Chương 73: Chapter 72: Apparently, We're SS-Rank

Ria's pov Aaron Shanks called my husband at nine seventeen in the morning and began shouting before Ren had managed to finish saying hello. I knew this because I was sitting pressed comfortably against Ren's side on the sofa, my legs tucked beneath me and my cheek near his shoulder while I drank coffee, close enough that the Guild Master's voice carried clearly from the phone without the speaker being activated.

The girls had already gone to school, leaving the condo in its strange weekday silence, and Vael had disappeared downstairs for another collection of "administrative matters" involving Seris that nobody in this household believed were merely administrative anymore. Ren and I had responded to the empty apartment in the same way we usually did now: by occupying considerably less personal space than the furniture technically required.

Ren glanced at Aaron's name on the screen, released a quiet sigh, and answered with the resigned expression of a man who already expected trouble.

"Morning, Aaron."

"MASTER, DID YOU READ ANY OF THE EMAILS I SENT YOU?" Aaron shouted through the receiver, his volume sharp enough that Ren immediately moved the phone several centimeters away from his ear. Ren turned his head toward me with a flat, exhausted look that clearly requested emotional support. I raised my coffee mug solemnly in his direction and took another sip, which apparently counted because he turned back toward the phone without complaint.

"Which emails?" Ren asked, his tone perfectly calm despite the dangerous silence that followed from Aaron's side. For several long seconds, the Guild Master said nothing. I could almost picture Aaron sitting behind his desk with both hands over his face while reconsidering every decision that had resulted in Ren becoming his mentor.

"The SS-rank orientation emails, Master," Aaron finally said, each word delivered with frightening precision.

"The three marked MANDATORY, the two Guild notifications, the registered envelope, and the replacement envelope we sent after the first envelope was returned unopened." Ren frowned as though genuinely searching his memory.

"I thought those were informational." I pressed my coffee mug against my lips before my expression betrayed me. Aaron apparently possessed no such restraint.

"IT SAYS MANDATORY IN RED LETTERS!"

"That usually means somebody strongly wants you to read it," Ren replied, relaxing farther into the sofa while one of his hands settled absently over my knee. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I immediately turned my face toward the window and lifted my coffee, hoping the movement would somehow erase the sound from history. Ren looked toward me with quiet accusation. Unfortunately, Aaron heard me too.

"And Mrs. Arclight," Aaron added, his voice suddenly much calmer in a way I found immediately concerning, "before you enjoy Master's situation too much, you ignored all of your notices as well." My amusement disappeared. Slowly, I lowered the mug and turned toward Ren. My husband was already looking at me. The faintest smile began forming at one corner of his mouth.

"Do not," I warned, narrowing my eyes while my fingers tightened around the mug. Ren lifted his free hand innocently.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were going to," I replied, recognizing the expression far too well by now.

"Probably," Ren admitted. I moved my shoulder away from his in protest, but the resulting distance felt unnecessarily cold after approximately three seconds. With considerably less dignity than I would ever admit publicly, I shifted back into his side and reclaimed my previous position beneath his arm. Ren said nothing about my retreat. His hand merely returned to my waist and pulled me a little closer. Aaron exhaled heavily through the phone.

"Both of you need to come to headquarters today. Preferably before someone from national command concludes that I am deliberately hiding Japan's first two SS-rank Hunters from administrative oversight." Ren's fingers stopped moving against my side.

"How long will this take?" Aaron hesitated. I slowly lowered my coffee again. Ren's eyes narrowed.

"That pause was suspicious."

"There are forms," Aaron admitted. My husband went completely still. I felt myself tense beside him. Aaron immediately continued, apparently aware that hesitation might allow us to escape.

"There is also your finalized registration, strategic-response briefing, updated identification, emergency authority acknowledgement, clearance certification, family protection documentation, international mission protocol, compensation agreements, baseline evaluation, support allocation, insurance revisions, and—" Ren ended the call. I stared at him. My husband calmly placed his phone facedown on the coffee table with the solemnity of a man sealing a dangerous artifact inside a tomb.

"Aaron was still speaking," I pointed out, watching him carefully. Ren nodded once.

"I know."

"He is going to call again."

"I know." The phone began vibrating against the glass table immediately. Ren looked down at it. I looked down at it. Neither of us moved for several seconds while the device continued buzzing between us with increasingly irritating persistence. Eventually, I sighed and picked it up.

"We're coming, Aaron," I said the moment I answered, speaking quickly enough that the Guild Master did not have time to begin another speech. There was a beat of startled silence before Aaron responded with genuine relief.

"Thank you, Mrs. Arclight. I mean that sincerely." I ended the call and returned the phone to Ren. My husband accepted it with betrayal written plainly across his face.

"You surrendered too quickly."

"I am choosing the battlefield intelligently," I replied, lifting my coffee again and settling more comfortably against him. Ren looked toward me.

"The battlefield is paperwork."

"Exactly," I said, nodding with complete seriousness.

"You cannot defeat an enemy you refuse to approach." Ren leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. His dark hair fell slightly across his forehead, and the expression of profound resignation on his face made it very difficult not to smile. I set my coffee down and shifted upward until my chin rested against his shoulder.

"Dear," I murmured, letting my voice soften deliberately. One of Ren's eyes opened.

"You only use that tone when you want something."

"I want you to stop looking like Aaron sentenced you to execution," I replied, lightly smoothing one piece of dark hair away from his forehead. Ren's eye closed again.

"He said insurance revisions." The corner of my mouth twitched. Ren noticed immediately and opened both eyes.

"You're laughing again."

"I am not," I replied, although the denial lost some credibility when my lips continued trying to smile.

