I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 403 Teacher… what are you doing here?

Chapter 403: Chapter 403 Teacher... what are you doing here?

Dante didn’t waste a second. He took her gently by the wrist and led her back into his office, where a dark portal swirled open at a single flick of his hand. A cool shadow wind brushed her hair as he guided her inside, and in a blink they stepped out into the familiar warmth of Dante’s home.

"They should be playing together in the playroom," Dante murmured as he walked her down the hallway. His voice softened with quiet affection. "Lucien originally had a small playroom in his own room, but ever since Sable joined, he wanted a space they could share. So I reconstructed everything and made it between their rooms. They sleep together most nights anyway."

Alina’s heart swelled at the image. Lucien asking for a shared space, Sable following him like a shy little shadow, both boys finding comfort in each other. She nodded softly.

"I’ve seen Lucien’s old playroom," she said, smiling.

Dante returned the smile, faint and warm, before pushing open the door.

Inside, the playroom glowed under soft lighting that warmed the dark, elegant walls. The black carpet was thick and plush, almost cloud-like beneath their feet, and scattered across the room were toys of all kinds. Wooden blocks, soft dolls, miniature beast figurines, and a tiny dark castle with sharp little towers covered the floor. A small slide curved down from a play platform that looked almost like a fortress balcony.

Sable sat near the corner, hugging his little doll with both hands. His messy hair fell over his forehead as he gently patted the doll’s back, humming quietly to himself.

Lucien, on the other hand, was absorbed in a half-built LEGO fortress, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. His lips tightened into a thin line when a piece didn’t fit, but he calmly tried again, patient and focused.

They both looked impossibly adorable.

The moment the door creaked, both boys turned their heads.

Lucien blinked once.

Sable’s mouth fell open.

The two little boys stayed frozen for a heartbeat, wondering what their teacher was doing there, their toys forgotten, their eyes round and shining. Sable was the first to react. He clutched his doll tighter and stepped forward with tiny, hurried feet, his voice a high, startled whisper.

"Teacher... what are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise, as if she had descended straight from the sky.

Lucien also stopped building his LEGO fortress. He set the last block down with careful calmness, then looked from his father to Alina, his expression strangely patient for such a small boy.

Dante gently squeezed Alina’s hand. "Let’s go inside," he murmured, guiding her further into the playroom. He lowered himself onto the soft carpet beside Lucien with that composed grace of his, and Alina settled beside him, her knees folded neatly, her heart fluttering in her chest with nervous anticipation.

Sable approached slowly, almost shyly, dragging his little feet across the carpet as he hugged his doll to his chest. He stopped right in front of them, hesitated, then looked up at his father with worried eyes.

"Dad?" he whispered, unsure if he should sit or stand or hide behind Lucien.

Dante’s face softened in a way neither boy had ever seen. He lifted a hand and patted the spot facing him.

"Come here, Sable," he said quietly, and his voice was warm, deep and strangely different.

Sable immediately shuffled closer and sank down facing Dante.

Dante rested one broad hand on Lucien’s little back.

He inhaled slowly, gathering his words.

"Boys," he said, his voice gentle, "I brought Miss Alina here because I have something important to tell you both."

Sable’s little fingers curled around his doll anxiously.

Lucien leaned forward first, his voice small but steady. "Dad... what do you want to say?" His eyes flicked to Alina, then back to Dante, searching for clues.

Dante let out a quiet breath, the kind that made the room feel suddenly still. Alina could feel her heartbeat thudding gently in her ears as both boys waited patiently.

Sable swallowed, hugging his doll so tightly its head almost popped out of the little cloth blanket. "Yes... Dad?" he whispered, looking down at his feet.

Alina’s palms grew warm where they rested on her lap. She wasn’t sure if Dante would introduce her gently or boldly, or if the boys might not accept her right away. Her thoughts tangled in shy nervousness. Were they going to be shocked? Confused? Would they maybe dislike the idea?

Dante looked at both of them with a softness that came straight from his deepest core. He lowered one hand onto Lucien’s back and the other onto Sable’s tiny shoulder, steadying them the way only a strong, protective father could.

Then he finally spoke.

"Boys," he said, his voice deep and warm, "the reason I brought Miss Alina here is because she is very special to me."

Lucien’s brows lifted, still confused.

Sable blinked rapidly, peeking up shyly from behind his doll.

Dante continued, his gaze steady and filled with quiet certainty. "I care for her. A lot. And she cares for me too."

"What do you mean by that, Dad?" Lucien asked, his voice soft but touched with a hint of confusion. His brows knit together, and he looked between Dante and Alina as if trying to decode something hidden.

Sable hugged his doll tighter against his chest. His little cheeks glowed pink with shyness as he whispered, "I... I care for Teacher too..."

Alina felt her breath catch, and Dante slowly let out a long, deep exhale.

He lowered his gaze for a heartbeat, gathering himself, and when he finally looked up again, the crimson in his eyes seemed darker, steadier, like something inside him had decided.

"I mean," he began slowly, his voice dropping to a low rumble, "what I feel for Miss Alina is not the same as your feelings for her."

Lucien blinked.

Sable blinked.

Alina felt her heartbeat thud hard against her ribs.

Dante let another heavy pause hang between them, thick enough to make even the shadows in the corners seem to lean in closer.

"I mean," he repeated, slower this time, "that your teacher is not just teacher to me."