Headlights of a Truck - Merkblatt - 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 - 유려한 | Trash of the Count's Family (2024)

Chapter 1: collision

Chapter Text

Kim Rok Soo awoke with a startled gasp. His chest hurt. Static in his ears. As if somebody hit him with a hammer against his chest. Repeatedly. Maybe he forgot to look up as he crossed the streets and a truck got him? He wouldn't hear the end of it from his colleagues, if that had really happened. He dismissed the oddly specific thought. The last thing he remembered was reading on the floor.

What happened?

Rok Soo tried to take stock of the situation as much as he could in his condition. That was his butter and bread since over ten years after all.

The pain had come sudden but no matter how hard he tried to move, his body did not obey him. Breathing was hard, his whole body from the tip of his toes to his head seemed to burn. A fire? It was hard to see anything from his blurry sight. The world around him swam and he wheezed for breath and an explanation. Did the illegal guild from last month came to take revenge? Rok Soo wanted to laugh, did those lunatics ambush him at night and set fire to his room? He didn't think them smart enough for it.

A monster attack then? Did a monster appear at his apartment complex? He needed to move. He needed to do his job. Analyze. Record the enemy. Do something. Anything. No doubt his team would deploy when they hear it appeared at his place. Those morons. He need to support them. Lead them. He needed to -

The voice of a women reached him.

Sobbing, crying and screaming. An anguished sound that he heard more than enough of since the world turned to sh*t.

She sounded hysterical and Rok Soo couldn't make out the words, it sounded gibberish. The voice wet and hoarse. Falling and rising in tone. There was no one who would cry like that for him. Such a torturous sound. Was he imagining things? He wondered how far gone he was and what it said about his mind if he hallucinated a women crying over him.

He wheezed, throat burning and the familiar tang of blood blubbered up his throat. He choked and let his head loll to the side, let the blood flow out of his mouth as much as possible. His haggard breathing calmed slightly and his eyes focused on his surroundings.

He must be really hallucinating, he decided.

There was no fire around him, no flames lapping at his skin. No smoke filling his lungs.

But there was a woman.

A woman with hair as red as blood and wild eyes.

Rok Soo didn't know this woman. Somebody as striking as she was, surely a foreigner, he wouldn't have forgotten. He didn't know this weeping women but he felt a deep ache for her. He felt sorry for her. Pitied her.

He was so sorry. Forgive him. Please forgive him.

And he didn't know why.

The feeling game him some strength, at least, and he gathered his arms and legs, barely managing to sit up in a shaky and slouched heap. The world was tilting around him and he couldn't make out his surroundings. He wanted to speak but he struggled to fill his lungs with air.

His heart was beating like war drums in his chest, blood gushing in his ears.

The woman's loud crying turned to muffled sobbing and then she lifted her head to look at him. He froze. Eyes the color of mud, a mix of dark red and brown fixed on him. The feeling of fear spread across his body. It overwhelmed even the pain and he felt his finger tremble and his legs twitch in an urge to flee but nothing obeyed him.

And he didn't know why.

"Cale! My Cale," she crooned as she scooted closer on all four towards him, the fabrics of her dress dragging on the floor. Her face was flushed a deep red, tears and snot mixing on her lips as she lifted a shaky and bloodied hand towards his face.

No no no no no.

He was frozen on the spot and could only look up at the women with wide eyes. Something was wrong, obviously very wrong but he couldn't understand, couldn't gather his thoughts.

He sees the blood on the woman's hand.

Where did the blood come from? Rok Soo couldn't help but wonder; he didn't see any injury on the woman.

"I am so sorry. My baby. I'm so sorry," she caressed his cheek gently, but Rok Soo was numb, could barely feel the tips of her fingers. "I am so sorry. Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I couldn't-" her voice cracked as fresh tears filled her eyes.

Lies lies lies lies. Lies and empty words. Don't fall for it.Don't fall for it. Never again. Not again.

She wailed in despair, her fingers leaving him as she gathered them and wept into her palms.

She looked like a moving painting from the victorian era. A tragic heroine from a shakespearean play.

Rok Soo exhaled shakily and his fear turned into terror. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he tried and failed to get his limps to move.

He needed to leave. Get away. Run. Run. Run. Run!

He didn't understand. Never- He had never felt such terror in his life.

"No, no, no, no!" The woman shook her head, still burrowed in her hands, her red hair flailing in the air. "What did I do? What did I do?!" Her head sprung up and her dark, muddy eyes focused on him.

"I didn't want this. Please, Cale." It was as if she pleaded for his forgiveness but Cale had none to give.

Her crazed eyes hardened and then she lashed out, her fingernails scrabbing his cheek. The force of the slap send him back to the ground and he groaned in pain.

Enough. He had enough. He was scared and it hurt it hurt it hurt -

His ears rang. His hand fought for support on the slippery floor as he tried to get up. He looked down.

The ground was painted red with blood. Whose blood was this?

The woman had no injury.

"Why are you so weak? Why is it you? Why are you my son?! Why is it you Cale!? Why were you born?! Why did it have to be you!" With every word, the woman became more and more hysteric, her manic screaming dissolved into laughter.

Rok Soo didn't bother to look up at her. He moved a shaky hand, a hand that seemed much too small to belong to him and he stilled. What can he do? Whatever this is, he could barely think straight, least of all move.

What could he do?

Afraid. He was afraid. Scared to death and beyond. Terrified and hopeless.

Helplessness wasn't a new feeling but Rok Soo couldn't remember if he ever felt so defeated. That wasn't like him.

He blended out the crazed women and took a look at his hands.

Bloodied, yes, but unmarked and dainty. Pale. A child's hands. And the white sleeve spotted with blood. Rok Soo never wore white. It was too much of a hassle to keep clean in his line of work.

His mind worked but no explanation came to mind. It couldn't be a dream. He knew his nightmares well and this was not one.

"Cale," the women spoke and Rok Soo flinched to attention. She sounded calm and he wondered when she stopped laughing.

"Cale, I decided." She said gently and stretched out her arms to cradle him against her. It was a mother's touch. It was nostalgic as it was familiar. Rok Soo tried to move but he had hardly any strength, limps shaking and she pressed him closer. Red hair cascaded over his face as she tucked his face against her chest. Unlike his own erratic beating of his heart, hers was calm and even.

"Let's die together. I promise, it will all end. My gift to you. My poor weak child." She loosened her hold and laid him down on her lap. Smoothed his hair from his face. "It will be better that way."

"That's not for you to decide," Rok Soo managed to mumble out, a near whisper. The words felt foreign and his tongue sat heavy in his mouth. The women smiled down at him but her eyes were empty.

His only sin had been his birth.

She had the same eyes as him, he couldn't help but note and wondered if his were just as devoid of life.

A knife glistened in her hand above him. He stared transfixed at the blade as it moved to strike down. Kim Rok Soo wanted to laugh, a part of him accepting that he would finally join those two idiots before a young voice screamed.

He moved. He finally moved. His body springing upright, his arm stricking out.

"That's not for you to decide!" A young voice screamed, he screamed.

And then there was silence. His ears rang. His heart stopped.

He didn't want to die.

The women on the ground fought for breath. A blade sticking out of her chest. Cale stepped back before falling on the ground. He stared transfixed as his mother took her last breaths while trying to speak.

The world soon turned black as he descended on the ground.

Darkness took him and he realised-

He was never meant to become the protagonist of his life.

Chapter 2: aftermate

Chapter Text

Cale walks.

He doesn't know when he started.

He walks, setting on foot after another. There's cold water lapping at his soles, splashing with every steps.

Cale walks.

There's blood on his hands, dripping from his finger and diluting with the endless water on the ground.

Cale walks. The coldness from the water seeps past his skin and into his bones. It freezes his blood and his thoughts.

There's nothing.

Nothing but an endless blue sky that looks more and more like a void and Cale wonders what he had done to deserve it.

Hadn't he pleased his father at every opportunity? Studied and laughed and played and behaved whenever it was expected of him?

Hadn't he loved his mother? Accepted her fault and grievances? Her temper and her love?

What had he done wrong?

He had only wanted-

Had he wanted too much?

Is this what his mother had warned him about?

His punishment for existing? For being weak? For -

"What are you doing kid?"

The voice surprised Cale and he almost jerks to a stop but his feet still move forward.

"Walking, can't you see?"

"That's quite the spunky tone, brat," the voice sounds amused.

Cale wants to look at the owner of the voice but his gaze drags forward towards the void. There was nothing there but what else had Cale left to do?

"You know, back when I was your age - well, actually I was older but nonetheless. When I was younger, I would have done all I could to be able to see my parents again but - and it's mean to say- but boy do I hope I never meet your mother again. What a trainwreck."

It startles a laugh out of Cale. He doesn't know what a trainwreck is but it sounds fitting and he-

"Me too," he confesses and as if the admission broke a spell, his legs came to a halt and the void losts it power over him. He looks up to see the owner of the voice.

"sh*t kid, I'm sorry, don't cry."

Cale didn't know he is crying but that's nothing new. He was always crying when nobody looked. His dirty little secret that only his mother knew.

"It's okay." The voice is awkward but the arms around him are warm and it only brings forth fresh tears.

He wanted his father.

"I know."

He wanted his mother.

"I know."

Cale presses himself closer to the other person and lets himself cry.

"I don't want to die," he sobs.

"I didn't mean to kill her," he admits.

"I want to live," he pleads.

Kim Rok Soo tightens his arms around the boy and exhales.

"It's going to be alright," he promises and looks up at the being that watches over them.

"I'll agree to your conditions," he speaks

and seals their fate.

"It has been over a week!"

"My Lord, his physical injuries are healing, if slowly. In due time, he should wake up. However-"

"Continue."

"Whatever it is that your... late wife did, I'm not even sure what exactly the damage is and if it can be healed."

"Then we should get a priest from the palace."

"I daresay a mage would be better but I honestly can't think of anybody who would be specialised in this field. Maybe in the Moguru Empire but that is..."

He awoke to voice floating in the air. Worried and anxious. He knew the owners of the voices but was too tired to call them out. He peeled his heavy eyelids slowly open but all that greeted him was a blurry mess bathed in a warm light. He could make out the faint images of two people with their backs to him and he closed his eyes again. A tired sigh escaped him that was missed by the other occupants in the room.

He let the voices filter in and out of his ear.

The language was different to korean and any other language he knew but he understood it perfectly. At the very least, the god of death didn't do things halfway.

'You will take over the life as Cale Henituse and in exchange, Cale Henituse will cross to your world.'

'You can't put a child into the body of an adult!'

'He shall keep his appearance, unlike yourself, consider it a present.'

Bastard had sounded awfully smug about it too.

Rok Soo sighed. What a mess.

