Locke let out a helpless sigh, carrying his little troublemaker toward the big bed.
Whoosh!
Quick as a monkey, Saraphiel slipped under the covers, leaving only his big, sparkling eyes peeking out, wide awake and brimming with anticipation as he looked at his dad.
"Dad, come on," the little guy said, his voice tinged with a playful whine. "Tell me a story. I can't sleep."
Locke settled on the edge of the bed, meeting his son's curious gaze. He thought for a moment.
Well, this could be a good way to get somewhere.
"Alright," Locke said, clearing his throat. His voice carried clearly in the quiet room.
"A long, long time ago, at the peak of a fiery abyss surrounded by molten lava, there lived a dragon so terrifying it made the whole kingdom quake in fear."
"Its body was as big as a mountain, its scales hard as iron. It breathed flames and had eyes that glowed with menace. It loved snatching princesses, burning villages, and roasting knights' armor to a crisp…"
"Whoa," Saraphiel whispered, totally hooked, his little fists clutching the edge of the blanket.
Locke's voice rose and fell, painting the dragon's ferocity so vividly that Saraphiel held his breath, as if he were standing right there on a battlefield raging with fire. When Locke got to the part where the dragon, in an earth-shaking battle, was tamed by a mysterious sage from Locke's Farm and chose to abandon its destructive ways to protect the land as a legendary guardian, Saraphiel's tense little face finally relaxed. He let out a long breath.
"Alright, story's over," Locke said, gently ruffling his son's hair. "Now…"
"Time to sleep," Saraphiel finished, nodding eagerly, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
He rolled over, snuggling up like a little animal seeking warmth, wrapping his arms around Locke's sturdy arm and resting his fluffy head on it. With a cozy little mumble, he rubbed his cheek against it and closed his eyes.
"…"
Locke felt the weight and warmth of his son's grip, watching Saraphiel's peaceful sleeping face.
Is this going the way I planned?
He hesitated for a long time but couldn't hold back. Tilting his head slightly, he spoke in a soft, gentle whisper, like he was afraid to disturb a good dream: "Saraphiel?"
"Mmm?" The boy stirred, cracking one eye open sleepily.
"How about… Dad shares a little secret with you?" Locke's voice had a teasing lilt, like he was offering a shiny apple.
"A secret?" Saraphiel's eyes shot open, sleepiness gone, sparkling with gossip-fueled excitement. "Yes, please! What is it?"
He perked up, wiggling closer, tilting his head up at his dad with curiosity.
Locke leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to spill something big. "The other day, that prime Wagyu steak Dio was so mad about… it wasn't Clark who ate it."
Saraphiel's eyes went wide. Clark had been totally clueless about why Dio was so ticked off for days.
"It was me," Locke admitted, a sheepish grin in his voice. "I got hungry in the middle of the night and couldn't help myself. Fried it up and ate it."
"Pfft!" Saraphiel froze for a second, then burst out laughing, his little shoulders shaking. "Haha! No wonder Dio's face was so dark that morning!"
"Yep," Locke said, nodding with a "you get me" look.
"Yep," Saraphiel echoed, mimicking his dad's nod with a sly grin, like they were in on the same joke.
"Yep," they both nodded again, sharing a knowing laugh.
But after the laughter faded, a brief silence settled over the room. Father and son locked eyes under the moonlight, the air thick with unspoken expectation.
Locke gazed into Saraphiel's clear, innocent eyes—eyes that seemed to hold the whole starry sky—and waited. And waited. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
Taking a deep breath, he decided to stop beating around the bush and get to the point. His tone shifted, carrying a subtle but unmistakable seriousness.
"Saraphiel," he said, gently pinching his son's cheek, "don't you have any little secrets you'd like to share with Dad?"
"Secrets?" Saraphiel blinked, his long lashes fluttering like tiny fans, his face the picture of pure, guileless confusion. "Dad, what secrets would I have? I go to school, train, play, sleep. My biggest secret is probably that I hid one of those chocolate truffles you gave me and haven't eaten it yet!"
His expression, his tone—everything was so natural, so innocent, it could melt anyone's heart.
Locke's mouth twitched hard.
This kid! He's putting on a heck of a show!
Seeing Saraphiel's performance, Locke's tender dad-mode was quickly replaced by a "this little rascal's got some nerve" vibe. If they kept dancing around like this, they'd be at it until sunrise.
With a long, meaningful sigh, Locke made up his mind.
Under Saraphiel's puzzled gaze, he slowly raised his free hand. His fingertips traced a casual, precise line through the air, like skimming the surface of still water—
Rip!
A faint, shadowy rift in space, like it had been sliced by an invisible blade, appeared before their eyes.
Saraphiel's smile and confusion froze instantly. He bolted upright, eyes wide as saucers, mouth gaping big enough to fit an egg. He stared at the rift, his face pale, shock and disbelief written all over it.
Even Divine City screamed in his ear, stunned: "Dad… Dad has the Authority too?!"
Before Saraphiel could process the surreal sight, Locke spoke to the rift in a familiar, almost casual tone, like he was calling the family dog: "Come on out, Greedy. Show yourself."
"Rawr~"
A low, lazy, almost whiny growl answered. Then, a palm-sized dragon shadow, its dark golden scales shimmering with light, glided gracefully from the rift. It circled Locke's fingers affectionately before hovering between father and son.
Its golden energy eyes studied the dumbstruck Saraphiel, even tilting its little head curiously.
Locke's gaze shifted from the adorable dragon soul back to his son's face, which screamed: Who am I? Where am I? What am I seeing?
His expression turned serious, carrying a "confess now or else" intensity. "Saraphiel Kent," he said, his voice low but firm with undeniable authority. "This is your first lesson from Dad: Don't keep secrets from family."
He tapped his son's trembling nose lightly. "Now, come clean with your dad."
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