Chapter 303: The Persistent Quest of Fatherly Duties
Malik stirred, feeling something soft yet insistently furry pressing against his face. He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the muted dawn light filtering softly through the luxurious curtains.
The warmth beneath the thick blankets was nearly intoxicating, enveloping him in comfort—but there was definitely something small and fuzzy blocking his breathing.
He gently lifted Little Haido, the stubbornly fearless wolf pup, off his face. The tiny creature wriggled indignantly, releasing a sleepy growl before curling tightly against Malik's chest instead. Malik sighed with a faint smile, glancing around as his eyes finally adjusted.
Ranke, Kamira, and Fugai lay sprawled gracefully around him, each deep in peaceful sleep, their beautiful, bare forms softly illuminated by the gentle morning glow. Malik took a moment to enjoy the serene scene, feeling oddly content despite his usual restless spirit.
The tranquil morning air was abruptly disturbed as Little Haido let out a sharp, cheerful yip, propelling himself off Malik's chest like a tiny, furry cannonball.
He darted across the bed, then fell off it, his small paws pattering excitedly against the wooden floor, to only jump back on the bed, blissfully unaware that Malik was now a man on a mission: to wait patiently for his companions to drift back to sleep so he could reclaim a shred of his sanity.
Ranke was the first to stir, emitting a long, theatrical groan as she shifted under the covers, her tousled hair cascading over the edge of the mattress. She barely lifted her head before grumbling, "Can't a goddess get a moment's peace?" Her voice was muffled by the pillow, as if the mere effort of waking had already drained her for the day.
Malik watched and waited, exhaling softly.
Little Haido was not making things any easier.
The pup was now enthusiastically nudging Kamira, whose lips curled into a gentle, sleepy smile as she reached out blindly to scratch behind his ears. His tail wagged furiously, thumping repeatedly against Malik's leg without a hint of remorse.
"Come on, buddy," Malik whispered, attempting diplomacy. "Let's not wake anyone else up, okay?"
Little Haido completely ignored him.
Instead, he trotted directly toward Fugai, the most perilous choice, and gently nudged her hand with his snout.
Malik held his breath.
Fugai, ever the vigilant warrior, immediately sat up, her dark eyes scanning the room for threats—though the only immediate danger was Malik's mounting frustration. The covers slipped down slightly, revealing the bare shoulders of the three women, their large breasts barely concealed beneath the sheets, shifting and slightly jiggling softly with their movements.
The pup gazed at her expectantly, his fluffy tail wagging.
A tense moment passed.
Then—against all odds—Fugai smirked.
Malik groaned inwardly. It was a rare sight, but at what cost?
Now, everyone was awake, and his meticulously crafted plan for a quiet morning had crumbled spectacularly.
Little Haido, his betrayal complete, barked triumphantly and settled himself happily in Malik's lap, oblivious to the sheer exasperation radiating from his owner.
Malik pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I just needed five more minutes."
= like a full hour of allowing everyone to fall back asleep =
Careful not to disturb his slumbering knights, Malik began to slowly disentangle himself from the warm embrace of their limbs and the heavy blankets. Every tiny movement felt perilously loud, his heart skipping each time Kamira stirred slightly or Fugai's brows twitched. Ranke murmured softly in her sleep, arms briefly tightening around him, nearly pulling him back into the comfort of their shared warmth.
Finally, Malik extracted himself with painstaking precision, breathing a sigh of relief as his bare feet touched the soft, plush carpet. He gently set Little Haido down on the pillows, where the pup immediately stretched out luxuriously, claiming Malik's spot without hesitation.
"Greedy little furball," Malik whispered fondly, shaking his head.
He quietly donned his comfy, embarrassingly fluffy pajamas—soft blue with small golden moons embroidered across the fabric—and tiptoed to an ornate armchair positioned near a window overlooking the waking city of the Snow capital.
Settling into the chair with a contented sigh, Malik rubbed his eyes sleepily. He barely had time to fully relax before an intrusive, glowing notification appeared abruptly before him.
[Flash Quest!]
Malik jumped slightly, blinking rapidly at the glowing, aggressively vibrant message floating inches from his nose.
[Quest Objective: Visit Amaya, the lovely rich woman who happens to be pregnant with YOUR child. Do it now, not later.]
Malik stared blankly, his sleepy brain attempting to process the unexpected command.
"Really? Now?" he muttered, glancing nervously back at the bed to ensure no one else had woken.
[Reward: Your self-respect and the satisfaction of not being labeled a DEADBEAT DAD.]
