Afternoon sunlight cast the shadows of trees onto the quartz countertop in the kitchen, creating a warm and languid atmosphere. Dorian stood on a specially made step stool for children, watching intently as his papa demonstrated how to finely chop herbs. Suolan held the knife in his right hand, his movements light and rhythmic, like a playful pop dance tune.

"Are you watching carefully, Little Milkshake? Rosemary needs to be cut this way to release its fragrance best during cooking." Suolan tilted his head, teaching patiently.

Dorian nodded earnestly, his eyes fixed on Suolan's every movement, determined to engrave it all into memory. In his mind, the kitchen was a place full of magic, and he was filled with eagerness to learn to cook.

"Can I try, Papa?"

"Alright, but be careful. This knife is very sharp." Suolan considered for a moment and chose the smallest paring knife. "When you hold it, remember to do it like I taught you—"

"Fingers curled, knuckles forward, blade away from the fingers." Six-year-old Dorian recited in his soft, childish voice, confidently taking the knife and repeating the safety rules Suolan had taught him countless times.

Suolan smiled and placed a small sprig of rosemary on the cutting board in front of Dorian.

"Take your time. Don't rush." he said gently.

Dorian's small hands mimicked Suolan's posture as he began to carefully cut the herb. At first, everything went smoothly. His movements were clumsy but cautious enough. However, just as he was concentrating on cutting finer pieces, the glass sliding door of the kitchen was suddenly pulled open.

Lleuad's call burst in abruptly, "Darling, what are you two do—"

In that instant, Dorian flinched with surprise, and the blade veered off course, slicing across his left index finger.

"Ss—ow!" Dorian drew in a sharp breath and looked down at his finger.

At first, it was just a tiny cut, a single bead of blood slowly emerging. But in the next second, that droplet seemed to be activated by some invisible force. Instead of falling with gravity, it hovered in the air, then expanded and split at an unnatural speed.

"Papa?" Dorian looked up in confusion, a trace of fear in his eyes. Blood began to spray from the wound. The tiny cut seemed connected to some invisible fount, and the blood formed fine threads in the air, dancing as if alive.

"Lleuad!" Suolan reacted instantly, grabbing Dorian's wrist, his palm glowing with green light.

The moment Lleuad saw the blood behaving abnormally, he understood what was happening. His blood-colored pupils grew focused and sharp as he immediately came to Dorian's side.

"Calm down, Little Milkshake. Look into my eyes. Don't be afraid." Lleuad's voice was unusually steady.

But Dorian's fear had already accelerated the abnormal reaction in his blood. It gushed out even faster, forming serpentine patterns in the air, splattering onto the kitchen counter, floor, and tiled walls. The child's face was pale, his eyes wide open, clearly terrified by the sight before him.

"It, it won't stop—" Dorian's legs were trembling.

"This is normal. Your Blood Magic is awakening." Lleuad placed his hand on Dorian's back, each word slow and firm. "Now, feel your blood. It's a part of you, not an enemy."

"Breathe deeply, sweetheart. Papa is here, and so is Dad." Suolan held Dorian's hand steady. He didn't immediately force the cut on Dorian's finger to heal; that wouldn't help the child overcome his fear.

Lleuad extended his own hand and made a peculiar gesture. A faint, barely visible dark red glow emerged at his fingertips. "Follow what I do. Imagine your blood is a river, and you are its master."

Dorian tried to focus, but the blood continued to gush out of control, soaking his shirt and Suolan's sleeves. The kitchen was starting to look like a small slaughterhouse.

"I can't do it! It hurts!" Dorian cried out, his voice breaking.

"You can." Lleuad affirmed him with even greater resolve, though his gaze remained gentle. "Dorian, your blood obeys you, not the other way around."

The green glow in Suolan's palm grew brighter, tinged faintly with gold, helping his son feel the energy.