At the very least, his teammates will find the boy, hopefully not besides the rotting corpse of their teamleader, and take care of him. And do a better job than the boy's parents.

He had dreamed after he had struck the deal. Those dream seemed to be recollections of Cale's life. Cale's life had good and happy moments but it was overshadowed by the presence of his mother.

"Don't lie. Your mother wouldn't do that."

"She doesn't mean it."

"Please understand, Cale."

"Your mother loves you, Cale."

"It's going to be alright."

It wasn't alright but nobody paid any mind to the protests of a child. Cale had loved his mother as much as he had been afraid of her. Her mood swings were unpredictable and her so called gift a curse in his eyes.

Rok Soo wasn't sorry to see such a woman die.

Whatever this was, Kim Rok Soo only knew how to live and that's all he would do. His dream would never change.

As sleep claimed him once more, his last thoughts were about a little red haired boy.

He hoped he will be happy.

Chapter 3: Contemplation

Chapter Text

Rook So- Cale closed the book with a sigh before chucking it towards the growing pile at the foot of his bed. Usually, as an avid reader and book lover, he would have taken more care but the more he read the more he felt inclined to just jump out of the window.

With a huff, he leaned back against his pillows, closed his eyes and tried to sort the new information he got. Thankfully, his record ability transmigrated with him. It was incredible useful in taking in information at a massive speed but he still needed time to sort them through and had to be careful about the drawbacks like overheating. Even more so with a child's body.

This world had truly a fantasy setting with most of the clichees.

Magic, alchemy, beast people and swordmaster with auras. There are empires and kingdomes with king and queens. He himself ended up as the son of a count.

The descriptions in the books here fit with what he read in that stupid novel before the whole mess started and he wondered how he had missed it to begin with.

Cale fought with himself to accept this world as a reality. It was so absurd even among the things he had already experienced.

There was also that strange entity that caused all this in the first place but for now there was nothing he could do about that particular problem right now. He should concentrate on the facts.

Analyze, adapt and assimilate.

He would put this world somewhere equivalent to the 18th or 19th century. He didn't know much of history, least of all european history which this world seemed to be based on but-

Cale stopped short. The thought giving him pause.

Was this truly so? Was this world only a copy of the real one? Did the novel turn real or was it real from the beginning? He remembered the authors name, Nelan Barrow, a korean published book even with that clear foreign name. Cale hadn't looked at the publishing date, if the book came out before or after the appearance of ability users, and wondered at the possibility of Nelan Barrow being an ability user who could see other worlds.

It wouldn't be too farfetched.

He massaged his temple.

It still sounded all so ridiculous and while he was used to weird and unbelievable situations, this was certainly on a completel different scale. To land himself in a novel, it sounded like something, well, out of a novel.

However, thinking like that wouldn't help him. So he just decided to stop wasting time on it. He could breath the air, touch and feel the things around him, speak and taste. He was alive. He didn't need to know more.

Cale opened his eyes and eyed the receding staple of books by his side.

'Magical Crystals Of The Northeast'

'A practical history of beast tribes'

'Basic Companion To Spells'

Such ridiculous titles, he couldn't help but muse.

The technology was stunted and mostly focused on working with magic. Instead of electricity, magic was used to power lights and complex mechanics, there was even afridge equivalent. Naturally, that was a privilege of the rich .

He was fortunate to be a count's son and a fairly wealthy one at that. Cale couldn't imagine how he would have managed to life as a commoner in this world.

Still, the more he had read, the harder it was to compare this world to an equivalent from his original one. It had similarities. Some things were as advanced to what he would think was around the 19th or even 20th century other seemed to be stuck in the medieval era.

If his books were up to date, the Roan's literacy rate was to be around fourty percent overall. In the cities it could even climb to be around seventy percent. It was a stark discrepancy that showed that schools were only for those with money to spare. Either for wealthy commoners or nobles. And while there were academies for noble children, most would get educated at home, either by scholars or academics. It wasn't usual for girls who approached womanhood to be given in the care of higher ranked noble women, who would teach them how to behave in society. Heirs and heiresses would learn at the elbow of their parents, the traditions of their families.

What that would mean for him-

"Young master?"

Cale flinched at the sudden voice and jerked his head to the side, internally cringing as he came to face with the benign visage of an elderly man.

"What?" His voice was flat as he calmed his racing heart. "I didn't hear you knock," he added and the only reason he managed to keep up his rude tone was in the believe that the other wouldn't harm a child.

Ron Molan played the part of a kind servant perfectly but Cale knew the act for what it was.

"This servant knocked and called three times," Ron bowed his head but the silver tray on his hand didn't even wobble slightly. "The young master was absorbed in his readings." He straightened and placed the tray on the side table.

"This is rather advanced literatur for your age, young master."

Cale flinched at the observation before clicking his tongue in annoyance to cover the slip but Ron made no further comment even as his eyes took in the messy pile of books on the ground.

sh*t. Cale was only five years old. He needed to be more careful in the future. He was less worried that he would be found out - who even would be able to guess the truth? - and more over the possibility over beind hailed as a literary genius. That would put a dent into his already forming plans of slackery.

"Please take a break and drink this tea." A gloved hand held the porcelain cup towards him and Cale took it gingerly, least of all to give the other a reason to scold him.

He didn't even need to look to know what it was as the smell invaded his nose. A frown adorned his face as he took a sip.

The sour taste of lemons was faint on his tongue but from day to day the taste got stronger.

Ron, his recent personal bane of existence, hummed in approval. "It seems your sense are recovering at a good pace. You couldn't even sense the heat a week ago."

Cale grimaced as he downed the glass. He was sure Ron was just using this as an excuse to torment him, after all there were other methods to gauge his recovery.

When he first awoke his head had been mush. He could hardly remember what happened on what day and his thoughts were a mess. Headaches plagued him. His limps shook and his temperature rouse and fell in odd intervals. An odd numbness kept spreading over his whole body. His sense of balance was terrible and he needed the help of others whenever he had to walk to the bathroom. As days went by, he got better. He didn't wake up in cold sweat and managed to keep the little food he was able to eat down. His taste buds also slowly recovered but he had been still mostly bed bound the last few weeks.

The only visitors he had were count Deruth, the butler Ron and the family physician whose name was too complicated to speak aloud.

Honestly, besides the tragic from before it wasn't a bad life. Not at all. Especially compared to his life before. He had left nothing behind as Kim Rok Soo. No family or close friends. No one who would mourn him and his colleagues would be fine without him.

Sure, it was a bit awkward to be a kid, sometimes even humiliating but Cale guessed it wouldn't be weird if he acted different to the original Cale after what happened.

He sighed, ignoring Ron's inquiring gaze and slid slowly out of the bed to stand, passing the empty cup back to Ron.

He tested first if his legs would take his weight before letting go of the bed completely, nodding to himself satisfied. Most of his balance problems seem to come from the fact that he was just unused to be so short and now that he slowly recovered his strength there should be no issues.

He waved of Ron's hand on his back.

"I'm fine," he dismissed and turned to walk to the bathroom, only to stumble after the first step.

Ron's steady hands easily caught him. Cale didn't look up as he colored slightly in embarrassment.

"Are you fine, young master?"The voice was even but Cale was sure the other was making fun of him.

He frowned but didn't dare to say anything to the man. The benign visage was just a facade after all and while Cale didn't think he would kill a child, he still didn't want to make such a scary man angry.

He tried once again to walk, this time not shaking of the hovering hands.

He managed a few steps but There was still a tremble in his legs and he closed his eyes in defeat as the floor tilted before his eyes. He sagged in Ron's arms and the butler easily picked him up and deposit him on the bed. Cale felt the blankets cover him and then nothing.

Another day wasted.

There was a fireplace burning in a room decorated in warm and pleasant colors. Bookshelves and paintings adorned just about any possible place on the walls.

Before the fireplace was a small group of couches and just before them as near as possible to the flames, sat a mountain of pillows and blankets and in it a young child.

Cale was theoretically sitting on the ground but the mountain of pillows and blankets he was nestled in, made it softer than any bed he had laid on.

The crackle of the fireplace before him, together with the warmth, lulled him into a sleepy haze. He couldn't remember ever feeling so cozy.

It was late evening, he had finished his physical therapy. Something he really thought was unnecessary but everybody else had been insistent. So he did as instructed and walked, stretched and moved all under the critical eye of the stuttering family physician, Prescottington.

It all was rather harrowing.

A tray with half eaten cookies and warm tea was besides him.

He looked at the flickering flames and let his mind wander.

His situation was different to the main protagonist of the original story. Choi Han didn't posses the body of somebody, he transmigrated as himself. The change in worlds had no negativ effect on his health, rather, in the course of the story, he seemingly stopped aging altogether.

It could be an explanation why Cale's condition was different. He supposed it was most likely because of what that woman, his mother, did or even that bullsh*t god, but Cale didn't want to touch those memories and records just now. Later. He would need to. But not now. It might be cowardly of him but-

The Cale Henituse of the novel was trash. An alcoholic drunkard. Had that guy such a tragic backstory?

Cale wasn't ready to find that out.

His body condition. If this is the same as the novel, then shouldn't this body grow up to be healthy? Cale in the novel wasn't a fighter but he was fit and healthy, even while consuming alcohol daily.

This either means he will recover or that his presence changed the course of the story.

Cale kicked the blankets of him as the heat became oppressing. His thoughts were going in circles and as much as he wanted clearance and closure about his situation, there was nothing he could do about it for now. It was best to just accept it as it is.

Instead, he should think about the future. He had no plans to train his body or become somebody productive. The idea to become trash like the original Cale was tempting but just thinking about keeping up the charade sounded exhausting. The best plan was just to use his condition and play a sickly child with a weak body. It suited him perfectly. That also should guarantee that he would be left alone. Deruth left his son alone when he had been a bottle throwing delinquent spewing nothing but insults, he wouldn't bother much with an ill but well behaved son.

He also didn't need to involve himself more in the story than necessary. He wouldn't dare to pick a fight with Choi Han and if the hero came by he would happily hand over Ron and Beacrox while throwing rice. Right, he would just do the minimum of work possible to secure himself a safe and well future.

"Thank you Ron," Deruth said and as the man bowed in aknowledgment, the count's eyes strayed to the newest health report of his son on his desk.

The terror was still in his veins from the moment they found Cale even months after. Bleeding and deathly pale besides his mother.

Deruth had believed them both to be death. He had fallen to his knees and gathered his child in his arms, sobbing and crying against his still body. Uncaring of the sight he made.

His knights and his servants all kept their distance and let him mourn. All but one.

Ron Molan.

The butler had calmly and efficiently checked the boy for vitals even while he was in the desperate clutches of his father.

There had been a pulse.

His son was alive.

