Night.
Outside the window, gale-force winds howled, and branches lashed against the glass with sharp crackling sounds.
Locke stood beside Dio's bed, the moonlight stretching his shadow long across the floor.
"Wake up, son!"
He shook him. "You're on Saraphiel duty."
"?!"
Dio shot upright at once, his pupils shrinking in the darkness.
"Dad, is there another crisis?!"
"That's right." Locke's expression was grave. "A huge crisis!"
"Who is it?!"
The boy instantly summoned The World, the golden Stand scanning the surroundings as though facing a formidable enemy.
"It's the sorghum I just planted in my experimental field."
Locke clutched his chest in anguish. "This wind tonight..."
Dio and The World froze on the bed.
"...Huh?"
"Those are experimental drought-resistant seedlings! If the wind snaps them—"
Thud!
Dio flopped straight back onto his pillow and pulled the blanket over his head.
"Not something I like doing. I'm sleeping."
"Dio."
"Phew~ phew~ phew~"
"You forced my hand, boy." Locke's voice suddenly turned airy, carrying a faint hint of laughter. "Forgive me, foolish son."
"Hm? What are you—"
Dio's vision blurred. By the time he came to his senses, he was already lying in the little bed in the nursery.
Saraphiel was curled up beside him, her little hand clutching a strand of his golden hair.
"You old—"
The boy was just about to flare up when his voice abruptly cut off. Saraphiel was sleepily burrowing into his arms, leaving him no choice but to lower his voice and grit out, "Is this what Star Platinum is for?!"
And he could even hear Locke humming as he walked farther and farther away down the hallway.
Mixed with the howling wind outside, it was positively brimming with "fatherly love."
"Sleep~ sleep~ my dear little baby~"
"..."
"Forget it."
In the end, Dio merely