I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 517 Parents meeting (11)

Kelpie looked at her like she had just handed him hope.

"I am?" he asked.

"Yes," she said warmly. "Last time, it was much worse."

Luna blinked. "Wait... worse?"

"Yes," Alina said calmly. "Once, when he got very excited about something, he accidentally made a small puddle under his chair." Alina laughed softly, remembering how, back then, he had flooded almost the entire classroom, but when she saw how anxiously he was looking at her now, like he was scared she would expose him, she gently chose not to say anything more.

King Corvus coughed into his fist, trying not to laugh again.

Lady Maris turned her face slightly, shoulders shaking.

Kelpie slowly covered his face. "Teacher..."

"But," Alina added quickly, smiling softly, "he has improved a lot."

Luna looked at Kelpie again, her expression softening just a little. "Then... maybe you can sit one desk farther from me."

"That is fair," Kelpie said solemnly.

King Corvus nodded like this was a serious diplomatic agreement. "Reasonable treaty."

Lady Maris smiled warmly at Luna. "Thank you for being patient with him."

Luna huffed, but her tail flicked in a softer way now. "Only if he does not splash on my fur or food."

"I will try," Kelpie promised, sitting straighter, like he had just accepted a sacred duty.

Alina watched them with a helpless, fond expression.

By the time she reached their table, her heartbeat had quietly changed its rhythm, faster and deeper. Dante was sitting straight, shoulders squared, posture calm and controlled in that way that always reminded her of the first day she had met him, when he had looked distant, untouchable, like someone carved out of shadow and authority. Even now, dressed simply, sitting like any other parent, there was still something about him that made the air around him feel more serious, more aware.

She swallowed softly, then focused on the two small boys beside him, grounding herself the way she always did.

"Lucien... Sable," she said gently, her voice softer without her meaning it to be.

Dante had already finished looking through their science, math, and language papers. The sheets were placed neatly, aligned perfectly, exactly the way he arranged everything. His large hand rested beside them, fingers tapping once against the table before going still when she approached.

Sable immediately straightened in his chair, eyes bright, cheeks slightly pink with excitement. He leaned forward and pointed proudly at his paper.

"I got many correct," he said happily, his tiny smile spreading wider like sunshine breaking through clouds.

Warmth flooded her chest instantly.

"Yes," she said, her voice glowing with pride. "You did. You worked very hard."

Sable’s smile grew even bigger, but then, like always, his eyes shifted toward his brother.

"But brother paper was much better," he said earnestly, not jealous, only admiring. "He wrote everything. He didn’t skip any questions. And he got all right."

Alina’s heart squeezed gently at that pure honesty, that innocent admiration.

She reached out automatically and rubbed his soft hair, smoothing the slightly messy strands back.

"He did write very well," she agreed gently. "But you also did very well."

Sable looked down shyly, fingers fiddling with the edge of his paper.

Beside him, Lucien sat straighter, composed, calm in that quiet way he had, crimson eyes flicking between Sable and Alina like he was silently monitoring everything.

Then, in his usual steady voice, he said, "Yes. You also did great."

Sable looked at him like he had just been given the greatest award in existence, then nodded shyly, shoulders relaxing.

Alina felt something warm and fragile bloom inside her chest watching them, this quiet, unspoken way they held each other up.

She looked back at their papers, then spoke more formally, though her tone stayed warm.

"Lucien is very precise," she said. "He reads questions fully. He thinks before writing. He rarely rushes."

Lucien did not react outwardly, but his ears turned slightly pink.

"And Sable," she continued softly, "is improving very fast. He tries even when he is unsure. That is very important," she said, her smile gentle and proud as she looked at the small boy who was now trying very hard not to look too happy about the praise.

For a brief moment, silence settled around their table, soft and warm, filled only with the faint rustle of papers and low conversations from other parents across the room.

Then Dante spoke.

"What about their class performance?" he asked, his voice calm, even, professional enough that anyone listening would think it was just a father asking about his children. But his eyes, his eyes were fixed on her with that deep, steady focus that always made her feel like he was listening to more than just her words. "I hope they are behaving well?"

He already knew the answer. She knew he knew. But he still asked.

Because he wanted to hear it from her.

Alina swallowed softly, suddenly very aware of the way his attention wrapped around her like something solid and warm.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "They are very well behaved in the classroom. They listen. They help others. And they do not create trouble."

Sable looked relieved.

Lucien looked satisfied, like he had expected nothing less.

Dante gave a small nod, slow and approving, like he was accepting an official report, but there was something else behind it. Pride for his babies.

Then, without speaking, he shifted his gaze slightly to the side. Just a small movement of his eyes, but she understood immediately.

Boo’s table.

She gave the tiniest nod back, professional on the surface.

She straightened slightly and stepped away from their table, forcing herself not to look back at him again.

But she could feel it.

His gaze following her for one more second before he finally looked away.

When she reached Boo’s table, the energy shifted completely.

Where Dante’s table had been calm, grounded, controlled, Boo’s table felt like chaos politely pretending to be civilized.

Boo was sitting, floating slightly above his chair technically, wearing his glittery silver shirt, gold chain slightly crooked like he had adjusted it himself, tail swishing left and right like he physically could not stay still for more than three seconds.

Beside him sat his guardian, Sir Santo, composed, graceful, impossibly elegant even while simply sitting in a parent meeting chair like it was some holy throne.

Boo spotted her instantly.

"TEACHER!" he whispered loudly, which was not a whisper at all.