Meilun couldn’t process it.
Even though the man before him was the most powerful of the Crown Clan, able to single-handedly suppress multiple members’ mental force rampages, the one who had quelled countless disasters and handled innumerable assassinations and plots, he nonetheless felt vexed.
That emotion kept growing, amplified by his collapsing spirit.
Until Amos said, “And the way you look right now—scared him.”
Meilun instantly lost all strength. Unlike Amos’s generation, he was not yet numb to cubs—he still longed for them. He glanced down at his sorry state, but tried hard not to show any envy or bitterness.
“Your cub, and it’s even your own child? I don’t even care that much, okay? …So I’m the first of our generation to know, right?”
Amos couldn’t even be bothered to answer.
The tiny awoo calls from outside the door grew closer and more frequent as time passed.
A white little fluffball was hiding on the other side of the door, calling softly and anxiously for him like a hatchling.
Ever since Amos picked him up, Chu Zao had been by his side.
Amos found it hard to describe how he felt in this moment.
He felt like the little one was perhaps a bit too clingy, but also thought that, at this age, some clinginess was normal.
Managing a little cub was—over a century of rule—the one thing Amos found himself most conflicted about.
Amos left the room, and the personal guards quickly came in to clean up. Seeing Meilun calm, they cautiously inquired, “If you’d—”
“Of course I’m going.”
Meilun braced himself on the wall and stood up slowly, straightening his clothes.
He had to tidy himself up before going out.
Personal guards, who hadn’t dared listen in on the Emperor and Meilun’s conversation: …?
Where are you going???
*
When Amos emerged, the waiting Crown Clan were in an uproar.
Frey was still stiff, unmoving.
“Awoo!”
Baba!
Little Chu Zao, sitting in his lap, finally spotted Amos. His little wings instantly sprang open, and he clumsily launched himself toward Amos’s arms.
Amos watched the white ball flying at him, still a bit unaccustomed. Instinctively, he reached out. What was going to be a defensive move changed in the last instant, and he received the white ball into his embrace.
Though the cub was rather attached to him, for the most part he simply liked to be near him. Such impatient leaping was rare.
Amos glanced behind, saw the Crown Clan members fighting because they were trying to yank off each other’s halos, and fell silent.
No wonder the little guy had been so uneasy—what on earth were you all doing???
“Awoo!”
Baba, what was that just now?
“Awoo awoo!”
Zao Zao saw a broken halo—it looked so painful.
White little ball buried into Amos’s embrace, raising his little head, the halo on top swaying, ears trembling as if feeling phantom pain too.
“It didn’t look half as painful as when you yank off your own halo…”
Amos muttered, then fell abruptly silent, looking at the beautiful, exquisite little halo atop Chu Zao’s head, suddenly picturing something that would happen when he was older—
Would this golden little halo also shatter then?
Perhaps still weighed down by the gloom of seeing his kin’s crown break, or perhaps by this new thought, the room’s air sank.
The little cub didn’t know what Amos was thinking, or that, after all this time, Amos found even the thought hard to accept.
The fluffy white bundle only tilted his little head, obedient in this new place, and nudged Amos’s chin with his small head.
Here, the scent was familiar.
Baba was still his favorite.
Amos said nothing more as another message from the comm urged him on. Ignoring the ruckus behind, he carried the little bundle swiftly through the snow, heading directly to his own quarters.
Royal steward Mori was making the final checks on the nursery; though Amos’s order had been strange, they executed it strictly and finished the preparations ahead of schedule.
The nursery was right next to Amos’s own room.
But no one was sure who the room’s owner was—when that question came up, a hush would always fall.
The Crown Clan leading all Holy Cas was already the last generation.
No one knew the future of Holy Cas.
Now, Amos’s behavior seemed to tell them—the Crown Clan were raising a new emperor, kept by Amos’s side.
It was—sorrowful.
Then they saw Amos push open the door, snow still falling outside. He didn’t bother to brush it off, so a dusting of white sat on his shoulders; he flicked his hand, sending a snow-white fluffball with a tiny crown halo onto the soft sofa.
Mori, in a daze, swept his eyes over—and froze.
“The package from the medical center has arriv—”
He choked.
Suddenly turned, nearly stopping his breath.
A snow-white fluffball with a shining crown halo???
Chu Zao blinked in confusion. Looking around the room, he saw Amos taking off his uniform and setting it aside.
The room was warm, melting the snow on Amos’s uniform bit by bit.
The snow-white bundle flipped over and climbed up, crouched on the sofa. His large amber eyes darted cautiously around, ears pressed back, tail sticking straight up, the fluffy tip twitching.
