Help! I'm in Another World and the Dragon Man Want Me To Get Pregnant!
Chapter 140: Side Story: Morin in the Republic of Mara (Part 4)

Chapter 140: Side Story: Morin in the Republic of Mara (Part 4)

"Are you pouting?" Malvis asked.

"I’m pouting," Morin confirmed, without shame.

"Sorry."

"Don’t care."

"Morin."

The way Malvis said his name—soft, kind—it felt surprisingly nice.

Morin wasn’t ready to admit that, though.

It hadn’t even been a month since his heartbreak.

He couldn’t just flip a switch and move on.

His Uncle Gabriel still lingered in his heart.

But... he understood now what his mother had meant.

He’d made a promise to himself that he’d never bother Uncle Gabriel again.

As for Uncle Lysander, Morin wanted to apologize, but he knew seeing him would only cause more pain.

So he stayed away from them.

Letting things fade out quietly seemed like the best option.

Suddenly, a deep loneliness swept over him.

He was just a distraction back home—a source of noise, not value.

He’d embarrassed his family, burdened another, and been sent away to study.

And if no one ever needed him again—if even his family gave up on him—what would happen to him then?

His mother had been furious.

His father was the one who had recommended this exile.

What if he was becoming someone truly... unnecessary?

"What if it meant they didn’t want him to come back at all...?"

That fear crossed Morin’s mind like a shadow, twisting in his chest.

"Fwah!"

His nose was suddenly pinched, and he glared up instinctively.

He was thinking, seriously even—and Malvis just casually interrupted like that?

But when Morin looked up, what met him were clear, violet eyes, filled with genuine concern.

They were so earnest that Morin forgot to even complain.

"Don’t make that kind of face," Malvis said quietly.

"I’m not—"

"You were. You looked like a puppy someone had abandoned."

"...!"

Morin couldn’t argue.

He had been scared—anxious, lonely, afraid.

His expression must’ve been practically begging for comfort.

The thought of Malvis seeing that made him burn with embarrassment.

"Just go already," Morin muttered, turning away.

"No," Malvis said simply.

"Why not?"

"I’m not leaving someone who looks like they’re hurting that much all alone."

"What?"

Malvis was still completely serious.

Morin let out an exaggerated gasp, hoping to deflect, to make this seem like nothing.

Can’t he take a hint? Morin didn’t want pity, didn’t want to be seen like this.

He knew he was just putting up a front—but right now, he needed that front.

And yet, Malvis ignored it all and embraced him.

Scooping Morin up like it was nothing, Malvis was carried him in princess hug—ignoring his protests—and laid him gently onto the bed.

Then he climbed in and pulled him into a warm embrace.

Morin’s heart pounded so hard it echoed in his ears.

His whole body tensed with an unfamiliar kind of nervousness.

"H-Hey!" he sputtered.

"What?" Malvis asked calmly.

"What do you mean what?! Why are you lying next to me?!"

"You’re lonely, right?"

"I’m not!"

"You look like you’re about to cry."

"I’m not crying!"

"Then let’s just sleep like this. It’s already late."

None of this was okay.

Not even a little.

But Malvis calmly turned off the light and wrapped his arms around Morin—and then, just like that, fell asleep.

The sound of his steady breathing, the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body—it all slowly calmed Morin down.

His face was burning red, but his heart stopped racing so violently.

He closed his eyes, giving in to the peaceful atmosphere in front of him.

Before long, Morin fell into a deep, restful sleep.

The next day, Morin headed out again to the human district.

The orderly layout of the town made it easier to navigate—definitely a convenience.

With Malvis in tow, he began his errands.

First stop: a shop selling kitchen tools.

He picked out two frying pans of different sizes, two pots, three mixing bowls, a colander, a ladle, a whisk, and a wooden spatula.

Now, they stood in front of the knife section.

This part was hard.

"You’ve been standing there forever," Malvis muttered behind him, clearly losing patience.

Maybe Malvis had a short fuse.

Then again, Morin had been here for nearly thirty minutes, paralyzed with indecision.

But knives were important.

"Just pick the one you want," Malvis said.

"I can’t just grab one at random! A kitchen knife is serious business!"

Three utility knives lay before him.

Each had subtle differences—blade length, handle shape, weight. It wasn’t just about sharpness, either.

Durability, how easy it was on the hands, how it felt while cutting—all of that mattered.

He held them, tested the grip, weighed them carefully in his hands.

By the time he finally made his decision, Malvis had sat down on a nearby bench, clearly bored out of his mind.

"Got one?" Malvis asked.

"Yeah."

"Are we done now?"

"Just need to grab a cutting board."

"There’s more?"

Malvis looked exasperated, and Morin couldn’t help but feel like he’d just witnessed how little demons really cared about cooking.

With both tools and ingredients purchased, they returned to their temporary lodging.

Morin borrowed the kitchen from Nabe and got to work.

The pot was gently bubbling as he simmered stew, while freshly kneaded dough rose nearby—he was making bread.

Dinner would be warm bread, creamy stew, and a crisp salad.

"It smells amazing," Malvis commented from nearby.

Malvis had wandered around Morin for a while, curiously inspecting everything, but eventually seemed to grow bored and retreated to a chair nearby.

He lounged there lazily—until the smell of the simmering stew drew him back.

Now, he had his arms draped over Morin’s shoulders, hugging him from behind.

"You’re making it hard to move!" Morin protested.

"Hm? But I’m just watching, right?"

"That’s not the point! And you’re heavy, Malvis!"

"Really?"

When Morin turned his head, those violet eyes were right there—close, and sparkling mischievously.

They gleamed with a teasing charm that made Morin’s heart skip a beat.

"What is it, Morin?"

"...Nothing."

He’d never admit out loud that Malvis’s gaze had made his chest flutter.

Morin sighed in defeat.

He could’ve shrugged him off easily, but the warmth of Malvis’s body against his back felt... oddly comforting.