Chapter 22: Side Story: Daily Life OF Erik

Morning sunlight poured into my room, glinting off the scattered mugs, half-eaten pastries, and an alarming number of socks that had somehow ended up on the ceiling. I blinked groggily, trying to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, I was dreaming. But no—this was real. My life. My house. And, as usual, complete chaos.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, only to notice that the room smelled faintly of coffee, melon, and burnt toast—an aroma that had been my constant companion for the past six months. I groaned. Yes, six months. That’s how long I’d been living in what could only be described as a female hurricane with an assortment of personalities so wildly different it could give even the most seasoned adventurer a headache.

At the top of the chaos hierarchy was, unsurprisingly, the Queen. She lay sprawled across the air-conditioned living room like she owned the place—which, technically, she did… but not legally. I mean, her father had been managing the palace’s day-to-day for six months because the Queen had apparently discovered the joys of leisure. And by leisure, I mean melons. Lots of melons. She’d sit there, half-naked in some ridiculous silk robe, sipping coffee in a cup so large it could probably double as a small cauldron, and smile at me with that infuriating, world-weary “don’t you dare ignore me” look. Honestly, her entire presence was a mixture of royalty and seduction with a sprinkling of laziness. Her father? Poor man. Six months managing the whole court and palace while she… napped, ate, and attempted to seduce me mid-sip. And by seduce, I mean she had perfected the “look like I’m innocent but also want you to do something” glare. I took a cautious sip of my own coffee and immediately regretted it.

Then, of course, there was Lucy. My knight. The girl who could probably take down a hundred bandits without breaking a sweat. She had a schedule, a real schedule, one that involved traveling fifteen days straight for some mission that no one really explained to me. But recently, she had switched to these shorter 2–3 day trips, which she claimed were “for efficiency.” Translation: she came back more often so she could drink copious amounts of coffee at my place and complain about her schedule. And lately, she’d roped her sister Lily into these coffee experiments, turning the kitchen into a miniature laboratory of caffeinated chaos. The smell alone was enough to make me reconsider whether breakfast was ever a safe activity.

Speaking of Lily, my little sister-in-arms and genius-with-a-twist-of-madness, she was already in full swing with her experiments. She had this insane love for my electrical appliances—blenders, mixers, toasters, whatever—and somehow they always ended up creating something weird. Last week, for example, her coffee machine had somehow produced what looked like a tiny storm cloud, complete with miniature lightning bolts that scared the cat half to death. Today, she was working on “a more efficient latte-pouring system” that involved a small pulley, a fan, and a suspicious amount of duct tape. I was not hopeful.

Next in line was Alicia. She had recently discovered my home and my “world stories.” Shakespeare, Dragon Ball, random fantasy novels, comics, you name it—she loved it all. She spent hours sitting in the corner, flipping pages and oohing and aahing over plot twists as if her life depended on it. Just yesterday, she had declared that Dragon Ball was “far superior to Shakespeare,” and then proceeded to stage a full reenactment of Goku’s Kamehameha in the living room using a broomstick. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the broomstick was terrifyingly realistic.

Meanwhile, Urara was always busy. Wind magic, training, helping with her sister’s business—this girl never stopped moving. Most mornings, I would find her in the backyard, tossing small tornadoes for fun or reorganizing the garden with precision that I suspected bordered on obsessive. And then, just when I thought she might rest, she’d insist on working out, often dragging me into ridiculous push-up competitions I had no hope of winning. Her sister Jane, on the other hand, had a simpler life goal: eat constantly and rearrange clothes. She was always busy, but somehow she had a bottomless pit for a stomach. Whenever I called “food!” she appeared instantly, as if by magic, whining for snacks that she always claimed were “essential for energy.”

