Chapter 120
Usually, she would make a big fuss over such a grave injustice, but today she decided to let it slide. Judging by how disheveled her parents looked, it must have been a particularly tough mess to clean.
As Alice relented, Hansel and Dante both sighed in relief, secretly thankful for their daughter’s momentary mercy.
Dante naturally picked Alice up, and the three of them finally headed into the kitchen.
Indeed, their claim about preparing bread wasn’t entirely false. On the counter, a plump ball of dough rested on a cutting board.
Alice, still in Dante’s arms, peered down at the dough.
“Mom, when can I start making the dough? I want to make bread too!”
“…..”
Hansel didn’t respond. Both Alice and Dante turned to look at her at the same time.
“Mom?”
“Huh?”
Hansel flinched, startled. She stood there with her hands behind her back, clearly hiding something.
Alice squinted her eyes suspiciously at her mother.
“When can I start making the dough, huh?”
“Uh… well, how about today?” Hansel said, feigning nonchalance as she sidled closer to Dante.
“……!”
Dante’s eyes flickered for a moment.
Hansel, standing right next to him, discreetly slipped the item she was hiding into his pocket.
When Dante glanced down, he swallowed hard. It was a piece of semi-transparent white fabric—Hansel’s panties.
“……”
Dante stared wordlessly at the item now resting in his pocket.
The fact that it was there meant that… underneath Hansel’s skirt right now…
“I want to knead the dough! I want to!”
The little ‘duckling’ in his arms cried out, jolting Dante back to his senses. Hastily tearing his gaze away from the pocket, he placed Alice on the counter.
Hansel quickly grabbed an empty bowl from the counter.
“Here, Alice. Pick some dough you like and put it in here, okay?”
“But Mom, is it okay for me to sit on the counter where food is made?”
“Daddy will bring a chair soon… Dante. Dante!”
Dante, who had been absently staring at Hansel’s backside, flinched and snapped his head up. Hansel glared at him, her adorable brows furrowed.
What are you doing? Go get the chair, now!
“Okay.”
At last, a small yellow-painted wooden stool floated over from the corner of the kitchen. Its seat was carved with the face of a little duckling—Alice’s personal stool.
Dante exhaled softly and lifted Alice off the counter, placing her on the stool. Hansel handed her the bowl filled with dough.
“Here you go, Alice. Knead it however you like.”
Alice tilted her head curiously.
“However I like?”
“Yep. It’s your first time, so just try whatever you feel like.”
Alice glanced at her mother’s face, then at her father’s.
“But what if it doesn’t turn into bread?”
This time, it was Hansel who blinked in surprise.
“Why would you worry about that, Alice? You’re just trying it out for fun.”
“But we need lots of bread to share with Grandma, Auntie, and the wolf!” Alice’s eyes sparkled.
She was already imagining herself proudly handing out delicious bread she’d baked and basking in all the compliments.
She wasn’t a child scared of failing or shrinking back in fear.
She was a child filled with excitement, eager to share happiness and kindness.
This was a child raised by Hansel, who had found joy in her life alongside Dante—a child who saw challenges as opportunities, not obstacles.
Hansel gazed at Alice for a moment, then smiled warmly.
“If it doesn’t work out this time, we’ll just try again. Together, with Mommy, Daddy, and you, Alice.”
After all, you can’t know if something’s a failure until the end.
If you keep trying until it works, then it’s not really a failure—it’s just a longer journey.
Alice’s first bread-making attempt, however, was a complete mess.
She got tired halfway through kneading, Hansel accidentally knocked over a bowl of flour while helping, and Dante, distracted by the panties in his pocket, failed to stop the flour from turning into a powdery explosion. He ended up looking like a snowman.
In the chaotic kitchen, Hansel was the first to burst into laughter.
Then Alice joined in, followed by Dante.
It was, as always, another ordinary, happy morning for the Arsinoe family.
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Peony.