Muen's supposed "sevenfold love" for her sister had now transformed into a very real, very urgent sevenfold pain radiating from her stomach.
She could not even hold out until they returned to the sanctuary to use the bathroom. The crisis was immediate.
If possible, she wanted to immediately commandeer the park's public restroom under the authority of her title as the "Second Princess of the Silver Dragons," declaring it a temporary royal domain.
Noah, Helena, and Aurora waited patiently outside the restroom door, exchanging occasional, knowing glances. The atmosphere was tense with unspoken scenarios. If Muen was lucky, she would walk out under her own power. If less so, she might need to crawl out. And if luck had truly abandoned her, Noah would have no choice but to go in and physically rescue her.
"How many ice creams did she actually eat?" Noah asked, her voice a mix of concern and disbelief.
"Seven," Aurora reported dutifully.
Noah blinked in utter confusion. "Why seven? Is not that excessively, self-destructively many?"
"She originally bought ten," Aurora clarified, as if that explained everything.
Noah's eyes narrowed, her mind already calculating the appropriate remedial measures for her two troublesome sisters later that evening. "Did you eat the other three, Aurora?"
Aurora shook her head quickly, her pink hair swishing. "Uh... no, I did not. We had... a reliable helper."
Helper? Noah's brow furrowed. She did not know it referred to the poor, coerced pigeon now likely suffering from a similar frozen fate.
Noah let out a long-suffering sigh. As long as Aurora herself was unharmed, she decided not to pry further into the identity of the mysterious "helper." Some mysteries were better left unsolved.
.
.
.
About ten agonizing minutes passed, and there was still no sign of movement from within the restroom. Noah's patience finally wore thin.
"I will go fetch her," she announced, her tone resigned.
Moments later, Noah emerged, carrying an utterly drained and pale Muen on her back. Muen slumped over her sister's shoulders like a sack of potatoes, her big, usually vibrant eyes swirling in dizzy spirals. Her little arms dangled limply over Noah's shoulders, and her silver tail dragged lifelessly along the ground.
"I will never eat ice cream again," she mumbled, her voice weak and thready. "Ice cream... is evil..."
Aurora approached, first poking Muen's limp tail, then patting her clammy cheeks experimentally.
"Second Sister is beyond saving," Aurora declared with clinical solemnity.
"Let us head home," Noah said, adjusting her grip on Muen's legs.
"Alright."
The little procession of dragonettes made their way back, passing through the now-quieting clan square and the serene residential streets, finally reaching the grand, familiar gates of the Silver Dragon Sanctuary.
.
.
.
As they stepped into the sanctuary's cavernous main hall, a melodic and surprisingly graceful piano tune drifted through the air, soothing their frazzled nerves.
"The sound is coming from Mom's piano room," Aurora observed. "But it has been ages since she last played, has it not?"
Indeed, Rossweise, perpetually burdened with royal duties, rarely found time for piano practice. Any spare moments were usually—and willingly—spent with Leon, often ensuring certain "marital assignments" were thoroughly completed. The last time Aurora had heard her mother play was a faint memory from shortly after she was born, a supposedly noble effort to instill some musical inclination in her newborn daughter.
As Aurora had grown older, however, her interests had decisively turned toward magical theory and research, leaving music far behind. Rossweise had never minded; she firmly believed her daughters should pursue whatever paths made them happiest.
Although Rossweise herself was not deeply passionate about music, she was proficient and occasionally enjoyed showcasing her skills when a rare, whimsical mood struck her.
The piano's soothing notes resonated beautifully throughout the stone hall, drawing the dragonettes to slow their steps and savor the rare, impromptu performance.
But just as they began to immerse themselves in the gentle melody, a sharp, piercing, and utterly discordant sound suddenly ripped through the tranquility.
SKREEEEE-EE-ONK!
It was jarring, unexpected, and completely out of place.
Noah frowned deeply. "It is not exactly bad... but what is that? I have never heard anything like it."
"Is this some kind of unique, traditional Silver Dragon instrument?" Helena asked, her curiosity piqued but her expression slightly pained.
Noah shook her head, equally baffled. "No, and it does not sound like anything Mom would normally enjoy playing. Aurora, any idea what that is?"