It was camouflage—but not really.
Hey, his “antenna” was still up!
No sounds in the room, and curiosity soon won out—what were those white things?
Raising his tail, he crept forward, leaving imprints in the sofa, moving carefully to Amos’s uniform. He reached out a paw and touched the snow.
The cold touch stunned him; he quickly drew his paw back, staring at the pink pad in confusion, then pressed it against his little cheek.
“Awoo?”
Baba, it’s cold.
He looked blank and cute, a soft little bundle, full of curiosity about everything—seeing something, awoo awoo, call for Baba.
Amos’s brows softened for a flash—was this, perhaps, the joy of raising cubs those older generations talked about? Then he seemed to remember something troubling, darkening again.
His mental force was already at the breaking point; he’d accepted the destruction of the Crown Clan, but now with a cub, he didn’t know if he could provide enough before he was destroyed himself. Or for this empire…
Chu Zao turned and saw Amos’s expression.
Though Amos rarely smiled, when he wasn’t fighting, he seemed gentle. But now, his clouded face looked fearsome.
Little bundle instantly pulled his paw back; the body that was about to jump shrank low, watching Amos anxiously.
Looking at Amos’s face, his tail dropped too; he suddenly recalled the past, panic spreading.
In the angel’s gathering place, sometimes magic grass grew, glowing like tiny lilies of the valley or small lanterns. Chu Zao had only heard of them until one day, he saw some beneath a tree.
He’d been even smaller then, working hard to keep his angel form, curiously reaching for the grass.
The light scattered like fireflies, a beautiful dream.
But soon the dream shattered; angry angels grabbed him and took him to the chief angel, accusing him of ruining the growth of a magic grass, a rare and precious item.
That’s when he found out—
You mustn’t touch magic grass before it matures.
In fear, he turned into a little white fluffball and was expelled from the chief angel’s house.
A decree was given: no touching anything in the territory that wasn’t yours.
To angels, magic grass was a treasure; he was a little monster.
But…
That little cub could only curl up in a nest on a tree, body unchanged, small and sad, quietly crying—no one had ever told Zao Zao not to touch, he hadn’t meant to.
But Chu Zao thought Amos was different.
They looked alike. They were family, right?
But even so, was this also not to be touched?
In the past he never asked—there was no point, he had to be strong, protect himself.
But—before, before—Baba had responded to Zao Zao’s call.
Zao Zao called Baba, and Baba came to protect him.
“Awooo—”
Sorry, Baba.
Little white ball tucked his paws in, soft and prone on the sofa, awooing.
This place was so strange; he was curious, but dared not act rashly because of the past.
Amos snapped back at the sound of the little one’s voice.
He looked at the suddenly dejected white ball, not sure what happened.
Why unhappy again?
He opened the package from the medical center—a tiny bottle of warm cub’s milk. Amos set the bottle before the cub. “Zao Zao, have some?”
He read the little one’s face, then stood and looked outside.
“Wait for me a moment.”
“Awoo?”
What are you going to do?
The cub crawled forward a little on the sofa, watching Amos go out, Mori’s eyes still fixed on him in disbelief.
Chu Zao grew anxious.
“Awoo.”
Zao Zao won’t touch it, Baba. Baba, what are you going to do?
Outside, Amos rolled two snowballs.
He frowned, pressing the two together.
Meilun and Anya arrived, side by side.
Frey, off to the military for duties.
The two stared at Amos, kneading snowballs together, both silent.
“What’s His Majesty doing?”
“Ma—making a snowman?”
My brother really makes ugly snowmen.
Can’t be making it for the cub, right?
Even if we’ve never seen a cub, no records ever said a cub would want that, right?
Amos carried the “snowman” back indoors.
He moved quickly. Chu Zao still clutched the milk bottle, blinking his watery big eyes out the window, then saw Amos come in from the snow.
He strode over to Chu Zao.
“Awoo.”
Baba, Zao Zao won’t touch it anymore, Zao Zao—eh?
Amos knelt in front of the sofa and held out the “little snowman” to the cub.
He paused at the cub’s words.
“What?”
Chu Zao’s tail slowly relaxed from its tense state, then began to curl up.
He heard Amos ask, Amos truly seemed puzzled: “Don’t like it? Or… need to be fed?”
The cub stared blankly at the little white “snowman” just like him.
He reached out a paw, but didn’t dare touch—yet his little paw pad pressed into Amos’s palm.
Oh—here, there’s no magic grass, and Zao Zao isn’t a little monster.
[Author’s note]
Slow-on-the-uptake His Majesty: Hmm… do you need me to feed you the milk?