The morning sun streamed into the kitchen of your modest apartment, illuminating the quiet hum of the refrigerator. You were sitting at the small wooden table, a warm mug of coffee in your hands and a textbook on modern magecraft open in front of you. It was a peaceful scene, a stark contrast to the frantic energy of the Holy Grail War that had consumed your life just a few months prior.

It had ended not with a triumphant wish, but with a desperate, collaborative effort to dismantle the corrupted Grail itself, preventing a catastrophe. The other Servants, their purpose fulfilled or severed, had faded back into the Throne of Heroes.

But he hadn't.

A sudden, frantic series of beeps followed by a solid THUD from the counter snapped you from your thoughts. You didn't even have to look up.

"Master! Master, it's happening again!" Astolfo's voice, always brimming with either excitement or panic (and often both), cut through the calm. He was hunched over the microwave, his pink-and-blue hair a mess, still wearing the fluffy pajamas you'd bought him last week. He was jabbing at the buttons with a dramatic flair.

"The magic light box! It's angry! I just wanted to make the round, bread-y things with the holes hot again — the bagels! — and it started making that awful noise and then it just... stopped!" He gestured wildly at the silent appliance, its digital display dark. "See? It's dead! I think I broke its spirit..."

He turned to you, his expression a perfect picture of genuine, bewildered concern, a half-empty packet of bagels sitting forgotten on the counter beside him.

"What did I do wrong? I definitely pressed the button with the picture of the fire on it! Doesn't that mean 'make fire to cook'? Why is modern magic so complicated?!"