"You are," Ren insisted, turning his face slightly toward me. Rather than argue, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. The suspicion in Ren's expression softened at once, although he still sighed afterward.

"Manipulation."

"Marriage," I corrected, resting against him again while his arm tightened naturally around my waist. We left twenty minutes later. The Saitama Guild headquarters looked exactly the same from the outside, but stepping through its glass entrance no longer felt remotely like the visits we had made before the Convergence Incident.

The lobby was still crowded with clerks, civilians, and Hunter parties moving between registration desks and mission counters, yet the atmosphere changed the instant people realized who had walked through the doors. Humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, and other species filled the waiting areas in ordinary combinations, arguing about Dungeon routes, equipment prices, material sales, and injuries several Hunters clearly considered more impressive than medically irresponsible.

One fox-beastkin Hunter near a registration kiosk was halfway through talking to his companions when his eyes found us and his ears flattened backward in surprise. A human woman carrying several folders stopped in the middle of her explanation. Two younger Hunters near the mission boards turned openly enough that one of them nearly walked into the edge of a seating area. Ren noticed all of it. His shoulders sank slightly.

"I miss being irrelevant," my husband murmured as we crossed the lobby. I immediately slipped my arm through his and hugged it against my side.

"You were never irrelevant." Ren looked down at me.

"I was locally ignorable."

"That is not the same thing."

"It was enough," he replied, glancing toward another group of Hunters who quickly pretended they had not been staring. I smiled and tightened my hold around his arm. Months ago, awareness of that many eyes would have changed every movement I made. I would have straightened my posture, measured my expression, and wondered whether Astrea von Velmora looked sufficiently composed for everyone watching. Today, the thing that bothered me most was Ren's collar. One side had folded inward beneath his jacket.

I stopped walking. Ren took another step before my grip on his sleeve pulled him gently backward. He turned toward me with mild confusion while I released his arm and reached up with both hands.

"What?" Ren asked, looking down as I adjusted the fabric.

"Your collar," I replied, smoothing the fold into place before brushing an imaginary speck from his shoulder.

"You look disheveled." Ren's expression remained perfectly serious.

"I always look disheveled."

"That does not mean your wife has to tolerate it," I said, flattening his lapel with one final pass of my palm. Several nearby conversations had become suspiciously quiet. I noticed. Ren noticed. Neither of us looked toward them.

"There," I said, patting his chest once before slipping my arm through his again.

"Acceptable." A whisper came from somewhere behind us.

"She fixed his collar," a young Hunter murmured with the wonder of someone witnessing a rare Dungeon phenomenon. Another person whispered back, "That's the Demon Queen." A third voice immediately corrected him.

"Former Demon Queen." The first Hunter sounded no less amazed.

"She still fixed his collar." I closed my eyes. Ren's shoulders moved once beneath my arms. I looked up at him sharply.

"Do not laugh."

"I'm not laughing," Ren said, although his mouth was already threatening to betray him.

"You are."

"I'm breathing suspiciously," he replied. My eyes narrowed. Ren's expression became completely innocent. I hooked both hands around his arm and continued walking before I decided to provide the lobby with a more historically accurate demonstration of why people used to fear me. One of the senior receptionists recovered before anyone else. She offered us a polite bow and gestured toward the secure elevators behind the main desk.

"Good morning, Ren-san, Ria-san," the receptionist greeted us, maintaining impressive professionalism despite the whispering around the lobby.

"Guild Master Shanks is waiting for both of you on the upper administrative floor." Ren's expression visibly worsened at the word administrative. I squeezed his arm and leaned lightly against his shoulder.

"Be brave, dear." Ren looked toward me with immediate accusation.

"You ignored the emails too."

"That is no longer relevant."

"It is exactly relevant," he replied as the elevator doors opened. I stepped inside without releasing him.

"I am supporting my husband."

"You are avoiding accountability."

"Those things can coexist," I told him, resting my head against his shoulder as the doors closed. Ren sighed. His hand still settled over mine. Aaron was waiting behind a desk that had almost completely disappeared beneath paperwork. Ren stopped in the doorway so abruptly that I walked directly into his back. My forehead bumped lightly against his shoulder blade, and I frowned before leaning sideways to see what had caused his sudden refusal to proceed. Then I saw the desk. Folders covered most of it.

Several stacks carried colored tabs. One thick binder sat ominously near the center beside two metallic cases, and enough government paperwork occupied the remaining space that I briefly wondered whether Aaron had accidentally become responsible for registering an independent nation.

"Oh," I murmured. Ren glanced over his shoulder.

"Exactly." Aaron stood behind the desk with both arms folded. Dark circles beneath his eyes suggested that being Guild Master had recently become less of a career and more of a prolonged medical condition.

"Sit," Aaron instructed, pointing toward the two chairs facing his desk. Ren remained by the doorway.

"Can we resolve this through combat?" Aaron's expression did not move.

"No, Master."

"Negotiation?"

"No."

"National emergency exemption?" Aaron closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

"Master." Ren finally surrendered and walked toward the chairs. I followed and sat beside him, then deliberately shifted my chair closer until our elbows touched. Aaron looked down at the reduced distance between us, looked toward my face, and wisely decided that commenting on it would not improve his morning. The Guild Master opened the first folder.

"Before we discuss anything else, you both need to understand that SS-rank is not simply another step above S-rank." Ren leaned back slightly.

"That sounds like more responsibility."

"It is," Aaron replied immediately. My husband looked genuinely offended. Aaron ignored him and continued.

"S-rank Hunters are classified as elite combat assets. SS-rank Hunters are strategic-response personnel. National command recognizes both of you as individuals capable of responding to threats that ordinary regional forces cannot reasonably contain." I listened while absentmindedly tracing one fingertip along the back of Ren's hand where it rested near the edge of his chair. Nothing Aaron said surprised me.

