ONE NIGHT STAND WITH HOT DUKE-Chapter 204: Good name

Ethan blinked.

"You mean?"

Valerie raised her face.

Her expression was calm, but there was something heavy hidden beneath that calm.

"Without a family name."

The words settled quietly in the small room.

Ethan fell silent.

He looked at Valerie for a moment, then at the small baby again.

"Without... a family name?"

Valerie nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Her hand gently stroked the small black-furred head.

"He is only Deon."

The baby suddenly made a small sound, almost like a soft growl, then curled closer against Valerie’s chest.

Ethan exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t a fool.

He knew exactly what family name the child should carry.

A name that didn’t even need to be spoken.

Morvex.

A heavy name.

A name that carried power, danger, and a world completely different from this small village.

Lena watched Valerie quietly.

She understood the reason behind that decision.

If the child carried the name Morvex...

one day someone might find him.

And the world Valerie had left behind would come looking for him.

At last Ethan gave a small shrug.

"Alright."

He looked at the small baby again.

"Just Deon."

The little baby blinked.

His ears twitched slightly.

Then he let out a small yawn, revealing tiny teeth that already looked sharper than those of a human baby.

Ethan chuckled softly.

"At least the name suits his face."

Valerie gave a faint smile.

She lowered her head slightly and gently touched her forehead to her child’s small head.

"Deon..."

she whispered once more.

Outside the house, the winter wind began to blow again through the trees.

But inside that small room for the first time in a long while Valerie felt that their future had a clear shape.

A small black-furred child.

With one simple name.

Deon.

Night slowly descended over the small village.

The winter wind whispered outside the wooden houses, carrying the distant, gentle sounds of the forest. Most of the lights in the village had already gone out. Only a few houses still cast thin beams of light from their small windows.

Inside Lena’s house, the atmosphere had also grown quiet.

Lena had already gone to the back room to rest after spending the whole day working with her herbs. Ethan was most likely still at the neighboring house, repairing equipment or simply sitting by the fire with the village fishermen.

For the first time that night, the main room was occupied by only one person.

And one small baby.

Valerie sat in the chair near the softly burning stove. The firelight reflected gently across her face, which was still a little pale, but far calmer than during the first days after giving birth.

In her lap, the small black-furred baby shifted slightly.

Deon.

His tiny body curled comfortably in his mother’s arms. His soft black fur looked warm in the glow of the fire. Occasionally his ears twitched in response to the sound of wood crackling in the stove.

Valerie loosened the fabric at her shoulder.

Carefully, she brought Deon closer to her chest.

The little baby immediately sniffed the air.

His tiny nose moved quickly, and without hesitation he found his place and began nursing quietly.

Valerie let out a slow breath.

Her hand automatically moved to stroke the small head.

The motion was gentle... almost the instinctive gesture of a mother.

Several minutes passed in silence.

Only the sound of the fire, Valerie’s breathing, and the small movements of the baby nursing filled the room.

Valerie looked down.

She studied her child carefully.

A small body covered in black fur.

Pointed ears.

A tiny nose like a wolf cub’s.

Yet every time she looked at him... she still saw her child.

Her child.

Slowly, Valerie smiled faintly.

"I wonder..." she whispered softly.

Her hand brushed the soft fur on Deon’s head.

"What your face looks like beneath this form."

Deon paused nursing for a moment.

His head lifted slightly.

His silver-gray eyes opened wider and looked straight at Valerie’s face.

Valerie fell silent.

Because for a moment... that gaze felt far too aware for a newborn.

"Will you look like me...?" Valerie murmured gently.

She tilted her head a little.

"Or..."

Her voice slowed.

"...like your father."

She didn’t say the name.

But the image of Demian’s face appeared in her mind all the same.

Sharp eyes.

A strong jaw.

A gaze that often made others afraid to meet it.

Valerie exhaled softly.

Deon suddenly made a small sound, something like a soft snort.

His eyes shifted slightly as he looked at Valerie with an expression that almost seemed... like a protest. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Valerie blinked.

She laughed quietly without meaning to.

"What?"

She touched the tiny nose with the tip of her finger.

"You don’t like being compared to your father?"

Deon made another small sound.

His ears twitched slightly.

Valerie looked at him more closely.

The longer she watched, the stranger it felt.

Because the way Deon looked at her...

really seemed like someone who understood.

Valerie tilted her head slightly.

"Don’t tell me you actually understand what I’m saying."

Deon blinked.

Then he simply resumed nursing as if nothing had happened.

Valerie exhaled softly.

But a small smile still lingered on her face.

Her hand returned to stroking the soft fur on her child’s head.

Outside the house, the winter wind moved gently through the forest.

And inside the small warm room a mother and her child sat together in a quiet peace.

As if the world outside them could wait just a little longer.

The wind at the northern border was far harsher than anywhere else.

Snow didn’t fall softly like it did in the small village where Valerie now lived. Here, the wind lifted shards of snow from the ground and hurled them into the air like white dust that never stopped swirling.

The main road cutting across the border was almost empty.

Only one place was still busy a small stopover where merchants, hunters, and caravans usually rested before continuing their journey through the northern forest.

That day, the atmosphere there felt different.

Not because of the storm.

But because of the group that had just arrived.

A dozen black horses stood lined up in front of the wooden building. The Morvex family crest engraved on their saddles made the border guards hold their breath every time they glanced at them.

At the center of the group stood a tall man in a long black coat fluttering in the wind.

His face was cold.

His gaze sharp like a blade of steel.

Demian.

He stood silently in front of a rough wooden table inside the stopover building, staring at an old man who looked more nervous with every passing second.

"Think carefully," Demian said in a low voice.

The old man—the border guard who usually did nothing more than record trade taxes swallowed hard.

"I-I’ve already told you everything, my lord..."

His hands trembled on the table.

"I only want to be certain," Demian said flatly.

His eyes did not blink.

"Has any caravan passed through this place in the past few months?"