Chapter 102: Fairy Tale — He Had a Little Gray Wolf (28)

Laird stood in the kitchen, momentarily lost in thought.

He could not help recalling the scene from that morning in bed.

The little wolf had smiled at him...

Laird’s own lips curved before he knew it.

The chicken he had just bought at the market yesterday was still hanging from his hand, while he stood there grinning foolishly.

“A-A...”

“A... A...”

“Ah, A...”

He said her name in one smooth breath, without the slightest pause, and his cheeks instantly burned again.

At that moment, a small head peeked in from the doorway.

Asi blinked and asked, “Laird, did you call me?”

She tilted her head, watching his awkward behavior, thinking that the little white one in this world really needed her protection.

Immediately she volunteered, “Little White, I’ll kill the chicken. You go out!”

Asi assumed Laird was afraid of killing the chicken, which was why he had called for her.

She was a wolf, after all; killing a chicken would be nothing.

But Laird’s face suddenly went pale, those clear blue eyes staring straight at Asi.

His hand holding the chicken trembled slightly.

He lowered his head with a trace of hurt, his fair cheeks filled with self-doubt.

Without saying a word, he set the chicken on the cutting board and took up the kitchen knife, chopping away with great effort.

Asi stood quietly to the side, thinking that if he was frightened, she could step in again.

But the boy seemed to bear some deep grudge against the chicken, chopping with excessive force.

Asi quickly stopped him. “You can’t use that much force. If you chop it to pieces, it won’t taste good!”

The girl ran over to his side, and Laird’s sadness only deepened.

He bowed his head and murmured in a small, disheartened voice, “Y-you’ve got the wrong p-person...”

“I-I’m not, not Little White.”

Laird kept his head down, speaking so softly that Asi had to lean in close to hear him.

Before she could react, she saw a few drops fall onto the cutting board.

Oh. Laird was crying.

Transparent tears rolled down the boy’s fair cheeks, making him look heartbreakingly pitiful.

Asi immediately said, “I didn’t get the wrong person. Little White is you, Laird.”

As she spoke, she reached out and pinched his soft, fair cheek.

Laird gave a sniffle and looked at Asi with tears still shining in his eyes, so miserable and forlorn.

“Really?”

“Really!” Asi raised one hand, her expression earnest to the extreme.

Only then did Laird belatedly wipe away the tears on his face. Part of him was delighted that the girl he loved had given him a term of endearment, and part of him felt discouraged because he had just cried in front of Asi.

“Asi, go outside for now. I’ll call you when the meal is ready.”

Laird lowered his head, his face red.

He looked exactly like a bashful little wife.

Asi asked skeptically, “Then I’m going out? Can you really kill the chicken?”

Laird nodded, and the kitchen knife in his hand came crashing down onto the cutting board, cleaving the chicken cleanly in two.

Then Laird looked at Asi with shining eyes.

There were still unfallen tears clinging to them.

Asi pressed her lips together and reached out to rub his soft, flaxen curls.

She praised him, “Laird is amazing!”

That earlier slip of the tongue—calling him Little White—had simply come out instinctively. Since his name in this world was Laird, that was a lovely name too.

If he did not like being called Little White, then she would call him Laird. Either way, he was still her Little White.

At once, Laird’s mouth split into a wide grin.

His eyes sparkled.

After urging Asi away, he threw himself into cooking with great vigor.

He worked especially hard and full of enthusiasm.

After all, he was cooking for the girl he loved.

How could he dare be careless?

The review section was desolate and bleak, lonely and helpless little me, utterly bewildered

(The end of this chapter)