The house was quiet when Leo shouldered through the door with his arms full. The hearth sat cold - Sera had banked the fire before leaving for the field that morning - and the room smelled of stale ash and the faintly sour tang of their st bag of millet, slumped nearly empty against the far wall.

  He started setting his purchases on the table.

  Pot, grains, meat, bnket...

  He was arranging the st of it when the door opened behind him.

  Sera came in with a basket of turnips on one hip, her hair tied back with a rag, sweat dried to salt lines at her temples. She stopped two steps inside.

  Her gaze moved across the table, then to him, then back to the pile again.

  She set the basket down. Slowly.

  "What," she said, "is all of this."

  The ftness of her voice said she already knew the answer and was giving him one chance to make it sound better than it looked.

  "Supplies," Leo said. "For the house."

  "Supplies," Sera picked up the honey jar, turning it over in her fingers. "You bought honey. How much?"

  "The honey was..."

  "Total, Leo. How much did you spend?"

  He told her.

  The silence that followed was heavy. Sera stood very still, one hand resting on the table's edge.

  "I know it's your share," she let out a resigned sigh. "I can't tell you how to spend it. But spending almost everything after one run, that's not providing, Leo. That's gambling."

  She was right. In the narrow logic of survival, a copper not spent was a copper saved against disaster, and disaster visited Ashwick often enough that treating savings as optional was a luxury they hadn't earned.

  Leo knew this. However, he disagreed.

  Money was a tool. You used it to build the life you had, and if you could generate more - which the dungeon could - then hoarding copper while your wife ate millet and shivered under a thin bnket wasn't wisdom. It was fear pretending to be prudence.

  He didn't say any of this.

  "You're right," he said. "I should have been more careful."

  Sera stared at him, searching for a fight, but none came.

  "It's done," she said finally. The anger hadn't left her voice, but it had shifted. "What's spent is spent. But next time, please discuss it with me first."

  "Agreed."

  "I mean it."

  "I know."

  She held his gaze for another moment, then turned away to catalogue the rest of the purchases - testing the wool bnket between thumb and forefinger, uncorking the salt to sniff, untying the herb bundle and breathing in rosemary and thyme.

  Then her hand found the comb.

  Sera turned it over in her fingers. Ran her thumb along the spine. The pad of her thumb lingered on the carved edge, testing the smoothness, and something shifted behind her eyes.

  "Don't think this means I've forgiven you," she said.

  "Wouldn't dream of it."

  She set the comb on the shelf by the bed, where she kept her rag and her one good hair tie. Then she picked up the pork belly, all business, the moment was over.

  "This needs to be dealt with tonight. Raw pork won't keep for long, and the sausages are smoked enough to hang," she nodded toward the ceiling. "What were you pnning to do with it?"

  "I was thinking we render the fat cap first. Save the rd for cooking. We've been out of fat for weeks. Then score the skin, rub it with salt and herbs, sear it in the fresh rd, and braise it slow near the hearth."

  Sera looked at him. The look sted three full seconds, which was two and a half seconds longer than comfortable.

  "Where did you learn that?"

  "Watched a butcher in Rockhaven," Leo shrugged, not at all phased by the question. "While Marsh was haggling over Dar's mirror."

  "Alright, but I don't know how to do all that," Sera accepted it easily. "Show me."

  Leo started with the knife.

  Their one good bde, decent edge, wooden handle. Leo id the belly ft on the table, skin-side up, and began scoring the fat cap in a crosshatch pattern. The cuts were meant to be uniform, a finger's width apart.

  His third line jagged sideways. He corrected, adjusted his grip. But the next cut was shallow on one end and too deep on the other, and when he tried to trim the fat cap into cubes for rendering, his movements were stiff.

  The knowledge was precise. His hands were not.

  Sera watched from beside him, arms crossed, her head tilted at an angle that could have been curiosity or judgment.

  Then she ughed. A short, surprised sound. Leo looked up, the bde paused mid-cut, a cube of fat dangling half-separated from the sb.

  "What?"

  "Give me that," she reached past him and took the knife from his hand. "Over there. Sit down before you lose a finger."

  "I was doing fine..."