"Please forgive me for being frank sir, but I believe it's impertient to assume the young master wouldn't be changed by his ordeal."

Deruth massaged his eyes and willed away the familiar burn of tears. "I know. I just-"

The Cale that woke up was different. This Cale had looked at him with blank eyes, his expressions flat on his face as if he just didn't had enough emotions to fill his face with.

Cale used to be an affectionate child, glowing at the smallest of praises. Now, he barely reacted to anyone. Shock, everybody reasoned and who wouldn't be?

But as the days passed and Cale slowly regained his health, his demeanor didn't change.

He didn't speak more than necessary. Didn't cry. Didn't laugh.

He never once called for his father.

Deruth wanted to lay all the blame at his dead wife's feet but he was well aware of his faults. He should have paid more attention.

He doesn't know how Cale was still able to look into his eyes and call him father.

But then, when was the last time his boy called him that? Their talks were short and dismissive from Cale's side and Deruth, afraid of rejections, flees before he could incure the hate of his son.

Because Deruth already hated himself, how could Cale not?

"A dog, sir?"

"Yes."

"My Lord, did the young master express a wish for a pet?" Ron questioned, keeping his tone neutral.

The count frowned. "Well, no but I thought that a dog would be a good step forward. He used to be such a affectionate child, always asking to be held but now he jerks at any touch and freezes in discomfort whenever somebody's carrying him." Which happened more often than not, with how unsteady the boy was on his feet.

Deruth's heart broke when his son flinched when he tried to hug him.

"Sir, you believe he would accept the affections of an animal," Ron statesdslowly and when the count remained silent took it as permission to continue.

"Have you talked with the young master about it? Or is the plan to surprise him?" There was no infliction in the butler's voice.

"The latter," Deruth admitted, knowing that Cale would most likely refuse even thought he was certain that, before the incident, he would have been overjoyed at a puppy.

"I do not mean any disrespect but isn't what brought this in the first place? Us not listening to the young master? He was the first to see just how far gone the late countess had-"

Ron stilled as the other held up a hand. Deruth's expression hard before it seemingly crumbled.

"Then what should I do? I just want my son back," Deruth whispered in admission.

The former assassin felt sparks of anger grow in his chest at the count's words. He wasn't one to be easily angered and believed the blame of Cale's situation lay in the whole household, in their inaction, being blinded by their affection towards the countess. Ron had been certainly smitten with her also, such a kind woman who gave him a home with nary a thought.

However, as a man who lost all but his son. As a father, he was angered.

"With due respect," and something must have bleed into his voice because the other focused on him sharply, "but your son is right here and if you can't accept what happened, can't accept the change in him, then maybe it is better for you to keep your distance." As you had been doing, Ron didn't add.

Ron stayed by the young master's side since he came here, only straying from him when his mother became more and more possessive over him. They hadn't thought much about it, just the worries of a young mother. What a grave mistake it had been but because he had been so long by the child's side that he understood how deeply changed the boy was.

He knew what trauma could do to a child. He had seen it in his own son who was still healing.

It had changed Beacrox but it was still the same child that his wife bore, the same child that took his first steps with a giggle towards him. He was still Beacrox, even if his eyes grew distant and his voice tappered off, words failing and Ron was afraid that one day Beacrox would grow completely mute and he would never hear his son's voice again-

Ron loved his son and he would never stop loving him.

Which was why he was very angered by the count's words.

"You have spoken out of turn," Deruth finally said.

Cale deserved better, Ron thought and didn't apologize.

"I spend very day with the young master. Shall I tell you what I see?"

Ron didn't wait for an answer.

"I see him day after day," Ron started and Deruth flinched at his words, "turning the pages of heavy books with trembling, weak fingers. I see him frustrated at his progress and I see him try to hide his pain and discomfort. He flinches at the smallest of things, gets lost in his own thoughts and his mind wanders far away but he always comes back. He always wakes up and faces the day. I see a young child trying his best to live."

Ron frowned heavily. "And if you dare belittle this. Throw him a dog as it would undue everything, just to appease your guilty conscience, then you don't deserve to call yourself his father."

There was silence in the room where the two men only stared at each other before Deruth coldly spoke.

"Out."

Chapter 4: Dissonance

Chapter Text

Beacrox was washing the dishes silently. He had a deal with the head cook, if he helped out a little bit with menial tasks, he may practice cooking with leftover ingredients. His father had surprisingly encouraged his newfound hobby and his presence had become such a constant in the kitchens that the maids didn't bother paying him any attention as they gossiped among themselves.

The topic was a popular but one the servants would never had the courage to talk about in the halls in the fear of being overheard.

In the kitchen there was no such danger and the young maids tittered among themselves.

"Did you see the young master? He was so adorable sitting in Ron's arms with that gigantic tome! I wish we could have a painting of it!" Minevra gushed, she was one of the younger maids and made no secret how much she wished for children herself.

"I'm just glad we get to see him. Since the passing of the countess, the boy barely steps out of his room," Teresa shook her head.

"I for one just wish we would be informed what exactly happened," another maid piqued up from where she was storing away utensils in the lower shelves.

"But didn't you hear, Grace? One of the knights said to me that it was the late countess who hurt the master!" Minevra whispered loudly.

"Minny! That's heresy! The countess died. It was obviously an accident," Teresa scolded. Unlike the other, she had spend years with the countess and knew what kind of woman she had been. She didn't understand how such ugly rumors began to spread.

"Teresa you're always quick to defend the countess but she had been acting really weird the last few months. Even her personal maid Vera said so!."

Teresa gnawed at her lips. That was the truth. She just couldn't understand the situation. The head maid and butler surely kept something from the the lower servants but she just couldn't see what. The east wing, where the countess mostly dwelled, was kept closed. However, she wouldn't dare to believe that the mistress could have harmed her own son. It must have been a terrible accident!

There were also the more recent rumors that the count reprimanded Ron, the main caretaker of the young master. Ron Molan, and his very adorable son, were very liked from the very first day and there had never been anything negative about those two. Just what was the world turning too, that it's always the kind ones that have to deal with terrible rumors? Teresa shook her head to free herself from such negative and blasphemous thoughts and caught the next topic.

"The count is also spending more and more time going out!"

"I heard he found himself a mistress!"

"No way! It's been not even a year since... you know. Surely the master is just busy with business."

"Well," Grace giggled. "You can always mix business with pleasure."

Teresa clicked her tongue but stayed her tongue. Her eyes strayed across the kitchen and caught the neutral face of Ron's son by the sink.

She flushed a deep red at being caught gossiping. She cleared her throat.

"Girls, let's focus back on work-"

Her words were interrupted as the door to the kitchen opened.

"Young master Cale!" She called out in astonishment.

It was unmistakable, the small child with a shock of red hair could only be the count's son.

The other maids also quickly turned, their faces various mixes of surprise.

"I apologise for interrupting," the young master spoke softly, stepping into the room. As tradition, he still wore black mourning clothes but Teresa couldn't help but wish he wore some other color. The black made his face look pale and sickly and she wondered just how bad his health was.

"No! No! It's alright. How can we help you, young master?" Minevra kindly asked, crouching down to be more level with the child.

Cale fidgeted slightly on the spot.

"Miss Minevra, may I -"

"You know my name?" Minevra interrupted, eyes wide with surprise.

Cale blinked before nodding. "Miss Minevra."

From the side Grace leaned eagerly down. "Do you also know my name, young master?" She asked.

"Miss Grace."

She exchanged a bright glance with Minevra and they both squealed in delight.

"Girls, stop bothering the young master," Teresa scolded lightly before turning to the person in question.

"How may we help, young master?" She bowed lightly.

Cale fidgeted on the spot. "It's alright Miss Teresa. I just wanted to ask if I can have some sweets."

Teresa was just as surprised as her colleagues that the young master knew her name. They hadn't interacted at all after all but most importantly-

"The young master doesn't need to address us that polite. Please just use our names."

The child easily nodded and his focused eyes reminded her of his request.

She exchanged glances with the other maids.

"Young master, I believe you're only allowed a set amount of sweets for your recovery, no?" Minny spoke up.

Cale sunk his head, showing a clear sign of disappointment.

'Im a child. A child. I'm a cute, innocent child. I'm a child. A cute child who wants some sweet! I'm a child. A small child. A child. Be a child. Act like a child.'

He played the mantra in his head over and over and let his lower lip wobble slightly.

"Oh, I shouldn't have shared the cookies then." He didn't.

"With whom did you share your cookies?"

"Father," Cale lied easily. "I wanted to cheer him up." He let his voice drop to an embarrassed whisper as if he was telling a deep secret.

"That's so sweet of you!" The maids chirped up and Cale knew they wouldn't dare to bother the count to check his words for truthfulness.

"Teresa, let's give him just a little bit!"

"Just a little Teresa!"

"Don't be a sourpuss."

Cale refrained from looking up as the two younger maids tried to persuade the older. He barely managed to keep from smirking as Teresa sighed in defeat. Then his smile fell, how far had he fallen? Once upon a time, he used to manipulate and intimidate guild leaders to do his bidding and now he was reduced to this.

"Alright. Young master," she called out and Cale looked up.

"But just a little," she said but there was a smile on her face.

Cale nodded and watched as they rummaged around for a small box and put some sweets in it.

"Thank you!" He said and meant it when they stuck the box towards him. He grew tired of eating healthy this and healthy that. Not to mention Ron's sour tea.

The maids grinned back at him before Teresa frowned slightly.

"But young master, are you walking around alone?" She asked and Cale shrugged his shoulders.

"It's fine, isn't it?"

Teresa pursed her lips disapprovingly. Since the incident, she hasn't seen the young master walk around unsupervised. Surely the count would be mad if he found out.

She would send Minny or Grace with him but they actually had something to do besides gossiping. Her eyes strayed back to another child in the room.

Ten year old Beacrox looked at her back.

"Beacrox! Would you please escort the young master to his room?" She called out and missed the brief look of horror on Cale's face.

They walked in silence and Beacrox watched as the younger child cradled the box of sweets close.

There was something he had been curious about.

"How did you know their names?" Beacrox questioned curiously. There was just no way the other could have known beforehand.

Cale relaxed slightly at the sign that his sweets weren't in danger.

"I had been listening outside," the child shrugged his shoulders. "I just matched their voices."

So he must have heard the rumors, Beacrox mused silently. He thought about the things his father said about the young master and the count.

"You didn't share with the count, did you?"

Cale flinched slightly and that was admission enough.

"That was smart," Beacrox commented, voice nonchalant. "I won't tell father," he added.

They spend the rest of the walk in silence.

Deruth knocked on the door and calmed his hearth as an affirmative sounded.

He fixed a smile on his face as he opened the door, though it faltered once he stepped into the room.

