The morning light crept through the sheer curtains, casting a pale glow over the bedroom. Magnus Valerius stirred, his gray eyes opening with mechanical precision, as if he had programmed himself to wake at this exact moment. Beside him, Eleanor shifted, stretching languidly beneath the silk sheets before turning to him with a soft, sleepy smile.
Eleanor was striking—tall, with deep brown skin and delicate yet defined Slavic features. Her thick, coiled black hair spilled over her shoulders in a natural cascade, and her almond-shaped hazel eyes carried both warmth and sharpness, a contradiction that had drawn Magnus to her in the first place. Her beauty was effortless, untouched by vanity, which made it all the more captivating.
She exhaled, voice still heavy with sleep. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
Magnus turned his head to face her, expression neutral yet deliberate, as if measuring the significance of the moment before responding. "Good morning, wife." His tone was level, perfectly modulated—not cold, but not warm either, just… efficient.
Eleanor smirked at his formal response. Even after all these years, Magnus still spoke like he was narrating his own life in real-time. "Would you like some breakfast?" he asked.
She stretched again, pressing a hand to her forehead before propping herself up on one elbow. "Mmm… yeah. Oh, and can you add cheese to the eggs?"
Magnus studied her for a moment, then gave the smallest nod. "Sure thing, wife."
Eleanor snorted. "You're a robot, I swear."
Magnus didn't reply. He simply slipped out of bed in one smooth motion, his movements precise and controlled. Not a wasted breath. Not a wasted motion. He retrieved a silk robe from the chair by the window, draping it over himself with a practiced air of indifference, then exited the bedroom.
Magnus moved through the kitchen with silent efficiency, each step calculated. The sleek, monochrome interior reflected his personality—minimalist, controlled, devoid of anything unnecessary.
He retrieved eggs from the fridge, cracked them with single-handed precision, and began whisking them in a glass bowl. The motion was rhythmic, methodical. A pan heated on the stovetop, and the scent of butter began to fill the air.
His mind was already elsewhere, cycling through calculations, probabilities, and contingencies. The eggs cooked, the cheese melted, but Magnus wasn't really here. He was constructing something greater in his head—a strategy, a blueprint for what came next.
As the eggs began to set, his fingers hovered over the stovetop controls, adjusting the flame by a fraction of an inch. Perfect control. Perfect execution.
And just like that, breakfast was ready.
The soft clinking of silverware and the faint hum of the stove filled the sleek, modern kitchen as Magnus plated the eggs with robotic precision. Not a single smear on the plate, not a crumb out of place. He moved deliberately, placing each dish in front of his family before finally lowering himself into his chair at the head of the table. His presence, as always, was an unspoken authority—unshakable, controlled, absolute.
Lucian and Selene arrived at the table almost simultaneously. Lucian, 16, was tall for his age, lean like his father, with the same piercing gray eyes—though his gaze lacked the unwavering confidence Magnus carried. He was careful, always thinking, always analyzing, but there was something restless beneath his surface. As if he was forever waiting to prove himself.
Selene, just 10, bounced slightly as she walked, her long curls framing her bright, inquisitive face. She had her mother's warmth, an effortless lightness to her that made Magnus uneasy—not out of affection, but because she was unpredictable. She was the only person in the house who didn't instinctively operate by his rules.
Eleanor emerged from the hallway, stretching her arms and rolling her neck before walking over to Lucian. She leaned down, brushing a hand over his hair as she pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.
"Hey, baby. You went to bed so early that you didn't even tell us how your day at school was."
Lucian tensed just slightly, eyes flicking toward Magnus before answering. "Oh… it was fine."
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, tilting her head. "Are you being honest with me?"
Lucian's jaw shifted almost imperceptibly before he forced a casual shrug. "Yes, Mom. I'm perfectly okay."
Eleanor studied him for a second longer before sighing. "Mmmmmm, alright." She ruffled his hair affectionately before straightening up. "And how about you, Selene? Did you finish your homework?"
Selene sat up a little straighter, her eyes bright. "Yes, ma'am! I did all of it. The math was really hard, though."
Eleanor smiled, brushing a stray curl behind Selene's ear. "Well, you know you can always ask your dad for help."
Selene cast a glance toward Magnus, then leaned in, whispering just loud enough for her mother to hear, "Yeah, but he's always reading books and says 'not now.'"
Magnus, who had just set down the last plate, paused briefly—a fraction of a second, barely noticeable. He turned his gaze toward Selene, but his expression remained neutral.