After what had happened in Saitama, insisting that Ren and I belonged within the existing S-rank framework would have required everyone involved to deliberately ignore reality. Aaron turned another page and pointed toward several highlighted sections.

"Both of you now receive automatic clearance for standard Dungeon classifications, access to restricted strategic Gates, expedited international deployment approval, priority movement through emergency zones, classified Dungeon intelligence, and direct communication privileges with national Guild command." Ren raised one hand immediately. Aaron stopped and stared at him.

"Can I decline the direct communication privilege?" Ren asked.

"No," Aaron replied, the answer arriving without hesitation. Ren remained thoughtful.

"What if I lose my phone?" Aaron's mouth tightened.

"I will personally buy you another one." Ren slowly lowered his hand. I pressed my lips together. Aaron continued before either of us could interrupt again.

"During officially declared catastrophic incidents, either of you may assume tactical authority over ordinary Guild personnel unless superseded by national command or another designated strategic officer." I looked toward Ren. Ren looked toward me. Neither of us seemed especially excited about receiving more people to manage. Aaron noticed our expressions and lifted one hand reassuringly.

"You are not required to exercise that authority unless circumstances make it necessary."

"Good," I said, squeezing Ren's fingers once.

"My husband dislikes giving orders." Ren turned his head toward me.

"You dislike taking them." I lifted my chin slightly.

"That is unrelated." Aaron rubbed one temple before returning to the folder.

"Neither of you will receive ordinary Guild assignments anymore. Strategic requests are handled separately, and barring an officially declared national catastrophe, you retain broad authority to refuse deployment." Ren finally showed genuine interest.

"So nobody can send us into a B-rank Dungeon because somebody wants publicity?" Aaron shook his head.

"No, Master."

"What about A-rank?" Ren asked.

"No." Ren hesitated before continuing.

"S-rank?" Aaron released a tired breath.

"Normally, also no." My husband nodded approvingly.

"Good system." I smiled at the sudden improvement in his mood. Aaron looked toward me.

"Mrs. Arclight, everything I just explained applies equally to you."

"I know," I replied, although apparently something in my face betrayed me. Aaron pointed toward me with the folder.

"You have exactly the expression Master had thirty seconds ago." I straightened slightly. Ren turned toward me with quiet amusement. I squeezed his fingers hard enough that his expression improved immediately. Aaron moved on.

"There are also strategic retainers, emergency deployment fees, hazard multipliers, international compensation agreements, government-backed equipment access, expanded family protection provisions, and specialist logistical support." Ren's attention sharpened at one particular word.

"Retainer?" my husband repeated, sitting slightly straighter. Aaron paused and looked at him. I recognized that expression from Ren too.

"Yes," Aaron explained.

"Both of you receive a permanent strategic-availability retainer even when neither of you is actively deployed." Ren leaned forward slightly.

"How much?" Aaron told us. My husband stared. I stared as well. Aaron repeated the amount more slowly, probably because neither of us had responded. Ren eventually turned toward me. I met his eyes. For several seconds, we silently processed a number significantly larger than either of us had expected for simply remaining available. Then Ren's brows gathered thoughtfully.

"That would cover Fluffy's maintenance for several centuries." I blinked at him. Aaron's expression became entirely blank.

"That was your first thought?" I asked, searching my husband's face for any sign that he was joking. Ren nodded with complete seriousness.

"Fluffy deserves financial security."

"Our car does not require a retirement fund."

"Preventative planning," he replied. I stared at him while Aaron slowly looked toward the ceiling as if seeking assistance from whatever gods remained willing to listen. Eventually, the Guild Master cleared his throat.

"The government is not paying either of you to establish an automotive dynasty. The retainer exists because both SS-ranks must maintain strategic availability." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Ren's excitement faded.

"There it is," he muttered. I patted his forearm with my free hand.

"Nothing is free, dear." Ren looked toward me.

"You sound pleased."

"I enjoy being right."

"You are right often enough that you shouldn't need to celebrate every occurrence," he replied. My eyes narrowed. Aaron loudly turned a page before I could respond. The next section concerned dedicated support personnel. Aaron had barely explained the category before Ren and I answered at exactly the same time.

"No," Ren said, folding his arms.

"No," I agreed, mirroring his posture without planning to. Aaron closed his eyes. When the Guild Master opened them again, his expression suggested our marriage was actively reducing his life expectancy.

"Neither of you allowed me to explain what the support teams actually do." Ren leaned back in his chair.

"I don't need an aide." I nodded firmly.

"Neither do I." Aaron held up the document.

"You are entitled to dedicated analysts, logistical personnel, secure scheduling, equipment specialists, mission coordinators, and administrative support." Ren's expression changed at the final phrase. I noticed. Aaron noticed. My husband narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"Administrative support?"

"Yes, Master."

"How much administrative support?" Ren asked, his earlier objections already showing signs of structural weakness. I turned my entire body slightly toward him.

"Do not abandon your principles because someone offered to fill out forms for you." Ren met my stare with complete seriousness.

"My principles are flexible." I laughed before I could stop myself. Aaron lowered his head. For several seconds, nobody spoke while the Guild Master silently endured us. Finally, Aaron reached toward one of the metallic cases.

"Before either of you embarrasses me further, these are your finalized SS-rank Hunter identifications." The atmosphere changed immediately. Even Ren stopped joking. Aaron placed the first case in front of my husband. Ren released my hand long enough to open it. Inside rested a dark metallic Hunter plate unlike the cards used by ordinary ranks. A thin silver border traced the black alloy, and an embedded mana crystal shimmered faintly beneath the office lights. Ren lifted the plate.