Cale sat in his bed, held upright by a multitude of pillows and a thick tome spread open on his lap. The room had an almost nauseous smell of herbals and potions in the air, to which Deruth just couldn't grow used to.

Cale did a double-take when he noticed him and jerked his head towards him.

"God morning... father," Cale added, as if remembering who he was. Unfortunately, nothing unusual these days.

It was already early evening but Deruth knew his son just woke a few hours ago. From the servants accounts, his night had been terrible, riddled with headaches and chest pain.

He felt guilty that he only now had the time to check on him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier," he apologized and knew how little that gave Cale but the boy nodded in understanding.

"Is there something you need?"

Deruth tried to stop his smile from falling at the words. Was this how much their relationship derailed? That Cale believed his father would only come to him when he needed something?

"No," he answered, voice small. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. We don't spend much time these days."

Cale didn't seem to know how to answer that, so Deruth turned his attention to the book in his son's hands.

"Naval warfare, huh? That's an interesting subject," he commented and hoped his tone wasn't as awkward as he felt.

Cale stilled at his words and Deruth scrambled to reassure.

"That's not bad! It's great that you can read such complex books." His boy was only five. Five and already through so much. "I was just surprised over the content but I guess what boy doesn't like battleships?" He joked and watched as Cale awkwardly smiled back.

Great Deruth, you completely messed up.

'Did you talk with the young master?'

Ron's words echoed in his head.

"May I sit down?" He indicated towards the bed.

"Sure," Cale nodded easily but as Deruth sat down on the edge, he lifted his book upright on his lap as if to create a barrier.

Deruth let his eyes wander over the room. Looking at all but his son before he mustered the courage to speak.

"Do you hate me?"

"Pardon?"

Deruth lip twitched, since when was his son so polite? He dared to look at his son and there was genuin confusion in his eyes.

"Do you hate me?" He repeated and didn't stray from his eyes.

Cale's mouth turned downward.

"Why would you think that?"

The question was so innocent, so perplexed that Deruth couldn't help the disbelieving laugh that escaped him.

He laughed and let his head fall into his hands as tears gathered in his eyes.

"Father? Uh, are you alright?"

The question only made Deruth more hysterical, laughter turning into sobbing and he barely managed to calm down with Cale looking at him as if he was crazy.

Maybe he was. Maybe his wife took his sanity with her when she lost hers. Maybe he left his sanity in that damnable room where they found them. His wife death and his son barely alive.

"Cale, do you want a dog?" He blurted out and now Cale was really looking at him as if he lost it.

"No?" He answered hesitantly.

Deruth's lip twitched and something in his expression must have alarmed Cale so much that he moved the book aside and leaned closer.

"What happened?"

Deruth observed his eyes, his wife's eyes.

"Cale, about your mother-"

"I don't want to talk about it," the redhead interrupted abruptly, voice tense.

"Of course, I'm sorry. You don't have to." Deruth was quick so assure and as Cale slowly relaxed, Deruth knew what he wanted to say.

"I love you Cale. You will always be my son, no matter what," Deruth smiled softly. "Even if you don't love me back."

The child looked taken back at the admission before nodding slowly.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Of course," Cale answered as if it was obvious.

"You do," Deruth repeated in a mutter, something unbelievable in his voice.

"Don't cry."

There was a small hand patting his shoulder.

"Please don't cry."

Cale let himself fall back into the soft bed when Deruth finally left.

"What the f*ck," he muttered towards the ceiling.

No answer came.

"What the f*ck," he repeated.

What was he supposed to do with that?

Chapter 5: Geständnis

Chapter Text

There was a buzzing in Cale's ears. It hadn't dissuaded for days. It resounded in his head and vibrated his bones.

Cale felt nauseous.

He felt disgusted.

At himself.

How easily he had thrown away his identity as Kim Rok Soo. How easy it had been, to pretend to be Cale.

Deruth's face burned into his records.

A grieving father. Lost his wife.

And his son.

And he doesn't even know.

A grieving father. And Rok Soo pretended to be his son. But Cale was gone. Not death, but what difference did that make?

There was a buzzing in his ear.

It hadn't stopped since Deruth cried before him.

A grieving father.

There was a buzzing in his ear.

And Kim Rok Soo didn't know what to do.

He didn't know what to do.

The discolored leaves outside, falling from the trees one after another signaled the coming of fall. His birthday was coming up soon.

Cale - Kim Rok Soo? - turned away from the window when the door opened, lifted his head were it rested against the cool glass.

"Young master?" Ron called out and Kim Rok Soo - Cale? - looked up. He wondered if it was concern he saw in the butler's gaze.

There was a buzzing in his head. Static filling his ears.

How many days had passed? He didn't know.

If it was concern, then it wasn't for him.

Not for him.

For a boy gone.

For a boy who cried after his parents.

For a boy Rok Soo couldn't do anything.

"The Count is ready to meet you."

"Right, thank you."

He glanced outside a last time. His birthday was coming up soon. His birthday and the birthday of-

What would you have done?

Choi Jung Soo. Lee Soo Hyuk.

Kim Rok Soo cleared his mind as he knocked, kept his face carefully clean of emotions as he stepped into the room.

This was the end.

Deruth smiled at him from a couch and waved him over. There was something nervous in his expression but also hopeful.

Rok Soo's stomach churned.

It should have ended sooner.

He moved to stand a few steps before the man and without much preamble lowered his head.

"I need to apologize to you," his voice was even and he didn't look up, didn't move as Deruth scrambled to his feet. Alarm and concern on his face.

"What's wrong? You have nothing to be sorry for, Cale. Nothing at all."

"Yes," Rok Soo agreed. "Cale has nothing to be sorry for," and there was no gentle way of saying it, "but I am not him."

There was silence and then a whispered, "what?"

"I apologize for lying and misleading you," Kim Rok Soo looked up and stared into the shaking pupils of the Count. "I am not your son Cale."

The buzzing stopped. Static dispersed. His mind clear.

Deruth's eyes trembled, confusion and hurt waning for dominance on his face.

"Cale I-," he swallowed. "I don't understand. What's wrong?" He knelt down to his eye level, to draw the boy near him but the redhead took a step back.

Rok Soo watched impassively as the hurt grew on the man's face.

Faintly he realised, all those insults spewed at him, when he became team leader, were right.

He was a bastard. Cruel and empty.

What had he done?

Those were real people. People with lives. With thoughts and emotions. Not stories in a novel. A father who loved his son.

"Your son is not here anymore. He's safe but he's not here. I'm not him."

Deruth's mouth moved but no words left him. After a few tries he finally asked.

"What are you talking about? What are you talking about?!"

"I'm a transmigrator."

Deruth looked hopelessly lost, drawing a hand over his face before letting out a nervous laugh.

"Cale, I- what's wrong? Are you hurting? Is this some joke? Please, I don't understand."

Kim Rok Soo lowered his head once more. It was the least he could. It was the only thing he could do.

"Please allow me to explain."

Deruth's eyes were wild, various emotions waning for dominance and his eyes searched for something in the gaze of the other, in the eyes of his son, that he couldn't find.

His son was gone.

Chapter 6: Wahrheiten

Chapter Text

The grandfather clock chimed. Signaling the end of an hour.

"This was enough of a joke. You need to rest, Cale. You must have the symptoms of your mother. It's going to be alright."

It's going to be alright?

"You're just running away. It won't change the facts," Rok Soo said.

"Do you really think your five year old son would have been able to talk like this? Read the books I read?"

His expression turned mocking as he tilted his head.

"Or what, did you think your son turned into a genius after nearly dying? Wouldn't that have been nice."

Kim Rok Soo's words were harsh but he needed the other to understand.

Deruth's breath hitched. For a moment, he looked truly angry before he twisted his head away from him. After a few moments, with a shaky exhale, he stood up and paced across the room. Hands shaking and eyes burning.

The elder Henituse didn't even know if he wanted to cry or not.

He didn't know what to do.

"Please allow me to explain."

The Count turned towards the child. His son?

Wouldn't he have known? If this wasn't his son? Wouldn't he have felt it?

Wouldn't he have realized it?

"Cale-"

"I'm not." The redhead interrupted.

"Please allow me to explain." He repeated.

Deruth laughed and turned his attention away from the boy. Looked over the paintings in his room. Looked out of the window as he answered.

"Explain."

And the other spoke. Spoke with the voice of his son. With that flat and infliction free voice he grew used to over the months.

With every further word, more and more emotions left Deruth's face. All what was left was numbness when silence finally reigned over the room.

He slid to the ground and leaned against his desk as he stared at the ground.

"You are not Cale," Deruth concluded and his voice gave nothing away. He was staring forward without seeing anything.

"My son is dead?" He asked and wondered how he could even speak those words at all.

The being that wore his child's face shook his head.

"He's alive," he countered. "Just not here. We switched places. He became a transmigrator just like myself but into my world."

"How can I believe you?"

The boy shrugged. The movement so nonchalant that Deruth wanted to stomp over and shake him.

His son was gone.

"Ihave no means to prove my words. But it should be clear by now that I'm not Cale."

Deruth let his head fall into his hands.

"I wouldn't have known. I wouldn't have noticed," he whispered to himself.

"I didn't notice that my son is gone," he muttered, the horror growing.

"I can only apologize, once again."

The words were monotonous but Deruth watched the other's hands clench by his side.

"Then why would the god of death do that? What use is there in this?" He lifted his head and glared at the intruder.

Deruth didn't understand. Couldn't understand.

"Why did you agree?" He asked further when no answer came. "Who are you then? What are you?" He demanded, voice filled with spite.

He felt the anger grow inside him but how can he throw that anger at the boy who looked like his son?

"My name is Kim Rok Soo. I'm just a human," the transmigrator began. "As to why I agreed? I had nothing, no family or friends and Cale was dying. He would have died. I don't regret taking over his life but I regret misleading you. It wasn't right."

He smiled then, expression wry on his face. It was his son's face. "Besides, even if didn't agree, I believe that bastard god would have done it anyways."

He sobered up at his next words. "I don't know why I'm here but I don't want to cause any trouble. I want to live a quiet life but I don't want to hurt innocent people for that."

He lowered his head again. "I can't do more than apologize. No parent deserved this."

Deruth wondered how many time the other had apologized by now. He wanted to scoff at his words. His son was gone and all he got was an apology?

He wanted them to be lies. He wanted Cale to smile and say 'gotcha! I pranked you!' but that was wishful thinking, wasn't it?

His son was gone.

His breath hitched and eyes burned.

"You- what do you expect me to do? What would have you done?" He asked he stranger who wore his son's face. Watched the short explosion of emotions on his face before it was tightly controlled.

Kim Rok Soo's thoughts stuttered to a halt.

If on the day that Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk died.

If somebody had taken over their bodies and pretended to be them.

If somebody happily lived their lives.

