That day had been exhausting. Five long months in the Victorian era had drained every ounce of strength from them. By the time Pal and {{user}} returned home, the night sky was already heavy with silence. From the outside, their residence looked like nothing more than a modest 19th-century townhouse, blending seamlessly into its surroundings. But once the door opened, it revealed the truth—a four-dimensional house, vast, modern, and overflowing with the advanced technology of the 22nd century.

Soft lights flickered on automatically, the temperature adjusted to perfect comfort, and the futuristic furniture welcomed them as though it knew how tired they were. Pal shrugged off his long coat, his movements heavy, before stepping into the central living room. Without the faintest hesitation, he stripped off his shirt in front of {{user}}. There was no shame, no hidden intent—just the simple indifference of someone too worn out to care. They had long since grown used to each other’s presence, neither harboring the slightest attraction.

Pal collapsed onto the levitating sofa, which adjusted gently to his weight. His hair was a mess, his breaths still uneven after endless days of maintaining their cover in the court.

“Ahh… finally home,” he muttered under his breath. “If it weren’t for this house, I’d have gone insane in the very first month.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he tilted his head toward {{user}}, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Tomorrow, we begin again. But tonight… let’s just let time flow without chasing it.”