A gentle, steady warmth flowed from his hand, like an anchor pulling Dorian back to reality. At the same time, Lleuad lightly caught a strand of blood drifting in midair. His Blood Magic, like an invisible rope, began to guide the uncontrolled blood.

"Watch my hand, Dorian. Imagine your blood returning to your body." Lleuad demonstrated.

Dorian took a deep breath and tried to imitate Lleuad's movements. At first, the blood showed no sign of slowing, but as he gradually calmed down, the countless threads of blood suspended in the air began to tremble slightly, as if responding to his will.

"That's it. Can you feel the connection?" Lleuad encouraged.

Dorian furrowed his brow and nodded. He felt a strange, tugging sensation, as if countless tiny threads linked him to the blood.

"Now, command it to return."

Dorian tried to concentrate, imagining the blood flowing back. The floating threads began to move slowly toward his wound, but scattered again just before touching his skin.

"Try again. You can do it. Don't force it. Guide it." Suolan reminded him at just the right moment.

Dorian closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When those blue-gold eyes opened again, his gaze had transformed into one of absolute, focused concentration. This time, the blood flowed in an orderly manner, like a small stream merging into a great river. The threads gradually gathered into a small sphere, then slowly moved toward the wound.

"Brilliantly done!" Lleuad cheered softly.

But just as the blood was about to return completely to the wound, a loud crash suddenly came from outside the window—a gust of wind had knocked over a flower pot on the outdoor windowsill. The sudden noise broke Dorian's concentration once again. The blood sphere burst instantly, splattering all over the three of them, and even more blood surged out rapidly, as if it had a will of its own.

"Damn it!" Lleuad cursed, quickly using his own ability to control the scattered blood and forcibly pulling it back toward the wound.

Suolan immediately intensified his healing magic. Green light blossomed, and Dorian's wound healed in an instant. The blood stopped flowing at once, and the remaining droplets floated under Lleuad's control like a small red nebula.

The kitchen fell into a brief silence. All three of them were stained red with blood—Lleuad hadn't gathered all of it back—making the scene look as if a murder had taken place. Dorian looked down at his hand. The wound had vanished completely, without even a trace of scar tissue.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I made a mess of the kitchen." His eyes immediately reddened as he mumbled.

But to his surprise, Lleuad and Suolan both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Oh, my darling sweetheart!" Suolan stroked Dorian's hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. "This actually gave me a new idea. Tonight we can try a special Asian dish made with pig's blood. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Besides, mon petit prince, you released a great deal of blood from just a small cut. That makes you quite an impressive Blood Magic user." Lleuad encouraged his son with a proud gaze. "You'll definitely be able to control it better in the future."

Dorian looked up, his fear gradually replaced by curiosity. "Can I really control it? Like you, Dad?"

"Of course you can." Lleuad played with the floating blood droplets. In his hands, they formed a perfect miniature crescent moon, dotted with a few tiny stars. "Today is just the beginning. Starting tomorrow, Dad will teach you how to truly master this power."

"It seems our cooking lesson will have to end early today." Suolan surveyed the blood-splattered kitchen and snapped his fingers. A gentle breeze swirled, sweeping the scattered herbs roughly to their designated spots.

"Go take a bath first, Little Milkshake. Dad will get you some fresh clothes." He signaled Lleuad with his eyes to fetch clean clothes in a moment, while stroking his son's back. "Then we'll have some hot tea and talk about your amazing magic, alright?"

The house always kept blood-replenishing herbs in stock, ready to brew into a tasty and effective tonic at any time.

"Okay, Papa."

Dorian nodded, still somewhat in shock, surging emotions flickering in the depths of his eyes. As he followed Lleuad out of the kitchen, he couldn't help but look at his finger again. A wondrous feeling rose slowly in his heart, a mix of astonishment and excitement, a sense of awe toward an unknown power, and a completely new understanding of the heritage flowing through his veins.

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Translation note: "Mon petit prince" means "my little prince."