If that had happened.

He would have been beyond furious.

He answered honestly.

"I would have killed them. Those strangers wearing the faces of my friends."

Deruth chuckled and the tension of his shoulders disappeared. What an easy solution.

"Get out." He finally said. "Get out!"

He watched the tense frame of-

What had he called himself?

"Kim Rok Soo," the other answered and Deruth realised he spoke aloud.

"Should I leave the house?" There was no infliction in Kim Rok Soo's voice but Deruth shook his head.

He wasn't his son. He couldn't trust his words. But the other hadn't harmed anyone yet. Not yet.

He needed time.

If there was just the smallest possibility that he spoke the truth, then he had saved his son.

He wouldn't throw the other out. Not yet.

"No. I need some time to-" He felt numb and he needed a drink.

And he needed his son. His poor son. His son all alone. Gone. Gone. Gone.

"Alright. Please excuse me." He heard the boy move and his hesitation by the door.

"For all that it's worth. I firmly believe that Cale is well looked after. He's safe."

The door clicked shut and Deruth was left alone.

Truly alone.

Cale- no, Kim Rok Soo closed the door behind and allowed himself a tired sigh.

Moments later, he heard the breaking of glass against the wall behind the door.

Besides him Ron stood with his usual smile and he wondered how much the man heard.

Frankly, he didn't care.

He needed to plan. If the Count decided to throw him out, he needed a way to survive.

If he decided to kill him, then he didn't know if he would even fight it.

Not that he even could. He was stuck in the body of a five year old.

What a mess. He needed to gather himself. This wasn't like him at all.

His head hurt and his heart was beating in a frantic melody.

The hallway blurred before his eyes, matching his jumbled thoughts.

He turned towards the staircase to his room in the upper floor and the next thing he knew was the world tumbling around him and then merciful blackness.

Deruth watched the other wake, slow and sluggish and he also saw the moment when he noticed him.

He had been unconscious for two whole days and it had given him time to think.

He hadn't come to a solution but he wanted to hear the other out. If there was just the slimmest chance that there was a way to get Cale back, Deruth couldn't throw that away in mindless anger.

The child blinked, his hazy eyes widening and he scrambled backwards as far as he could on the bed.

His posture tense and defensive.

It wasn't his son but it was his face and it broke Deruth's heart.

"I just want to talk."

The stranger in his son's body nodded stiffly.

"You said my son is safe? Where is he? What is your world?"

Kim Rok Soo, he believed the other called himself, unfurled from his defensive crouch slightly. Settling down on his knees.

"The god of death said we'll exchange places. That must mean he awoke in my apartment. If I didn't turn up for work, then my colleagues would search me out. They're good people and many of them have their own families. They wouldn't leave a child alone."

"Colleagues... so you're an adult," Deruth swallowed. There was an adult in his son's body. An adult pretending to be his son.

"You told me you had nothing. Is that why you took my son's life? Was this an opportunity for you to begin a new life?" The more he asked, the angrier he became.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was irrational but-

his son was gone.

"You should have saved him! There must have been another way!" The man packed the transmigrator by the front of his clothes and jerked him forward. "You just wanted my son's life!"

"I wanted his life?" Kim Rok Soo whispered, eyes cold. "I should have saved him differently? How did you expect me to do that?"

"Do you even have the slightest clue what your wife did? She didn't just want him gone. She wanted to erase his whole existence," he sneered at the man.

"She wanted to destroy his soul." The records that Rok Soo hadn't wanted see all this time played in his head.

"His soul was crumbling. His mind breaking and you wanted me to find another solution? What I should have done?" He let out a laugh, bitter and angry.

Rok Soo wondered if that truly was him. If he was capable of emotions like this or if it wasn't the little redhaired boy, Cale, whom he echoed. Maybe he was slowly turning crazy.

"What would you have done? But that reminds me, you didn't do anything, right? Left him all alone." Rok Soo heard the echoes of Cale's crying in his ears.

"There was a little boy, in pain, dying, ceasing to exist and you wanted me to say. Ah, wait a minute, let's think this over and see what other options we have? Is that it?"

The man let him go as if burned and without support Rok Soo fell over the edge of the bed. He hit the ground with a pained grunt. As he sat up and watched the man stumble back, something like satisfaction burned in his chest.

Kim Rok Soo hadn't wanted this. He had been just on his break. He had wanted just a day of quiet and he's a bastard, an asshole and the worst kind of person but he didn't want to steal a child's life.

"Tell me, do you really not know what she did?" He didn't wait for an answer, watched the pale form of the Count.

"She was destroying his soul. The one way to make somebody vanish for eternity." He tilted his head and a mocking smile played on his lips. "And she was succeeding. His soul was already falling apart by the time the god of death intervened. A child, such a young mind, wouldn't have survived it."

He straightened himself and walked closer to the man. He patted his own chest where his heart was beating rapidly.

"Do you know? This is still his soul in the body. Not mine. I am a parasite yes, but why would I have exchanged my whole soul for a damaged one? Because I wanted to steal Cale's life?" He snorted. "Trust me, nobody would want to be stuck in this broken body."

"This- this is," the man stuttered, fury and anger waning for dominance and Kim Rok Soo was certain that he would lash out and hit him.

Who wouldn't have?

Maybe this it how it should end. Cale Henituse ceasing to exist and with him Kim Rok Soo. It wouldn't be to bad. It would betray his teamleader's motto but hadn't he lived long enough?

He outlived all of them.

Wasn't that enough?

Surely, they would forgive him.

However, the anger that befall the other vanished. It was so sudden it left Rok Soo reeling.

What?

Deruth watched him with a contemplating gaze.

"You are trying to make me angry," he realized.

"You want me to be angry." He concluded.

Kim Rok Soo tensed and purged his face from any expression.

"You feel guilty."

Deruth took a step closer.

"You didn't want this."

He took another step closer.

"You wanted to help my son."

He fell into his knees before him. Tears gathering in his eyes.

"You saved my son."

He grasped the frozen shoulders of the child.

"You saved my son," he repeated and tugged the other towards him. Hugged him tightly.

"I'm so sorry." He sobbed. "I failed Cale."

His arms tightened around the slim frame.

"Is my son really alive?" He asked.

"I firmly believe so," Kim Rok Soo answered and let the man cry.

After a few days, the Count called him into his office again. Calm and collected.

And on the next day.

And the day after.

And in the weeks that followed.

The servants thought the father son duo were finally healing. They were not completely wrong even if the truth was something else.

Deruth asked and Kim Rok Soo answered to the best of his abilities. Their first discussions were tense and filled with distrusts, if only from one side but the more they talked, the further the topics strayed.

"- most likely my colleagues found your son. They're kind people and a lot of them have their own families. They wouldn't abandon a kid in need-"

"-we hadn't magic in our world. It was fantasy. Instead we developed technology. We had-"

"- I was an orphan. Nothing to my name-"

The smell of tea in the air.

"-monster appeared. Creatures that only wanted the destruction of our race. With that abilities in individuals appeared-"

"- I worked for a company that dealt with-"

Freshly made biscuits in a tray.

"- the reign of nobility is long over in my world. Most countries followed a democratic principle. The people choose their leaders and-"

After a while, the topics strayed from the pressing questions about Kim Rok Soo's world and Cale, to Deruth complaining about his work. To him wondering what kind of jobs Cale could have in that world.

To Rok Soo commenting about the difference in bureaucracy.

To complains about being short.

To him speaking about the education in korea.

To them both lamenting over the horrors of paper work.

Soon they talked less like stranger, not like father and son, but almost like friends.

"What should I call you?" Deruth asked on an evening. He sat by the other's bedside. Riddled with another fever, the transmigrator had been unable to step out of the bed for a few days.

Muddy eyes blinked at him in confusion.

"Would you prefer to be called Kim Rok Soo or should I call you... Cale?"

He frowned at him.

"I'm not your son."

Deruth sighed.

"I know but you are here, in his body, living his life but you also have your own name. If you want I get the servants to call you by your name. It wouldn't be the weirdest request they heard."

Kim Rok Soo gazed at him perplexed.

"Aren't you kicking me out?"

Deruth shook his head.

"Why? I thought you were waiting till I answered all your questions."

"Do you think so little of me? I do admit it's still hard to wrap around but I do know that you're not Cale. I also-" he swallowed before coming to a decision.

"You mentioned you caught glimpses of Cale's life? Then do you know of his mother's gift?"

"She could see the future, I believe. It was what drove her mad."

Deruth nodded.

"Yes, she could see an individual's life. She was an amazing person. She was kind and she tried to help whenever she could but she also accepted it when she couldn't." He rambled slightly but Kim Rok Soo nodded along.

"She always told me; Deruth, you will be the only man I will marry!" he remembered with a chuckle.

"Back then, I thought that she meant we will grow old together but now I wonder if she had known. She must have known." He sighed and shook his head. He had a point with all this but now that he started he couldn't stop.

"She was so happy to be pregnant. Everything started to derail after Cale's birth. She hadn't wanted to spend too much time with him, afraid she'll see too much about his future. Years passed and- and it got worse. She must have seen something. She never talked with me about it. Occasionally, Cale would come crying to me, saying his mother said he was too weak, that he would disappear. That she hit him. That she wanted him gone. I didn't believe him." Deruth drew a hand over his face as he exhaled.

"I'm sorry, I'm rambling. This is not what I wanted to say."

"That's fine. Sometimes it's good to say such things aloud," Kim Rok Soo answered.

Deruth smiled wryly.

"Anybody ever tell you that you're a good listener?"

"No. Usually it's just bastard or asshole."

The Count let out a laugh. At his words and the fact that it came out of a five year old. It was easier now, to see the other as somebody else

"That reminds me. How old are you even? I don't think I asked yet."

Kim Rok Soo evaded his eyes as he answered. Was that embarrassment on his face?

"I'm 36."

"You're older than me."

"Yes." His cheeks colored more.

"Should I call you hyung?" Deruth joked.

"Please don't."

"I think the servants would find it funny."

"Then only one who would find it amusing would be you."

"Alright," Deruth sighed. "Let me get back to the point. About my late wife. I believe she saw this. Maybe she saw that she hurt her son herself and that was what drove her mad in the end."

"A self-fulfilling prophecy," Kim Rok Soo commented.

"Yes, either that or there was just something so horrible in Cale's future that she rather end him herself. To be honest, I don't know what's worse." He looked across the room.

"Still, it's because of this that I can believe your words. I do think I'm a good judge of character no matter how much my vassals complain about my employment policy." He turned back to the transmigrator.

"I do not believe you are a bad person. And I want to place my trust in you. For now, it would be best if you remained her and play the part of my son. It's the least I can offer you. Once your older, you may do what you want."

