Yuel stared at the little fruit—its tiny voice stretched to its limits as it enthusiastically imitated a wolf's howl.
For a brief moment, the gentle smile on his face froze—like fine porcelain struck by a sudden gust of frost—then cracked, piece by piece.
Terry, completely oblivious, continued his spirited performance.
"Awuu! Awuu!"
"Terry," Paros corrected patiently, "you're a dragon. You can't howl like a wolf. You should roar like a dragon—like this: Roar!"
"Oh! So that's how dragons roar!" Terry eagerly copied him, puffing up as best as he could.
"Roar!"
Rory stared at both of them in confusion. This was getting completely out of hand.
How exactly was she supposed to convince him that he wasn't a dragon—but a fruit?
At that moment, Yuel stepped forward.
Taking a slow breath, he walked straight to Rory's side.
He didn't spare a glance for the little troublemaker who couldn't even recognize his own father.
Instead, his gaze softened as it settled on her.