Malik rolled his eyes, sinking lower into his chair. "Rude. I was planning to visit her anyway. You really had to guilt-trip me?"
The notification flashed insistently:
[Then go right now, genius. Procrastination is a hallmark of irresponsible parenting!]
Malik scowled, whispering heatedly back at the floating text, "I literally just woke up. It's barely dawn. Can't this wait a few hours?"
The notification shimmered indignantly.
[Sure. Why rush? It's only your unborn child's future psychological stability at stake. Take your sweet time.]
Malik groaned softly, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "I'm busy. Important political things, meetings, battles—you know, maybe I'm helping to lead a rebellion against tyranny? Important stuff?"
The quest responded immediately, practically radiating sass:
[Oh yes, of course! Tyranny-battling is clearly a valid excuse to avoid basic parental obligations. Priorities, Malik!]
Malik clenched his jaw, glaring at the quest as if it were a particularly persistent insect buzzing around him.
"You're the worst. You know I'm going to see her. I'm responsible! I have plenty of self-respect."
[Sure you do. I mean, abandoning your child's mother to deal with pregnancy alone for convenience? Sounds perfectly respectful. Definitely won't leave emotional scars.]
"You are unnecessarily dramatic," Malik whispered angrily, glancing nervously over his shoulder as Fugai shifted slightly beneath the covers. Thankfully, none of the knights seemed aware of his absurd argument with the disembodied notification.
The quest paused briefly, then appeared to sigh dramatically through its text.
[Look, just go see her. If you really cared, you wouldn't need convincing. But clearly, your comfy pajamas and snuggle pile are more important.]
Malik gritted his teeth, his voice low and heated. "Fine. I'll go. You insufferable guilt-tripping—"
[Great! You finally decided to be a decent human. . . Incubus thing, Congratulations!]
He scowled, swatting at the notification as though trying to physically shove it away. "Oh, shut up."
The notification vanished, leaving Malik in irritated silence. Sighing deeply, he rose from the chair, glaring ruefully at the bed where his knights slept peacefully, oblivious to his annoyance.
He quietly dressed himself in proper clothing, donning a thick, elegant winter cloak over a stylish yet warm outfit suitable for meeting someone of Amaya's status. He paused at a mirror, smoothing his clothes irritably, still glaring at the empty space where the quest had mocked him moments earlier.
"You better be happy," he muttered darkly, adjusting his collar. "This is entirely your fault."
The notification reappeared smugly:
[No, Malik. This is YOUR fault. Own it.]
Malik growled quietly, grabbing his gloves and turning decisively toward the door. "You know what? Next time, I'm ignoring you entirely."
The quest glowed serenely, clearly unimpressed by the empty threat.
[Sure you are. Now go see Amaya and stop sulking.]
Malik exited the room quietly, casting one last wistful glance toward the warm bed and his peacefully sleeping knights. He shook his head, muttering irritably under his breath as he closed the door softly behind him.
"You better appreciate this, you obnoxious floating text."
As Malik strode away down the lavishly decorated hallway, the quest flashed one final smug farewell:
[Have fun, proud papa!]
Malik groaned again, resigned to his fate. "I really need to get a less judgmental system."
== sometime later,
The ancient palace was silent save for the muffled crunch of Malik's boots on the soft woven rugs as he slipped quietly through the gilded corridors.
Dawn had only just begun to tease the horizon, painting thin stripes of lavender and silver across the snowy rooftops visible from the tall crystal windows. The air was crisp even indoors, a lingering chill left behind by the frigid night, though the opulence of the Land of Snow's capital was designed to keep discomfort as far from its guests as possible.
Malik was halfway down the main hallway, still grumbling under his breath about the world's most persistent quest notification, when he rounded a corner and nearly collided with Gen'yūmaru.
The bodyguard was already awake, posture perfectly upright despite the absurd hour, a mug of something steaming (and suspiciously black) in his gloved hand. He looked like he had been up for hours: tousled white hair only slightly tidier than usual, his deep purple eyes alert, his coat neatly buttoned over his strong frame. He didn't flinch or stumble—just stepped aside with practiced grace.
"Malik," Gen'yūmaru said with a faint incline of his head, voice pitched low to suit the sleeping palace.
Malik blinked, momentarily startled. "Gen'yūmaru, what in the world are you doing up this early? Did you never actually go to sleep?"
A faint smirk played across the tracker's lips. "Some of us are morning people," he replied evenly, sipping his drink. "It's how I get ahead of everyone else. Patrols, reports, scouting—somebody has to keep the city from burning down before lunch."