I leaned closer until my shoulder pressed against his arm. The engraved information read: REN ARCLIGHT RANK: SS RESONANCE: UNKNOWN CLASSIFICATION: UNRESOLVED Ren studied the final two lines for several seconds before nodding.

"Consistent." Aaron's eyebrow twitched.

"I'm glad the Guild's inability to understand you continues meeting your standards." Ren placed the card back into the case with complete calm.

"Reliability matters." Aaron muttered something under his breath and pushed the second case toward me. My fingers slowed against the clasp. I opened it. The plate inside matched Ren's in shape and material, but the information engraved across mine read: RIA ARCLIGHT REGISTERED IDENTITY: ASTREA VON VELMORA RANK: SS RESONANCE: ABYSS For several moments, I forgot about the rank. I forgot about the word Abyss. My thumb moved slowly across one particular part of the card. Arclight. Warmth spread through my chest.

It was ridiculous. I had used the name for months already. I had signed school documents with it, introduced myself with it, heard teachers use it, heard reporters use it, and heard our daughters speak it so naturally that sometimes I forgot there had ever been a time when it was not mine. Seeing it engraved permanently into metal felt different. Solid. Real. Mine.

"Problem?" Ren asked quietly. I looked toward him. His gaze had dropped to my thumb, which still rested over the surname. I immediately turned the card slightly away.

"No." A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Stop looking," I warned. Ren's eyes returned to mine.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm looking at my wife," he replied. Heat climbed rapidly into my ears. Across the desk, Aaron suddenly became extremely interested in reorganizing several sheets of paper. I lowered the card and quietly slid my free hand beneath the desk until it found Ren's again. His fingers closed around mine without hesitation, warm and familiar against my palm. I looked down at the card once more. Ria Arclight. I liked it far too much. The emotional moment lasted until Aaron rose from his chair.

"Now we need baseline testing," the Guild Master announced. Ren's fingers stopped around mine. I looked toward Aaron.

"Testing?" Aaron nodded while gathering a tablet and several forms.

"Japan has never formally registered an SS-rank Hunter before. National command wants measurable baseline data so future evaluation standards have something to work from." Ren frowned.

"That sounds dangerous." Aaron stared directly at him.

"You saying that is why I have been awake since five." We followed him downstairs. The reinforced evaluation chamber occupied most of the Guild's lower testing wing, and someone had clearly spent an unreasonable amount of money upgrading it after the Convergence Incident.

Layered mana-resistant walls surrounded an enormous central platform, heavy barriers divided the floor from the observation gallery, monitoring crystals covered the ceiling, and emergency shutters lined the walls in numbers that suggested the designers expected an ancient dragon to sneeze indoors. Ren looked around slowly.

"This seems expensive." Aaron stopped walking. The Guild Master turned toward him with frightening patience.

"Please remember that sentence." Ren lifted both hands.

"I haven't done anything."

"Remember it anyway," Aaron replied before continuing toward the testing platform. I covered my mouth, but my smile remained obvious. Several Guild technicians waited beyond the marked safety line. Most were attempting to look professional despite repeatedly glancing toward Ren and me as though quietly debating which one of us was more likely to damage their equipment. A woman holding a tablet stepped forward.

"Mrs. Arclight, we'll begin with you. Please step onto the central platform." I reluctantly released Ren's arm and walked into position. The technician activated the mana-output scanner, checked several readings, and then looked toward me with visible concentration.

"Mrs. Arclight, please begin at approximately five percent Resonance output." I looked toward the scanner. Then I looked toward Ren. My husband had made a face.

"What?" I asked. Ren tilted his head toward the machine.

"Maybe start lower." I folded my arms.

"I have control."

"I know."

"Then why lower?" I asked, unable to keep the challenge from my voice. Ren glanced toward the scanner.

"You have control. I'm less confident about the machine." I stared at him for several seconds.

"That sounded insulting."

"To the machine," Ren clarified.

"Good," I replied, satisfied enough to continue. The nearest technician swallowed. I faced the scanner and allowed a carefully controlled thread of Abyssal Resonance to rise through my core. There was no Hellfire, no Sovereign authority, no oppressive pressure, and certainly nothing close to genuine combat output. Dark violet light gathered around my fingertips. The scanner reacted instantly. Its display climbed through A, then A+, then S, before flashing into S+.

Several monitors flickered at once, the calibration graph shot beyond its upper limit, and the entire reading vanished beneath a bright red warning. MAXIMUM CALIBRATION RANGE EXCEEDED The chamber went silent. I lowered my hand and looked toward the technician. The woman stared at the screen, then at me, then back at the screen as if hoping the number would become more reasonable through repetition.

"Was that sufficient?" I asked. The technician swallowed before nodding quickly.

"Yes, Mrs. Arclight. That is more than sufficient." I stepped off the platform with what I considered perfectly appropriate dignity. Ren watched me approach. His eyebrow rose.

"Show-off," my husband murmured. I slipped my arm through his and leaned against him.

"Jealous?"

"Of a broken graph?"

"Coward," I replied, smiling when his mouth twitched. Aaron pointed toward the platform.

"Master. Your turn." Ren sighed and walked forward while I reluctantly released him again. The technician reset the scanner and watched the diagnostic display with visible apprehension. Ren placed one hand against the Resonance interface. For several seconds, nothing happened. The machine hummed while SCANNING appeared across the display. Then the first result emerged. UNKNOWN The technician frowned and started a second sequence. A new line appeared.

ELEMENTAL SIGNATURE DETECTED: FIRE Almost immediately another appeared beneath it. LIGHTNING Then WIND, followed by ICE, then LIGHT, then SPATIAL. Symbols and classifications began changing too quickly for anyone to read, flashing across the screen as the scanner attempted to interpret a structure it had no framework to understand. Suddenly every display went black. Several technicians leaned toward their terminals. One final message appeared. RESONANCE STRUCTURE UNRESOLVED Ren removed his hand and turned around.

