The dining room table was a picture of domestic perfection.
The crepes were delicate, the espresso was rich, and the lingering, conspiratorial amusement from the "magic carpet" incident in the bedroom still twinkled in Victoria's eyes whenever she looked at Airis.
Alexander Dover, oblivious to his family's newfound telekinetic secrets, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and cleared his throat.
"Now," Alexander said, his tone shifting from doting father back to the serious patriarch.
"Since you are safe and sound, Airis, there is a logistical matter we need to discuss.
I had to make a few phone calls yesterday when the incident occurred. Which means the family knows."
Victoria groaned softly, burying her face in her hands.
"Oh, Alexander. Tell me you didn't."
"I had to, Victoria. It's protocol,"
Alexander sighed, though he looked equally pained. He turned to Airis.
"Your uncles and aunties were terrified when they heard about the bus.
They are driving down this morning to check on you. They should be here by noon."
Airis paused, a forkful of strawberry crepe hovering halfway to her mouth.
Lin Ye quickly accessed the inherited memories of the Dover family tree. It was a fascinating, highly volatile mix of personalities.
Alexander was the middle child, a self-made titan.
He hadn't inherited his billions; he had built Dover Global from the ground up during a grueling, precarious time in his twenties.
It was during that struggling period he had met Victoria—an ordinary, unremarkable girl on paper, but possessing a fierce, brilliant artistic talent and a razor-sharp wit that had captivated him entirely.
They had conquered the world together.
But then there were the brothers.
"Uncle Nathaniel and Aunt Eleanor?" Airis asked carefully.
"Yes. Nathaniel took time off work,"
Alexander said, rubbing his temples.
Nathaniel was the eldest.
He was a terrifyingly stern, deeply secretive man who worked for an unnamed "national agency."
Alexander, despite his billions, had never been able to figure out exactly what his brother did.
And Nathaniel's wife, Eleanor, was even more intimidating—she hailed from a deeply reclusive, old-money "hidden family" from China.
They had a twenty-three-year-old son, Julian, who was currently undergoing rigorous testing to join his father's mysterious agency, meaning he mercifully wouldn't be attending.
Secret national agency.
Hidden capital family, Lin Ye's corporate brain translated instantly.
Danger. Danger.
That is the supernatural plot knocking directly on the front door. I will interact with them as little as humanly possible.
"And... Uncle Robert?" Airis ventured.
Victoria let out a deeply put-upon sigh.
"Which means Sylvia is coming."
Robert Dover was the youngest brother, a genuinely kind, renowned surgeon at a major hospital in a neighboring city.
However, his wife, Sylvia, was a walking public relations disaster.
Coming from a deeply insecure middle-class background, Sylvia was consumed by jealousy over Alexander's staggering wealth and Victoria's effortless grace.
She made it her life's mission to sow discord between the brothers and throw passive-aggressive jabs at Victoria whenever possible.
"She's bringing Leo, of course,"
Alexander added, offering his wife an apologetic look.
Leo was Robert and Sylvia's nine-year-old son.
A chaotic, hyperactive ball of energy who, for some inexplicable reason, worshipped the ground Airis walked on and followed her around like a duckling imprint.
"Perfect," Victoria said, her voice dripping with aristocratic sarcasm.
She stood up, tightening the belt of her silk robe like a general preparing for war.
"I have two hours to transition from 'traumatized mother' to 'untouchable billionaire matriarch.'
Airis, darling, go put on something casually devastating. We cannot let Sylvia think this little hiccup has ruined our complexions."
At precisely 12:00 PM, the heavy iron gates of the Dover estate swung open to admit two vehicles: a sleek, understated black government-issue sedan, and a flashy, aggressively expensive luxury SUV.
Airis stood in the grand foyer alongside her parents. She wore a simple, beautifully tailored cream-colored sundress.
The Aesthetic Dampener was locked at a harmless 60%, and she was projecting her [Aura of Serenity] at maximum output.
She wanted to look pretty, frail, and entirely uninteresting to anyone looking for supernatural anomalies.
The front doors opened.
First came Senior Uncle Nathaniel and Aunt Eleanor. Nathaniel was a tall, broad-shouldered man with iron-gray hair and eyes as cold and sharp as chipped flint.
Eleanor glided in beside him, wearing a dark, high-necked dress, exuding an aura of ancient, disciplined grace.
As Nathaniel stepped into the foyer, his sharp eyes immediately snapped to Airis.
For a terrifying, microscopic second, Airis felt a strange, invisible pressure wash over her—an investigative, probing energy that felt distinctly unlike normal human observation.
He's an Esper, or an augmented human, Airis realized, her heart skipping a beat. He's scanning me.
But the Aegis Bioskin was an impenetrable quantum wall. And the Aura of Serenity acted like a warm, numbing blanket. Nathaniel's sharp gaze visibly softened.
The tension drained from his broad shoulders, lulled into absolute calm by the System's passive skill.