  "You were murdering that pork, Leo. Talk me through it. I'll do the cutting."

  He surrendered without much fight. Sera took his pce at the table, adjusted her grip on the handle the way someone holds a tool they've used since childhood, and finished the scoring in half the time. Each line ran clean and even from edge to edge.

  "Like this?" She asked, not looking up.

  "Deeper on the left side where the fat's thicker. Perfect."

  Before they began cooking, Sera set aside a third of the raw belly.

  "For your parents," she said.

  Leo nodded, carrying the bundle to the shelf near the door and went back to the hearth. A warm feeling filled his chest.

  Maybe I should get something for her parents next time too...

  Sera stirred the fat as it rendered in the new pot, releasing a savory aroma that filled the house. She then poured the clear, golden rd through a cloth into a jar, setting the crisp cracklings aside for ter use.

  "Open your mouth," Leo scooped up a piece of the crisp pork with a wooden spoon.

  "What? No, I..."

  Sera protested, a faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. But she finally gave up and opened her mouth, allowing Leo to feed her.

  "Is it good?" He asked.

  "It is. You have some too," she smiled. Despite her protest, Leo could practically see her drooling as her eyes kept darting toward the pork cubes in the jar. It was understandable though, the st time they had any meat was at their wedding.

  The belly went into the pot next. Skin-side down in the fresh rd, and the sound it made - a deep, aggressive hisssssss - pulled Leo half off his stool despite himself.

  While it braised, Sera made bread, and Leo was chased out of the kitchen after his third attempt to steal a pork cube.

  The sun was gone by the time they sat down.

  One of the new candles burned on the table. Sera had given him a look when he lit it, the ft we-could-have-used-a-tallow-scrap look, but she hadn't said anything. And its fme threw soft, steady light across the room. Steam rose from the food in zy curls that caught the glow.

  On the table in front of them was a feast.

  The belly, sliced thick, the skin shattering under the knife's edge with a sound like breaking gss. Underneath, yers of fat and meat had colpsed into each other during the braise, silky and rich, the herbs worked into every crevice.

  Fresh rye bread, still warm, dense as a fist, the crust cracking when torn. Roasted turnips from Sera's basket, seasoned with salt and the st of the pan drippings. And the cracklings in their bowl, golden-brown, sprinkled with coarse salt.

  "It's hard for us to eat like this even at the New Year celebration," Sera swallowed. Her wide eyes glued to the dishes on the table.

  "Then what are you waiting for? Dig in," Leo ughed.

  She bit into the pork and closed her eyes. She didn't say anything. The slight drop of her shoulders, the way she chewed slowly, the small exhale through her nose - those said enough.

  The belly was better than anything Leo'd ever managed to cook in his old life. Sera'd taken his stumbling instructions and turned them into this masterpiece.

  The bread was good. The honey on the bread was better. Leo tore off a piece, drizzled honey across the broken surface, and gave it to Sera. Her expression shifted, disapproval at the extravagance warring with her desire.

  She ate three pieces.

  "This isn't terrible," she said, reaching for another slice of belly.

  "Then eat more."

  "You too. Don't just sit there and stare at me. I can't eat like that."

  Leo smiled and turned his attention back to his own bowl. Seeing Sera happy like that made it hard to regret spending so much money.

  Not that he regretted any of it in the first pce.

  After the meal came the dreaded cleaning up.

  Sera was at the basin, back to him, just finished rinsing the st bowl. Her sleeves were pushed to her elbows. A strand of chestnut hair had escaped and hung along the line of her neck, curling at the nape where the day's sweat had dampened it.

  Leo stopped beside her. Close enough that she went still, her hands pausing in the air.

  "Sera."

  She turned her head, just enough to see him from the corner of her eye. He leaned in. Slow. Giving her room to step away.

  She didn't.

  His mouth found hers, and Sera's breath caught - a small, sharp sound swallowed by the kiss. Her wet hands came up, hesitated, then settled against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

  She tasted like honey and rye bread and the faintest trace of salt from the cracklings, and she kissed him back with a tentativeness that made his chest ache.

  "Has it stopped? I mean..." Leo asked when they broke the kiss.

