I Became a Kindergarten Teacher for Monster Babies!-Chapter 459 When Light Met Darkness (1)

It all happened during the Grand Sky Gathering, the largest festival the upper realms held each year, a rare time when beings of every sky domain descended into one place. The heavens themselves seemed to stretch wider for it. Clouds were shaped into luminous bridges, floating gardens drifted past one another. Music carried softly through the skies, not loud or overwhelming, but woven into the atmosphere itself, as if the heavens were breathing in celebration.

Gabriel, however, had no excitement left for it.

He sat at his desk long after sunset, stacks of paper spread neatly before him, each one covered in precise handwriting and careful annotations. His students’ test papers still needed reviewing before exams so he could tell them what they needed to focus on and identify each one’s strengths, and he was determined to finish them properly, festival or not. To him, this gathering had become predictable over the years. The same greetings, the same polite conversations, the same ceremonial smiles. This year, more than ever, he felt detached from it all, his mind far too occupied with responsibility and routine.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly, when the familiar sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

"Gabeee."

He didn’t look up. "Mother, I’m busy."

She clicked her tongue dramatically, moving closer until her shadow fell over his desk. "Busy," she repeated, as if tasting the word. "You are always busy when it comes to gatherings. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds when the Royal Family of Angels is hosting the event?"

He finally glanced at her, his expression calm but unmoved. "They host it every year."

"And every year," she replied smoothly, folding her arms, "you find a new excuse to avoid it."

"I’m not avoiding it," he said evenly. "I have responsibilities."

She leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk, her eyes sharp with affection and mischief all at once. "Listen to me carefully," she said, lowering her voice in a way that was far more threatening than shouting ever could be. "If you don’t come this time—"

He raised a brow. "You’ll what?"

"I will personally inform the High Council," she continued cheerfully, "that my son has become a hermit who prefers ink and tired students over celestial society. And then I will tell them you need... social intervention."

Gabriel stared at her.

"You wouldn’t," he said flatly.

She smiled sweetly. "Try me."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, eyes drifting to the window where distant lights from the gathering preparations were already in full swing. He knew that look on her face. There was no winning this.

"I’ll stay for a short while," he finally said. "An hour."

Her smile widened instantly. "Two."

"An hour," he repeated.

"Fine," she conceded, already turning toward the door. "But if you leave early, I will cry very loudly in front of everyone and tell them my son doesn’t love me." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

"That’s emotional manipulation."

"Yes," she said lightly. "And I’m very good at it."

As she left, Gabriel shook his head, gathering his papers into a neat stack. He told himself it would be just another gathering. Polite bows, brief conversations, nothing more. He had no way of knowing that this particular festival, the one he almost skipped, was quietly arranging something else for him entirely.

The sky, after all, had a way of deciding things on its own.

He moved slowly through the room, still half lost in thought, his bare feet sinking into the thick white carpet as if the clouds beneath his home had followed him indoors. His house floated high in the upper realm, far from the busier angel domains where wings brushed constantly against duty and alarms. Unlike others who chose to guard bloodlines, protect forests, or watch over humans, he had chosen to teach. A quieter service, people often said. A strange one. But to him, it had always felt right.

His room was large, almost too large for one person, but he loved it very much. Tall arched windows lined one side, their pale frames washed in soft light, sheer curtains drifting lazily as if breathing. The walls were white, and delicate carvings ran along the curves of the ceiling, traced lightly with gold accents that caught the sunlight when he moved.

The bed stood near the windows, carved beautifully, its headboard detailed with subtle patterns and thin golden lines. The sheets were neat but clearly slept in, the kind of bed that held long nights of reading and restless thoughts. Above it hung a crystal chandelier, simple yet elegant, its golden frame muted, its light gentle enough that it never hurt the eyes. The floor was layered with soft fabric rugs, their folds forming calm patterns beneath his steps.

Near the window sat his desk, the most lived-in part of the room. It was wide and sturdy, pale wood edged with fine detailing, papers stacked carefully, books opened and marked where he had left them the night before. This was where he spent most of his time.

Golden accents appeared everywhere if one paid attention. Along shelves, around mirror edges, even faintly woven into the carvings on the walls.

He paused near the wardrobe, fingers brushing the fabric of his clothes as he considered what to wear for the festival.

It was going to be held late at night, stretching on until the first light of morning touched the sky, the sunrise marking its official end. That alone made his shoulders feel heavier. These gatherings always followed the same pattern—long speeches wrapped in polite laughter, music that went on forever, faces he had seen every year without truly knowing, and conversations that felt rehearsed before they even began. By the time dawn arrived, everyone would act as if something profound had occurred, when in truth, very little ever changed.

He exhaled slowly, already bored just thinking about it. His gaze drifted back to the desk by the window, to the neatly stacked papers waiting for him.

His students’ exams were close, and he still had papers to review, notes to finalize. That was real work. That was real effort. Compared to that, standing through hours of ceremonial smiles and hollow praise felt exhausting.

He rolled his shoulders once, as if trying to shake the feeling off, and moved closer to the wardrobe anyway.

Avoiding it wasn’t an option. His mother had been far too persistent this time, her playful threats echoing in his head, mixed with that familiar tone that meant she would absolutely win in the end.

With a faint sigh, he reached for a hanger, already resigned to the fact that the night would be long, loud, and painfully uninteresting, and that sunrise could not come fast enough.