novelraw Chapter 228: Gone
Chapter 228: Gone
Yuel stared at the little fruit—its tiny voice stretched to its limits as it enthusiastically imitated a wolf’s howl.
For a brief moment, the gentle smile on his face froze—like fine porcelain struck by a sudden gust of frost—then cracked, piece by piece.
Terry, completely oblivious, continued his spirited performance.
"Awuu! Awuu!"
"Terry," Paros corrected patiently, "you’re a dragon. You can’t howl like a wolf. You should roar like a dragon—like this: Roar!"
"Oh! So that’s how dragons roar!" Terry eagerly copied him, puffing up as best as he could.
"Roar!"
Rory stared at both of them in confusion. This was getting completely out of hand.
How exactly was she supposed to convince him that he wasn’t a dragon—but a fruit?
At that moment, Yuel stepped forward.
Taking a slow breath, he walked straight to Rory’s side.
He didn’t spare a glance for the little troublemaker who couldn’t even recognize his own father.
Instead, his gaze softened as it settled on her.
"Rory, I’m here."
He looked her over carefully, from head to toe, missing nothing.
Only after confirming she was truly unharmed did the tension in him finally ease.
"Yuel... welcome back."
Seeing him, Rory felt as though she had found salvation.
Meanwhile, Terry peeked out curiously, noticing yet another male by his mother’s side.
He whispered to Paros, "Daddy, Mommy has another partner now... another one competing with you."
At Terry’s words, Rory quickly reached for Yuel’s hand and turned toward the little fruit.
"Terry, you can’t call Paros ’Daddy’ anymore. This—this is your real father. Yuel."
You’re the same species, for heaven’s sake!
The little fruit, who had been bouncing moments ago, went completely still.
For two full seconds.
Then—
whoosh—
he disappeared straight into Paros’s hair.
"Mommy, my daddy is Paros. Don’t give Terry to someone else."
Paros, too, turned wary, his gaze sharpening as it fixed on Yuel. "Sis... did I do something wrong? Why are you giving my child to someone else?"
The air tightened instantly.
Rory opened her mouth to explain, but Yuel gently squeezed her hand, stopping her.
He offered her a reassuring smile, as warm and composed as ever.
Then, calm and unhurried, he said softly, "Don’t worry. Leave this to me."
Just a few simple words, yet they carried a quiet, undeniable power.
As though every trouble in the world could be resolved in his presence, as though anything placed in his hands would naturally fall into place.
It inspired instinctive trust. A deep, unshakable sense of ease.
"...Okay." Rory looked at him and nodded, her expression earnest.
Only then did Yuel lift his gaze toward Paros.
His eyes were calm—without the slightest trace of hostility. He didn’t demand the child outright.
"You’ve done very well," he said evenly. "You’ve taken good care of him. I’m not here to take him away. I’m here to correct a simple truth."
His voice rang clear, like jade striking softly against stone—gentle, yet carrying an authority that was hard to question.
Paros frowned slightly. "What truth?"
Yuel smiled—refined, harmless.
Instead of answering directly, he asked, "What do you think matters most to a child?"
Paros paused, then answered seriously, "Safety. And inheritance."
"Correct." Yuel nodded in approval.
Then, slowly, he raised his hand.
At his fingertips, a soft silver-white glow began to gather—like starlight, gentle and alive.
It wasn’t dazzling.
Instead, it radiated warmth... purity... life.
"A dragon has its legacy. A beast, its bloodline," Yuel said softly, his voice reaching every ear present.
"And he..." At last, his gaze settled on the small fruit perched atop Paros’s head, quietly watching him. "...has his own place to belong."
As his words fell, the light drifted forward—slowly, gently—toward Terry.
It was not an attack.
There was no force in it.
It felt more like a breeze... or a distant call.
Paros instinctively tried to block it, only to find, to his surprise, that the power was completely incompatible with his own... yet caused him no harm at all.
Terry, however, reacted instantly. His small body emerged from Paros’s hair, drawn forward like a plant reaching instinctively toward sunlight.
The light felt familiar and warm. Like something he had known long ago. Like the safest place he had ever been to.
A memory buried deep within his being... the very origin of his life.
"You see," Yuel continued, his voice gentle yet resolute, "A dragon’s nest, no matter how warm, cannot hatch a firebird’s egg."
"And no matter how powerful a dragon is, it cannot stop a living thing from seeking its own light."
Step by step, Yuel approached, stopping at a careful, respectful distance before Paros.
He extended his hand.
The light hovered, swirling softly in his palm.
"Terry."
It was the first time Yuel had spoken his child’s name.
Beneath that single word lay a storm of emotion—but what emerged was only the gentlest tenderness.
"Come here. Come to your father."
Terry hesitated.
He looked at Paros’s strong, elegant dragon horns, then at the glowing light in Yuel’s palm, warm and impossibly inviting.
For the first time since he had come into being, he felt... conflicted.
Yuel didn’t rush him. Didn’t urge him. He simply waited.
Patience, to a man like him, was its own form of torment, but he understood something better than most:
To love—whether as a partner or a father—meant guidance, not force.
Respect, not possession.
And he was both a hunter of the highest order... and a man who knew how to wait.
Time seemed to still.
Terry looked back and forth.
On one side—Paros. The first figure he had seen upon awakening. Warm, strong... a little clumsy when it came to affection. His hair had been the coziest place in the world.
On the other—a stranger.
And yet... the light in his palm felt like a lullaby sung from the beginning of time.
Each flicker called to him.
Pulled at something deep within his soul—something he could not resist.
Paros sensed the shift in him, his heart tightening as he was about to speak—but before he could—a single thread of light separated from Yuel’s palm.
It moved like something alive, crossing the final distance... and gently, tentatively, touched Terry.
In that instant, warmth flooded through him.
Complete.
Whole.
Every part of him seemed to come alive, responding with joy to that touch.
Something deep within him whispered:
This is where you belong.
Terry nudged Paros’s horn with his small body, letting out a soft, apologetic sound—a quiet farewell.
Then, he gathered his courage and leapt.
His tiny form traced an awkward arc through the air—not toward anywhere else—but straight into Yuel’s waiting hand.
Landing perfectly.
Securely.
The moment he touched down, Yuel’s fingers trembled—just barely.
Deep within his usually composed gaze, emotion surged... warm, almost uncontainable.
Truthfully, he had been afraid.
Afraid the little one might not recognize him at all.
...Fortunately, his child had not disappointed him.
Yuel’s expression remained composed.
But slowly, carefully, he closed his hand—cupping Terry as though holding the most fragile treasure in existence.
Terry rolled once in his palm, comfortable, then looked up.
"...Daddy?"
The small, tentative call unlocked something deep within Yuel.
The storm in his eyes settled into quiet, boundless warmth.
"I’m here."
Paros stood there, stunned.
Watching as that small, warm presence—the one that had rested on him—left.
A hollow ache spread through him.
He couldn’t understand.
Why... the child he had sheltered... had chosen someone else.
The light in his eyes dimmed.
He turned to Rory, voice low, almost lost. "...Big sister... my child is gone."