Before the warehouse, Rogue watched Lilitha shivering. His feelings were tangled.

Learning his own memories and origins from such a little girl felt impossible.

Besides, Lilitha would eventually return to Lady Aria. He was just her caretaker for now. Once fully raised, she’d leave his side.

Thinking this, Rogue felt inexplicably restless.

Another thunderclap snapped his thoughts back. Time to feed Lilitha. He’d deal with the rest later.

Bread and jam ready, Rogue waited for the hour, then pushed the door open.

As usual, the warehouse glowed warm and bright. The moment the door creaked, Lilitha stood up. Relief and joy lit her small face.

She’d grown delighted by his arrivals.

"Lilitha, good evening."

"M...master, good evening!"

She still fumbled the human word for "master." The rest was dragon tongue—pronounced far better than Rogue’s notes. His earlier irritation vanished.

Yes, no need to dwell on the future now. With this girl, he’d focus on raising her step by step.

Rogue brought out the wooden tub. Lilitha had already padded over. She tilted her head up at him, then stole glances at the open warehouse door.

Curious—why didn’t wind and rain enter when the door stood wide?

A nearby lightning flash startled her. She hugged Rogue’s leg, ducking her head behind it.

After a long pause with no thunder, Lilitha peeked out her silver head, scanning the doorway.

Rogue was busy casting water into the tub. Lilitha tiptoed barefoot toward the entrance, moving like a cautious thief.

Rogue noticed but didn’t stop her. Her presence always made her livelier. He wanted to see what she’d do.

Silence meant permission.

The open door tempted escape.

In a way, this tested Lilitha—and Rogue’s weeks of raising her.

An invisible magical barrier blocked all rain and wind outside. Lilitha crept closer. Rain blew toward her but halted centimeters away, as if hitting glass.

She waved a hand past the threshold. Nothing touched her fingers.

Her plump tail-tip swept the floor. Curiosity deepened.

She glanced back at Rogue. Seeing him turned away, she poked a finger through the door—easily.

Instantly, icy crimson rain splashed her skin. Lilitha yanked her hand back with a gasp.

The door could be crossed. The outside touched. But this warehouse was safe.

That lesson sank in. She looked at Rogue again. After three slow seconds, she padded back to him.

Rogue finished filling the tub. He was pleased.

Every move she made, she’d glance back at him. A subconscious worry—would he disapprove?

This was dependence too.

Rogue crouched, reaching to pat her head in praise. Lilitha lowered her head slightly first. The gesture surprised him.

His large hand stroked her silver hair. Lilitha purred like a kitten, eyes half-closed in contentment.

Adorable.

He combed this hair daily. Silky and soft.

As he pulled away, Lilitha lifted her head just enough, eyes still blissfully shut.

Head-pats meant chin-scratches next—Rogue’s reward routine. She positioned herself for comfort.

In daily life, she grew more cooperative.

Lilitha then hugged her tail and climbed into the tub. Each time Rogue called her name, she’d chirp "Master!" Off-pronunciations earned gentle corrections and repeats.

Feeding followed the same rhythm. Three days blurred past like this. Rogue’s focus stayed on Lilitha. Lady Aria had read Moy’s interrogation report. Her message demanded more details—anything tied to the Deity.

Since she couldn’t grasp the Divine Edict directly.

This confirmed Rogue’s suspicion: Aria’s kindness hid a chase for the Deity. She wanted his lost Divine Edict.

To touch the divine through it.

"If only it were that simple," Rogue muttered bitterly, stepping into the warehouse again.

Thunder terrified Lilitha—it was torture. But she watched the clock. Every time Rogue’s arrival neared, she’d stare until the hands aligned.

The door opened. The man bringing food and warmth appeared. Days of care deepened her dependence.

Today’s bath included extra training: clarifying roles.

Before, Lilitha called him "master" without understanding the human word. To her, it was just a sound.

"Lilitha." Rogue pointed at her in the tub, speaking dragon tongue.

Lilitha grinned, tiny fangs showing. She pointed back. "Master!"

Her accent was rough but improving.

Rogue nodded. He tapped his chest. "Master," he said in human tongue.

Then in dragon tongue, same gesture: "Master."

Lilitha didn’t grasp it at first. After three repeats, realization dawned.

The human word "master" meant the same in dragon tongue.

This man was her master—she understood.

Lilitha shook her head hard. Wet silver hair sprayed droplets. "No!"

She resisted his claim as master.

Rogue ignored her protest. "Lilitha, pet. I, master."

He’d studied dragon tongue hard. Simple phrases now worked.

But Lilitha kept shaking her head. Dependence didn’t mean ignorance. She was clever. She knew dragon tongue—and what "pet" and "master" truly meant.

On Dragon Isle, she’d kept pets herself.

Rogue held her gaze, unmoving.

Their week-long bond, steadily deepening, now cracked under the weight of truth.