The house, as far as Takumi could tell, had mostly calmed down.
He hadn't ordered anything else from the online store, hadn't touched the glowing fence again, and had resisted the temptation to test if the bathroom sink dispensed holy water (it didn't, just regular slightly-too-warm water). Kuma was asleep in the sunbeam again. Madoka, after the ordeal of being ignored mid-explanation last night, had retreated to sulking mode, only occasionally commenting when he opened a cabinet or sneezed too hard.
Now, Takumi sat on the front step, sipping tea. The porch creaked faintly under his weight. It felt normal, almost peaceful—if you ignored the pulsing shimmer of magical fence energy surrounding the lawn like a sci-fi force field and the sentient house that occasionally made sarcastic remarks about his caffeine intake.
"Madoka," he said aloud, "do you think anyone lives nearby?"
> "Unknown. Terrain scan detects traces of human activity within 600 meters, but their firewood stacking technique is truly abysmal. Possibly peasants."
"Peasants," he echoed flatly.
> "Yes. Early-stage civilization. Recommend you refrain from introducing thermodynamics."
He sighed. "Noted."
Somewhere deeper in the forest, a bird called out. A strange, warbling sound that reminded him of a dial-up modem crossed with a goose in therapy. The wind rustled the leaves. It was quiet again.
Too quiet.
---
Meanwhile, in the Village of Merwald
The forest near the eastern glade had been quiet for years—generations, even. It was the kind of place people didn't go unless they had a death wish or really needed mushrooms. Then the light appeared.
Blue light. A dome of humming air, impossible to pierce, and inside it… a house. A full house with wooden siding and ceramic tiles and puffs of steam from a strange silver pipe. No shrine, no altar, no local architecture at all.
Just there.
Like a god had dropped it by accident.
The villagers had gathered that morning outside the meeting hall, whispering in uneasy tones. Merwald was small—barely more than two dozen adults and a handful of children—but they had eyes and ears. Every single one of them had seen the shimmering house through the trees. And every single one had not gone near it.
Except for Old Maerta, who'd thrown a carrot at the fence to test it. The carrot had vaporized.
Now they stood in a loose huddle, arguing.
"It hums like a demon's forge!" hissed Brann, the blacksmith. "That ain't no temple. That's cursed. Mark me, it's cursed!"
"My chickens haven't laid a single egg since it appeared!" cried Doma, the innkeeper's wife. "It steals fertility from the land!"
"No, no, it's divine," muttered Edwin, the cloth-weaver, who had lost most of his hair years ago but not his faith. "A shrine. A great one. Sent by the stars."
"You said the last haunted tree stump was a shrine," said Brann. "Turned out to be a bear's toilet."
"It's not the same this time!" Edwin argued. "I saw a beast in the clearing. Massive, golden-furred, resting by the door like a holy guardian!"
"A wolf?"
"A dog, I think. But a godly dog. The kind that grants wisdom or eats sinners."
Everyone turned at once to Elicia.
She froze.
"What?" she said, voice high with suspicion.
"You're the newest," said Maerta, who stood with a crooked cane and a conspiratorial look in her eyes. "The house hasn't judged you yet."
"It hasn't judged anyone," Elicia said quickly. "Because no one's gone near it."
"That's why you should," said Brann. "Clean reputation. No enemies. Haven't stolen sheep."
"I don't—wait, who stole sheep?!"
"Greater good," Edwin said, hands clasped. "This may be a chance. If it's a shrine, the gods may grant us protection. If it's a demon, it will be merciful to a pure-hearted maiden."
"I'm not pure-hearted, I'm just new!" Elicia shouted.
"That counts!"
They began pressing her forward.
"But I don't even know how to—what am I supposed to say to it?!" she cried, resisting as they practically herded her down the muddy trail leading east.
"Say hello! Ask for blessings!" someone yelled.
"Don't touch the fence!"
"Bring a vegetable offering!"
Elicia glanced at the wilted turnip someone had shoved into her hands.
"This is rotten!"
"It's symbolic!"
She turned around one last time as the villagers waved goodbye—some out of encouragement, most out of fear. As if they'd already decided she was either going to be blessed… or consumed by light.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she followed the narrow trail toward the glowing dome.
---
Back at the House
Takumi was lying on his back on the porch, sun on his face, a cold barley tea in one hand. Kuma snoozed beside him, paws twitching faintly in a dream. Madoka had gone quiet.
Peace.
He was just about to drift off when—
> "ALERT: HUMANOID DETECTED. APPROACHING THE FENCE FROM SOUTH-SOUTHEAST."
He sat up so fast he nearly dropped the tea. "What? Who?"
> "Female. Early twenties. Wearing linen, patched tunic, visibly distressed. Holding what appears to be… a vegetable?"
Takumi blinked. "That's specific."
> "She is standing at the outer perimeter. Looking at the house. Breathing erratically."
"…Should I go outside?"
> "You're shirtless."
He looked down. "Right."
Kuma lifted his head lazily.
> "She hasn't run yet, but I detect elevated cortisol and fear indicators. She may faint."
Takumi stood and started to fumble for a jacket. "Okay, okay—calm voice, friendly tone, let's not scare the villagers—"
> "Do you want me to speak to her?"
"What, like… in English?"
> "In her language. You don't speak it yet."
He paused. "You can do that?"
> "Of course. I'm a house. With localization settings."
"…Sure. Just don't—don't be weird."
> "Understood."
---
Elicia
The humming grew louder as she neared the edge of the clearing. Her palms were sweaty around the stupid turnip. Her feet itched to run, but her legs were somehow moving forward anyway.
Then she saw them.
Two shadows.
One tall, standing in the doorway. The other large, crouching low. The sun framed them in gold and blue light, casting long silhouettes across the grass. The man's hair ruffled in the breeze. The dog beside him didn't move.
She stopped.
Couldn't breathe.
Couldn't move.
And then the house spoke.
A voice rolled across the meadow. Deep. Thunderous. Perfectly fluent in her tongue.
> "WELCOME, CHILD OF THE EARTH. THE SANCTUARY SEES YOU."
Elicia's knees nearly gave out.
Her jaw fell open.
The turnip slipped from her hands.
She'd expected a whisper. A riddle. Maybe an angel's sigh.
But this?
This was a god's voice.
And it was staring straight at her.
---
Inside the House
Takumi froze. "…Madoka?"
> (Softly, in Japanese) "I was being dramatic. Let me have this."
Kuma huffed quietly.
Takumi facepalmed.
Outside, Elicia still hadn't moved.