Dravin carried her through corridors she had never seen. She rested her head on his shoulder.
This is nice. I could get used to this version of you.
He pushed open a door she'd never noticed. Cool air touched her face, Hania’s eyes widened.
A garden. Soft grass underfoot. Ponds dotted with lotus flowers, their pink petals half-open. Cherry blossom trees stood in graceful clusters, petals drifting lazily. The sky above had shifted to a soft pink, as if the blossoms had bled upward and tinted everything.
One willow tree stood among the sakura, its long branches hanging low like a green curtain. Beneath it, the grass looked especially soft.
Why does my silent father have a secret pocket dimension that looks like a romance manhwa cover?
Dravin set her down. Hania’s bare feet touched cool grass. She wobbled, took one unsteady step, then another. The blades tickled her toes. She looked up at him, expecting instructions.
He said nothing. He simply walked to the willow tree and sat beneath it, back against the trunk, legs stretched out. His silver hair fell over one shoulder. He looked tired.
Sharing the same air counts as quality time. So that’s what you want. Don't worry father, I got you.
Hania took a few more steps. The grass was springy. She crouched, touched a fallen sakura petal, then picked it up and held it to her nose. It smelled faintly sweet. She glanced back at Dravin. He was watching her. His eyes followed her movements without comment.
So good. It's so peacefully quiet here.
She toddled toward the nearest pond. Lotus flowers floated on still water. Bright koi fish darted beneath the surface. One bold koi jumped halfway out of the water, mouth open, as if demanding food.
Hania leaned closer, fascinated. The koi jumped again, splashing water onto her face. She blinked, startled, then laughed, a delighted baby gurgle.
Dravin’s hand moved. A gentle pulse of magic lifted her back a step, away from the pond. She looked at him. He gave the tiniest nod. Stay back.
Hania huffed. Overprotective.
She turned and kept exploring. Seven small stone markers stood in a neat row near the willow tree. Four had faint engravings. Three were freshly dug holes.
What? Who are the four? Why are three just... waiting?
She stared at them. Dravin said nothing. He didn’t even look at the graves. His gaze stayed on her. Like graves were normal garden decorations.
Hania felt a small chill. Graves. She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she toddled closer to him and pointed.
He met her eyes, then looked away toward the pink sky.
So you won’t tell me. I figured.
She sat down on the grass beside him, closer than usual. The willow branches swayed above them, casting moving shadows. Sakura petals drifted down, one landing on Dravin’s knee. He didn’t brush it off.
Hania reached out and poked the petal with one finger. Dravin glanced down. Then slowly, he lifted his hand and placed it on top of hers, covering the petal completely.
His palm was warm. Larger than her whole hand. Hania stared at their hands. Dravin shifted. His other hand moved to her head and gave her hair a awkward pat. Twice.
Then he stopped, as if he had run out of instructions on how to be a father.
Hania’s eye twitched. …Never mind.
She pulled her hand free, picked up the petal, and flicked it at his face. It stuck to his nose.
Dravin went still. He looked down at the petal. Then at her. Hania gave him her most innocent baby smile.
He reached up, removed the petal and placed it carefully on top of her head.
She stared at him. He stared back. Then, she grabbed another petal and tried to stick it on his forehead.
Dravin caught her wrist mid-motion. His grip was gentle but firm. He looked at the petal in her fingers, then at her face. For one heartbeat, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
He released her wrist. She immediately tried again. This time he let the petal land on his cheek.
Hania clapped her hands once, delighted. Dravin sighed and left the petal where it was.
They sat like that for a while. Petals drifting. Grass cool beneath them. The pink sky glowing softly overhead. Hania leaned against his side. He didn’t move away.
This part is still sweet. Even if he’s silent as a statue.
She looked up at him again. Dravin’s gaze was on the empty graves now. Like he was remembering something he had decided not to share.
Hania reached up and patted his arm. He glanced down. She patted again. Harder this time.
He raised an eyebrow.
She opened her mouth, determined to say something important. What came out was: “Da… da… dad… dada.”
Dravin's hand on her back went still. She patted his chest. "Da…da."
Then she tried again, louder, more insistent. “Dada!”
Dravin stared at her like she had just cast an unknown spell. Hania grinned, proud of herself, and repeated it. “Dada.”
He remained still for a few seconds. Then, very quietly, he said, “Hmm.”
That was it. Just “Hmm.”
Hania narrowed her eyes. ‘HMM! Just Hmm! My first word gets a ‘hmm’?
She reached up, grabbed a fistful of his silver hair, and tugged. Dravin let her.
She tugged again. He sighed, lifted her onto his lap, and rested his chin lightly on top of her head.
Hania settled against his chest, still holding the rabbit.
Fine. ‘Hmm’ is enough for now.
A koi fish jumped again in the pond, splashing water. Hania pointed at it excitedly.
Dravin looked at the pond. He raised one hand and murmured a single word. A small frog appeared on a lily pad and began to sing — a surprisingly melodic croak that echoed across the garden like a tiny opera singer.
Hania clapped, delighted. Dravin added another word. A thin stream of water rose from the pond, twisting into the shape of a snake that danced gracefully in the air, following the frog’s rhythm.
Hania froze. Snake. She hated snakes. Her whole body stiffened. She let out a terrified squeak and buried her face in Dravin’s chest.
Dravin’s hand moved instantly. One quiet word. The water snake burst into flames and turned to ash mid-dance. The gray flakes drifted down and settled on the pond’s surface like dark snow.
Hania peeked out, still tense. The frog, as if sensing her distress, puffed up and started singing louder. A ridiculous, off-key lullaby that sounded like it was trying very hard to be comforting.
Then grasshoppers appeared from the grass. A dozen of them, shiny green, began to hop and twirl in a clumsy circle around the frog, like backup dancers in a very strange performance.
Hania stared. Dravin watched her reaction. Then he murmured again. A small flock of colorful birds landed on the willow branches and joined the frog’s song with cheerful chirps. Butterflies fluttered in from the sakura trees, swirling in lazy patterns above the grasshoppers.
Hania’s fear melted into bewildered laughter. She pointed at the butterflies, then at the birds, then at the frog that was now practically shouting its song.
Dravin’s chin shifted slightly on her head. But he didn’t stop the performance.
Hania leaned back against his chest, watching the ridiculous concert: frog singing, grasshoppers dancing, birds chirping, butterflies swirling, all trying to cheer up one scared baby.
She looked up at him. “Dada,” she said clearly.
Dravin exhaled through his nose. The smallest sound. “Hmm.”
Hania grinned and patted his cheek with a sticky hand.
The frog kept singing. The grasshoppers kept dancing. The birds and butterflies kept going. Sakura petals continued to fall around them. The willow branches swayed. The pink sky stayed pink. And for once, the Archmage of the North said nothing at all.
Hania thought, This is ridiculous.