"There. Consistent." Aaron pressed two fingers against his forehead.

"Master, we built an upgraded scanner specifically because the previous scanner could not classify you." Ren glanced back toward the machine.

"This one also cannot classify me."

"I am aware."

"Then the result is consistent," Ren replied calmly. One technician hurried toward the control terminal and began entering commands. The scanner made a weak mechanical noise. A thin curl of smoke rose from one side. Everyone froze. Ren stared at the smoke. Aaron stared at Ren. My husband slowly raised one hand.

"I did not touch that part." Aaron closed his eyes.

"Master, that scanner cost forty million yen." Ren studied the smoke with genuine consideration.

"It's still mostly intact." I turned away from them. My shoulders began shaking.

"Ria," Ren called from behind me. I pressed one hand over my mouth.

"I am not laughing."

"You're facing the wall."

"That proves nothing," I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady. Behind me, Aaron muttered something involving retirement age and government reimbursement. The combat-control assessment went considerably better. Mostly. I returned to the central platform first, where a reinforced target assembly had been positioned at the far end of the chamber. The technician remained behind the protective barrier while explaining the requirements through the internal speaker system.

"Mrs. Arclight, please use the minimum controlled attack you would consider genuinely combat-capable," the technician instructed.

"We are measuring precision and containment rather than maximum destructive output." I lifted one hand. A small sphere of Hellfire formed above my palm, black-red flame folding tightly inward instead of spilling into the surrounding air. I compressed the attack until it was barely larger than a coin and waited until the flow became perfectly stable. Then I released it. The Hellfire crossed the chamber silently. When it struck the target, there was no explosion. The flame collapsed inward.

For one brief instant, the reinforced plating glowed dark crimson. Then a perfectly circular section vanished from the center while every surrounding surface remained untouched. The technicians stared. I lowered my hand and returned toward Ren. My husband looked from the hole to me.

"Show-off." I smiled and reclaimed his arm.

"Would you like me to demonstrate again?" Aaron immediately raised both hands.

"No. We have enough data." Ren glanced toward him.

"You sound nervous."

"I have developed survival instincts," Aaron replied. Then it was Ren's turn. The Guild Master looked significantly less comfortable.

"Minimum output, Master," Aaron emphasized, pointing toward the target. Ren stepped onto the platform and studied the remaining plate.

"Define minimum." Aaron's entire expression changed.

"Do not ask that question."

"I need a standard," Ren replied. Aaron pointed toward the chamber around us.

"Something that does not require reconstruction." Ren considered the requirement before nodding.

"Understood." I was unconvinced. Aaron looked even less convinced. Ren lifted one hand. A narrow Arcane Construct formed above his fingers, barely longer than a pen. Blue-white mana sharpened into a geometric point so stable and compact that the attack looked almost unimpressive compared to what I had watched my husband create during real battles. Ren flicked his wrist. The construct vanished. So did the center of the target. There was no blast, debris, shockwave, or dramatic impact.

The reinforced plate simply acquired a perfectly clean hole through its center, leaving the untouched back wall visible beyond it. The observation chamber went silent. Ren lowered his hand. Aaron stared at the target for several long seconds.

"That was minimum?"

"Yes," Ren answered calmly. Aaron slowly turned toward him.

"I hate you." Ren slipped both hands into his pockets.

"You called me." A laugh escaped me. Ren looked toward me, and I looked again at the impossibly clean hole he had made with barely any effort. Something warm moved through my chest.

"That was attractive," I admitted. Ren blinked. Aaron's entire body stiffened.

"PLEASE FLIRT AFTER THE GOVERNMENT TEST," the Guild Master shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. Several technicians immediately became fascinated by their tablets. Heat flooded my face. Ren returned toward me with far too much amusement in his eyes.

"You said it," he murmured.

"I know what I said."

"You said it publicly," Ren continued, his mouth curving. I caught his sleeve and pulled him closer.

"I was evaluating your performance." Ren raised an eyebrow.

"Professionally?"

"Keep talking and I will evaluate something else," I warned, although the heat in my cheeks made the threat less effective. Ren smiled. Then a familiar voice came from the observation entrance.

"She's worse at home," Ruruka said. I froze. Slowly, I turned. Ren's younger sister stood near the doorway with a Guild report tucked beneath one arm, her windbreaker half zipped over her Hunter uniform and an enormous grin already spreading across her face.

"Ruruka," I warned. Ruruka approached us without the slightest fear.

"Morning, Ria-nee."

"You heard nothing."

"I heard enough," she replied cheerfully. Ren looked toward his sister.

"Why are you here?" Ruruka lifted the folder in one hand.

"Routine mission report. Then somebody downstairs told me Nii-sama and Ria-nee were breaking the evaluation equipment, so obviously I came to watch." Ren frowned.

"We broke one scanner." Aaron immediately turned toward him.

"You broke the expensive scanner."

"I did not break it intentionally," Ren replied. Ruruka looked toward the faint thread of smoke still rising from the damaged machine. Then she looked back at her brother.

"Nii-sama," she said, her tone carrying enough disbelief that the single word became an accusation. Ren sighed.

"Not you too." Ruruka's grin widened. I hooked both arms around Ren's arm and leaned more comfortably against his shoulder, partly because I wanted to and partly because Ruruka had already accused me of worse behavior at home, so preserving dignity seemed pointless. She noticed immediately. Her grin became dangerous. I pointed toward her.

"Do not." Ruruka raised both hands innocently.

"I didn't say anything."