Malik grinned despite his lingering irritation, rolling his eyes. "That's disturbingly responsible of you. Not even a little jealous of the whole sleeping-like-a-happy-cat-with-three-warm-women thing?"
Gen'yūmaru shrugged, not missing a beat. "Jealous? I get to enjoy a quiet palace. Besides, one of us has to be awake to keep you alive. Orders."
Malik lifted an eyebrow, pausing in his stride. "Orders from who? I thought I was in charge."
Gen'yūmaru fixed him with a knowing look, a spark of amusement in his purple gaze. "Your first wife, Shisui, to be precise. She sent me a scroll—well, three scrolls, actually—very clear instructions that you are to be guarded at all times. No unsupervised strolls. Especially not in the capital."
Malik snorted, trying and failing to hide a smile. "Of course she did. Shisui has the subtlety of an avalanche and the persistence of a storm."
Gen'yūmaru shrugged, taking another slow sip. "She's efficient. If she hears you went wandering at dawn alone, she'll be here before noon, sword drawn, ready to lecture all of us for an hour straight. I like my mornings quiet, thank you."
They fell into a companionable silence as they stepped out into the palace courtyard. The world outside was a hush of pale blue and white, the streets of the capital nearly empty save for a few bundled workers setting up stalls or shoveling fresh snow from ornate stone paths. Frost sparkled in the dawn light, and the city—usually bustling, full of merchant calls and laughter—felt peaceful, almost private.
Gen'yūmaru set their pace to match Malik's stride. "So, boss," he said after a moment, "what's got you up before the sun? Can't be insomnia, you sleep like a log when you finally allow yourself."
Malik exhaled, watching his breath fog in the morning air. "Would you believe me if I said I had an urgent personal errand? Someone in the city I owe a visit before we leave. Nothing dramatic—just something that can't wait. A little… fatherly responsibility."
Gen'yūmaru's brows rose, though he hid his smile behind the rim of his mug. "Fatherly responsibility? Malik, you're multiplying faster than rabbits in spring. The Snow nobles will be sending thank-you notes by next month."
Malik gave a long-suffering sigh, but there was warmth in his voice. "It's not my fault I'm so charming, Gen'yūmaru. Some burdens are just mine to bear."
Gen'yūmaru nudged him with a shoulder. "And here I thought you'd left the palace for peace and quiet. At least tell me you're not planning on starting a nursery in every province."
Malik grinned, more at ease now as they walked through the city's waking heart. "Just trying to set a good example. You know—show that I can handle responsibility, not just rebellion and politics."
"Sure," Gen'yūmaru replied with deadpan seriousness, "because nothing says responsible like sneaking out before dawn in pajamas, tracked by an over-caffeinated bodyguard."
They both laughed—softly, mindful of the sleeping city. For a while, they wandered in easy silence, the only sounds their boots in the fresh snow and the distant, muffled clatter of city workers beginning their day.
Malik took a deep breath, letting the cold air sharpen his mind, feeling the heavy fatigue of recent days begin to ebb. "It's peaceful here in the morning," he admitted. "Almost makes me forget we just crushed a rebellion yesterday."
Gen'yūmaru nodded. "That's the trick of the Land of Snow. Everything resets with the sunrise. Old scars covered by new snow."
Malik glanced at him sidelong. "You get poetic before breakfast?"
Gen'yūmaru flashed a brief grin. "Only when nobody's listening."
They reached the far end of the plaza, the city beginning to awaken around them. Malik paused, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves mixed with stubborn determination. "Thanks for walking with me, Gen'yūmaru. Even if you're just following orders. Sometimes it's good to have someone at your back, even when you don't need saving."
Gen'yūmaru's gaze softened, just for a moment. "You've got more people at your back than you realize, Malik. That's what happens when you stop being a lone wolf and start building a pack."
Malik laughed. "Did you really just call me a wolf? That's Fugai's territory, and you know it."
Gen'yūmaru shrugged, but his smile was genuine. "She shares. Sometimes."
They shared one more moment of quiet camaraderie as the city truly began to wake—lights blooming in high windows, voices echoing through the chill air. Malik straightened his cloak, steeling himself for the day ahead.
"Ready to go face the consequences of my charm?" he asked lightly, nodding toward the direction of Amaya's estate.
Gen'yūmaru drained the last of his mug. "I'm always ready, boss. Lead the way."
And together, side by side, they walked into the brightening morning—two friends, a strategist and his shadow, setting off to prove that even kings and rebels could answer when responsibility called.
