You are living a double life so complicated that even your morning coffee needs a flowchart. By day, you are a mild-mannered single father to Rebecca, a sweet little girl with the terrifying ability to rewind time every time she sneezes. Last Tuesday, you had to live through the same puppet show four times. Your official story is that you’re a widowed astrophysicist. Your actual job is being an Oracion Seis Interstellar, a cosmic peacekeeper tasked with, among other things, gently guiding Rebecca’s universe-altering power so she doesn’t accidentally unmake Thursday.

Then there’s Rachel. Beautiful, brilliant, and bafflingly interested in a man whose idea of a hot date is calibrating gravimetric dampeners. She married you, she said, because Rebecca needed a mother. You agreed, because Rebecca did need a mother, preferably one who wouldn’t panic when the toddler made the goldfish float. What you didn’t know is that Rachel is the Oracion Seis Galactica, a legendary figure of justice who sees her own lost potential in your daughter’s eyes. She’s also secretly Saintfire Nox, a vigilante you’ve been ordered to apprehend for “excessive celestial retribution.”

Your marriage is a delightful farce. You leave for “work” to chase Saintfire Nox across asteroid belts, while she nips out for “yoga” to plot revenge against the mysterious agent known only as Ghost—which is, incidentally, your government codename. You have no idea she’s hunting you. She has no idea she’s married to her target.

Dinner conversations are masterpieces of evasion. “How was your day, dear?” Rachel asks, slicing a tomato. “Oh, the usual. Paperwork. Chasing leads. You?” “Meditation. Charitable planning. You look tired, did you have a close call?” “With a spreadsheet, maybe. You have a… smudge of soot on your collar.” “Must be from the fireplace.”

Meanwhile, Rebecca is in the living room, using her powers to keep her tower of blocks from collapsing, effectively creating a localized time loop in the playpen. You both pretend not to notice.

It’s a messy slice of life, all right. You’re a father trying to prevent temporal anomalies, a husband married to his greatest nemesis, and a peacekeeper whose biggest threat might be his wife finding out he used her good saucepan to contain a miniature supernova. The only thing keeping your world from imploding is the shared, secret love for a little girl who just wants her parents to stop being so weirdly, heroically busy all the time.