Chapter 397: Cute, Dangerous
Morning.
The study.
Sigurd opened his eyes at his usual hour.
As wakefulness returned, he also became aware of the warm little bundle nestled against his chest—soft, warm, and carrying a faintly sweet scent.
Sigurd reached out and lightly pinched the girl's cheek, the corner of his lips lifting in a naturally amused curve.
He had recently discovered that Kiana could, in fact, sleep peacefully.
Just not through ordinary verbal discipline—she needed to be exhausted first.
Preferably until she screamed herself unconscious.
Only then would she sleep quietly, letting Sigurd wake refreshed and utterly at ease.
Moving with feather-light motions, Sigurd slipped out of the blankets and got out of bed.
The wardrobe opened silently, and a fresh blue shirt, white trousers, and coat floated out, dressing him neatly on their own.
Then he headed into the bathroom to wash up.
Once he finished grooming, Sigurd glanced at the chaotic mess in the bathroom, raised an eyebrow, and snapped his fingers.
Snap
Countless tiny black dots materialized and gathered, immediately setting to work on every dirty spot.
Sigurd left the bathroom.
In the spacious apartment—with its living room, bedroom, and study—clusters of those tiny black motes were still busy on the floors, sofa, walls, balcony, desk, and bookshelves, quietly and efficiently scrubbing away traces of sweat, tears, and other… leftover evidence.
Sigurd headed straight into his bedroom and patted the girl's cheek.
"Morning. Time to get up."
"Zzz~"
"Breakfast."
"—Huh? Breakfast already…?"
Kiana's eyes snapped open, only to droop again under the weight of sleep. Half-conscious, she squinted at him.
"Sig…"
Still in a fog, she reached out and hugged him, already on the verge of falling asleep again.
Sigurd sighed, lifted the blanket, and carried her to the bathroom.
Inside, Sigurd held her by the waist, using his own body to keep her upright, while his other hand prepared the toothpaste and toothbrush.
A moment later, he pried her mouth open, gave her water, and slipped the toothbrush in. Foam began to bubble from her lips.
"Muu…"
The cold sting of toothpaste slowly cleared her drowsy eyes, but her limbs remained boneless and pliant as she leaned against Sigurd, letting him brush her teeth for her.
"Open."
"Ahh—"
"Rinse."
"Gululu—"
"Spit."
"Puh—"
After repeating the cycle a few times, Sigurd set the dental tools back in place.
Next, he pressed her head down, splashed water onto her face, then covered it with a towel and gently rubbed it clean.
When the washing was done, Kiana looped her arms around his waist and giggled foolishly.
"Good morning, Sig~~"
"Morning. Did you brush properly?"
"It's clean! Super clean!"
"Open up. Let me check."
"How do you even check tha—mmph!!!"
Kiana's eyes flew wide. After a moment of delayed realization, she hugged Sigurd tighter, making things easier for him.
When it finally ended, her lips were rosy, her face even redder, and she lowered her head, burying her face in his chest as she mumbled:
"It's so early… why are you in such a rush…"
"You're the one clinging to me like this."
Sigurd gave her rear a light smack—sharp and crisp.
Kiana froze.
A beat later, even her ears turned blazing red.
Kiana burrowed even deeper into Sigurd's chest, unable to look up or speak.
After a long while, her thoughts finally returned. She twisted at Sigurd's waist—helplessly weak but full of indignation—and growled:
"This is all your fault!"
All her clothes had been torn to shreds last night.
Shirt, skirt, underwear—none survived.
Sigurd paid no attention to the ineffectual twist at his waist. He lifted his hand, and a set of red clothes appeared in his palm.
"I prepared a replacement. Go change."
"Oh…"
The living room—a spacious, open area with a full-length mirror set against the wall.
Kiana stood before the mirror, putting on her clothes piece by piece.
A sleeveless, short-hemmed red qipao. White stockings. Red heels and matching wrist cuffs. And finally, a short cape trimmed with soft white fur.
Elegant, adorable, and radiantly pure.
Once she finished dressing, Kiana took tiny steps—face flushed scarlet—as she walked toward Sigurd.
And who could blame her? Sigurd had stood there the entire time, watching her with a mischievous, appreciative gaze.
Which girl could withstand that?
Even a "protein-deficient" dummy like her was still a proper girl, okay!?
Sigurd poured a cup of warm water and placed it into Kiana's trembling red hands.
"Here. Hold it."
"O–oh— waah!"
The next moment, Kiana let out a startled yelp as Sigurd suddenly scooped her up in his arms, carried her over to the sofa, and sat down with her on his lap.
Her face burned, her heart thudding wildly.
Come on, Kiana, get it together! You've done way more embarrassing things than this! What's there to be nervous about!?
But—but Sig is being so domineering today… so cool…!
Kiana's lips curved into a silly grin as she gulped down the warm water.
Sigurd lowered his gaze, studying the girl in his arms. After a moment of thought, he reached toward her hair.
As his fingers moved, strands of her long hair floated upward, curling and twirling until they formed two neat round buns atop her head. Red cloth with delicate floral embroidery wrapped around them.
She looked ridiculously cute.
And incredibly auspicious.
Sigurd examined her again, still feeling something was missing.
He lifted her right leg. With his other hand, a small red garter with gold-thread bells appeared.
He slipped it past her heel, up her shin, and settled it snugly around the smooth white thigh above her stocking.
Perfect.
Sigurd nodded in satisfaction, eyes gleaming like he'd just completed a personal masterpiece. Then, as naturally as breathing, he ran his hand along her silky thigh and lifted his fingers to his nose for a light sniff.
Boom
Steam practically erupted from Kiana's head.
Her blush wasn't just on her face anymore—it looked like her whole body was turning red.
"Y–you… y-you… you—!"
"What about me?"
"Why are you doing that!? You're acting weirder and weirder lately!"
"Oh? You don't like it?"
Sigurd leaned in close, exhaling softly against her ear.
As expected, Kiana's body stiffened, her long lashes trembling like crazy.
"I—I—y-y-you…"
She stammered forever, then finally lowered her head and twisted his waist in a weak, embarrassed little pinch.
"Hate you! You big jerk!"
How was she supposed to answer a question like that!?
Say she didn't like it? That'd be an obvious lie.
Say she liked it? Where would her maidenly dignity go!?
For all her usual brainlessness, moments like this brought out her instinctive feminine self-awareness in full force.
"Heh."
Sigurd chuckled softly. Her rare display of girlishness was surprisingly charming. He squeezed her cheek and said:
"You're just too cute. If you don't like me doing that… then stop being cute."
Yes—whether she was screaming, changing clothes, or curling into his lap like this, every version of her was so cute that Sigurd wanted to hide her somewhere only he knew.
Somewhere he could reach out and hold her whenever he wanted.
Sigurd's gaze grew faintly dangerous.
Kiana noticed nothing at all—still blushing, still fidgeting weakly against him like a spoiled kitten.
"Nooo, I wanna be cute! I'm gonna charm you to death!"
"It's just the two of us here. Try moving again."
"…"
The low timbre of his voice froze her instantly.
After a long moment of petrified stillness, Kiana abruptly stood up, took stiff little steps, then burst into a small frantic run and dashed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her with a loud thud.
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