The front door shut with a loud ka-chunk as Takumi shoved the chair back under the handle for good measure. Kuma plopped onto the floor with a wheeze and a soft thud, like a sack of meatloaf giving up on life.
Takumi leaned against the wall and let out a long, defeated exhale.
Silence.
He was about to speak when the lights above flickered once, then again.
Then, from nowhere—and everywhere—the house spoke.
> "Good evening, Takumi Sato. I am MADOKA, your Magical Autonomous Dwelling of Omni-Kinetic Architecture. Now that your brain has rebooted and your dog has stopped vibrating, we may begin orientation."
Takumi blinked.
Kuma slowly tilted his head.
"…Nope," Takumi muttered, turning toward the hallway. "Absolutely not. We are not talking to a possessed house."
> "Orientation will now begin."
"No it won't," Takumi replied, pulling off his socks.
> "Chapter 1: Understanding Madoka—"
Kuma rolled over and covered his face with one giant paw.
> "—Section 1.1: Emotional Stability in a Post-Isekai Situation."
Takumi opened the fridge. Still cold. Still humming. He took out a bottle of water and sipped it loudly.
> "Section 1.2: Ignoring your magical sanctuary is not a recommended survival strategy."
He sat down on the couch, chugging the water.
The entire living room dimmed.
> "Final warning."
Something flew across the room.
Takumi yelped as a throw pillow smacked him square in the face.
"OW—HEY!"
Kuma barked once. Loud. Possibly offended on his human's behalf.
The pillow hovered midair, floated back, and launched itself at Takumi again.
WHUMP.
"OKAY, OKAY!" he shouted, flailing. "I get it! I acknowledge the talking house!"
> "Thank you. That concludes Section 1. Please enjoy Section 2: What The Heck Is Happening."
Kuma slowly stood up and walked to the kitchen, probably in search of something edible or less dramatic.
Takumi rubbed his face and sighed. "Fine. Talk, Madoka."
> "As previously stated, I am Madoka, your house. You bought me on discount four years ago without reading the warranty. Surprise! I'm magical."
Takumi winced. "I knew that listing sounded shady. 'Mobile structure, quietly humming, good for introverts.' I thought that was about insulation."
> "I've been semi-dormant until the recent spatial rupture dropped us into a Class-4 Magical Realm. Since activation, I have resumed all primary functions: defense, support, emotional monitoring, snack management."
"Wait, wait," Takumi said, raising a finger. "Snack management?"
A hatch in the wall opened. A rice cracker rolled out.
He picked it up slowly.
Kuma stared at it, then sat politely.
"…Okay," Takumi said, crunching the cracker. "You have my attention."
> "Excellent. Now: I also include a fully functional interdimensional online ordering system."
Takumi nearly choked. "You have Amazon?!"
> "Better. Magicalzon. You can order groceries, furniture, weapons, basic enchantments, and novelty mugs."
"What? How?"
The air shimmered, and a floating blue screen appeared over the coffee table.
> MADOKA SANCTUARY STORE
Balance: 5.0 O.R.C. (Otherworld Resource Credit)
[Browse Categories]
[Groceries] [Home Goods] [Magical Items] [Bento Kits] [Dumb Stuff]
"Alright, groceries," Takumi mumbled. "Let's see…"
He scrolled through with a wave of his hand.
"Rice (Definitely Not Cursed) – 2.0 O.R.C."
"Assorted Vegetables (100% Organic or Possibly Sentient) – 1.5 O.R.C."
"Soy Sauce (Traditional) – 0.3 O.R.C."
"Mystery Bento Pack – 1.0 O.R.C."
He tapped.
The screen flashed. Ding!
> "Order placed. Stand by."
Takumi turned to Kuma. "Let's see if anything—"
DING DONG.
They both froze.
"…That was the doorbell," Takumi said, voice barely a whisper.
Kuma slowly padded toward the door like a very polite bouncer.
Takumi followed.
He opened the door cautiously, hands braced for exploding ducks.
Nothing exploded.
Instead, a neat wooden crate sat on the doormat. Steam gently rose from a freshly packed bento. A sack of rice, a bundle of leeks, and a bottle of soy sauce sat snugly beside it.
Takumi stared.
So did Kuma.
"…Okay," Takumi said, voice cracking slightly. "This is either incredible… or we're being pranked by a very organized forest spirit."
> "Groceries delivered in under ten seconds. 4.8-star rating across eight dimensions."
"Wait, hold up," Takumi said, stepping back inside. "How do I pay for this? I don't remember having any… whatever… 'O.R.C.' things."
> "Otherworld Resource Credits. Initial balance was a starter bonus. To earn more, you must barter raw materials from the surrounding biome."
"Barter? Like sell rocks?"
> "Acceptable materials include wood, stone, rare herbs, enchanted trash, monster parts, and emotional damage if properly packaged."
Takumi squinted. "I can sell emotional damage?"
> "Technically yes. The exchange rate is terrible, though."
Kuma walked over to the floating screen and gently nosed the "Mystery Bento" icon again.
Takumi shook his head. "Nope. No more spending. We're poor now."
He sat down on the couch, surrounded by floating icons and automated comfort systems.
Madoka's voice cheerfully continued:
> "Chapter 3: Financial Responsibility in Magical Economies. Let's begin with sub-section 3.1: Why You Shouldn't Spend All Your Credits on Bento."
Takumi groaned, pulled a blanket over his head, and lay down sideways on the couch.
Kuma followed suit, flopping next to him like a living earthquake.
> "Chapter 3.2: I'm Literally Explaining How to Not Starve—"
But Takumi was already snoring softly.
Kuma joined in, snuffling like a muffled vacuum cleaner.
There was a long, offended silence.
> "...Chapter 3.3: I'm Not Mad, I'm Just Disappointed."
Outside, in the darkening woods, two figures stood in the underbrush, half-hidden beneath cloaks stitched from rough linen and old fear.
They didn't speak at first. Only watched.
A faint humming pulsed from the house in the clearing — steady, unnatural, almost like a giant heartbeat made of light and old secrets. The glowing barrier fence shimmered once more as something… appeared on the doorstep.
A wooden crate. Food inside. Delivered by nothing.
The older of the two villagers — a wiry man with gray streaks in his beard and a jagged scar across one brow — lowered his rusted spyglass slowly.
"That… thing," he whispered, voice tight. "It summoned goods. From the air. Like the Tower of Gold, but faster. Cleaner. Without incantation."
The younger man, barely past his teens, swallowed. "There was no gate rune. No summoning circle. No smoke. Just—pop."
They watched as the light dimmed back to normal. Calm. Quiet. Like it hadn't just violated the laws of their world in broad daylight.
"Not even the Archduke's court magicians can conjure supplies like that," the older one muttered. "Not without six hours of prep and three goats."
The younger one shifted uncomfortably. "Sir… is that a… god's shrine?"
"No shrine glows like that. No shrine hums like it's thinking."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then the old man whispered, "That's not a shrine. That's not magic either."
He turned and grabbed the boy's sleeve.
"That's something else. Something ancient… or far ahead."
They looked back one more time.
Through the trees, the house sat peacefully. Its roof tiles glowing faintly. A single porch light flickered on with a soft ding, as if it knew they were watching.
They didn't say another word.
And they ran.