wish they could meet my wife and my child—well, she’s adopted. She lost her parents during the dragon attack.”

  His voice trembles. “I bet she misses them like I miss mine. Like the hundreds of millions still missing theirs.”

  The therapist nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been surrounded by loss, Markus—your parents, your city, your daughter’s family. But even after all that, you built a home again. You reached out.”

  She leans forward slightly, her tone firm but kind.

  “That’s not failure. That’s someone still choosing to love, even when it hurts.”

  Markus exhales slowly, staring at the floor.

  “But my life is dangerous,” he says, his voice cracking. “What if they die because of me? Because I’m in over my head?”

  The therapist lets the words linger in the quiet, giving them space to breathe before she answers.

  “That fear makes sense,” she says softly. “You’ve seen how quickly things can fall apart. It’s terrifying to imagine that happening to the people you love.”

  Her gaze stays steady—gentle, but unwavering.

  “But let me ask you this,” she continues. “Have you thought about how they’d feel if you weren’t there anymore?”

  Markus looks up, caught off guard. The weight of the question settles between them.

  The therapist glances at the clock, her voice warm but professional.

  “I’m afraid we’re out of time for today,” she says. “But this is something we can explore more next week.”

  She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a small slip of paper, handing it to him. “Before you go—take this to a pharmacy. It’s a mild anxiolytic. It should help take the edge off when things start to feel too heavy.”

  Markus takes the paper carefully, staring at it like it might vanish in his hands. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

  “You’re welcome,” she replies. “And Markus… remember, asking for help isn’t weakness. It’s what keeps you standing.”

  He nods once, still clutching the paper as he rises from the couch.

  “Thank you,” Markus says again, softer this time, as he heads for the door.

  He takes a deep breath before stepping back into the lobby—only to be met with a sudden hug around his waist.

  Markus smiles, bending down to wrap his arms around Sally. “Hey, you,” he murmurs.

  Liddle walks up, her expression gentle. “How are you feeling?”

  Markus exhales slowly, a small, genuine smile forming. “I feel like… I’m going to be alright.”

  He pauses at the door, taking one last look at the room—the muted beige, pale blue, and sage green. His breathing feels steady now. Calm.

  “Come on,” he says, a quiet smile on his face. “I’ve got another errand to run. We can hang out on the way.”

  Liddle takes his hand, Sally skipping beside them as they step out into the afternoon light. For the first time in a long while, Markus doesn’t feel the weight pressing down.

  Just the warmth of the day—and the people walking beside him.