Chapter 247 | Repairing The House

By the time Dexter finished massaging Lyra, she had already fallen deeply asleep.

Dexter only noticed when he stopped working on her shoulders and received no response from her.

"Lyra?"

Nothing.

Her breathing had become slow and steady, and her face looked completely relaxed against his pillow.

Dexter stared at her for a moment.

"She actually fell asleep..."

A small smile appeared on his face as he picked up the towel beside the bowl of warm water. He carefully wiped away the remaining massage oil from her skin so she wouldn’t wake up feeling sticky or uncomfortable.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled the blanket over her but Dexter remained standing beside the bed.

His eyes wandered toward Lyra’s face before eventually settling on her lips. They were slightly parted, soft and pink, still faintly glistening from where she had licked them earlier.

For a brief moment, the memory of their earlier kiss returned. The warmth of her lips against his.

And along with it came the urge to kiss her again.

Dexter immediately pushed the thought aside.

Lyra was asleep.

Yes, she had given him permission earlier, but that had been different. She had been awake, curious and probably wanted to understand what kissing felt like.

That didn’t mean he could simply kiss her whenever he wanted.

Especially while she was sleeping.

That would be taking advantage of her. And despite everything, Dexter still had his principles. He had promised himself he would protect these girls, not exploit them.

Dexter shook his head.

"Forget it."

He turned toward the door.

Before leaving, however, he glanced back one final time.

Then Dexter quietly closed the door behind him.

The house had become unusually peaceful.

Selene was already sleeping in the girls’ shared room, while Lyra had taken over Dexter’s bedroom. The two of them were resting.

That left only one of his three wives awake.

Mira.

Dexter headed toward the living room.

Just as he expected, Mira was there.

She sat in her wheelchair opposite the window, occupying the same position where she usually cultivated. The sun streaming through the glass cast her in its orange glow that made her hair look like it was on fire.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing calm, and there was almost no movement from her body.

For a second, Dexter wondered if she had fallen asleep while cultivating.

But the moment he stepped farther into the room, Mira’s head tilted slightly toward him.

She had sensed his presence but her eyes never opened. After acknowledging him, she simply turned her head forward again and resumed her cultivation.

Dexter didn’t disturb her.

He quietly entered the living room and sat down on the couch.

For several moments, silence filled the house.

Then Dexter’s attention shifted toward the wall.

His expression immediately changed.

Two ugly holes remained there.

They were souvenirs from his earlier confrontation with Kreg and his thugs. When Dexter had punched Kreg and one of his men, both of them had been sent smashing through the wall. He had already swept away the broken pieces and debris afterward, but cleaning the floor hadn’t exactly solved the bigger problem.

Two enormous holes were still glaring at him.

Dexter stared at them.

The longer he looked, the uglier they seemed to become.

He sighed.

"I really did a number on this place."

His gaze briefly moved toward Mira.

She didn’t react.

Dexter looked back at the wall.

He couldn’t exactly leave the house like this. The girls deserved to live somewhere that didn’t remind them of violence every time they walked into the room. They had already endured enough.

Fortunately, when he had bought materials for renovating the house, he had purchased more than they eventually needed. Some of the leftover supplies were still sitting inside the storage room.

That should be enough.

Dexter stood.

Since everyone else was sleeping or cultivating, there wasn’t much else for him to do anyway.

He might as well fix the damage he had caused.

He entered the storage room and began searching through the remaining renovation materials. Boxes of drywall patches, joint compound, sandpaper, paint—everything he needed was still there, tucked away in the corner.

It didn’t take long before he found what he needed.

Dexter carried everything into the living room and placed the materials near the damaged wall.

Then he got to work.

He wasn’t a professional builder, but this wasn’t his first time doing basic repair work either. He knew enough to understand what needed to be done. He measured the holes, cut the patches to size, and fitted them into place.

Piece by piece, the holes began disappearing.

The quiet living room soon filled with the soft sounds of Dexter working. The scrape of the putty knife. The rustle of sandpaper. The occasional creak of the floorboards as he shifted his weight.

Mira remained near the window throughout the entire process.

She didn’t speak.

Dexter didn’t bother her either.

It created a strangely peaceful atmosphere. One person cultivated. The other repaired a wall he had accidentally destroyed by punching people through it. A perfectly normal night in Dexter’s increasingly abnormal life.

Time slipped past.

Roughly an hour later, Dexter finally stepped backward and examined his work.

The two holes were gone.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm before looking over the repaired sections carefully. The patches were smooth, the edges blended, and he had even managed to match the paint reasonably well.

It wasn’t perfect.

Anyone experienced in construction would probably notice the difference immediately. But considering what the wall had looked like an hour ago?

Dexter nodded with satisfaction.

"Good enough."

At least nobody could walk into the house and immediately ask why there were two human-sized holes in the living-room wall.

Dexter crouched and gathered the remaining materials. After returning everything useful to the storage room, he came back with a broom and cleaned the floor. By the time he finished, the living room looked considerably better and almost normal. What was left was the wall paper.

Dexter placed both hands on his waist and inspected his work.

"Nice."