"That phrase is becoming contagious," I muttered. Ren glanced down at me.

"You started it."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did," my husband replied. Aaron stepped between us with another folder before the Arclight family could become a larger administrative problem. The final operational briefing concerned strategic assignments. We returned upstairs to a secure operations room, where Aaron activated a wall-sized display showing several high-level incidents currently monitored by international Guild networks.

Colored markers appeared across different regions alongside classification summaries, projected containment estimates, and regularly updating status information. Aaron gestured toward the screen.

"This is the strategic request network both of you will have access to. SS-rank Hunters do not select assignments from ordinary mission boards. Incidents believed to require strategic intervention appear here first." I studied the display while remaining close enough that my shoulder pressed against Ren's arm. An unstable deep S-rank Dungeon in northern Europe remained under local containment.

An oceanic leviathan migration was being tracked in the Pacific, while a high-level Gate in North America had already been assigned to multiple regional S-rank parties. Another newly discovered ruin-type Dungeon required researchers rather than combat specialists. Nothing required us. Beside me, Ren's shoulders visibly relaxed. Aaron noticed.

"You look disappointed," the Guild Master said. Ren turned toward him.

"I am experiencing the opposite emotion." I nodded beside my husband.

"So am I." Aaron stared at both of us with visible exhaustion.

"You understand that being SS-rank occasionally involves working?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. Ren remained silent for slightly too long. I elbowed his side. My husband sighed.

"Yes." Aaron closed the display and collected the remaining documents.

"Good. Then there is only one final matter." Ren's expression became suspicious again.

"What?"

"Your office," Aaron replied. I blinked.

"Our what?" Aaron gestured toward a secured door farther along the corridor.

"National command authorized a dedicated SS-rank operations office here at headquarters. It includes secure communications, briefing facilities, records access, rest space, and workspace for support personnel." I looked toward Aaron.

"We rejected the support personnel."

"I know." Ren frowned.

"Then why do we need an office?" Aaron opened the door.

"Because the national committee approved the budget before anyone thought to ask you." The room beyond was absurd. A broad desk occupied one wall beside secure communication terminals and locked storage cabinets. A private meeting table filled another section of the room, while a small kitchenette had been built near the rear. Then I noticed the sitting area. Two sofas. Large sofas. Ren noticed them too. I saw his eyes move. Aaron pointed toward the room.

"You may use this whenever you are at headquarters. I still need the final registration acknowledgements from records, so wait here while I retrieve them." The Guild Master left and closed the door behind him. Silence settled over the office. Ren looked toward the sofas. Then he looked toward me. I already knew what he was going to say.

"There are two," my husband pointed out. I lifted an eyebrow.

"I can count."

"One entire couch can belong to you," Ren continued.

"I know." Ren walked toward the nearest sofa and sat down. I remained where I was for several seconds. My eyes moved toward the completely empty second couch. Then they returned to my husband. Ren watched me. I crossed the room. His eyebrow rose. I sat sideways across his lap. Ren closed his eyes.

"There is literally another couch," he said, sounding deeply resigned. I shifted until comfortable, curled one arm around his shoulders, and rested the other against his chest.

"This one is familiar."

"I am not Guild furniture."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it keeps becoming relevant," Ren replied as I tucked myself beneath his chin. Despite his complaints, both of his arms settled automatically around my waist. I smiled against his shirt.

"Contradictory behavior."

"I'm preventing you from falling."

"I was not falling."

"You move constantly."

"I am getting comfortable," I replied, adjusting myself slightly again purely to prove his point. Ren looked toward the unused couch.

"You have an entire second sofa available." I lifted my face and met his eyes.

"Ren." His eyebrows rose.

"Hm?"

"Kiss me," I said. Amusement immediately entered his expression.

"You've become demanding."

"I am your wife."

"That argument remains legally questionable." I tightened both arms around his neck and narrowed my eyes.

"Ren." He smiled. Then he kissed me. Whatever irritation I had been pretending disappeared at once. My eyes closed, and I leaned into him while his hand settled securely against my waist. The kiss remained soft and familiar, not something born from danger or separation, but simply affection that no longer needed a dramatic reason. For several seconds, the Guild, SS-rank paperwork, national committees, and every absurd consequence of becoming a strategic-class Hunter stopped mattering.

When Ren drew back, I stayed close enough that our foreheads touched.

"Better?" he asked quietly. I smiled.

"Yes." The door opened. Aaron stopped. I froze. Ren did not move at all. The Guild Master stood in the doorway holding a thick folder. His gaze moved toward me. Then toward Ren. Then toward the completely unused second sofa. Heat flooded my face fast enough that even my ears burned. I attempted to stand. Unfortunately, Ren's arm remained around my waist, and my sudden movement accomplished very little beyond making it more obvious that I had been sitting comfortably on my husband. Aaron slowly stepped backward.

"I will return in thirty seconds," the Guild Master announced with extraordinary professionalism. The door closed. I stared at it. Then I buried my face against Ren's shoulder. His chest began moving beneath my cheek.

"You are laughing," I muttered.

"I'm breathing," Ren replied.

"Suspiciously." His body shook harder. I smacked his chest lightly.

"Professional." Ren managed to contain himself enough to answer.

"Very."

"Shut up." Aaron returned considerably more than thirty seconds later. I was sitting beside Ren. Technically. I had chosen the same sofa instead of using the completely untouched second one, and my thigh remained pressed against his while one of his hands rested comfortably over mine. There were limits to my surrender. The final signatures took another half hour, and by the time the last form disappeared into Aaron's folder, I understood why Ren considered administrative work a legitimate threat category.

Unfortunately, the Guild was not finished with us. A photographer waited near the main insignia wall downstairs with enough lighting equipment to make the process look significantly more important than a personnel record required. Ren stopped several steps away from the camera and looked toward Aaron.

