He was usually given ghost-friendly als—pale moon buns, icy cloudberry soup, and sparkling mooncake. And every night, the elders made him drink the white potion that strengthened ghost forms, the one that tasted like vanilla starlight and cold morning air.
He always drank it without complaint.
Because the first ti he tried to drink water...He didn’t know how.
He rembered it clearly—when he was still a baby ghost, floating clumsily around the high halls of the council tower.
He had looked at the potion in the cup, confused.
When he tried to hold it, it spilled through him.
The elder ghosts had watched in silence.
One of them had shown him how—just once—and told him coldly, "Learn fast. Weak ghosts don’t survive long."
So he did.
He practiced over and over, until he could hold the cup steady, until he could drink without letting it slip.
Because he didn’t want to be called weak again.
Now, sitting on the teacher’s chair... his wide silver eyes blinked as Alina gently brought the bottle to his lips.
"Here," she said, tilting it slowly. "Just a little sip at a ti, okay?"
And as he drank—his cold hands held by her warm ones—he didn’t spill a single drop.
But he still felt sothing new.
Warm.
Safe.
Her voice was calm. Her touch was soft. She didn’t make him feel like he had to prove anything.
She just... helped him.
And his heart, small and flickering like a lantern inside his chest, swelled with sothing so big and bright he didn’t have a na for it.
He pulled the bottle away gently and whispered, "Thank you, Teacher..."
Alina gave him the kindest smile he’d ever seen. "You’re very welco, sweetheart."
After finishing his last sip, Boo held the water bottle with both hands and looked up at Alina with soft, silver eyes ii.
She gave him a small nod.
He floated up slowly from her chair, placed the bottle back on the desk, and then drifted toward his own desk quietly, ready to sit down.
But then he stopped—frozen mid-air.
Because right beside his desk... stood Lucien.
Boo hovered there silently, holding his breath.
Alina noticed the pause.
She walked over and gently stepped between them, crouching down beside Lucien so she could et his eyes.
"Sweetheart," she said softly.
Lucien looked at her.
His face was calm but his eyes betrayed him. They were a little too glossy. His mouth was pulled into a tight line, his chin slightly tilted up, like he was trying very hard not to let anything show.
Alina reached out and gently placed her hand on his small shoulder.
"Teacher is sorry for shouting earlier," she began, her voice full of calm warmth. "But what you said to Boo... was very hurtful. Words can be sharp, Lucien. Even if we don’t an to hurt soone, sotis we still do. And Boo... he was really, really sad."
Lucien blinked. His throat moved like he was swallowing sothing down.
"We have to be gentle with each other, sweetheart," Alina continued softly. "You’re all different. You all co from different hos, different rules, different families... but in this classroom, we’re a team. A family. That ans we think about how the other person feels... even when we’re frustrated."
Lucien stayed quiet, his little fists balled at his sides.
"And look what happened..." Alina said, her voice lowering. "Because we didn’t think about Boo’s feelings, he disappeared. He was so sad he almost didn’t co back. That scared all of us, didn’t it?"
Lucien finally gave a tiny nod, his eyes lowering to the floor.
Alina smiled gently and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "Thank you for listening, sweetheart. Now, will you do sothing important for teacher?"
He looked up at her slowly.
She nodded once, calmly. "Say sorry to Boo."
Lucien hesitated.
Then he slowly turned.
Boo was still hovering quietly in the air, His eyes wide.
Lucien licked his lips nervously and mumbled, "...Sorry."
Boo blinked at him, then slowly floated a bit closer.
"I forgive you," Boo said innocently, his voice small but sincere. "Boo forgives you."
Lucien gave a quiet nod, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.
Alina stood up with a soft smile spreading across her face. "Good. Now... how about a little hug to seal the peace?"
Both boys turned to look at her.
Lucien blinked, his brows pulling together in slight confusion.
Boo tilted his head.
But after a mont of hesitation... Boo floated forward, arms outstretched—small, open, and ready.
Lucien stared at him, then took a cautious step closer. His movents were still unsure, but he didn’t resist.
And just like that, the two of them hugged.
It was awkward. A bit stiff. Lucien barely moved, unsure what to do. His small hand rose and gave Boo’s back one gentle, uncertain pat.
Boo’s eyes widened in surprise... and then his whole face lit up.
A huge, delighted smile spread across his cheeks like he had just discovered sothing wonderful. He liked being hugged.
Alina pressed a hand over her heart, warmth blooming in her chest as she watched them. She smiled, her eyes soft.
From the dark shadows, Dante’s crimson eyes were watching everything.
He saw Boo float forward, small arms outstretched, and gently wrap them around Lucien in a hesitant little hug.
It was such a simple sight.
Childlike. Innocent.
But in its own quiet way... powerful.
Lucien didn’t push him away. He didn’t scoff or roll his eyes like he often did when soone got too close. Instead, he just stood there, letting it happen. Awkward, yes. A little stiff, maybe. But he allowed it.
And standing right beside them, eyes warm and gentle, her voice soft and low—guiding them back toward each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He had located Boo earlier. A simple trace spell had told him where the child was hiding.
But he hadn’t stepped in. He could’ve walked straight into the room, picked Boo up, and taken control. That’s what everyone would’ve expected from him.
Instead... he stayed.
He ca looking for the child and ended up watching her instead.
And now, here he was, standing in silence, watching her teach his son sothing he himself had never known how to give.
Kindness.
If the Demon in Nightshade Court knew, they would be outraged. They’d scoff at the idea. The elders would mutter in their ancient tongues, calling it a disgrace. A human teaching demon-borns about softness? About hugging?
They’d call it a weakness. A contamination.
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