(GTSGIR) Ch 3: Domineering Aura, The Man Who Is Not Normal

The kitchen was alive with the gentle clinking of forks against plates, the scent of sizzling basilroot sausage and toasted fennel bread wafting through the air. Gunner leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face, eyes a little bloodshot. He loved his daughters—truly, deeply—but dealing with all three of their personalities before finishing his first cup of coffee was enough to wear on even the hardiest of men.

Still, now that the storm of bickering had passed, he found himself smiling faintly.

They were quiet now. Not a tense silence, but the kind filled with family warmth and mutual understanding. Each daughter ate with precise manners, cutting their food neatly, chewing politely, their napkins set perfectly in place. Their table etiquette would put a royal gala to shame.

Gunner took a slow sip from his mug, glancing down the table. "Got good kids," he muttered to himself with a satisfied nod.

He turned toward his eldest, Arabella—her long brown hair tied neatly in a low bun, sharp cheekbones highlighted by the morning sun streaming through the window.

"So, Ara," he said, setting his mug down. "What's the situation today over at—what is it again? Harmonic Synergy Global?"

Arabella looked up with a small smile. "Yes, Harmonic Synergy Global, Daddy. We're doing a lot of post-integration streamlining. Today'll be slow—just a couple of board meetings, a sustainability report review. I'll be home early. I figured I'd help you with dinner."

"Make sure you don't burn the rice like last time," Sol muttered under her breath with a smirk.

Ara gave her sister a sidelong glare. "That was once. And it was crunchy, not burnt."

Gunner raised both hands. "No fighting before coffee number two, please."

Turning to Solace, his second daughter, he tilted his head. "And what about you, Miss Head of PrismCore Analytics? Got another long day of telling people they're fired?"

Sol, still barely dressed—green underwear and oversized white T-shirt—shrugged and yawned into her coffee mug. "Not exactly. We're implementing some... necessary disciplinary policies. Apparently one of our teams tried to use predictive AI to gamble on underground Emissary fights again."

Gunner blinked. "Again?"

Sol's eyes narrowed. "Again. So, I'll be in meetings all day making sure nobody gets sued into the Stone Age. But I'll try not to take too long."

Gunner gave her a small smile, his voice softening. "Don't push yourself too hard."

She looked up, surprised for a second. Then, with a rare softness in her tone, she nodded. "Thanks, Dad."

Finally, Gunner turned to the youngest, Cassidy, who was still fiddling with a piece of sausage with

her fork as if it were the most boring food item in existence.

"And you, my precious pain in the ass," he said with fondness. "How's the last trimester of college treating you?"

Cassidy flopped dramatically onto the table, her cheek pressing against the surface. "It's boring. I swear if I have to sit through one more lecture on Pre-Post Modern Ethics in a Post-Emissary World, I'm gonna fuse with the desk. I want you to come with me."

Gunner raised an eyebrow. "To college?"

"You've got so much to offer!" she said, shooting him an impish grin. "Wisdom. Charm. That whole 'grumpy old dad' thing. You could teach a whole course in Advanced Disappointment."

Gunner barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Oh sure. I'll just waltz into LionHeart University and tell them I used to mop up trash and haul rebar. That oughta inspire the youth."

The girls all looked at him at once, quiet now. Not a single word.

They all hated when he talked like that. When he downplayed himself like he was nothing but the guy who missed out on the big gift. The one who didn't awaken. The one who never got to be special.

But before anyone could say anything—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

All three girls immediately perked up.

"I'll get it!" they chorused in unison.

And then chaos.

Chairs screeched back as the sisters tripped over each other, elbows flying, each trying to beat the others to the door. Sol slid on the tile and smacked into Ara, who was trying to use Cassidy as a footstool. Cassidy practically dove through the hallway like she was breaking the tape at a marathon finish line.

Gunner calmly took another bite of his sausage. "Sure. You fight over the door. I'll be here. Eating. Like a sane person."

At the door, the girls finally managed to stop squabbling and pull it open.

Standing there was a man in a crisp black suit. Polished shoes. Briefcase in one hand. Government-issued vibes radiating off him like bad cologne.

He opened his mouth to speak—only to freeze. Eyes wide. Pupils dilating.

Because what stood before him wasn't three cute young women.

In his eyes—eyes now touched by minor spiritual sensitivity—he saw entities.

He saw beings cloaked in a dark aura, threads of power leaking from their skin like vapor. Powers too vast to comprehend, tucked into mortal shells. Titans wearing smiles. Monsters in pajamas.

The briefcase clattered to the porch.

"W-w-wrong h-h-house," he stammered, already backing up, his pants visibly darkening as he wet himself.

And then he turned and sprinted—down the sidewalk, past the neighbor's hedges, disappearing in record time.

The girls blinked.

Ara turned slowly to her sisters, brow raised. "Did we... forget to conceal our auras again?"

Sol rubbed the back of her neck, sheepish. "Oops."

Cassidy was already halfway inside. "That's gonna be like the 5th time this month.

Gunner stepped out the front door with his usual slow, confident stride, his old backpack slung over one shoulder—the same faded gray one he'd carried for nearly two decades. He gave a long stretch, letting the morning sun hit his face before glancing toward his daughters still clustered in the doorway.

"So," he said, adjusting the strap, "who was at the door?"

Ara, still trying to smooth down her blouse and act like she hadn't nearly body-slammed her sisters a few minutes ago, gave him a practiced, slightly-too-wide smile.

"Must've been the wrong house," she said casually. "Guy looked confused."

Gunner squinted toward the street where the poor man had fled, leaving a faint trail of fear-induced footprints. "Huh... weird."

He leaned in, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks—Ara first, then Sol, then Cassidy, who practically leaned into it with exaggerated affection.

"Alright, I'm off," he said, turning toward his beat-up car parked by the curb. It was a sturdy old vehicle, not flashy, but reliable—much like Gunner himself. "Don't wait up for me if I run late. Love you girls."

"Love you, Daddy!" they said in unison, all smiling now as they watched him walk down the driveway.

Cassidy leaned her head against Sol's shoulder, and Sol didn't even shove her off. Ara crossed her arms as the screen door gently creaked shut behind them, her gaze lingering on her father as he climbed into his car.

He buckled in, gave the engine a few encouraging taps before it roared to life, then gave a short wave through the window. The girls waved back until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Ara didn't stop watching, even after he was gone.

"There's no way you can be normal, Daddy," she thought, her expression softening with quiet certainty. "Not when you can withstand our aura like it's nothing."

She glanced at her sisters, who had both gone quiet now, their playful energy subdued in that shared moment of reflection.

Ara finally closed the door behind them.