I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!

When Dante came to pick the babies, the first thing he noticed was Lucien smiling, while little Sable was giggling at something Alina had just said. The sight tugged at him strangely, and for a moment, he simply stood there in silence, watching the light in their expressions.

Alina startled when she realized he had appeared without a sound.

"Thank you for taking care of them. I'm here to take them back," Dante said, his deep voice calm but carrying a faint curve of a smile as his eyes met hers.

"No problem, sir. They were obedient and sweet," Alina replied with a gentle smile, her gaze flickering toward the two boys who instantly lowered their heads, shy under her praise.

Dante's lips curved slightly, a rare warmth flashing in his eyes. "Please… don't call me 'sir' when we're outside of the workplace," he said evenly.

"Okay, sir," she answered without thinking.

He narrowed his eyes at her, the glare sharp enough to make her laugh.

"Sorry, sir," she began again, only to falter when he fixed that same look on her. "Sorry… Dante." His name felt strange on her tongue, too personal, too intimate, and her cheeks warmed. "I'm just… used to it," she admitted sheepishly.

A low chuckle rumbled from him, and he nodded, amused. Her voice wrapping around his name like that was far sweeter than he expected. No one called him that. To everyone else, he was Lord, Principal, Shadow Master, but from her lips, it sounded like something else entirely. He wasn't going to tell her that, though.

"Let's go," he said, extending his hand slightly toward the children. Lucien and Sable immediately ran to him, clambering into his strong arms. They looked happy to see him, but a shadow of sadness appeared in their eyes as they glanced back at Alina.

"Say goodbye," Dante reminded them softly.

The boys nodded, their small hands waving as they smiled at her. "Goodbye, Teacher!"

Alina waved back, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she caught Dante's gaze lingering on her. His eyes were deep, intense, as if unwilling to look away.

The late light settled over her like a blessing, brushing her skin in gentle hues and catching on the curve of her lips, where a smile bloomed as natural as breathing.

For the briefest moment, Dante thought she looked like light itself—something rare, something dangerous, something he could not allow himself to need, yet he could not deny the way it held him still.

After Dante opened the portal, with one strong arm wrapped around Lucien and the other securing little Sable, he stepped inside with long strides. Their small bodies clung to him, Sable's tiny fingers curled tight into his cloak while Lucien rested against his father's shoulder in silence. The familiar shelter appeared on the other side, its walls bleak and cold, but this time Sable wasn't standing alone in it—he was held firmly in Dante's embrace.

His boots echoed against the stone floor as his tall figure moved, the boys pressed safely against his chest. Sable peeked around timidly, recognizing the place, and sadness flickered across his little face. He thought he would be left here again. His lips trembled, tears threatening to fall.

"Back here… again?" Sable whispered, voice small, hope draining from his eyes.

Dante shifted him slightly in his hold, his crimson gaze lowering. "No, little one." His voice was firm yet gentle. "Not back here. Only to fetch your things."

Sable blinked, unsure, his heart racing. "Fetch… my things?" His voice cracked with disbelief.

Lucien nudged him from the other side, his face calm, as if telling him to listen.

Dante finally stopped when they reached a small door at the end of the corridor, the lonely room that had always been Sable's. He crouched slowly, still holding them close, and for the first time placed Sable on his feet while Lucien remained in his other arm. Dante's large hand rested on the boy's head, steady and reassuring.

"Pack your things, Sable," Dante said, his deep voice echoing in the quiet room. "You won't be staying here anymore. You're coming with us."

The words struck Sable like thunder. His tiny hands trembled, his wide eyes glistening as he looked up at Dante. "N-no… don't lie. I don't want to live alone again…" Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"Not alone," Dante repeated firmly, leaning closer, crimson eyes steady. "With us. With me and Lucien. From now on, you'll live together."

Sable's breath hitched, his little chest heaving. "Am I… am I dreaming?" he whispered, his voice barely there. He pinched his arm hard, yelping when it hurt, and sobbed louder. "It hurts… it's real? Really real?"

Dante's expression softened. He tilted Sable's chin up with one calloused thumb, his rare smile breaking through. "No dreaming. This is real."

That was all it took. Sable's tiny body shook as he flung himself forward, hugging Dante's leg first before scrambling up into his arms again. "I love you!" he cried, his tears soaking into Dante's dark attire.

Dante held him firmly once more, his large hand patting the small back. He didn't say the words aloud, but his arms tightened slightly.

Sable's laughter echoed in the little room as he darted toward his small wooden cabinet, pulling out the suitcase he had always kept under his bed. The sight of him dragging it across the floor with all his strength was almost comical, but his shining eyes and flushed cheeks made it clear how much joy was bursting inside him.

"I will pack my clothes first!" Sable declared proudly, his little horns bobbing as he tugged open drawers.

Lucien, already kneeling beside him, smirked faintly. "You'll forget half of them if I don't help," he teased, neatly folding the shirts and placing them in the suitcase while Sable happily shoved things inside at random.

Dante leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching quietly. For once, the hard lines of his face softened, a rare smile curving his lips as he saw both boys working together—his son guiding, and the lonely child finally feeling like he belonged.

But then a low voice rumbled behind him. A voice so old it seemed to scrape against the air.

"I do not like your decision."