I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 486 Was she his soulmate?

Was she his soulmate?

Otherwise, how could he explain any of this? Why, out of countless choices, had he felt such a strong urge to hire a human teacher for a kindergarten meant for supernatural children, when he could have hired powerful, experienced supernatural beings? Why had none of them ever felt right, while she had felt right from the very first moment?

And that job flyer... it had not been meant only for her. It could have reached anyone. Yet somehow, impossibly, it had found its way to Alina. Not another human. Not another soul. Just her.

He remembered how his instincts had reacted when he first saw her application, how something inside him had gone quiet, decisive, before his mind had even caught up. He remembered how easily he had trusted her with the children, especially Sable and Lucien, without ever questioning that decision. How natural it had felt to imagine her presence beside him, in his world, long before he had allowed himself to acknowledge it.

Dante did not believe in coincidence.

If Alina was truly his soulmate, then everything made sense. The pull he could never explain. The calm she brought to his shadows. The way his power softened around her instead of rising. The way his children had accepted her so instinctively, as if she had always belonged with them.

"Dee?"

Her soft voice pulled him out of his deep thoughts, warm and grounding, like gentle fingers brushing away heavy shadows. He blinked once, slowly, and his gaze focused back on her face, on the way she was looking at him with quiet concern, her brows slightly drawn together as if she could feel how far away his mind had wandered.

And then his eyes settled on hers. Those deep hazel eyes.

Did she even realize how beautiful they were?

If someone truly looked into them, not just glanced, but really looked, they would see how layered they were. Warm brown melting into soft green, with tiny flecks of gold that caught the light when she moved, like forest light at sunset, calm but alive.

There was kindness there. And strength. And something steady that made people feel safe without her even trying.

He wondered if she knew how dangerous that was.

Because when he looked into her eyes, he felt his guard lowering without permission. His thoughts slowed. The constant sharp awareness he carried faded into something quieter, something that felt almost... peaceful. It was unsettling in its own way, because nothing had ever been able to quiet him like that before.

For a moment, he forgot everything else.

The world outside.

The responsibilities waiting for him.

The control he had built around himself.

All he could see was her.

And the way she was looking back at him, like he mattered. Like he was not some distant, untouchable being. Just him.

His hand moved without him thinking, fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, slow and careful, like he was touching something fragile and precious.

"You should not look at me like that," he said quietly, his voice low and rough, though there was no real warning in it.

His thumb traced lightly near her cheekbone, almost absentmindedly.

"I forget myself when you do."

He let out a slow breath, his forehead almost touching hers, his crimson eyes softer than anyone else in the world ever got to see.

"Your eyes..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "They are too beautiful for someone like me to look at for too long."

But even as he said it, he did not look away.

Alina felt heat rush to her cheeks under the intensity of his gaze. The way he was looking at her made her feel exposed in a strange, soft way, like he was seeing the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at. And that made something twist gently inside her chest, because she knew she was not like that. She was just... herself. Ordinary. Human. Nothing extraordinary. Her fingers twitched slightly at her side, and she forced herself to hold his eyes for one second more before her courage folded.

"Cheesy," she muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, though her voice came out softer than she wanted.

Before he could react, she reached up and pulled his nose lightly, quickly and playfully. Then she stood up almost immediately, turning away as if she suddenly remembered something important.

Dante stayed exactly where he was, staring after her, his brows pulling together slightly in confusion. He clearly did not understand what part of what he said was "cheesy," or why that resulted in his nose being pulled. His crimson eyes followed her quietly as she walked toward the bedroom.

Alina stepped inside and the quiet wrapped around her instantly.

Sable was sleeping sideways across the bed, blanket half kicked away, hair messy, one small hand curled near his cheek. Lucien was sleeping properly beside him, straight, calm, one hand resting near Sable like he had fallen asleep while making sure his brother was there.

Her heart softened immediately.

She walked closer, gently pulling the blanket back over Sable first, then adjusting Lucien’s pillow slightly. Her fingers moved slowly through Sable’s hair, then very lightly over Lucien’s shoulder.

Dante and the babies stayed with her in her small house.

Next day.

Morning sunlight slipped softly through the narrow curtains of Alina’s small house, painting warm golden shapes across the floor as the quiet rhythm of daily life began again. The air still carried a faint trace of coffee and soap. The four of them left together, Sable still rubbing sleep from his eyes while Lucien walked properly beside him, holding his bag strap with quiet responsibility. By the time they reached the kindergarten, the courtyard was already alive with distant laughter and small footsteps, and the boys naturally drifted toward their classroom while Alina and Dante walked side by side toward the principal wing.

Inside his office, the familiar cool air and scent of paper and ink wrapped around them. Dante moved behind his desk while Alina sat opposite him, relaxed in a way she had not been a week ago.