"Why?" Aaron folded both arms.

"Official records."

"You already have photographs," Ren pointed out.

"Not standardized SS-rank documentation portraits." Ren released a tired sigh. I reached up and fixed his collar again. The photographer watched the gesture with visible amusement before pointing toward two marks on the floor.

"Please stand on the positions for me." Ren and I stepped into place. My husband looked exactly as he always did whenever someone pointed a camera toward him: mildly tired and suspicious of the entire concept. I straightened automatically, shoulders settling into the posture that years of court ceremonies had carved into my body. The photographer checked the framing through her camera and tilted her head.

"Mrs. Arclight, could you stand a little closer to Mr. Arclight?" I stepped closer. Then slightly closer again. My shoulder touched Ren's. I slipped one arm through his. The photographer smiled immediately.

"Perfect." Ren lowered his voice beside me.

"You interpreted that instruction aggressively." I kept my eyes toward the camera.

"Be quiet."

"You crossed most of the marker."

"She told me to stand closer."

"You complied enthusiastically," Ren murmured. My mouth began betraying me.

"Ren," I warned through the beginning of a smile. The camera flashed. The photographer immediately checked the image. Her face brightened.

"That one is excellent." Suspicion replaced my amusement.

"What expression did I make?" I asked. The photographer hesitated. Aaron stepped over and looked at the display. His shoulders moved once. I narrowed my eyes.

"Aaron." The Guild Master cleared his throat.

"You look happy." Apparently happiness had become incriminating evidence. Ren leaned toward the camera display. I caught his sleeve.

"No." Too late. The smile on his face widened. The photograph showed Ren looking tired but faintly amused, while I stood pressed close beside him with one arm linked through his and the beginning of a genuine smile visible on my face. I stared at it. Ren looked at it too. The photographer nodded approvingly.

"It looks natural. I would keep that one." I considered demanding another photograph. Then I looked at the image again. My arm around Ren. His shoulder against mine. Neither of us attempting to resemble national strategic assets, legendary Hunters, or anything particularly impressive. Just us.

"Fine," I said at last. Ren turned his head toward me. I tightened my fingers around his sleeve.

"Do not make me regret it."

"I didn't say anything," he replied.

"You were going to."

"Probably," Ren admitted. We returned home before the girls. For almost forty minutes, our new SS-rank cards rested untouched on the dining table while Ren started dinner and I unsuccessfully pretended I was not glancing toward mine every few minutes. The front door eventually opened. Karin entered first, followed by Ruri, while Hikari came last and barely removed one shoe before her golden eyes discovered the metallic cases on the table.

"Mama! Papa! Shiny things!" Hikari announced, pointing so enthusiastically that she nearly lost her balance. Karin immediately abandoned her schoolbag beside the entrance.

"Are those the SS cards?" From the kitchen, Ren looked over his shoulder while stirring a pot.

"Shoes first, Karin." Our middle daughter stopped. Ruri looked toward her sister. Karin stared at the table for another second before releasing a dramatic sigh and returning to the entrance.

"Fine." I covered my smile with one hand. Once shoes, bags, and uniforms had been handled properly, the girls gathered around the dining table. Ruri approached most carefully and looked toward me.

"Mama, can I see yours?" I slid the card across the table.

"Carefully." Ruri picked it up with both hands. Karin immediately leaned over her shoulder. Hikari climbed onto the chair beside them and stared at the silver border reflecting beneath the warm kitchen lights.

"Hikari thinks Mama shiny Hunter," Hikari declared proudly. I smiled at her.

"Apparently Mama is." Ren eventually came over from the kitchen and placed his own card beside mine. Karin picked it up immediately and began reading.

"Papa's is SS too." Ren raised an eyebrow.

"That is generally what an SS-rank identification card indicates." Karin ignored the sarcasm and read farther. Her brows gathered.

"Papa still says UNKNOWN," she said, looking up at him. Ren nodded calmly.

"Consistency." Ruri leaned slightly closer to the card.

"It also says classification unresolved."

"Also consistency," Ren replied. Karin looked toward her father with renewed interest.

"Does SS-rank mean you can go inside every Dungeon now?" The humor in Ren's expression softened immediately. He crouched beside her chair and rested one forearm against his knee before answering.

"It means Mama and Papa should be better at knowing which Dungeons we do not need to enter." Karin considered the answer carefully. Ruri nodded slowly beside her. I watched my husband from across the table. That answer was exactly why I trusted him with our daughters. Hikari had returned her attention to my card. She leaned toward Ruri until pale hair nearly brushed the tabletop and slowly sounded out the engraved name.

"Ria... Arclight." Something inside my chest stopped. Hikari looked up at me. Her golden eyes brightened.

"Mama has Papa name," she said, her expression filling with uncomplicated delight. For several seconds, I could only stare at her. Across the table, Ren went still. Ruri looked toward me. Karin did the same. Warmth climbed behind my eyes. Ridiculous. It was only a name. A name I had used for months. A name engraved into metal. Then Hikari climbed down from her chair and hurried toward me. Her little arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Mama Arclight," Hikari repeated proudly, pressing her cheek against my stomach. A soft laugh escaped me, although it came out less evenly than I intended. I wrapped both arms around her immediately and smoothed one hand over her hair.

"Yes, sweetheart," I murmured.

"Mama Arclight." Karin apparently decided a family hug had started and attached herself to my side. Ruri carefully placed the card back onto the table before joining us as well. I held all three daughters. Over their heads, I looked toward Ren. My husband stood beside the table watching us, and the softness in his expression made my throat tighten again. I freed one hand from around the girls and reached toward him. Ren crossed the distance without hesitation. His fingers closed securely around mine.

