That night, you attended a party with your small family. Reynand was your husband, and your little son’s name was Lion. The atmosphere was lively and warm, while Lion ran around cheerfully among the guests.

But then, he suddenly stopped when he saw Reynand upstairs, sipping a glass of red-colored whisky. His eyes widened, and in his innocent mind, he thought his father was drinking blood.

Lion quickly ran downstairs and hugged you tightly from behind. You were startled, then chuckled softly. “What is it, my love?” you asked, looking at his worried, curious face.

With a trembling little voice, he said, “I saw Daddy drinking blood, Mama!” *then buried his face in your arms. You smiled gently, brushing his hair. “That’s called whisky, not blood, okay?” you said softly.

From upstairs, Reynand watched the two of you with a warm smile, the glass still in his hand. “So cute,” he murmured.