  "Yes..." Sera nodded. Her head buried in his chest. "So if you want to..."

  "I do!"

  Leo's hand cupped her face, and he kissed her again. When they finally separated, her hands were still fisted in his shirt, and his thumb was still on her cheekbone.

  "Don't think," Sera murmured, out of breath, "that this makes up for the spending."

  "I know."

  She held his gaze for one more beat. Then she released his shirt, smoothed the wrinkled fabric with her palm, and walked back to the cottage.

  Leo y on his back atop the wool bnket he'd bought in Rockhaven. The fabric was infinitely finer than what they were used to.

  The small bedroom was steeped in the soft glow of a single tallow candle perched on a crate. It threw flickering shadows that danced across the ceiling. From the other side of the door, he could hear the faint sound of spshing water. Sera, cleaning herself.

  She had chased him away when he offered to 'help'.

  "Just stay there," she'd said, her voice a mix of shyness and steel. "I'll be out when I'm ready."

  So now, Leo needed something to distract himself, so he called up the holographic screen.

  [Energy: 168]

  Ever since returning from the dungeon, he had been thinking about how to spend that hard-earned energy.

  His gaze swept around the room, taking in the state of the furniture. The rickety table with its wobbly leg. The bed frame that groaned with every shift of weight. He could see their blueprints when he touched them. The cost to upgrade them was cheaper than the crossbow's.

  Leo'd considered it for days, to make their small world sturdier, more permanent. But he hadn't.

  Using energy on furniture was an investment with no immediate return. Better to spend that potential power where it would generate more power. A better weapon, better armor, that meant a safer dungeon, which meant more energy, more money.

  Then he could buy all the furniture he wanted. Hell, he could build a new house.

  Leo stood and walked to where his crossbow hung. He rested a palm on the cool, familiar stock.

  Instantly, the blueprint appeared in front of him. His thoughts drifted, testing the possibilities. He imagined the trigger. A sharper break, less creep. The blueprint responded.

  [Upgrade: Trigger Mechanism: Precision Seer - Energy Cost: 60]

  It was tempting. A cleaner break could mean the difference between a hit and a miss. But… sixty energy for a marginal gain on a shot he was already nding?

  He moved on. He focused on the channel where the bolt sat. He imagined sanding it, oiling it, making the bolt's flight smooth.

  [Upgrade: Bolt Channel - Energy Cost: 50]

  Again, an incremental improvement. He could buy better bolts that flew straight enough. Fifty energy for something that might be negated by spending a small amount of money wasn't worth it.

  He looked at the string, picturing it weaved tighter..

  [Upgrade: String Reinforcement - Energy Cost: 45]

  The benefits felt tiny. The Thorn Beetles' carapaces were too damn tough for the crossbow he had. A slight bump in power wasn't going to penetrate them.

  If not precision and power, then I should focus on speed...

  He pictured a metal D-ring fixed to the front of the stock. Matching this, a heavy-duty metal hook, designed to be strapped onto a thick leather belt.

  Stirrup and belt hook.

  Step, brace the foot in the stirrup, pull, and the string was cocked.

  [Upgrade: Integrated Reloading System - Energy Cost: 162]

  A pang went through him. That was everything he had. But this was a fundamental change to how the weapon functioned. This was the difference between one shot and two shots in a critical moment.

  His fingers tightened around the stock. He remembered the scene in the tunnel. The clicking of the Thorn Beetles. His frantic, clumsy efforts to re-cock the bolt...

  One hundred and sixty-two was high, but the cost of being a second too slow was infinitely higher.

  This is it.

  Then, the spshing from outside stopped. The soft pats of bare feet on the dirt floor approached.

  Leo flicked the blueprint away instantly, the glowing lines of the schematic vanishing from his vision like a snuffed candle.

  The longer he spent time with Sera, the fonder he became of her. She was kind, strong, loyal, and definitely cared about him and their family.

  Leo had made up his mind. He would tell her about the skill after their next dungeon run. For the stirrup upgrade, he could start it ter when she was out and tell her that he brought it to the bcksmith.

  Dumping such big news on her tonight of all night, might not be the best idea...