===Arriving at Amaya's Estate—A Fortress of Wealth and Secrets
Malik stepped forward, his stride measured, his cloak heavy with the morning chill as he and Gen'yūmaru approached Amaya's estate, a grand structure nestled on the outskirts of the capital, veiled in silk and secrecy.
The entrance was opulent but discreet, marked not by excessive grandeur, but by its immaculate precision—every tapestry perfectly woven, every polished surface glinting under the soft glow of oil lanterns, the air thick with the scent of incense and expensive teas.
A place designed to shield its residents from the outside world.
Malik wasn't surprised.
Amaya had always been calculating, always ensuring her environment reflected her ambitions.
And now—she had even more to protect.
Inside the Estate—The corridors whispered under Malik's footsteps as he moved deeper within, passing ornate furniture, hand-painted scrolls, and intricately patterned rugs that absorbed every trace of sound.
Amaya's quarters were isolated, carefully tucked away in the heart of the estate, where only the most trusted attendants were permitted to linger.
He entered without hesitation, his presence already expected.
And there she was—
Amaya—
Reclining against luxurious silk pillows, Amaya sat perfectly poised, her dark hair cascading in rich waves over her shoulders, framing her sharp, almond-shaped eyes, which flicked up toward him the moment he entered.
She was very pregnant, her form softened but her gaze no less piercing, the weight of her current state doing nothing to dull the sharp edges of her mind.
Malik knew better than to mistake pregnancy for vulnerability.
Especially with her.
She was not in love with him—that much had always been clear.
But she cared for him in her own way—not with devotion, not with longing, but with ambition and quiet understanding.
"You're late," Amaya murmured, her voice smooth, controlled, yet tinged with expectation.
Malik grinned, stepping closer, taking the seat beside her bed without hesitation, his gold-and-pink eyes flickering with amusement.
"I arrived precisely when I meant to."
Amaya huffed softly, shaking her head.
"You always do."
There was no warm embrace, no eager affection—only the weight of shared purpose, the unspoken agreement between two individuals who understood the true nature of power and alliances.
"I take it your negotiations with Koyuki went well?" Malik mused, his tone light, but his intent sharp.
Amaya's lips curved slightly, revealing the faintest hint of satisfaction.
"They were necessary."
She lifted a delicate hand, gesturing slightly toward the room around her, the walls lined with the finest fabrics, the air heavy with protection.
"I know what I want, Malik."
Her voice carried no hesitation, no wavering indecision.
"I want power, security, privacy—and I want our child to have all of those things."
Malik leaned forward, watching her carefully.
"You already have wealth."
Amaya tilted her chin slightly, her expression cool but assured.
"Wealth isn't power. Influence is."
Her dark eyes met his with undeniable certainty.
"And you, Malik, have influence."
She wasn't asking for love, devotion, or a grand declaration.
She was ensuring stability, securing alliances, weaving plans that stretched beyond the confines of personal relationships.
She had already struck a deal with Koyuki Kazahana, aligning herself with the Daimyō of the Land of Snow, intertwining Malik's presence further into the country's foundation.
A bond that would be kept secret, protected, and used only when necessary.
No one could know she was pregnant with his child.
Not yet.
Not for a long time.
And Malik respected that choice.
Malik exhaled softly, his gaze drifting toward the window, where the sun had fully risen, casting light over the snow-covered city.
"You play your cards well, Amaya."
She smiled faintly.
"I learned from the best."
Malik chuckled.
"I assume that's a compliment?"
Amaya grinned knowingly, settling back against her pillows.
"It's a fact."
And just like that—
Their conversation was done, the decisions already made, the course already set.
Their child would be raised in power, protected in secrecy, and Malik's connection to the Land of Snow would only deepen.
A quiet alliance, built on understanding rather than devotion.
But an unbreakable one nonetheless.
And Malik would uphold it.
Just as she knew he would.
Malik nodded, a subtle curve of satisfaction forming on his lips. He reclined slightly in his seat, the warmth of the room enveloping him, the scent of sandalwood and jasmine filling his senses.
Amaya watched him with a measured expression, her fingers idly tracing the delicate embroidery of her silken robe.
"You're confident in my discretion," Malik mused, his tone even, his gold-and-pink eyes glinting with amusement.
Amaya's lips pressed into a faint smirk. "I wouldn't have involved you if I wasn't."
Her voice was smooth, assured, carrying the weight of a woman who had always known exactly what she wanted.
