The beginning of an Era

Saturday. Evening. Selene’s house was bathed in a soft golden glow. From the kitchen came the sounds of pans clinking, pots boiling, and the occasional knife thudding against a cutting board. The smell of spicy noodles and stir-fried vegetables drifted through the entire house, making even those who swore they “weren’t hungry” reconsider. — For heaven’s sake, just sit down already, — Selene placed another plate on the table. — It’s dinner, not a battlefield. The living room was packed. Pillows, blankets, a couple of overturned mugs on the floor. On the couch — Zoe, Rumi, and Mira, already in their cozy pajamas. By the fireplace — Mystery, Baby, Romance, Abby, and Jinu, some in T-shirts, some in hoodies, and one completely wrapped in a blanket. And… silence. The good kind. The alive kind. — Seriously, — Baby muttered, sipping tea. — Who would’ve thought that after all that bloodshed, we’d be chilling in a living room, debating the taste of potatoes and whining that there’s not enough noodles. — You’re on your fifth plate, stop whining, — Mira snorted, lazily leaning against Zoe. — Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t started a cookbook. — Maybe I will, — he replied with fake pride. — “How to Survive as a Demon and Not Die of Noodles.” Everyone laughed. Rumi lifted her eyes from her plate. — We actually… survived. — Not just survived, — Zoe added, raising her cup. — We won. And no one else is gonna lose themselves because of that bastard. Silence again, but now it felt like a warm blanket after a long day — comforting and needed. Romance glanced at Mira with a small smile: — Still waiting for you to admit you missed us. — I’ll admit it when you admit I saved your life… five times, — Mira grumbled without malice and smirked. — But fine. You guys aren’t that bad, demons. Mystery leaned back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling: — Who would’ve thought… demons, idols, and now — dinner under a warm lamp. Maybe we really have changed? — You have, — Selene said calmly, walking in with a tray of pastries. — You’re not who you were. Who you’ll become — that’s up to you. Silence fell again. Only the crackle of the fireplace and the soft voice of the radio in the background remained. Jinu raised his cup: — To us. As we are now. And to those who helped us become this way. They clinked their cups. And for the first time in a long while — no one rushed, no one fought, no one ran. They just… lived.