The dining room was a masterclass in "Atmospheric Perfection." The table was a single slab of polished white oak, and the lighting was dimmed to a soft, warm glow that made the fine crystal glasses shimmer.
Unit-02, a maid with a particularly gentle expression, moved soundlessly across the floor, placing plates of perfectly seared steak and roasted root vegetables before them.
Lyra wasn't eating. She was staring intently at the glowing glass slate propped up against her wine glass. On the screen, icons representing souls were sliding into "Heaven," "Hell," or "Rebirth" with the rhythmic click of a metronome.
"It’s... it’s doing the 4th-dimensional sorting," Lyra muttered, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and deep-seated insecurity. "I used to have to do the 4th-dimensional calculus manually for every third soul. Hestia is doing it while simultaneously filing the 'Pet Reincarnation' backlog. I’m... I'm literally obsolete."
"You’re not obsolete, Lyra," Kaito said, meticulously cutting his steak into perfectly uniform 1cm cubes. "You’re 'Executive Management' now. You handle the exceptions. The maid handles the data entry."
"But there are no exceptions!" Lyra wailed softly, slumping in her chair. "She’s too good! She even categorized a Chaotic Neutral bard without a single error!"
Across from her, Silvane was eating with a terrifying, focused intensity. In her human form, she was just a petite girl with messy silver hair, her claws and tail tucked away into the void of her transformation. She looked entirely harmless—until she bit through a bone like it was a breadstick.
"Let the shiny lady mope," Silvane said, her eyes bright with a different kind of hunger. "Kaito, tell me about the town. Are the people there really as 'unoptimized' as you say? Do they really live in houses made of... mud and straw?"
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"Mostly," Kaito replied. "And they don't have climate control. They just wear more clothes when it’s cold."
Silvane’s eyes widened. "That sounds fascinating. Like watching ants build a hill. Can we go tomorrow? I want to see them 'adventuring.' I want to see how they fight without a 'Physics Override' button."
"Tomorrow," Kaito promised.
He stood up and walked over to Lyra. She was still staring at the tablet, looking small and lost in the face of the automation he had created. Without a word, Kaito reached out and adjusted the height of her chair’s lumbar support with a small dial, then placed a hand-poured glass of nectar—exactly her favorite temperature—within reach.
He then turned to Silvane, brushing a stray silver hair out of her face and handing her a small bowl of the "popping bread" (croutons) she loved so much.
"I made sure the guest wing has extra insulation for your nap tonight, Silvane. And Lyra, I’ve set the tablet to 'Do Not Disturb' mode from 10 PM to 8 AM. Even a Goddess needs to sleep."
As Kaito walked toward the kitchen to check on the dishwasher’s efficiency, Lyra watched him go. The moodiness in her chest began to settle into a realization.
She looked at the perfectly cooked meal, the chair that fit her body perfectly, and the tablet that took away the burden she had carried for eons. She looked at Silvane, who was now happily munching on croutons, looking more like a content teenager than a world-ending calamity.
"He hasn't changed at all," Lyra whispered to herself.
She realized then that Kaito didn't build this mansion or automate the heavens because he wanted to be a King or a God. He was still the same man who had died surrounded by his family. He was a caretaker. He didn't know how to have a hobby for himself, so he had turned "Taking Care of Everyone" into his ultimate project.
His "imagination" was short-circuiting because he was trying to build a world for himself, but his heart kept defaulting to building a home for others.
"He’s not an Architect," Lyra realized, a small smile finally touching her lips as she picked up her fork. "He’s just a Dad who can't stop fixing things for his kids."
