Inside the sleeping chamber, Paros sat with Terry perched atop his head, reading aloud the replies from his light brain—carefully selecting the ones he found sowhat useful.
BeastsDon’tDote:
"If you want to win your Female Master’s favor, it’s simple.
As the saying goes—if you want to capture her heart, first capture her stomach. Cook delicious als for her, and she’ll naturally start to like you."
Terry listened, then imdiately shook himself.
"Daddy, Mommy already has a rman uncle who cooks for her."
And judging by everything he knew...
His daddy didn’t seem like the type who could cook at all.
This idea clearly wouldn’t work.
Just then, another notification chid from Paros’s inbox.
Ever since he posted the thread, countless private ssages had poured in—each offering their own "foolproof" way to win favor.
But most of those thods were one-ti tricks.
What Paros wanted... was sothing lasting.
He opened the new ssage.
It was from soone nad MoonCrownedHeart.
The sender hadn’t even offered a thod—just vague promises—and yet was already asking for four tenth-rank beast cores.
At first, Paros had no intention of replying.
But then, sothing inside him stirred.
Almost unconsciously, he replied.
Paros:
"I can agree to your terms—but only if you can truly help ."
The response ca quickly.
MoonCrownedHeart:
"Tell about your current relationship with your Female Master. Only then can I determine how to help you."
Paros hesitated, then typed:
Paros:
"My Female Master... she doesn’t seem to like . She smiles at others, but not at . And even when she does... it feels forced."
He went on, describing Rory’s attitude toward him in detail.
***
Aboard the warship, Nix stood beside Yuel, reading the anonymous ssage, his expression softening with sympathy.
"Just look at this... He doesn’t know how to compete for affection, can’t win against the other partners, and even though he has a child with his Female Master—she still doesn’t like him at all."
"Yuel, for the sake of that kid, you’ve got to help him properly."
"A beast without a Female Master’s love... and a child without a mother’s affection—that’s just too pitiful."
Nix shook his head, then suddenly grinned.
"Good thing I t Rory. She’d never dislike just because I’m bad at competing for affection."
Yuel glanced at him.
For once... that was actually true.
Then he lowered his gaze and quickly replied.
MoonCrownedHeart:
"From what you’ve described, your Female Master is still willing to soothe you—so she hasn’t abandoned you entirely."
"It’s more likely that your behavior... is what she finds difficult to accept."
Paros:
"Then... what should I do about my child and ?"
MoonCrownedHeart:
"If your Female Master doesn’t like the way you act now, then change it."
"Do you know how to act pitiful?"
Paros thought for a mont before replying.
Paros:
"Yes."
...But would she actually like that side of him?
MoonCrownedHeart:
"Then take your child and go to her—act pitiful."
"But rember—do it properly. Be considerate. Let your Female Master take the initiative to feel sorry for you."
Be pitiful... but considerate?
Paros fell into brief contemplation.
Then, without delay, he rose and left his chamber with Terry.
"Daddy... where are we going?"
Terry yawned sleepily from atop his head.
The Dragon Palace grew a little chilly at night, and he instinctively burrowed deeper into Paros’s hair.
It was warr there.
"We’re going to your mother... to act pitiful."
Paros paused, sensing the movent. "Are you cold?"
He took out a golden scale and gently covered Terry with it.
"Act pitiful?"
Terry perked up, curious. He bounced lightly, his deep-blue body brushing against the golden scale.
"Daddy, what is this?"
Wrapped in it, he didn’t feel cold at all.
Paros shook his head. "I don’t know. I just know it keeps you warm."
"If you like it, you can have it."
It had been sitting in his ring space all along.
As for where it ca from—he couldn’t rember.
"Thank you, Daddy! Terry likes this golden scale!"
Before long, they arrived outside Rory’s residence.
But instead of going in, Paros stopped at the doorway and sat down nearby.
Terry blinked in confusion.
"Daddy, aren’t we supposed to go inside and act pitiful?"
"We already are."
Paros’s voice lowered.
"Your mother is resting. We mustn’t disturb her."
"When she wakes up and sees us waiting here—quietly, without bothering her—she’ll feel sorry for us."
That was what MoonCrownedHeart ant—pitiful... but considerate.
"Oh..." Terry finally understood.
He settled comfortably into Paros’s hair and yawned again.
"Daddy... Terry is sleepy. I’m going to sleep first."
He was still just a newly grown little fruit.
Acting pitiful... could wait.
Paros chuckled softly, reaching up to pat him.
"Go to sleep."
***
The night passed quickly.
Morning ca.
Rory stirred awake, nestled comfortably in Vincent’s arms.
The mont she shifted, the man beside her opened his eyes.
"Rory... you’re awake?"
His voice was low, rough with the huskiness of early morning.
She lifted her gaze toward him—but before she could speak, his lips found hers.
At first, it was just a light, fleeting kiss.
But soon, that gentleness deepened—lingering, soft, and consuming.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. One hand slipped into her hair, cradling the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.
"Mmm..."
Her protest dissolved, swallowed whole, the last traces of sleep swept away by the sudden intimacy.
Only after a long mont did Vincent finally let her go.
Her eyes shimred faintly, her breathing uneven.
She shot him a glare—but it carried no real threat, only a trace of soft reproach.
"Teasing this early in the morning..."
When she couldn’t even do anything about it.
She tried to pull away, but he only held her tighter.
His fingers traced slow circles along her bare back through the thin fabric of her nightdress. The faint roughness of his fingertips sent shivers rippling through her skin.
"That tickles..."
She shifted, her voice soft as a kitten’s.
Vincent’s voice dropped lower, warm breath brushing against her ear as his hand slid slowly down the curve of her spine.
"Rory... where does it—mm—"
He didn’t get to finish.
Rory clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Stop. Don’t say another word."
She shot him a fierce look—but he only gazed back innocently.
One more word, and she really wouldn’t be able to hold herself back.
Yet to Vincent, her glare held no nace at all—only a soft, endearing sweetness.
Blinking behind her hand, his eyes curved with deeper amusent, warm enough to drown in.
He obediently fell silent.
But his gaze remained fixed on her—intense, burning, as though it carried heat of its own.
Then... Rory felt it.
A warm, damp sensation against her palm... coming from his lips.
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