I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!

Chapter 641 641: Lilith (2)

Late night.

Alina was almost asleep.

Her body was heavy and boneless, curled against Dante's side with her head resting on his shoulder, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath he took. His arm was wrapped around her, warm and solid, his fingers loosely tangled in her hair.

His breathing was slow and deep, rhythmic and peaceful. He was asleep. The Shadow Lord, the most powerful being in the domain, was snoring softly, a low rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and into her cheek. Alina smiled into the darkness and closed her eyes.

Then something poked her nose.

She opened her eyes to find a tiny finger, soft and chubby and warm, attached to a tiny hand, attached to a tiny arm, attached to a tiny baby. Their daughter was awake, sitting between them with her little legs stretched out and her little feet kicking the sheets in slow, lazy motions. Her crimson eyes were wide open in the dim light, bright and alert and undeniably mischievous.

She poked Alina's nose again. "Awag," she whispered, her voice small and breathy, like the sound of wind through leaves.

Alina blinked, her mind still thick with sleep. "It's the middle of the night."

"Awag."

"You should be sleeping."

"Aghhh."

The baby turned her head and studied Dante's sleeping face, her tiny brow furrowed in concentration like she was solving a very important problem. Then she poked his nose. He didn't move. She poked him again, harder. Nothing. So she grabbed his nose.

Dante woke up with a snort, his eyes flying open and his hand shooting up instinctively before stopping when he felt small, warm fingers wrapped around his nose. "What—"

The baby giggled, a soft and breathy bubbling laugh that made her chubby cheeks shake and her tiny horns catch the dying firelight like glowing embers. Her whole body trembled with joy.

Dante stared at her, his crimson eyes wide, his hair a mess, his nose still in her grip. "You woke me up," he said.

"Awag."

"You woke me up to giggle at me."

"Awag."

She patted his face, gently at first with a soft and curious touch, then not so gently as her small hand smacked his cheek before patting it again, like she was trying to pet a very large and very confused animal.

Dante looked at Alina, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, bewilderment, and something soft underneath. "She's hitting me."

Alina smiled, her eyes still half-closed and her voice thick with sleep. "She's showing affection."

"This is how she shows affection?"

"She's one, Dante. Give her time."

The baby grabbed Dante's ear and pulled hard. He winced. "I'm giving her time. She's using that time to hurt me."

The baby let go of his ear and looked at him with her serious crimson eyes, her tiny lips pressed together. "Aghhh," she said, as if delivering a very important verdict. Then she reached for Alina's hair, wrapping her tiny fingers around a strand and pulling.

Alina gasped. "Ow—"

"Awa," the baby said proudly.

"That's my hair."

"Awa."

"Let go, sweetheart."

"Awa."

Alina tugged gently, but the baby held tighter. Her lower lip trembled, and her crimson eyes filled with tears that glistened in the firelight. Alina's voice softened immediately. "Don't cry. I wasn't—I was just—"

The baby let go of her hair and started crying. Not just crying but wailing, the loudest cry Alina had ever heard, filling the room and echoing off the stone walls and rattling the candles on the nightstand. Dante covered his ears.

Alina sat up quickly and scooped the baby into her arms, holding her against her chest with one hand cradling the back of her head and the other rubbing small circles on her back. "Shh, shh, it's okay," she murmured, pressing her lips against the baby's forehead. "Mama's here. Papa's here. No one took your hair."

The baby cried louder. Alina rocked her gently, back and forth, back and forth, the bed creaking softly beneath them and the fire crackling in the hearth. "Your hair is still there. See?" She tilted her head and pointed at her own hair with her chin. "Still attached. Still on my head. Right here."

The baby's cries slowed and hitched before stopping altogether. She stared at Alina's hair, her eyes narrowed, and reached for it again. Alina pulled back gently. "No."

The baby's face crumpled, but Alina bounced her quickly and said, "Look at Papa! Papa has hair too!"

The baby turned her head and stared at Dante's messy, sleep-tousled hair. She reached for it. Dante didn't move. "I see where this is going," he said flatly. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. His eyes watered. "I was afraid of that."

The baby held on, but her lower lip stopped trembling and her tears dried on her cheeks. "Awa," she said softly. She let go, patted his cheek, and smiled her gummy, toothless, completely ridiculous smile that made her whole face light up like the sun.

Dante's heart melted. Alina could see it happening, the cold and hard walls around his heart crumbling into dust. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Awa."

She grabbed his nose. He didn't pull away. He just looked at her, his crimson eyes soft and his lips curved into a small, helpless smile. Alina laughed, the sound soft and warm like honey dripping into tea.

The baby yawned, her tiny mouth opening wide, her eyes drooping, her little body sagging against Dante's chest as sleep finally claimed her. Dante laid her down between them, slow and careful like she was made of glass. She curled onto her side without waking, one tiny hand resting on Alina's cheek and one tiny foot pressed against Dante's stomach. Her breathing slowed and deepened.

The room was quiet again. The fire crackled softly, the shadows settled, and somewhere in the castle a clock ticked. Alina and Dante lay on either side of their daughter, watching her sleep as her chest rose and fell, her lips parted slightly, and her tiny fingers twitched.

Alina closed her eyes, and finally, they both sighed in relief.