"That is incorrect." His voice was smooth, controlled. He pulled out his chair and sat down, unfolding his napkin with slow precision. "I do not say 'not now.' I say, 'find the answer yourself first, then we will discuss it.' That is a crucial distinction."
Selene frowned, scrunching her nose. "It sounds the same to me."
Eleanor chuckled, shaking her head as she took her seat. "Well, maybe you could make an exception every now and then, Professor Valerius?" she teased.
Magnus did not react. He simply lifted his fork and took a deliberate bite of his eggs. "Exceptions create weaknesses. Weaknesses create vulnerabilities. That is how systems collapse."
Lucian smirked slightly, stabbing at his eggs with his fork. "You talk like we're in a war, Dad."
Magnus met his son's gaze with unreadable intensity. "Life is war, Lucian. The only question is whether you are the one leading the battle or the one being conquered."
Silence hung over the table for a moment. Eleanor sighed and shook her head, choosing not to engage in one of Magnus's infamous philosophical debates this early in the morning.
"Let's just eat, okay?"
Magnus nodded once, satisfied. He had already won.
And so, they ate.
As breakfast ended, Magnus stood and gathered the plates with precise efficiency. His movements were methodical, deliberate—as if every action, no matter how mundane, held strategic purpose. He rinsed each plate under scalding water before placing them in the dishwasher in perfect alignment.
Behind him, a chorus of voices rang out.
"Thanks, Dad." Lucian spoke first, followed by Selene's more enthusiastic "Thank you, Daddy!" Eleanor, leaning back in her chair, gave him an appreciative nod.
Magnus simply inclined his head in acknowledgment. He did not need gratitude—only order.
Just as he closed the dishwasher, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.
Selene immediately perked up, hopping down from her chair. "I'll get it!" she chirped, already sprinting toward the door.
But Lucian was faster. He sidestepped in front of her, blocking her path with a smug smirk. "Nope, I got it."
Selene frowned, trying to push past him. "That's not fair! You always—"
Before the argument could escalate, Eleanor, having seen this play out a thousand times, smoothly intervened. She stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Lucian's shoulder while giving Selene a look.
"Okay, okay, that's enough, you two." Her voice was calm, but her authority was absolute.
Lucian sighed and backed off, hands raised in mock surrender. Selene huffed, crossing her arms dramatically.
Eleanor reached for the doorknob, pausing for half a second before opening it.
The moment she saw the man standing on the other side, her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Well, look who's here. Magnus, your little brother decided to grace us with his presence."
Standing in the doorway was Adrian Valerius, Magnus's younger brother.
Unlike Magnus, who carried himself with an almost eerie level of composure, Adrian always seemed like he was trying to shrink into himself. He was shorter, stockier, and had a nervous energy about him. His brown hair was slightly disheveled, and his deep-set blue eyes constantly darted around, as if expecting something to jump out at him. He adjusted his police uniform awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"H-Hey, Ellie." His voice carried the familiar stutter that always surfaced when he was uncomfortable—which, for Adrian, was almost all the time.
Before he could say more, Selene and Lucian's voices rang out.
"Hi, Uncle Adrian!"
Adrian's tense expression immediately softened into a warm, genuine smile. "Hey, kids! You two keep getting bigger every time I see you."
Selene beamed. "Mom says I might be taller than you one day!"
Adrian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that's not exactly hard, kiddo."
Lucian smirked. "Yeah, she'll probably pass you by next year."
Eleanor shot Lucian a look, but Adrian just laughed, shaking his head. "Y'know, one of these days, I'll have a comeback ready."
Lucian arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? I'll be waiting."
Adrian chuckled again, but his eyes flicked past them, settling on Magnus, who still stood in the kitchen, watching the scene with his usual unreadable expression.
For a moment, the two brothers just stared at each other.
Then, Magnus finally spoke—his voice calm, measured, yet carrying an undeniable weight.
"Adrian."
Adrian swallowed, shifting on his feet again. "Magnus."
The tension between them was subtle, but palpable.
Eleanor, ever the peacemaker, exhaled and clapped her hands together. "Well, don't just stand in the doorway, Adrian. Come inside before you make the neighbors think we don't feed you."
Adrian nodded, stepping into the house as Eleanor closed the door behind him.
Magnus remained where he was, watching. Waiting. Calculating.
Because if Adrian was here, it wasn't just for a casual visit.