Leon's thoughts drifted back to a few days prior. It was the first time he had taken Muen out to play. In the temple corridor, he had seen a little girl who looked exactly like Muen. The girl had given him an icy, dismissive look before running away.
Then, at noon, he had encountered that cold version of Muen again. Their brief, stilted exchange had been far from pleasant. Leon had begun to wonder if he had lost his mind after two years asleep, or if Muen possessed a split personality. Then, a simpler, more logical truth dawned on him—perhaps it wasn't the same child. Perhaps she had a sister.
"So, Muen," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You mean to say you have another sister?"
Muen shook her head, her silver hair swishing. "Not a sister. She's my big sister~"
Leon made a soft sound of understanding, his curiosity piqued. "What's your big sister's name?" he asked, eager to solve the mystery.
"Noah~ Sister is called Noah~" Muen sang, the name lilting on her tongue. "It sounds like the hero in the dragon myth who saved the world."
"Noah…" Leon repeated the name slowly, tasting its weight. He could tell Rossweise had put considerable thought into naming her children. 'Noah' carried a resonance of strength and nobility, like a champion from ancient epics.
Muen's own name, Leon reflected, felt drawn from the moon—soft, gentle, and cradling a universe of stars. It was a name that felt small and precious in his hands.
"Daddy, can you teach me to write my big sister's name?" Muen asked, pulling him from his reverie.
"Alright. Daddy will write it first, and you can copy, okay?" Leon picked up the stylus and, on a fresh sheet of paper, carefully wrote: Noah C. Melkvey.
His strokes were neat and confident, a skill born of necessity. When he had lain in the hospital after Master Tiger had broken his ribs, his hands and neck were all he could move. He had spent countless lonely hours practicing calligraphy. Those tedious hours had gifted him with elegant penmanship.
"Wow! Daddy writes so beautifully!" Muen's eyes shone with admiration.
Leon smiled warmly. "You'll write like this soon, too, with practice."
"Can I keep it? I want to show my sister tonight. She'll love it." Muen held the paper as if it were a rare treasure.
Leon asked quietly, a hint of concern in his voice, "Is your sister… hard to get along with? Earlier, she either ran away or looked at me so coldly."
Muen shook her head vigorously. "No, she's very nice! She takes me to pick fruits, helps me tie my hair, and sometimes she even takes the blame when I make trouble—uh, Dad, don't tell Mother. Actually, I was the one who dirtied her dress…"
Leon chuckled and patted her head. "Don't worry. Daddy will keep your secret."
"Thank you, Daddy," Muen said, hugging his index finger.
So, Noah wasn't a miniature, frosty version of Rossweise. She was simply shy and unfamiliar with him. Leon felt a wave of relief. Handling one stubborn dragon mother was challenging enough; two would have been insufferable.
A mischievous plan began to form in his mind, thinking of how he might gently tease Rossweise when she came to inspect Muen's work later. A small, sly grin touched his lips.
"Daddy, why are you laughing?" Muen asked, watching him intently.
"Nothing, sweetie. Come on, let's practice your sister's name." He guided her small hand as she carefully traced the characters.
Muen was a quick learner. By the afternoon, she could write 'Daddy,' 'Mother,' 'Noah,' and her own name with remarkable neatness. Her strokes were steady, her face a mask of concentration. Leon felt a deep, paternal pride swell within him.
That evening, Rossweise entered the room.
"Mother, Your Excellency~" Muen ran to her, wrapping her small arms around Rossweise's leg. "Good evening, Mother."
Rossweise stroked Muen's head, her touch surprisingly gentle. "Good evening, Muen. Did you learn to write your name?"
"Yes! I learned! I can write Daddy's and Mother's names, too!" Muen beamed, her expression hopeful for praise.
Rossweise gave a small, approving nod. "Well done."
Muen, craving more affirmation, leaned against the bed and looked at Leon with wide, expectant eyes. Leon smiled and interceded softly, "She worked very hard. A little more praise wouldn't go amiss, would it?"
Rossweise's gaze flicked to him. For a moment, she seemed to find his relaxed demeanor almost too nonchalant. She turned her attention back to Muen. The little girl looked up at her like a masterpiece begging to be admired. Rossweise crouched down, bringing herself to Muen's eye level, and held her small shoulders.
"Muen is truly amazing," she said, and a faint, real smile softened the severe lines of her face. "As a reward, I will make your favorite pan-fried steak tonight."
"Yay~! Mother's steak is the best!" Muen clapped her hands in delight.
Leon couldn't resist a gentle jab. "I thought you were supposed to be stricter than this."
