CHAPTER 104: CHAPTER 104 ARE YOU HURT?

She blinked once, then smiled.

She walked over quietly and slipped into the chair beside him, her dress folding gracefully around her as she sat. The morning sun coming through the tall windows caught on the soft yellow of her dress, making her look even more golden and warm.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Alina said brightly, her smile wide and full of affection.

Lucien turned to look at her and for a second, he just stared.

His big eyes blinked once. Then again. A faint pink spread across his cheeks like someone had dabbed watercolor on them with a tiny brush.

"Good morning... Teacher," he mumbled shyly, his voice soft like a whisper tucked into his collar.

He quickly looked back down at the table, pretending to stir his spoon but not before sneaking one more glance at her from the corner of his eye.

Lucien thought, she looked like something out of a storybook.

Her yellow dress reminded him of buttercups blooming in sunlight, soft and warm. Her hair fell around her shoulders like gentle ribbons, and her eyes sparkled like two shiny candies. She smelled like something sweet and comforting—maybe like cake, or soft flowers after the rain.

After breakfast, Lucien quietly slipped down from his chair and reached for his tiny school bag, which sat neatly on chair beside him. The straps were slightly too big for his small shoulders, but he wore it like a little soldier—chin up, eyes steady. Alina stood too, brushing a few crumbs from her dress, watching him with a smile that held just a hint of hesitation.

She glanced toward the front hallway, then out one of the tall castle windows. The sky was still pale and quiet, painted in soft morning tones. But something tugged in the back of her mind.

Was Dante coming to pick them up today?

He hadn’t appeared at breakfast. Not even a passing shadow of him. And no one had said a word about it. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was still away. She wasn’t sure. But something in her chest fluttered uneasily.

And then suddenly...

Alina froze.

Out of nowhere, something appeared in the hallway like smoke pulled from shadows. Her breath caught in her throat as a figure stepped forward—tall, imposing, and entirely terrifying.

He was nearly naked.

His dark cracked skin was like obsidian, broken by glowing red veins that pulsed faintly across his shoulders and chest. Two sharp horns curved from the top of his head, and his eyes–those burning, dangerous eyes–locked on her with the kind of gaze that felt like it could cut through bone.

His bare chest was sculpted and muscular. Cracks ran along his shoulders and ribs like old battle scars, glowing faintly from within.

A deep red wrap—somewhere between cloth and armor was tied low around his hips, just enough to cover what needed to be covered. But it did little to soften the impact of his arrival. He looked like a creature summoned from nightmares, a being too old and too powerful to be fully understood.

Alina’s heart jumped wildly in her chest. Her whole body went still. Her fingers twitched slightly at her side. She didn’t dare breathe. It felt like even the air in the room had stopped moving.

But then just beside her, Lucien tilted his head in confusion, his soft babyish face looking up at her, puzzled.

That small, human gesture... pulled her back to herself.

She swallowed, gently forced her heartbeat down, and curved her lips into a calm smile. It trembled just barely at the edges.

Lucien, still staring at her like she was acting a little odd, turned back to the horned figure and said in his quiet but serious voice, "That’s Dad’s portal keeper. He’s safe."

His tone was matter-of-fact, as if announcing something as simple as the weather. Alina blinked at him, then looked back at the towering demon.

The horned man stopped a few feet in front of them and bowed once deeply and respectfully without saying a word. His movements were oddly graceful, for someone who looked like he had crawled straight out of a burning battlefield.

Then, slowly, he lifted one clawed hand.

The air around his fingers shimmered as he began drawing something invisible into the space in front of him. A sigil—dark and ancient—took shape with each stroke, glowing faint red like embers. The moment the final line was complete, the space before them cracked open.

A portal burst to life with a low, pulsing hum.

Its edges curled with thick crimson mist that moved like breath, slow and steady. At the center was a glowing core—deep and molten, like the heart of a volcano, flickering with shades of orange and red.

Lucien didn’t even react.

He walked forward and stepped right through the glowing entrance, as casually as someone stepping into a garden.

Alina stood still for a second longer, her breath shallow. Then, gathering her skirt slightly in one hand, she followed him—heart racing quietly beneath her ribs.

She stepped through the portal.

The moment Alina stepped through the swirling red mist, something strange hit her like walking through a waterfall of pressure and fog all at once. Her feet touched solid ground, but her body didn’t agree. The world tilted. Her head spun. Her stomach gave a slow, unpleasant lurch. Everything inside her felt like it had flipped upside down.

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, and she barely managed a breath.

"Oh no—" she whispered, reaching out for balance, but there was nothing to hold onto.

And then she dropped.

A soft thump echoed through the quiet space as her knees gave out and she sank straight to the floor, her yellow skirt crumpling beneath her. Her bag slipped from her hands and flopped to the side with a dull thud.

For a moment, she stayed there. Just breathing. Eyes shut. One hand pressed to her forehead like that might stop the swirling inside her head.

She squinted one eye open, the light pressing against her tired pupils. A desk. Tall windows.

They were inside the Principal’s office.

Her pride tried to sit up, but her balance refused.

From beside her came the soft scuff of shoes.

"Teacher?" Lucien’s small voice floated beside her, full of honest concern. "Are you hurt?"

She turned slightly, eyes meeting his.

The boy was standing stiffly, still clutching the strap of his little backpack, brows slightly drawn in worry. He looked fine—completely unaffected.. Just standing there like he’d walked through a hallway, not a magical wormhole.