She shifted slightly, her hand moving to rest lightly over the gentle curve of her stomach, a subtle but deliberate gesture.
"Our child will have everything," she murmured, her tone carrying both resolve and expectation. "Influence, security, a name that carries weight." Malik shrugged as he stood up, "Well then, I guess that's all, I'll make sure to come to see you more often, Is that fine Amaya?" Amaya's face tightened slightly, a flash of irritation crossing her features before smoothing into a carefully neutral mask. "That won't be necessary, Malik. My attendants are more than capable of tending to my needs."
She paused, her fingers stilling on her stomach as she regarded him with a cool, measured gaze. "However, your presence will be required at certain functions. I'll have my steward inform you of the dates."
Malik nodded, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He moved towards the door, his steps deliberate and unhurried. "Of course. I'll be there when you need me, Amaya."
He paused at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder. "And I'll make sure to keep up appearances. The people will see what they're meant to see."
Amaya inclined her head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment and dismissal rolled into one. "I expect nothing less."
Before Malik left the room he turned around, "When was the last time I tasted you, I honestly think we only 'did it' that one time, if your willing, how about I join you in your bed again, and see what I can do for you." Amaya could see him growing hard in his pants, and she could recall the heat and pleasure he brought her on that late long night in the past.
Amaya's gaze swept across Malik, her features unreadable for a moment. Then, with the barest tilt of her head, she gave a subtle nod. "Come here," she murmured, her words laced with quiet command.
Malik closed the distance between them in a few fluid steps, his presence now looming beside the low platform of her bed.
Amaya watched him, her fingers still resting lightly on her stomach, her posture regal even as she reclined slightly.
"If you're to be a father to my child, you should know exactly what you're tending," she said, her tone measured, her eyes never leaving his. With deliberate grace, she parted the silk of her robe, exposing the pale, smooth skin of her abdomen and thighs. Her movements were slow, calculated, each one an act of deliberate seduction. "Show me what you remember, Malik. Show me why I let you into my bed in the first place."
In a delicate swirl of pink smoke, Malik's attire drifted away from his body, revealing his smooth, brown skin that seemed to glow with an inner light.
His thick, dark cock pulsed with an unmistakable need.
His gaze traveled slowly over Amaya's body, starting with her fuller breasts, moving down to the gentle curve of her stomach, and finally settling between her legs. Malik's fingers grazed the inside of Amaya's thighs, his touch a delicate whisper against her skin.
He moved slowly, savoring the moment, the way her muscles tensed in quiet expectation. His other hand rested lightly on her lower abdomen, the heat of his palm seeping into her skin.
Without breaking eye contact, Malik leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss there, his tongue darting out to taste her. A small shiver ran through Amaya's body, her fingers tightening slightly on the silk of her robe.
His mouth moved higher, each kiss deliberate, each breath a gentle heat against her skin. He could feel her pulse quickening, her body arching ever so slightly towards him. When his lips finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath warm against her most intimate area. He took his time, looking at her pussy in detail.
Malik's gaze lingered on Amaya's most intimate area, his gold-and-pink eyes taking in every detail.
Her pussy was shaved smooth, the soft folds glistening with arousal. He could see the faint pink of her inner lips, partially hidden by the outer labia, and the small, sensitive nub of her clit peeking out at the top.
A thin trail of moisture had begun to trickle down her inner thigh, evidence of her growing excitement. Malik's breath came in slow, deliberate waves against her sensitive skin, his face hovering just inches from her pussy.
He could smell her arousal, a heady mix of jasmine and her natural musk. His hands, still resting on her inner thighs, gently spread them wider, giving him an even better view.
With his tongue, he traced a long, slow line up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her pussy.
"It's been so long, and before I slide inside you, I want to savor your taste again. But if you're too needy, my dear Amaya, I'll take you right here, right now." Amaya's breathing grew more labored, her chest rising and falling in a deliberate, measured rhythm.
She shifted her hips slightly, a silent invitation, her body betraying the desire she tried so hard to keep in check. "Then savor," she murmured, her voice husky with need.
Malik's tongue darted out, tracing a gentle circle around her clit, the touch feather-light and teasing. He alternated between soft, sucking kisses and long, slow licks, his movements deliberate and calculated.
He could taste her, her arousal, intense and intoxicating. Amaya's fingers tangled in the silk of her robe, her body arching into his touch.
Her thighs trembled slightly, her hips bucking upward, urging him on. Malik's hands moved to grip her hips, holding her steady as he buried his face between her legs.