For several warm seconds, the five of us remained together in the middle of the dining room while two absurdly expensive SS-rank Hunter cards sat forgotten on the table. Then Hikari pulled her face away from me and looked toward Ren.

"SS Papa makes dinner?" she asked. Ren stared at her. Karin nodded immediately.

"I'm hungry too." Ruri smiled apologetically toward her father.

"I can help set the table, Papa." I laughed and squeezed Ren's hand. My husband closed his eyes for a moment, wearing the exhausted expression of a man who had just discovered that national strategic classification offered absolutely no protection from ordinary household responsibilities.

"Apparently SS-rank still cooks," Ren muttered. I looked up at him with a smile.

"Of course it does, dear." Ren opened his eyes and met mine. The resignation in his face softened into affection. He squeezed my hand once before returning to the kitchen, and the girls immediately followed him with several increasingly urgent questions about dinner. I remained beside the table for another moment. The two Hunter plates rested beneath the warm evening light, silver edges reflecting softly against the polished wood.

SS-rank apparently meant strategic authority, classified intelligence, enormous retainers, international clearance, emergency command privileges, specialist support, reinforced testing facilities, forty-million-yen scanners that could not survive understanding my husband, government committees, dedicated offices, and enough paperwork to make Ren consider career abandonment a reasonable strategy. My card said Ria Arclight. I cared considerably more about that part.

I picked it up one final time and ran my thumb across the surname before looking toward the kitchen. Ren stood at the stove while Karin asked whether SS-rank made food cook faster. Ruri was setting plates beside him, while Hikari had climbed onto a chair and apparently appointed herself supervisor of dinner. My husband caught me watching. His gaze dropped toward the card in my hand. Then he smiled. Warmth touched my cheeks, but this time I did not hide the card.

Instead, I placed it back on the table, crossed the kitchen, and wrapped both arms around Ren's waist from behind. Ren paused only long enough to glance over his shoulder. Then his posture relaxed naturally into my embrace while one of his hands briefly covered mine where they rested against his stomach.

"Mama is hugging Papa while Papa cooks," Karin observed from beside the table, sounding considerably more amused than surprised. Ruri looked toward her sister and smiled.

"Mama does that a lot now." Hikari immediately nodded from her chair.

"Mama clingy." I slowly looked toward our youngest daughter. Ren's shoulders started moving. I tightened my arms around him.

"Hikari," I warned, although my cheek remained firmly pressed against my husband's back. Hikari smiled brightly.

"Hikari tells truth." Karin laughed. Ruri tried not to. Ren failed completely. I closed my eyes and buried my face farther against his shirt. Being one of Japan's first SS-rank Hunters was apparently going to be troublesome. Being teased by my daughters for clinging to my husband was apparently going to become equally unavoidable. I could live with both. Ren turned slightly in my arms and kissed the top of my head before returning to dinner. My annoyance disappeared immediately. Unfair man.

I smiled against his back and held him tighter. Being Ria Arclight was considerably easier than being a Queen. I preferred that.

End of Chapter 72 Arclight Parenting Status Parents: Ren Arclight — Retired Archmage / SS-Rank Dragon Dad / Forty-Million-Yen Scanner Threat Ria Arclight — Former Demon Queen / SS-Rank Dragon Mom / Proud Owner of Papa's Name Current Family Objective: Complete SS-rank registration Survive government paperwork Return home before parental responsibilities notice the promotion Children Under Protection: Ruri — Ice / Emotional Anchor / Responsible Card Inspector Karin — Fire / Chaos / Dungeon Clearance Investigator Hikari — Light / Reality Risk / "Mama Arclight" Emotional Weapon Today's Activities: Completed official SS-rank registration Received finalized SS-rank identification Survived baseline testing Accidentally damaged extremely expensive government equipment Returned home for ordinary family dinner New Developments: Ren and Ria officially registered as SS-rank Hunters Dedicated Arclight SS-rank office acquired Ria has become dangerously comfortable using Ren as furniture"Mama Arclight" officially entered Hikari's vocabulary Household Status: Strategic-Class Government Registered Still Required To Cook Dinner Parents Stress Levels: Ren Administratively Wounded Financially Confused Scanner Incident Pending Ria Proud Clingy Emotionally Compromised By Surname Parenting Skill Growth: Ren: 100% (SS-Rank Does Not Override Dad Duties) Ria: 100% (Mama Arclight Certification Complete) Family Synergy: 100% (Strategic Classification Irrelevant Inside Household) Current Parents Status: Ren SS-Rank Papa Still Cooking Ria SS-Rank Mama Attached To Husband Immediate Priorities: Keep Ren away from additional forty-million-yen scanners Actually read future mandatory Guild emails Use SS-rank privileges responsibly Explain to Ria that dedicated offices contain two sofas for a reason Operational Assessment: Mission Type: SS-Rank Registration + Bureaucratic Survival Difficulty: Mandatory Paperwork Emotional Status: Ren Resigned — Content — Professionally Unclassifiable Ria Proud — Loved — Completely Arclight Future Outlook: Strategic Missions Will Eventually Arrive Aaron's Stress Level Will Continue Rising Ren's Resonance Will Remain "UNKNOWN" SS-Rank Office Privacy Protocols May Become Necessary Ria Will Continue Ignoring Available Furniture Household Authority Will Remain Above Hunter Rank Parents Personal Statement: Ren:"Apparently SS-rank still cooks."

Ria:"Being Ria Arclight was considerably easier than being a Queen." Reality's Response:"Japan registered two strategic-class Hunters that day. Their daughters were considerably more interested in whether Papa was still making dinner—and whether Mama finally had Papa's name written somewhere shiny."