"Why are you sitting there so leisurely, Leon?" Rossweise asked, her voice dry.
"You told me to teach the child," Leon replied, spreading his hands. "I did. Now I'm resting."
"That does not mean your duties are finished. Muen, write for me here. Let me see." Rossweise's tone held that familiar, quiet command.
Muen climbed onto the chair, took a fresh piece of paper and the stylus, and began carefully writing the three names. Rossweise watched in silence. Her expression was inscrutable, but the elegance of the child's handwriting—clearly influenced by Leon's tutelage—was undeniable.
When Muen finished, Leon piped up with a feignedly puzzled tone. "Finished writing!"
The names were neatly and correctly arranged.
Rossweise nodded. "Well done, Muen. Now—"
Leon cut in, his voice dripping with false innocence. "Muen, is someone's name missing?"
Muen blinked, then her eyes widened. "Oh! Right, one is missing!"
The small smile vanished from Rossweise's face instantly, replaced by an icy mask. Her sharp gaze settled on Leon, who stood with a poorly concealed look of triumph.
"Since we are writing all the family names," Leon said casually, "we should include everyone to make things neat and complete, don't you think? It's only loving. Dad's right, Muen. Write little Noah's name, too."
"Yeah, yeah!" Muen agreed eagerly.
Rossweise's voice was low, a soft warning rumble. "Little… Noah… Did Muen tell you?"
Leon nodded, a picture of earnestness. "Yes, she did. I've been awake for only a week and have just now learned the name of my eldest daughter."
Rossweise watched him, her silence demanding an explanation.
"And if we are writing family names," Leon added, turning fully to face Rossweise, "I must also say—I feel a certain guilt toward you."
Rossweise's eyes narrowed slightly. "Guilty about what?"
Leon adopted a mock-dramatic expression. "Giving birth is a tremendous ordeal. And you went through it twice for me. You truly suffered."
Rossweise's gaze turned razor-sharp. "What are you implying?"
Leon pressed on, his grin widening. "You hid things from me for my own good, yes? You just happened to forget one small detail… like the fact that I already had two daughters."
Rossweise remained silent for a long moment before answering simply, "It was for your own good."
"For my own good?" Leon leaned slightly toward her. "I'm perfectly fine. I have a pair of lovely daughters. What could possibly be wrong with that? So, when do I get to meet Noah properly?"
Rossweise raised a single, elegant eyebrow. "Are you in such a hurry?"
"Yes. I'm eager to meet my daughter," Leon said, trying to sound solemn but unable to fully mask his excitement.
Rossweise let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Leon smirked. "Regret? Why would I regret meeting my own daughter?"
Rossweise turned toward the door, her silver hair flowing behind her like a river of silk. She said softly, almost to herself, "Because she is not as gentle as you might think."
Before Leon could form a reply, the atmosphere in the room shifted palpably. A subtle chill seeped in from the corridor, faint but sharp, carrying the whisper of an approaching frost.
Muen blinked, sensing the change. "Mother… is Sister coming?"
Rossweise's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "Yes. I told her to come."
Footsteps echoed slowly in the hall—calm, measured, and deliberate.
Leon straightened unconsciously. His heart thudded once, heavily, then again. It wasn't fear, but the instinctive tension that preceded the aura of a powerful dragon. The door slid open with a soft whisper, and a familiar small figure stood framed in the doorway.
Silver hair, eyes of glacial ice, and a face that was the mirror image of Muen's.
Leon stared.
So this was Noah.
The girl's gaze swept over him—the same detached, unreadable look he remembered from the corridor—before settling on Rossweise.
"Mother," Noah said, her voice flat and simple.
Rossweise nodded. "Come in. Your father has something he wishes to say to you."
The words hung in the air, charged and heavy.
Leon blinked, his earlier confidence wavering. He forced a warm smile onto his face. "So this is Noah, huh? My eldest daughter…"
Noah's icy eyes met his. For a protracted moment, she said nothing, then offered a small, perfectly formal bow.
"Good evening… Father."
Leon froze for half a second, the title striking a chord deep within him, then his smile returned, genuine and wide, warmth flooding his features. "Good evening, Noah."
Muen giggled quietly beside them, her joy palpable at having her family finally assembled in one room.
Rossweise watched the three of them, a calm, unreadable smile gracing her lips. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Muen's soft laughter and the low hum of the evening wind outside. For the first time, their strange, imperfect, half-frozen, half-warm little family stood together.
And Leon, despite the distinct chill emanating from his eldest daughter, couldn't help but feel his heart grow inexplicably lighter. Perhaps, he thought, this tangled, unpredictable reality was what waking up to a new life was truly supposed to feel like.