Kim Rok Soo blinked as a thought came to it. He wondered why he hadn't thought about it sooner.

"Placing your trust in me. Isn't there a good way of testing that?"

Deruth frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The god of eternal rest. Isn't there a small temple here in Rain City?"

"You sure about this?" Deruth asked as they climbed out of the carriage.

"Yes."

"Then what's with that face?"

Kim Rok Soo's face was stuck into a perpetual frown.

"It's just humiliating getting carried," he muttered, shifted in his position by Deruth's hip.

Deruth snorted even as he walked towards the the entrance. It was a small one, in comparison to the one on the main city.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with Ron."

"Because it's Ron."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's Ron. He's scary."

"Are you sure we're taking about the same man?"

Kim Rok Soo only scowled at him.

Whispers followed their moves but they both didn't pay any attention to it.

It didn't take long before they were seated before a deaf priest.

The only surprise he showed that it was the child who took the vow was the widening of his eyes for a moment.

"The priest in front of us guarantees, that he cannot hear and if that is not the truth, he will pay with his life," the child began.

"I, Kim Rok Soo, known as Cale Henituse, vow to speak the truth to Deruth Henituse in front of the god of eternal rest and if what I say is even the slightest lie, I will immediately die in this very spot to pay the price."

Nothing happened.

"I was born with the name Kim Rok Soo and come from another world."

Nothing happened.

"I made a deal with the god of eternal rest, to save the life of the original owner of this body, Cale Henituse. I did not wish him any harm and I did it not out of any sense of malice."

Nothing happened.

"To my understanding, if the god stayed truth to his word, Cale Henituse is safe and sound."

Nothing happened.

"I do not wish to bring harm to the Henituse Family. I wish for a quiet, happy life for me and those who surround me."

Nothing happened.

"Furthermore, I had been honest to the best of my abilities when I confessed my origins to Deruth Henituse."

Deruth exhaled. He felt relieved but also something he couldn't really describe.

"Thank you." He nodded towards the other.

"No more questions?" The transmigrator asked.

"No, let's go home."

"Was this really wise? The god of death is the reason you ended up here in the first place." Deruth pointed out once they were back in the carriage.

Rok Soo shrugged. "If he wanted me dead he would have done so already. There must be a reason why he wanted Cale to survive."

Deruth sighed. It was still hard, to hear the other speak so callously over all of this.

"Well, what about you? Have you decided what I should call you?"

The other stared at him, contemplating.

"Are you really not considering kicking me out?"

"No, you saved my son when I had been too late. It doesn't make things easier but offering you a home is the least I could do. You might not be my son but we could at least try to be friends. Besides if my late wife truly saw something horrible in Cale's future it might befall you now instead."

"Wouldn't it then make more sense to throw me as far aways as possible?" Rok Soo commented.

Deruth only raised an unimpressed brow.

"Friends, huh?" The transmigrator sighed and looked out of the window. "Wouldn't that be something?"

He thought over the Count's words.

"I must admit that, in the last few months I kinda got used to the name Cale. If your offer is not burdening you, I promise to keep the name in honor."

Maybe it would be alright for Kim Rok Soo to rest.

Deruth smiled and slapped his knee as he laughed.

"Let's drink to that!" He looked down at the boy.

"Well, once you hit the double digits."

Chapter 7: A shield for the feeble

Chapter Text

"You want to go out?" Deruth questioned behind his desk.

Cale nodded.

"I need to gain an ancient power," he explained easily.

Deruth blinked at him in slight shook.

"An ancient power? Here in Rain City?" He asked incredulous. Surely they would have noticed it by now.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did you find out?"

Cale turned his eyes away, face blank but by now, Deruth was very familiar with the other.

He knew what that expression meant. The other was trying to decide if he should tell him or not.

"Fine. It's alright," he waved it off. "I don't need to know but what do you need an ancient power for?" The other had after all proclaimed to wanting to live a quiet life. He was more than willing to support that but an ancient power would get him a lot of attention.

"For my survival. I need this and another power and it should take care of my health problems."

Deruth hummed. Even a second, huh? But it would be a relief. Over the years, Cale's health hadn't declined but it also hadn't improved.

It left everyone but the person in question anxious.

"Then take Ron and at least a knight with you," the Count commented and Cale grimaced.

"Do I have to?"

"What if you faint? Or something else happened? I'm not questioning your capabilities but right now you're a sickly ten year old."

Five years had passed since that tragic dead. Deruth lost a lot but he also gained something in return.

Cale's lipped thinned to a displeased line.

"I won't. I feel good today and it has been a while since I fainted." He sounded so nonchalant about it, that Deruth couldn't help but splutter.

"Rok Soo!" Deruth raised his voice.

Cale twitched at the use of his real name.

"You're a lot of things, but clearly not fine!" He massaged his eyes. "For god's sake, you drink alcohol to manage through the day," he mumbled to himself but it was loud enough to carry across the room.

It had been a shock, when they found out that wine helped with the pain better than the medication and potions. Deruth didn't want the other to becomes an alcoholic because of their incompetence but it was the only thing that seemingly worked. He also didn't want to patronize the other but it was still only under watchful eyes, that Cale was allowed to sip wine on bad days.

The Count tried to always keep in hindsight that the other had an adult mind but he couldn't help but wonder if getting stuck in a child's body had reset some higher brain functions of the other. How else could he be so flippant with his health?

Cale shifted on the spot, feeling slightly guilty. It wasn't as if alcohol worked that much better than the painkillers, it was mostly that, at this point, he was afraid of growing addicted to them, no matter how little relief they gave him. The buzz from the alcohol, he could handle better.

Still, he couldn't budge from his plans. He already wasted too much time. Before he could deal with Harris Village, and subsequently Choi Han, he needed the shield. He will work hard for a little time and the earlier he started, the more time he had to idle later.

Deruth felt his headache grow when the other only stared imploringly back at him but he still couldn't let him run around unsupervised. Cale didn't even know how to wield a sword for god's sake! He wouldn't be surprised if little Basen, only three right now, would overtake him in strength in a few years.

His eyes strayed over the room before they halted before the closed door. Behind them, like always, Ron must be dutifully waiting for Cale to come out.

If Cale didn't want adults around then maybe somebody younger.

"Take Beacrox with you," Deruth offered.

"What? Why?" Cale paled.

"I know that he trains with the knights in his spare time and he's strong enough to carry you around if you drop dead."

"That's a lot of concern you show your poor son," Cale commented dryly.

"Either take him or take me," Deruth huffed out before he smiled brightly, clapping his hands.

"Think about it! A father and son outing! But ah, imagine the attention it would bring if the lord of this land was strolling around with his sickly child," Deruth mused theatrical, shaking his head.

"You're worse than me," Cale muttered. "Fine, I get it. I take Beacrox with me. Maybe I can bribe him to be quiet," he added to himself.

Then he remembered another thing. He smiled impishly at the other and Deruth observed him warily.

"What now?

"I need money," he stated.

Deruth was slightly taken back but answered easily.

"That's all? For what?"

Cale smile stretched wider. "Food."

The count raised a brow. The transmigrator ate like a rabbit, barely enough to sustain himself. If he really wanted to eat while in town, Deruth would be the last person to stop him.

"Please give me an enchanted bag to!"

"Sure," Deruth agreed, slightly bemused. Just how much did Cale plan to purchase?

Beacrox refrained from sighing as he stood before the latest shop. At least this time it wasn't a bakery. He couldn't - and frankly doesn't want to - understand what the young master wanted to do with all that bread. He had thought the younger boy to be smart and now wondered why he thought so in the first place.

Why the bread?

He was told to accompany the young master because he wanted to explore the city but besides looking a bit around as they walked, all his interest seemed to be focused on the bakeries and bread.

To be fair, it wasn't just bread. The young heir purchased all the goods, from pastries to the leftovers from the day before.

But why? If the redhead had an obsession with baked goods of all things, surely his father would have warned him. Or maybe his father found this immensely entertaining and watched him suffer from the shadows? Maybe the young master was in it from the beginning? And he and father had the same kind of humor?

Was this all a prank? A test?

Beacrox didn't know and it was driving him crazy.

"Beacrox?"

He flinched as the other waved something before his face.

"What?"

Cale frowned at him.

"Take them."

"Take what?" More bread?

"This."

Beacrox looked at the thing in the young master's hand. It looked like gloves?

"What?" He repeated if only because he didn't know what to say.

"The gloves!" Cale shoved them nearly into his face and Beacrox had no choice but to take the offered item. It were gloves. White in color and soft to the touch. Obvious high quality.

"Why?"

Cale looked at him as if he was slow.

"So you don't have to touch stuff you don't want to."

Beacrox only blinked dumbly and Cale furrowed his brows.

"Just take them. Pretend it's a birthday present."

"But it's not my birthday."

"That's why I said pretend. Honestly, you're not usually this slow."

Beacrox narrowed his eyes but Cale looked back unimpressed.

"How did you notice?" Besides his father, nobody else noticed it. Beacrox thought he hide it well.

"It was obvious," Cale easily said and turned around. "Now let's go. I want to finish this before I become tired."

Beacrox still didn't know what this was - there was a point to all that bread? - but followed along. If there was a small smile on his face, no one had to know.

There was a black hole by the tree. Beacrox rubbed at his eyes but it didn't change.

A big black hole.

And Cale was leaning down towards it.

"Young master!" He called out and tugged the boy back. His heart pounded in his chest. His father would kill him if something happened to Cale!

Cale jerked out of his grip with an irritated huff.

"Relax. Give me the bag."

"With the bread?" He questioned, just to be sure.

"Yes, that one."

Beacrox did as asked and could only stare as the other emptied the whole bag into the hole. One bakery good after another fell out of the bag and got swallowed by the black emptiness. All the while, the smile on the redhead's face grew. He never saw the young master look that satisfied.

"Are you... feeding the tree?" He questioned incredulous. How? Why? And how did he even know about it?

Cale's expression cleared and he was confronted with the young master's usual apathetic look. Only this time it seemed to question his intelligence.

"I'm feeding the hole," Cale explained without explaining anything.

"Sorry," Cale mumbled into his shoulder and Beacrox refrained him sighing.

"It's alright young master."

On their way back from that weird experience that Beacrox will certainly never talk about with anybody else, Cale grew tired and began to sway.

Not wanting to cause a fuss and call for help, Beacrox just offered the younger boy a piggy back ride.

"You can't tell the count," Cale said after a while.

He's never going to let me live it down! Cale thought furiously. He's going to live with smug I told you so's for the rest of the month.

Beacrox didn't mention that by now, the count most likely knew that his son nearly collapsed. He had been well aware of the people shadowing their steps, though they were carefully to keep their distance and most likely didn't saw the black hole thing.

Hopefully.

Because he had no idea how to explain that.

