Help! I'm in Another World and the Dragon Man Want Me To Get Pregnant!
Chapter 141: Side Story: Morin in the Republic of Mara (Part 5)

Chapter 141: Side Story: Morin in the Republic of Mara (Part 5)

A little while later, the bread finished baking. When Malvis’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fresh loaves, Morin couldn’t help but laugh.

He looked just like a kid.

"Well now, I thought something smelled good. Bread, is it?"

"Ah, Nabe," Morin said.

"It smells delicious. May I have a taste?"

"Of course."

Morin offered a freshly baked round loaf.

Nabe took it into his hands, still warm from the oven, and brought it to his mouth.

After a thoughtful chew, a gentle smile spread across his face.

Morin felt a wave of relief.

"It’s excellent. You have quite a surprising talent, Morin."

"Really?!"

"Yes, really."

Being praised felt wonderful.

Morin beamed, and Nabe reached out to gently pat his head.

Nabe always gave off a somewhat old-fashioned vibe—probably a result of his many years of life.

It contrasted sharply with his youthful appearance.

But that odd mix made him feel... safe.

Morin realized he liked being praised by him.

As Nabe continued to pet his head, Morin was suddenly pulled back by the waist.

Startled, he looked up to find Malvis staring down at him with an unreadable expression—one that looked on the verge of tears.

"Malvis?"

"...It’s nothing."

It wasn’t nothing.

Malvis looked lonely.

Morin reached out and brushed aside a bit of hair from his forehead, gently stroking it.

When he was younger and upset, his mother and father would do the same.

They’d pet his head and listen to him.

Malvis gave Morin a strange look—then pulled him so close it felt like he’d break in half.

"Guh—hey!" Morin gasped, and both Malvis and Nabe burst out laughing.

That night, they all sat around Morin’s cooking and shared a meal.

Malvis and Nabe, of course, but there was one more guest.

He was a man with striking—red hair, red eyes, like a red dragon.

And on either side of his head, branching antlers like a stag.

He looks impressive and dignified.

This man was Marx—Nabe’s husband.

Together, they looked like a perfect pair: beauty and the beast.

Despite his intimidating appearance, Marx looked at Nabe with gentle expression.

And Nabe, in turn, looked back at him with a soft, loving gaze that Morin had never seen him wear before.

A pang ran through Morin’s chest.

That’s what I wanted.

That kind of gaze.

That kind of closeness.

To be watched over with warmth.

To lean into someone and be accepted.

Suddenly, Malvis pulled Morin close by the waist again.

When Morin looked up in surprise, Malvis was staring at Belial and Nabe with a serious expression.

...

What do I do? I can’t sleep...

That night, Morin lay curled up in bed.

It wasn’t winter, but it still felt cold.

And all he could see in his mind were images of Nabe and Marx—so happy together.

That’s what I dreamed of.

That’s what I wanted.

When Morin had been a child, it was Uncle Gabriel who saved him from an attacker.

Morin had fallen in love with the gentle look in his eyes.

To be seen like that... to be held... would’ve meant everything.

But that gaze, that love, belonged to Uncle Lysander.

Uncle Lysander—kind and bright, if a little spacey—was amazing in his own way.

Patient, warm, and quick to notice when Morin was hurting.

He’d comforted him more than once.

Morin loved them both.

He loved Uncle Gabriel.

He also admired Uncle Lysander.

And yet, it was him who had hurt them both.

Would he never see them again?

He’d become too wrapped up in himself.

He hadn’t noticed how others felt.

And now here he was—unable to apologize, unable to fix what he’d broken.

Then, suddenly, the door opened.

Morin sat up quickly.

It was Malvis.

"What’s wrong?" Morin asked.

"I couldn’t sleep. Thought you might still be up."

Well, if the lights were off, wouldn’t you assume I was sleeping...?

Malvis crossed the room and, without hesitation, climbed into bed beside Morin.

Even when Morin glared in shock, he just ignored it and—just like the night before—wrapped his arms around him.

"Goodnight," Malvis said softly.

"Wait—’goodnight’?!"

Morin’s protests went unheard.

In seconds, Malvis was already asleep.

Was he even really having trouble sleeping...?

Somehow, Morin suspected this was just Malvis being considerate.

He must have sensed his unease.

And strangely enough... whenever Malvis held him like this, Morin could sleep.

The warmth, the calm that settled over him—it chased away all the noise in his head.

Curled up in that gentle embrace, Morin was afraid.

Afraid that if he got too used to this warmth, he wouldn’t be able to let go.

...

It had been about a week since Morin began staying at Nabe’s estate.

Surprisingly, he was doing well.

Malvis, it seemed, had duties as the crown prince and often went to the castle.

Nabe, who also served as the manager of the apartment building, was always busy with one thing or another.

Marx, the Supreme Commander of the Demon Army, frequently didn’t return home due to his duties.

In the end, Morin found himself feeling somewhat lonely and idle, even here.

"Haa..."

Sitting down on a bench in the courtyard of the apartment, Morin gazed up at the sky.

Compared to the sky of the Drakthar Dominion, this one seemed veiled, as if covered by a thin membrane.

"Do I even have a reason to be here?"

He thought studying abroad was supposed to be about learning something.

But what was he meant to learn?

He had already completed all the typical coursework.

He didn’t dislike magic—he’d studied it.

While he wouldn’t claim to be a master swordsman, even his father had acknowledged his swordsmanship skill.

"Go and learn something important," his father had said. But what was that "something important"?

As his thoughts drifted aimlessly, someone suddenly arrived.

The person wore a black military uniform and casually unbuttoned in a way that exuded sensuality.

His well-toned chest and collarbone peeked out slightly.

He had black hair, just long enough to brush against his face.