When it came to playtime, it was like someone had pressed a secret switch. The moment Alina said the word "game," every child turned into a burst of energy. Rocky, who had been too shy to speak earlier, now ran in circles like a rolling pebble. Luna wagged her tail and barked in excitement. Drake announced himself as the team captain. Even Felix—who moments ago was acting all cool and detached was now chasing Boo and laughing under his breath.
Alina stood back, smiling as she watched them run, stumble, and squeal in joy. The room echoed with giggles and tiny feet. Her heart felt full.
Just then, a knock on the door came, followed by a helper's voice: "Miss Hart, breakfast is ready."
The kids froze for a moment, then erupted into cheers again, this time louder. "FOOD!" Drake declared like a war cry.
By the time she reached the Class D cafeteria, Alina was honestly stunned.
It looked brand new.
There wasn't a single trace of water left, not even dampness on the walls or a stray droplet on the windows. The floor shone, the chairs were arranged perfectly, and the smell of warm pancakes floated in the air. She blinked.
"Supernatural beings, huh…" she mumbled, a little dazed. "Should've asked them to clean my apartment too."
After checking that all the babies had their meals and were seated safely, she finally allowed herself to step back. It was almost peaceful—almost. That is, until she noticed Vlad Jr. quietly unscrewing a small silver bottle.
He raised it to his lips, and the moment he drank, a faint red stain appeared. Not ketchup. Not juice.
…Blood?
Before she could call out or ask him what it was, a change in the air made her pause.
Her eyes lifted and her breath caught.
Dante.
He walked in like a storm wrapped in velvet dark, slow, quiet, and powerful. His long coat fluttered slightly behind him as he stepped into the light of the hallway, holding Lucian in one arm as if the boy weighed nothing. His entire attention was on his son, whispering something close to his ear.
He didn't even glance her way.
And that was enough to make Alina flinch.
Her heart skipped. She had no idea why but she quickly turned, ducked her head, and made her way toward the staff room before their eyes could meet.
The hallway felt quieter, colder as she walked.
When she entered the staff room, it was completely empty. No teachers. No idle chatter. Just quiet. The others were busy in their own classrooms.
She sighed and placed her bag on the desk before pulling out her phone.
Maybe this was a good time to check in.
She opened her contact list, thumb hovering for a second before she tapped "Aunt Lyla." The line started to ring.
Her heart beat a little faster. She was worried about what she might hear. Her mother hadn't been well lately… and Alina could feel it. Something inside her just knew.
"Please… pick up," she whispered under her breath.
As the line connected, her fingers curled slightly around the phone.
"Hey, Lina," came her aunt's voice–soft, bright, and familiar in a way that made Alina's shoulders loosen the moment she heard it.
"I'm sorry I missed your call," Alina said quickly, her voice slightly breathless. "Something came up during class. It got a bit… chaotic."
Her aunt chuckled gently. "It's alright, sweetheart. I only called because your mama was awake for a while. She asked if she could FaceTime with you. Just for a bit."
Alina's heart, which had been quietly restless since morning, found stillness at those words. Nothing bad, So she was okay… It was just her mind playing tricks again.
"Thank you," she said, her voice quieter now, filled with something heavier than relief.
Without delay, she tapped the video call button.
One ring.
Two.
Then the screen blinked and there she was.
Her mother.
Lying against white sheets, her skin pale and her features tired. The knitted cap she wore didn't hide what they already knew her hair was gone. But her smile… that small, familiar smile still found its way to her lips when she saw her daughter's face.
"Mama…" Alina breathed out, swallowing a lump in her throat.
Her mother blinked slowly, raising a trembling hand toward the screen. "Lina… You look tired. Are they giving you too much work at that school of yours?"
Alina smiled softly, holding back the sting in her eyes. "No, no. It's just busy with the little ones. You know how kindergarteners are," she said, keeping her tone light, normal. "One moment they're hugging you, the next they're trying to glue their shoes to the wall."
That made her mother chuckle gently, the sound frail but sweet. "You always said you liked children more than adults. Guess this is your perfect job."
"Yeah," Alina nodded, voice quieter. "It really is."
They talked for a few more minutes about Small things. Her mom asked about the weather, if the staff were treating her well. Alina spoke about how the kids had drawn her weird little crayon pictures she proudly stuck on the walls.
She didn't mention anything about supernatural being.
Her mother's voice came softer this time, "You're doing well, Lina. I can see it in your eyes."
Alina nodded. "You're doing well too," she whispered, though her heart clenched at the lie.
"I miss you," her mother said, barely audible.
Alina's lips trembled, but she held her smile. "I miss you more."
There were so many things she wanted to say how strong her mother was, how proud she was of her, how even on the hardest days she tried to be brave just like her but the words got stuck somewhere behind her chest.
So instead, she smiled. She lifted two fingers into a peace sign and said, "I'll call you again soon. Don't skip your soup, okay?"
Her mother smiled faintly, nodded.
And then the call ended, leaving Alina sitting alone in the quiet staffroom, her phone still in her hand.
She stayed like that for a long moment, pressing the back of her hand against her eyes.
Then she breathed in slowly.