In less than five minutes, Yiren had completed setting up Gardiyan's nursery.
There was an uncontainable spark in Yiren's eyes as he imagined Gardiyan growing up surrounded by things crafted with his own hands. The very idea of watching someone evolve within a space born of his own effort made his pulse race with excitement.
With the confidence of the world's most powerful sorcerer, Yiren wielded his magic like an artisan. He cut down trees with clean, precise strokes, turning raw trunks into smooth timber. Then, with an almost childlike enthusiasm, he began carving. One tree became a cradle—elegantly curved, perfectly balanced. Leaves transformed into nails, bark into shelves, and splinters into functional pieces like drawers and tiny chairs.
He summoned a barrel of paint with a flick of his fingers and coated the furniture in rich, warm tones within seconds.
"Being the strongest sorcerer in the world really is fun," Yiren thought, grinning to himself as the room gradually came to life.
But something still felt... missing.
He stepped back and scanned the space with a critical eye. It was well-crafted, solid, practical—but too still. Too lifeless. With a sudden snap of his fingers, two more barrels of paint—one red, one blue—appeared beside him. Without a second thought, he began streaking the walls with lively patterns, splashes of color slicing across the room like brushstrokes of joy.
Even then, it wasn't quite right.
So, he added vibrantly colored rugs to the floor, each one woven with subtle magical threads that shimmered faintly in the light. The space slowly began to feel like something more than functional—it felt like a home.
Yiren didn't stop. He transformed leftover fabric into soft pillows, scattering them across the cradle with careful precision. His movements were quick but purposeful, as if every detail mattered.
Suddenly, Gardiyan floated into the air, gently carried by Yiren's magic, and was placed in the cradle. Yiren watched him settle in, a wide smile tugging at his lips.
"Comfy, isn't it?" he asked playfully.
Gardiyan laughed, waving his tiny hands in the air, making incoherent baby sounds. Yiren's eyes glimmered with pride and satisfaction. "You like it, huh? Honestly, even I'm impressed."
Gardiyan looked at the oversized cradle, three meters wide, and internally sighed. This thing could fit five people. How exactly does Yiren expect me to sleep in this cavernous bed?
Yiren, completely unbothered, flopped into the cradle himself and fell asleep almost instantly. It was just like him—effortless, impulsive, and utterly relaxed even in situations that demanded responsibility.
Gardiyan stared at him in disbelief. How can he just sleep like that—with a baby next to him? he thought.
Then he remembered the countess had been the one to change his diaper, sparing him from rashes and discomfort. A thought struck him like a cold breeze. Without her… would I be stuck with Yiren's 'parenting' until I can walk? That could take two years! That's an eternity in baby time!
With no other option, Gardiyan sighed and drifted off to sleep, hoping the world might pass by faster that way.
When he awoke, Yiren was still asleep—sprawled across the cradle in a star-shaped position, limbs flung in every direction as if he were claiming the bed as his personal domain.
Gardiyan stared blankly at the ceiling. He tried to move, maybe sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. Too small. Too weak. Too dependent.
Then the cradle shifted.
Yiren's sharp senses stirred him at once. He didn't move right away—his position was too comfortable to give up easily. The mattress cradled him like a lover, and for a few seconds, he contemplated just staying there.
But the slight movement beneath him brought his attention back.
With a resigned sigh, Yiren sat up slowly and looked at Gardiyan. Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, time paused.
Yiren's gaze was unreadable—half amusement, half smugness, a flicker of disdain layered beneath curiosity. So fragile, he mused silently. I could squash him with my pinky toe.
Then he stood, vanishing from the room only to return a moment later with a baby bottle. Without saying a word, he placed it in Gardiyan's mouth, then picked him up gently—an odd contrast to the arrogance he displayed earlier.
With a snap of his fingers, the room blurred around them.
In the next moment, they were somewhere entirely different.
They now stood in a small, chaotic house.
Clutter was everywhere—piles of metal scraps, half-finished gadgets, glowing crystals buzzing with unstable energy. The entire place felt like a single spark away from bursting into flame.
In the center of the room sat a man drinking tea, surrounded by a long table of... things. Gardiyan tried to make sense of the items but quickly gave up. Nothing looked like it belonged to any known category of object.
"Hey, mop-head! Did you finish the diaper-changing machine or not?" Yiren called out, irritation thick in his voice.
The man—Magnus—didn't even turn around. "We're in the same room, you know. This isn't a separate building. I'm not deaf, though clearly, you are. Maybe your ego's so loud you can't hear anything else."
Yiren exhaled sharply—and with it, flames shot toward Magnus.
Magnus dodged without spilling his tea. He twisted his body backward with effortless grace, the flames licking the air where his head had been just moments before.
Dragon... Gardiyan thought, stunned. He clung tighter to Yiren's robe, tension rising in his tiny body.
A sound of popping bones followed Magnus's twist, then a quiet grunt of pain.
"Ow. Haven't moved like that in two months," he muttered, casually rotating his neck, letting it crack. "Did you ask if I finished it?" he added with a sly grin.
With an exaggerated gesture, he extended both hands to present a large, awkward-looking contraption beside him.
"Ta-da~! Behold! My latest invention… the Diaper-Changing Machine! Solar-powered. No magic needed. Observe its glory!"
The machine whirred to life, its humanoid arms twitching and adjusting themselves in the air like they were waiting for a target.
Gardiyan's calm vanished.
Disgust and dread overtook his tiny face. His grip tightened on Yiren's tunic, crumpling the fabric. He looked at the machine like it was about to perform surgery, not a simple diaper change.
Yiren noticed the tension. He didn't care.
Without hesitation, he placed Gardiyan onto the machine's platform.
Inside, Gardiyan was screaming—though outwardly, he could only gurgle in frustration. This body! This cursed, weak, useless body! I can't even cling to him properly!
"Let's fire it up~" Magnus chirped, one finger poised over the activation button.
Just as he was about to press it—
"NO!! STOP!!!"
The shout rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Everyone froze.