I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 574 Suprise?

"I have already started receiving letters and emails," he said, "for new student enrollments for the next term."

Alina blinked.

"So early?"

"Yes."

He tapped the edge of the desk lightly, a small, almost excited gesture that was rare for him.

"Would you like to know?" he asked, his eyes glinting.

She immediately shook her head, a small smile returning despite the sadness still lingering.

"No, no," she said quickly. "I like surprises. I want to meet them when they come. Not before."

Dante watched her for a moment, something warm passing through his gaze.

Then he nodded once.

"As you wish."

He turned his attention back to the screen.

A deeper smile appeared on his face again as his eyes moved across whatever he was reading. His lips curved slightly, and he made a small sound, something between amusement and satisfaction.

"...Interesting," he murmured quietly to himself.

Alina leaned forward slightly, trying to peek around the screen, but he shifted it just enough to block her view.

"Dee," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully, "you are hiding something."

"I am preserving your surprise," he replied calmly, not even looking up.

"That means it is something big."

"Perhaps."

Alina crossed her arms, pretending to be annoyed, though the curiosity in her eyes was obvious. Her fingers drummed lightly on her arm.

"...You are enjoying this too much."

Dante’s lips curved slightly.

"Yes."

She huffed softly, then leaned back in her chair, trying to look unbothered.

"Fine," she said. "But if it is not something good, I will be very disappointed."

"It is good," he replied, still looking at the screen.

"Very good?"

He looked at her again, and his eyes were warm, almost soft.

"Very."

Alina watched him for a moment.

Then slowly, her curiosity softened into quiet anticipation.

Whatever was on that screen, whatever names were waiting in those enrollment letters, whatever little faces would soon fill the desks in her classroom, he was happy about it.

And that was enough to make her happy too.

"...Alright," she said, a small smile returning.

She didn’t know what it was yet.

But the way he was smiling made her feel like something warm was waiting just ahead.

Like maybe, letting go of one class meant welcoming another.

And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

Dante went back to reading, still smiling, and Alina sat across from him, watching him, waiting.

"You should go and have lunch," Dante said calmly, closing the file on his screen with a soft click. The glow of the monitor faded, leaving only the warm afternoon light filtering through the tall windows behind him. "I have to attend lunch with the new members of the council later."

Alina tilted her head slightly. Her hands were folded in her lap, her posture relaxed, but her eyes held that particular spark they always got when she sensed there was more to a story.

"New council members?" she asked, her brows lifting with genuine interest. "I didn’t know you were adding anyone new."

Dante nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"Yes. They are promising talents. Young, ambitious, capable." He paused, something like pride flickering across his usually stoic features. "I have been training them personally for the past two years."

Alina leaned forward a little, resting her elbows on his desk. The movement was casual, intimate, the kind of thing she would never have done when they first met. Now it came naturally.

"Training them personally?" she repeated, drawing out the words. "As in, you took time out of your very busy schedule of running an entire academy and managing shadow politics to mentor young people?"

Dante’s lips twitched.

"That is what I said."

She studied his face for a moment, her gaze soft but searching.

"That means you trust them," she said quietly. Not a question. A statement.

Dante gave a small nod, his expression serious but warm.

"I do."

There was a brief pause before Alina asked the question that had been sitting in her mind since she walked in. Her voice was careful, gentle, the way she spoke when she was navigating something delicate.

"...What about the elders?" she asked.

Dante leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. For a moment, he didn’t answer. His fingers drummed once against the armrest, a rare tell that he was considering his words carefully.

"They are retired," he said finally. "Peacefully."

Alina blinked.

"Peacefully?" she repeated, as if tasting the word. "As in, they accepted it? Willingly?"

"Yes."

She stared at him.

"No dramatic final stand? No secret plots for revenge? No last minute curses or dramatic speeches about how they would return one day to reclaim their power?"

Dante’s mouth curved slightly.

"None of those things happened."

Alina leaned back, crossing her arms.

"That seems very calm for them."

"It is," Dante agreed. Then his expression shifted, something knowing flickering in his dark eyes. "Come here."

He tapped lightly on his laptop, and the screen shifted. A few keystrokes, and the display changed from council documents to something else entirely. He turned the screen slightly toward her, angling it so she could see clearly.

"Come here," he said again, softer this time.

Alina rose from her chair and walked around his desk, her footsteps soft against the floor. She stopped beside him, close enough that her shoulder almost touched his, and leaned forward to look at the screen.

On it, a quiet village appeared.

The image was clear, almost peaceful. Soft green hills rolled in the distance, dotted with small houses that looked like they had been there for centuries. Stone paths wound between them, lined with wildflowers and old trees. The place looked calm, almost too calm compared to everything she associated with those elders. There was no dark tower here. No ancient stone walls. No heavy velvet curtains.

Just sunlight. And grass. And the kind of peace that only nature can provide.

Her eyes moved across the scene.

Then stopped.

Her breath caught.

"...Is that—"

"Yes," Dante said.

One of the elders stood in the center of the village square.

But not as she remembered him.

No grand robes. No heavy presence. No intimidating aura that made the air feel thick. No polished horns or sharp eyes calculating weaknesses.

Just simple clothes. A plain shirt. Loose trousers. His hair, once so perfectly arranged, was slightly messy, as if small hands had been running through it.

And in his hands, he was holding a small child.