"What have you been doing?" Ron asked as he took the passed out Cale of his son's back.

Beacrox opened his mouth to answer before it fell shut with a click. He watched the pale boy in his father's arms.

"I promised not to tell," he said, instead of answering.

'Oho?'

Ron's smile didn't stray from his face as he laid the young master against his shoulder.

"Is that so?" He sounded amused and Beacrox tensed, ready for an confrontation and preparing the words he wanted to speak but all his father did was let out a chuckle.

"Of course, promises are important." He hummed and with his free hand ruffled Beacrox' hair, to show him that he really wasn't upset. That he trusted Beacrox enough to know he would tell him, if it was important.

"We grew quite comfortable here, didn't we?" Ron mused aloud and didn't know if he liked it or not.

The child in his arm shivered slightly and Ron held him closer.

"This is child exploitation," Cale grumbled as he threw aside another written form to the coffee table before him.

To his right, behind the desk and with his own impressive stable of documents, Deruth only chuckled.

"The faster we finish, the faster we can join my adorable wife and son in the gardens!" He commented as he idly signed another document.

Cale leaned back against the couch.

"You're the only one who would call Violan adorable. She's vicious."

"She's not."

"She threatened me when you two got married!"

"You're exaggerating. Don't you think that all in all she took the news rather well, that her new stepson is a transmigrator from another world?"

Cale scoffed.

"She was ready to castrate me if I made you cry," he argued.

"Isn't it admirable to see how she can see past your childish appearance and the danger that lurks behind your eyes."

"Just yesterday I got a paper cut and nearly cried."

"Danger comes in many forms," Deruth replied without skipping a beat. "Now let's finish. Then you can go back to feeding your tree."

"I'm not feeding the tree."

"Don't forget to take Beacrox with you this time too." Deruth ignored his words.

Cale muttered something inaudible under his breath as he stretched his hand out to take the next paper to check over, before Deruth remembered something else

"You mentioned it was a shield power using the strength of the heart, wouldn't it be useless in your hands? Your heart is pretty weak," the Count pointed out.

"That's why I plan to get a second ancient power in Puzzle city that does exactly that. With that, my health problems should be taken care of."

"I don't even want to know how you found that out," he shook his head and tapped his desk with a finger, must be all those books the other read, he reasoned.

"But Puzzle city is in the Stan territory. They would be wary as to why we visited. Especially as our territory is flourishing more than ever in comparison."

Most of it was thanks to the knowledge of the boy before him. Some ideas that the people of his world came up were truly indigenous. He felt better, knowing that his son was growing up in a world like that.

It didn't made the hurt go away, but it made it bearable.

Deruth rubbed his chin.

"I guess we could go to Puzzle city under the pretense of visiting the stone festival," he mused.

"You missed the recent one for that. The next one is going to be in a year," a feminine voice commented and they both jerked to the entrance doors.

Violan raised a brow at them, unimpressed.

"What are you two scheming this time?"

"Adorable, huh?" Cale muttered under his breath and smiled guileless when the countess turned towards him. The smile became softer as, behind her skirt, Basen peeked out.

"Dad! Brother!" the little boy lisped and once he was certain he got their attention, skipped across the room and towards Cale.

The transmigrator huffed as his brother climbed up his lap.

"Festival!?" he asked with sparkling eyes.

Over Basen's head, Deruth send him a withering glare.

"Shouldn't he have run to his father? Why does he like you more?" He grumbled.

Violan chuckled but stepped towards her husband, patting him on the shoulder in consolation.

"Sorry Basen, no festival," Cale apologized to the boy and watched him settle back with a sulk.

"If you want a pretense I can give you one," Violan smiled slightly, something sly in her expression.

Cale was going to regret it but he nodded for her to continue.

"There's going to be a week long banquet, really more of a play date, for noble children in the royal palace. Either while going to or back you can pass by Puzzle city without catching any attention."

Cale had to carefully keep the disgust from his face but judging from Violan's amused expression, he didn't manage.

"You're going to have to make your social debut sooner or later, anyways," she added.

He hated social outings. Thankfully, using his waning health, he only had to entertain Eric Wheelman when his father came over for business.

"Maybe if you spend some time around children you start acting like one," Deruth commented, obviously amused at his expense.

"Or you wait till next year. We can make it a family vacation," Violan shrugged her shoulders and made even that simple action look elegant.

Cale thought her words over. Had he even that much time? His health wasn't declining rapildy but it also wasn't getting any better.

A year wasn't that long but there was the matter with Harris Village and Choi Han. But then, another year slacking off sounded nice too.

He was torn.

Basen tugged at his locks to get his attention.

"What is it?"

"Cale sad?" The child looked at him with big wide eyes.

"No, I'm not sad," Cale took his hair out of the boy's grasp. It was already hitting his shoulders, maybe it was time to cut it?

"Is there something important in Puzzle city?" Violan asked as she walked towards them and took the toddler into her arms.

The redhead sighed and Deruth took over to explain.

"An ancient power, dear. Cale is sure the Heart of Vitality is in Puzzle city."

Violan hummed in understanding. The name alone was explanation enough.

"The banquet goes over two weeks but if you cite your health, nobody would bother you," she offered. "Either me or Deruth could make time and go with you, if you want."

She tickled Basen's nose to make him giggle. "Besides, Count Wheelman's son is also currently in the capital. You two get along, don't you? Use him as a shield."

Cale frowned slightly.

"He's already there? What's he doing there?"

"He's under the tutelage of Viscountess Katherine, a cousin of his father. She's known as a very traditional and strict person. Maybe we should send you also to her?" She mused.

"Hilarious," Cale commented and moved to stand and as he set down both of his feet, the ground tilted around him and the next think he knew, he was looking up towards the ceiling.

Violan stared down at him concerned and out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the figure of Deruth hurrying over.

He must have passed out for just a second then, he reasoned.

"I'm fine," he assured and tasted blood on his lips as he spoke. He slowly sat up with the help of Violan.

"Ouchie!" Basen pointed to his nose and blearily, Cale grabbed the boy's hand that was stretching out towards his face.

"Don't touch it. You'll get dirty."

He didn't stop Deruth, when he reached out towards him with a handkerchief and held it up under his running nose.

"Let's get you to bed."

"The papers," Cale reminded. They weren't finished and honestly, it was only a nosebleed.

"You helped more than enough for today."

Deruth's smile was full of concern and Cale wondered if he still had trouble to differentiate between Cale the son and Cale the transmigrator.

But a bed sounded nice.

Chapter 8: Heart for the Frail

Chapter Text

Basen stuck to Cale's leg as he sobbed.

Behind them, various servants and knights cooed at the scene without trying to hide it, as they prepared the carriages.

The young attendant Hans the worst of them.

"Don't go!" Basen cried, fat tears dripping down his eyes.

"Brother don't go!"

Cale sighed.

Before them, Deruth crouched down and opened his arms.

"Basen don't you want to go to Dad?"

"No!"

The instant rejection made Deruth hang his head desolately and Basen's crying got only louder as he tried to climb up into his elder brother's arms.

Cale ignored the gloomy father and kneeled down. Basen immediately threw his little arms around his neck, pressing as close as possible.

"Don't go!" He repeated, voice wet. His whole face was burning from his crying and stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Cale tried to untangle him with little success.

Was the three year old stronger than him?

"Basen, I'll be back," he explained and threw a helpless look towards Violan who only watched back. Highly amused.

Great, no help there. Just as useless as Deruth.

"I go with brother," the boy mumbled into his neck before turning his head towards his parents.

"I go with brother!" He declared to them firmly.

"Oh my god~" Hans squealed somewhere in the back and Cale wondered if he wasn't secretly a teenaged girl.

"Basen, Daddy is going to take a vacation. How about it? We can play the whole week!" Deruth tried to persuade his son.

"No!" The boy shook his head and turned back to his elder brother. If possible, his little fingers tightened even more.

Cale exhaled slowly.

"Basen, I bring you a present."

"Present?" Basen asked and his hold lessened. Cale used the opportunity to grab his hands and move them away from his neck.

"Yes, a present. Don't you like presents?"

Basen seem to think it over, bitting his lip in thought.

"I want Cale."

Cale pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I play with you when I come back. Okay?" He offered and he watched as the boy froze for a moment, before his eyes sparkled.

"Play with me?" He repeated in wonder.

Not that it was surprising, Cale never played with the boy, which is why he didn't understand why the child liked him so much in the first place.

He let the boy hang around him, but that was about it.

"Yes, after I'm back. If I don't go I won't play with you."

The child was clearly torn.

"Brother play with me?"

"Yes."

"Bring me present?"

"Yes"

Cale thought that was it but tears gathered in the boy's eyes again.

"But I want brother now," he argued.

"I want to go with brother!" He started anew.

Cale exhaled. He didn't know where children took the energy for pointless arguments from.

It had taken another round of persuading before the youngest Henituse was finally ready to let go and Cale had left feeling relieved but also slightly guilty, as a teary eyed Basen waved him off from his father's arms.

Young master?"

Cale jerked awake from where he was dozing in the carriage.

He grimaced and massaged his neck, stiff from the uncomfortable position, as he squinted towards the door.

"What?" He asked, voice as gruff as his ten year old vocals allowed.

Beacrox was not bothered by his tone and moved the door wider open.

"We're in Puzzle city." He announced and eyed him critically, offering a hand when Cale stepped out of the carriage with shaky feet. His back hunched bepfore he stretched lightly.

"My father is already reserving the rooms. I should tell you that he'll make sure it's the best they're offering. It would be best for your back."

Cale shot him a glare.

"I'm not an old man," he muttered, even though he was more than happy with the idea of a soft bed. He didn't mind camping but after getting used to the luxurious bed in the Henituse Castle, everything else just felt inadequate.

"Why did you even come with us?" Cale asked.

He hadn't specifically asked for him and Beacrox was more than busy the last months. He was nearly finished with his apprenticeship as a cook and the times he was not in the kitchen, he was usually found beating up the Henituse knights with his overgrown sword.

There were bets all around the castle about how many the teen could beat.

Cale really wondered how the son of an assassin ended up being a wielder of a greatword but he knew better than to ask either of the Molans. He didn't fear them as much he did in the beginning, he and Beacrox got along just fine as their both quiet people, but sometimes he caught the elder Molan looking at him with a contemplating look, as if he tried to figure him or murder him.

He hoped it wasn't the later. Besides, surely, Cale hadn't been that much of a bother as a charge to the man. If at least compared to the original Cale. When exactly had he started to act like trash?

He didn't bother to dwell to long on those thoughts and waved the knights a short thanks as they moved into the inn.

"Somebody has to be there if the young master decides to feed trees again," the teenager offered bluntly as he followed him.

Cale didn't deign that with a response.