Kiara was another story entirely. Coffee. Maniac. Addicted. Obsessed. If there were an Olympic event for sitting on someone’s lap and drinking coffee, Kiara would win gold. And yes, she frequently visited my house, sat on my lap, and sipped from my mug while giving me those eyes—the ones that made even the Queen occasionally raise a jealous brow. It was a mess. A delicious, caffeinated mess.

And then there was me. Erik. The guy stuck in the middle of all of this chaos. My mornings were predictably unpredictable. Wake up. See these girls in various states of mischief and charm. Lucy, half-leaning against the kitchen counter, nursing a mug of coffee like it was an ancient relic. Lily, concocting a new experiment that probably violated multiple safety codes. Alicia, eyes glued to a comic book panel, completely oblivious to physics. Urara, juggling wind spells and strength exercises. Jane, hovering in the background like a hungry shadow. Kiara, already perched on my lap before my coffee could even cool. And the Queen… well, lounging like royalty always lounged.

Breakfast was an adventure. Usually, the girls cooked—or experimented—and I merely observed the chaos unfold. Sometimes, I would try to intervene, only to be met with a chorus of protests, complaints, or bizarrely scientific explanations about why my toast had exploded into tiny sugar comets. And don’t even get me started on coffee. By the end of breakfast, at least three mugs were missing, one experiment had gone horribly wrong, and I was somehow more awake than I wanted to be.

If a client case came in, Lily and I would head out together. That was another kind of chaos: navigating the city while dodging erratic experiments and the occasional coffee-fueled outburst from Lucy or Kiara. On days without cases, I wandered the streets with Lily in tow, often buying random things to satisfy her experimental whims or taking everyone to the park so they could vent energy that somehow always felt five times larger than normal. One wrong move and you’d find yourself in a small tornado generated by Urara or a miniature magic mishap courtesy of Lily.

Dinner was no calmer. Somehow, everyone reconvened in the kitchen. I cooked, the girls “helped” in varying degrees of usefulness, and we all sat down together to eat, sharing stories, arguments, and laughter. Jane inevitably complained about food portions, Kiara sipped coffee and stole bites from everyone’s plates, Alicia narrated every line of her latest comic discovery, Lucy commented on the inefficiency of modern society, and Lily… well, she usually tried to convert the dinner into an experiment in flavor balance or chemical reactions. And the Queen… she just smiled at me like she knew a secret I didn’t, while lazily peeling another slice of melon.

And yet, somehow, I loved it. Despite the chaos, the coffee overdoses, the magic mishaps, the constant teasing, and the way every single day felt like a test of sanity… it was perfect. Every moment was alive. Every day brought something new. Sometimes, the house felt like a battlefield, sometimes like a circus, and sometimes like a cozy little home where the strangest family imaginable coexisted in imperfect harmony.

I often found myself pausing in the middle of the madness, taking a deep breath, and thinking: Thank God for this. Thank God for this Isekai. For all of them. They were chaotic, loud, obsessive, unpredictable, and occasionally terrifying—but they were mine, in this strange, wonderful world. And me? I was just Erik, the overpowered guy in the middle, who somehow got to live with this glorious insanity every single day.

No quiet mornings. No predictable routines. Every day a mess. Every day a little adventure. And, honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Because this was life. My life. Full of coffee spills, magical mishaps, experiments gone wrong, snacks disappearing, flirtatious glances, quiet smiles, endless chatter, wind magic, and a houseful of girls who somehow, despite all odds, made every single day a little brighter, a little funnier, and a lot more chaotic.

Yes, it was chaotic. Overwhelming. Sometimes exhausting. But it was home. And as I poured myself a cup of coffee, dodging a tiny flame that Lily had accidentally conjured while testing a new toaster mechanism, I smiled. Somehow, in the midst of all this madness, I had found my place. My Isekai. My daily comedy. My adventure.

And with a glance around the room, at the girls lounging, experimenting, reading, cooking, exercising, and occasionally sulking, I realized one very important truth:

Life with them was never boring.

It was perfect.

(THE END)