Aurora scratched her head, her face a mirror of perplexity. "No clue. None of the instruments Mom keeps can make a sound this... aggressively unmusical."
From her perch on Noah's back, Muen weakly raised a hand. "I... I know what it is..." she croaked.
"You are awake, Muen? What is it, then?"
"Dad showed me once..." she mumbled, her voice hoarse. "He said it is a new instrument he made because the sanctuary did not have one... and he wanted to 'expand our cultural horizons.'"
Noah and Aurora exchanged a single, deeply wary glance. Leon was a dependable and straightforward father—but this reliability was strictly confined to the battlefield. In everyday domestic life, his eccentricities often left his daughters utterly bewildered.
Aurora, in particular, felt she had suffered greatly in this regard. She was personally convinced that her own indifference to music was at least 70% her dad's fault. When she was still in the womb, Leon had allegedly played all sorts of bizarre "music" near Rossweise's belly—or at least, that is what her mom had teasingly told her on multiple occasions.
Now, hearing that their father had "invented" a new instrument, a cold dread washed over both Noah and Aurora.
"What is it called?" Noah asked, her voice cautious, as if fearing the answer.
Muen blinked dizzily. "Dad called it... a 'Eargasm Maker.'"
The two sisters exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated horror.
"We need to leave. Now," Noah said, her decision instantaneous and final.
"Agreed, Big Sister!" Aurora chimed in, a note of panic in her voice. "Helena can not find out how genuinely weird our family actually is! Our reputation!"
"Hey, Helena," Noah said, turning to her friend with a strained smile. "Let us head upstairs to my room and rest for a while before dinner."
"Okay..." Helena replied, though she looked understandably puzzled by their abrupt change in mood and hurried pace.
The trio quickly scurried up the grand staircase, fleeing the increasingly chaotic and disturbing sounds emanating from the piano room, desperately trying to preserve at least a shred of normalcy in front of their guest.
—Ten Minutes Earlier—
In the sound-proofed piano room, Leon stood proudly beside a bizarre, horn-like contraption he had somehow connected to a gramophone.
"Rossweise, my love, I think it is time we started the prenatal education for our fourth child!" he declared with immense pride.
Rossweise lounged elegantly on a plush velvet couch, her silver tail draped over the side and lazily flicking back and forth in a relaxed rhythm. Her gaze shifted from the strange contraption to her husband's overly earnest face, one eyebrow arched skeptically.
"You are not planning to play those... 'experimental' human classics again, are you?" she asked, a hint of dread in her voice.
Leon blinked, feigning innocence. "What do you mean 'again'? I have never played those for you before!"
Rossweise let out a soft, disbelieving snort. "Strange, then. If you never played them, why do I have such a vivid memory of you sneaking into my bedchamber at night while I was pregnant with Aurora, and blasting what you called 'atonal masterpieces' directly at my belly?"
"Wait, you were awake back then?!" Leon exclaimed, his cheeks reddening slightly.
"Not fully," Rossweise admitted, a sly smile playing on her lips. "But I certainly woke up because of you, not the music."
Leon scratched his head in genuine confusion. "What did I do?"
"You did not stop at the music," she said, shuddering slightly at the memory as she sat upright, as if to physically shake off the lingering discomfort. "You started singing along—loudly, and with great passion."
She fixed him with a firm, pleading look. "Promise me, dear. Tonight, do whatever you want with that machine, but please, by all the ancient dragons, do not sing."
Leon's blush deepened. "What is wrong with my singing? Is it truly that bad?"
Rossweise did not hold back. "It is lethal. To the ears and to the spirit."
"Then how did you tolerate it back then?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Rossweise's lips curved into a fond, mischievous smile. "Because you looked so hopelessly earnest and adorable, completely lost in your performance. I could not bear to stop you."
Leon's eyes instantly sparkled with renewed confidence. "Ah, Honey! You were already falling for my unique charm even back then!"
"Do not flatter yourself, dear," she retorted smoothly. "In that context, 'adorable' was absolutely not a compliment."
"...Whatever," Leon grumbled, his pride slightly dented.
Shaking his head, he patted the bizarre gramophone contraption affectionately. "The past is the past. Now, it is time to let our fourth child experience the vast, wonderful world of sound early! Their cultural education starts today!"