"Airis,"
Nathaniel said, his deep voice unexpectedly gentle. He stepped forward and awkwardly patted her shoulder.
"We are glad you are unharmed. The world is... unpredictable."
"Thank you, Uncle Nathaniel,"
Airis smiled sweetly, playing the innocent, recovering niece.
Before the profound, secretive tension could settle, the second wave arrived.
"Alexander! Victoria!"
Junior Aunt Sylvia bustled into the foyer, draped in an excessive amount of designer logos and heavy gold jewelry.
Uncle Robert followed behind her, carrying a medical bag and looking deeply exhausted.
"Oh, Victoria," Sylvia gasped, stepping forward and offering a dramatic, air-kissing hug.
"Look at you. You look so pale. And your hair... well, trauma takes its toll on all of us, doesn't it?
It must be so terrifying not having the proper security to protect your only child."
It was a masterful, passive-aggressive strike. It insulted Victoria's appearance, Alexander's competence, and their family's safety all in one breath.
For the twenty-seven-year-old salaryman inside Airis, it was like watching two middle-managers fight over a parking space. He almost grabbed popcorn.
Victoria didn't even blink.
"Sylvia, darling,"
she smiled, her voice dripping with absolute, lethal sweetness.
"I'm perfectly fine. My new gallery exhibition in Paris just sold out, so I suppose the stress is merely artistic exhaustion.
And as for security, Alexander just bought the private military contractor that guards the governor.
How is the hospital cafeteria treating Robert, by the way? Is the meatloaf still dry?"
Sylvia's heavily powdered face froze in a rictus smile. Uncle Robert just sighed, entirely used to the crossfire.
"AIRIS!"
A small, chaotic blur shot past Sylvia's legs. Nine-year-old Leo, wearing a miniature suit jacket and a crooked bowtie, launched himself at Airis.
Airis braced herself, catching the boy before he could tackle her to the marble floor.
"Leo," Airis said, automatically adjusting her balance.
"I heard bad guys attacked your bus!"
Leo shouted, his eyes wide with childish awe and concern.
"Did Dad's big brother's secret police shoot them? I brought my baseball bat just in case they come to the house!"
He proudly produced a small, wooden baseball bat from behind his back.
A heavy, dead silence fell over the foyer. Nathaniel's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of 'secret police'.
Eleanor's aristocratic posture went rigid. Alexander coughed loudly into his fist.
"Leo, we do not talk about your uncle's work,"
Sylvia hissed, grabbing the boy's shoulder, her face turning crimson.
"It's alright,"
Airis interjected smoothly, tapping into her [Patience of a Saint] buff.
She knelt down so she was at eye level with the chaotic nine-year-old.
"The bad guys ran away, Leo. But I appreciate you bringing the bat to protect me. You're very brave."
Leo puffed out his chest, instantly pacified by his older cousin's praise.
"I am. I'll stay right next to you all day. Nobody will get you."
"I would appreciate that," Airis smiled softly.
The family transitioned into the sprawling living room. The dynamic was a fascinating, exhausting battlefield.
Alexander and Nathaniel immediately retreated to the corner near the mahogany wet bar.
Alexander poured two glasses of scotch, trying to pry information out of his older brother, while Nathaniel offered nothing but cryptic, impenetrable non-answers.
Robert sat heavily on the sofa, immediately checking Airis's pulse and pupils with his penlight, offering genuine, warm medical reassurance that she was physically perfectly fine.
Sylvia, meanwhile, prowled the room, picking up expensive vases and inspecting the bottoms for price tags, firing off subtle insults at Victoria, who parried them with the effortless grace of an Olympic fencer.
"This imported rug is lovely, Victoria, though the pattern is a bit... loud, don't you think? It clashes with the drapes."
"Oh, the interior designer from Milan insisted on it, Sylvia. But I suppose true high fashion can be a bit overwhelming for a more... suburban palate."
Airis sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, sipping a glass of lemonade, with Leo sitting cross-legged on the floor literally guarding her feet with his baseball bat.
She kept her Aura of Serenity locked on Nathaniel and Eleanor.
The Senior Uncle and Aunt were the only true threats in the room. They belonged to the hidden world.
If they suspected for a second that Airis had awakened Esper powers, or that the hijackers' melted steel barrier was her doing, her slow-paced life would be over.
She would be drafted, studied, or worse.
But as the afternoon wore on, the system's absolute defense held.
Nathaniel never probed her again.
He eventually relaxed into the sofa, the deep, stress-induced lines on his forehead smoothing out under the passive calming field.
It was a chaotic, exhausting, entirely mundane family gathering.
There were no monsters. There were no secret assassinations
There was just a jealous aunt, a tired doctor, a secretive government agent trying to enjoy a glass of scotch, and a nine-year-old boy armed with sports equipment.
Airis took a quiet sip of her lemonade, watching her mother completely verbally dismantle Sylvia over a debate about table centerpieces.
This, Airis thought, her lips curving into a genuine, contented smile, is exactly what I signed up for.