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After the hearty sandwiches we’d had for lunch, the dinner table was now covered from end to end with Mrs. Clifford’s proud home cooking.

“I put my heart into it since we’ve got such healthy appetites gathered tonight. I might’ve gone a little overboard, though,” she said with a smile to Hom, who was helping Alfe serve the dishes.

Hom understood perfectly well that the words were directed at her, and returned a gentle smile.

“There is absolutely no problem. I will make sure not a bite goes to waste.”
“I can handle it too,” Estea added confidently, raising her hand while carrying a plate beside me.
“Oh my, that makes me happy. Eat as much as you like,” Mrs. Clifford said, visibly relieved by their eager responses.

Father, already seated and listening to the conversation, looked at everyone with a pleased expression.

“As expected of the Military Department’s finest—Hom and Estea both have impressive appetites.”
“Does that mean you eat quite a lot too, Sir?” Estea asked.
“I like to think I can still keep up with the young ones,” Father said with a hearty laugh.

After finishing her last instructions to us, Mother sat down beside him at his quiet urging, brushing her hand lightly against his arm as she smiled.

“Don’t try to compete, dear. There might not be enough for everyone.”
“If that happens, I’ll whip something up,” I offered and urged everyone to take their seats.
“Without any shopping done? Are you sure?” Estea asked curiously.
“Leafa can make anything just by combining what’s already here!” Alfe chimed in proudly.
“Well, if Alfe says so, then I can relax and enjoy the meal,” Mrs. Clifford said warmly.

Then the two began serving portions for everyone.

“I’ll take care of the cleanup, Mrs. Clifford.”
“Thank you, Hom.”

Their voices overlapped as both Alfe and her mother expressed their gratitude to Hom.

It had been a while since the two of them had sat at the same table. Looking at Alfe now, I realized how much she’d grown—her features had begun to resemble Mrs. Clifford’s younger days. Before long, Alfe would reach the point where, as a half-elf, her growth would slow and eventually stop altogether.

“…Shall we get started? I’ve been saving a special bottle of wine just for tonight.”

Timing it perfectly as Alfe and Mrs. Clifford finished serving the food, Father proudly produced a bottle of wine as if unveiling a long-kept treasure.

“My, my—you just couldn’t wait to open it, could you, Rudra?”
“Hah, nothing gets past you, Natal.”

Ah, Father and Mother really hadn’t changed at all. Sixteen years had passed since I was born, and yet, seeing the two of them so affectionate and full of life still filled me with a sense of peace. Nothing about them had changed—and because of that, I finally felt a real sense of having come home.

“Now then, let’s have a toast.”

Wine for the adults, fruit juice for the rest of us. Once Hom had finished pouring for everyone, Father raised his glass high, a delighted smile lighting up his face.

“To the homecoming of our children—and to the visit of a new friend—”
“Cheers!”

***

The atmosphere was calm and warm, the kind of gentle, unhurried evening that only came with family. Conversation flowed easily—starting with family matters, then gradually drifting toward talk of the academy.

Father, in particular, seemed more pleased than I had expected that I’d brought a friend other than Alfe, to the point where Estea looked a little flustered.

“Well, well! To think that the student council president of Canalford Academy is a friend of my daughter’s—makes me proud as a father!”
“…I may be in a higher year, but there’s a great deal I’ve learned from Leafa. I imagine I’ll continue relying on her for advice and support. After all, the student council term only lasts a year.”

Estea smiled wryly as she spoke, but it wasn’t the smile of someone uncomfortable with our friendship.

Listening to her, I realized something else—perhaps she carried a far heavier sense of duty toward her role as student council president than I’d thought. If she truly meant to change the academy, then she was probably already considering reelection. It made perfect sense.

“Well then, since it’s a special occasion, why don’t we put on a little performance? What do you think, Natal?”
“Hehe, I’d like that. It’ll bring back memories.”

With a pleasant flush from the wine, Father stood, sought Mother’s approval, and then returned holding a musical instrument I didn’t recognize.

“A guitar? Leafa’s dad, you can play that?”
“I can, a little. I started after I got injured—it was part of my rehabilitation. But it turned out to be surprisingly fun, so I kept at it.”

Ah, so that’s what Mother meant by memories. She was thinking back to when the two of them first met.

“What should I play, I wonder?”

Father moved a chair a little away from the table, sat down, and looked around for suggestions.

“How about Prayer of Gratitude?”

At Mother’s proposal, everyone except Hom and me voiced their agreement. I’d never been particularly interested in songs other than the ones Alfe sang, but judging from everyone’s reaction, it must have been a well-known piece.

“Then, lend me your ears for a while—”

Father began to gently pluck the guitar strings. The melody sounded vaguely familiar; I’d heard Alfe hum something like it before. Still, there was something off about the sound—it felt slightly out of tune.

“Oh, one of the strings is a bit off.”

Estea quickly identified what I’d only sensed. She leaned forward to make a few deft adjustments, turning the small pegs near the top of the instrument. It seemed those could be used to fine-tune the pitch.

“There, that’s better. Natal, it’s been ages since I last heard your singing voice—how about it?”
“Huh…?”
“I’ll sing too! Leafa’s mom, can I sing with you?”

With a bright smile, Alfe invited Mother to join her, and the two of them stood beside Father. As he ran his fingers across the strings once more, their voices rose together—soft, clear, and full of warmth.

*—How nostalgic. Mother’s voice when she sang lullabies sounded just like this.*

As I listened to that tender, gentle song, childhood memories welled up vividly within me. That voice had always been there by my side, teaching me—without words—what comfort and happiness truly were. To be able to hear it again now, right beside her, filled me with quiet joy.

“…Singing together like this really is wonderful,” Estea whispered softly during a pause in the song.

Ah—apparently, I’d started humming along at some point too.

“Yeah,” I murmured back.

Even as I replied, I couldn’t help feeling surprised at myself. Back when I was Glass, I never would have taken joy in something like this. The fact that I could now—this fondness for music, this sense of peace—it was something born entirely of my new life.

Still, to think I’d started enjoying things like this without even realizing it myself… Maybe that was Alfe’s influence. Or perhaps—regardless of the soul within—it was only natural. This body, after all, undeniably carried Father’s and Mother’s blood. As their child, maybe I’d always had a fondness for singing buried somewhere inside me.