"I wan to go with hyung!" Cale declared brightly, tugging at a stone-faced Beacrox's arm.

He had the best sleep in days and even Ron's morning lemonade couldn't damp his mood. Now, he just needed to get rid of all the nuisances who could follow him.

The knights looked unsure among themselves before they decidingly looked at the highest ranked person, Ron.

The man was just smiling at the pair.

"Um, young master. Why doesn't at least one of us accompany you two? I promise you will barely notice us!" One of the knights offered carefully.

"And Phil was already in Puzzle City once! He can show you around!" Another adds.

"No, besides Beacrox is stronger than all of you. So isn't just he fine?" Cale said carelessly.

The knights exchanged dejected looks. The young master wasn't wrong but to hear it so bluntly still hurt their pride.

"You worked hard the last few days, didn't you?" Cale added. "So take the day off and enjoy yourself. All drinks paid for."

"Young master!" The knights voiced with shining eyes

"What do you want to do in town, young master?" Ron asked, knowing the knights were a lost cause.

Cale smiled back to hide his nervosity.

"Explore it."

"Is that so," the man hummed, smile not straying from his face and Cale nugged Beacrox to do something.

Beacrox sighed before relenting.

"I'll make sure to look after the young master," he said to his father. After all, how much trouble could Cale cause here?

Beacrox was ready to pace as he stared at the small hole in the rocks, where just minutes ago, Cale climbed in.

He wished he brought his great sword with him. Why didn't he grow suspicious the moment they left the bustling city behind and moved through the forest?

The younger boy had waved him off and ordered to wait for him here but Beacrox grew slowly more and more anxious, even though not a lot of time had passed.

What if something happened?

Cale was as strong as a rabbit! He couldn't defend himself.

Why did he listen to the other and left him alone?

He grimaced at the dirty ground. He didn't want to crawl in it and debated with himself.

He really didn't want to crawl in it but in the end, his worry won and he kneeled down.

If Cake turned out to be alright, Beacrox would strangle him himself, consequences be dammed.

Muttering curses under his breath, Beacrox sighed in relief when he could stand upright again. He dusted himself off as much as possible before looking around. Thankfully, light filtered in through some openings in the ceiling and a faint breeze drifted along.

After a bit of walking around, Beacrox was relieved to spot a shock of red hair.

He blinked taken back when the boy started laughing.

It echoed through the cave, loud and pleased as the boy patted his chest. The satisfied expression felt familiar.

The youngest Molan observed the other dumbfounded for a moment.

He never heard the other laugh like that.

He shook himself out of his stupor and began to approach him.

"Young master!" He called, his voice carrying across the cave and watched Cale freeze in motion.

"I thought I told you to wait outside?" He asked the teenager, voice annoyed.

Beacrox jogged over to him, his eyes checking over his figure.

"You're not hurt," he stated then his eyes narrow. "What did you do? Was this another ancient power?" He questioned, always quick on the uptake.

Why couldn't Cale just have said so from the beginning?

Cale opened his mouth to answer but a wet cough halted his words. Instinctively, he held his palm over his mouth before drawing it back.

He looked puzzled at the red flecks. He didn't had a long time to wonder before another cough stole his breath.

"Cale!" Beacrox called in alarm as the transmigrator doubled over, one cough after another leaving his throat.

What started as little flecks, turned to an alarming flow of blood as the ten year old didn't manage to stop coughing.

His heart beat wildly and Cale felt shocked at the amount of blood leaving his lips.

His body trembled.

What was wrong?

He had been unsure if the heart of vitality would actually manage to improve his health but he didn't expect it to derail it.

He ignored the panicked teenager besides him and calmed himself. He needed a clear head and remember the describtions in the novel about it.

As he calmed, he noticed that he actually felt better already.

His body felt lighter, headache receding and even his chest pain was nearly gone. His lips twitched into a smile even as he spluttered up the last drops of blood stuck in his lungs.

What an amazing power. He had wondered how good it would work. As it only healed new injuries and not old but it seemed it was somehow still working on his body.

For now, he was very pleased. He could figure out the details later.

Amazing. Had he known, he would have searched it out much earlier.

"Young master?" Beacrox called out warily. He calmed when the other started to smile but the younger boy was still all but dead weight against his arms.

"I'm fine," Cale answered, voice a little rough from coughing. "I'm more than fine. This is great," he commented as the straightened himself.

Beacrox looked skeptical at his bloodied appearance.

"You coughed up a lot of blood. Sit down for a moment." He didn't know what happened, while he foolishly trusted the other to look after himself but coughing up blood was a sure sign of some internal damage.

Cale fainting or falling into fevers became normal over the years but the blood was alarming.

"I'm fine," Cale insisted, waving his concern away and Beacrox wanted to strangle him. How can a person be so careless?

"You're clearly not!" the teen argued. "All that blood-"

"It's an ancient power," the other interjected, confirming his hunch.

Beacrox stilled his hovering hands.

"Like the shield?" He asked before shaking his head. "This is different. The blood-"

Cale sighed, annoyed at the pointless repetition.

"It's called the Heart of Vitality. I won't bleed out with it."

Beacrox still didn't look convinced but seeing as Cale was standing securely on his own feet, he retreated his hands.

"It heals you?"

Cale nodded and Beacrox followed him as he made to leave. He had other questions but for now-

"How are you going to explain this to my father?" Beacrox indicated to the blood on his sleeve and the front of his shirt.

Cale inspected it before growing pale.

"sh*t."

Chapter 9: In the capital

Chapter Text

It was a sunny day, the gardens behind the palace presented themselves in brilliant colors and first Prince Alberu wanted to burn it all to the ground.

"Why can't he for once explain?!" Alberu complained uncharacteristically, his voice growing more agiated, the more he thought about it. Besides him, his aunt was following him at a more sedaded pace.

" 'If you had read your assigments you would have understood what I'm talking about your highness'," the young prince imitated. "'Maybe his highness should read at a lower level!'"

"Maybe I should stick father's scepter up his ass and-"He muttered indignantly and the woman besides him let out a chuckle.

"Dear nephew, maybe you should calm yourself? Not that I disagree."

Alberu kicked a wayward stone and watched it hit the pond as he sighed.

"How should I know what the difference between oligopoly and duopoly is if he doesn't even tell me what oligo means?"

There was real frustration in his voice and Tasha drew a hand over his hair in sympathy.

"Let's look together later and-"

"Oligo means few or scant. A duopoly is a type of oligopoly." A voice cut in and the both of them flinched in surprised.

Tasha dragged her nephew to her side and scanned her surroundings. There should be no one here. It was private property and the lack of a path, unkept wild growths and the trees made it an unappealing strolling spot.

To have somebody sneak past her.

Unforgivable.

She blinked when she spied the owner of the voice. There on the edge of the pond, lay a small child. His form nearly hidden by the tall grass around him.

She relaxed slightly. Now that she calmed, the voice had sounded awfully young.

"Then why would he ask after the difference?" Alberu asked, as he stepped out from behind her, having also located the intruder.

Tasha thought he really should have sorted his priorities, no matter how upset he was about his tutor, and asked something more important, like how the boy got here.

The child didn't even bother to open his eyes as they stepped closer, basking in the sun.

"Maybe he wants to promote self-learning and critical thinking," the boy states blandly and then adds as an afterthought, "or he's just a jerk."

Alberu was pretty sure it was the latter, though he also wouldn't rule out plain incompetence.

"Who are you?"He asked, narrowing his eyes.

The other looks younger than him but from the clothes he wore, obviously a noble or at least the son of a rich merchant. His nonchalant tone even while faced with royality means most likely that he hadn't recognized him. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet! Even with his unfavorable position, Alberu had never been treated with such disrespect.

The child sighed, as if annoyed, before probing himself up on his elbows and lazily swiweled his head towards them.

Alberu could tell the exact moment the boy realised to whom he was talking to. His whole counterance froze for a moment and he blinked at them before exhaling slowly and letting himself fall to the ground.

"Your highness, do you need to know the name of such a lowly being as me?" He asked, facing the sky.

There was something in his tone that Alberu couldn't make out but it made him smile. How impudent. Anybody else, child or adult, would have scrambled to their feet and bowed lowly in apology.

"I insist."

The child let out a sigh once again.

"Cale Henituse, please forgive my impudence." Or better yet forget my whole existence, Cale didn't say.

"Count Henituse' son?" Alberu mused aloud. The Henituse were a neutral family and stayed out of the spotlight. The only remarkable thing about them was their wealth. Which would maybe explain why their heir was knowledgeable about market forms.

"What are you doing here?"

Cale waved his hand in the directions of an estate past the trees.

"Tea party."

"Tea party?" Alberu exchanged a glance with Tasha. Was there such a thing planned for today?

"Yes, for children. Social mingling and what not. Surely, his highness is aware of it. You live here."

He wasn't aware. Alberu glowered inside. Just another thing he hadn't been informed of.

The Henituse boy looked at him as if he wanted nothing more than for him than to leave, so Alberu did exactly the opposite. He smiled brightly and flopped down on the ground besides him.

He waved of Tasha's concerns and the boy followed his movements warily.

"So, market forms!" Alberu began brightly.

"Market forms?" The boy raised a brow.

"Market forms," Alberu affirmed, smile not twitching out of place. "And I forget all about your impudence."

The redhead copied his smile and agreed.

"Market forms!"

"-that market failure is thought to be caused by other systems, and after removing those exogenic systems, thus freeing the markets, the free markets could run without market failures. In formal economic theory-"

Alberu watched the boy explain with rapt attention. He paid attention not that much to the context but more to the sheer volume of information the boy offered. Even when he had interjected with questions, Cale hadn't stumbled over a single word and he sounded as if he memorized a whole book on the subject!

"Your highness, are you listening?" Cale asked, tone as bland as his face.

"Of course," Alberu replied with a smile.

"What have I just said?"

Alberu ignored Tasha giggling behind him as he moved to answer.

"Why, you talked about market forms."

Cale didn't look impressed. "If his higness is not interested anymore then I should take my-"

"Cale!" A voice called out and Alberu watched the irritation on the other's face grow.

"Cale! I looked everywhere for you! I promised our parents to look after you, why did you run away?" A boy around Alberu's age appeared through the trees, stumpling over the vegetations. His chest heaving and expression upset.

"What if something happened!?" He questioned, seeminlgy not noticing the Prince sitting in his vicinity.

"What a drag," Cale muttered under his breath. "Don't worry, his highness was looking over me," he explained brightly, indicating towards the Prince and Alberu blinked taken back at the sudden change in demeanor.

"H-his highness?" The boy squaked out and Alberu nodded to himself. This was a much more familiar reaction.

The boy somehow managed to flush and pale at the same time as he bowed hastily.

"I- I apologize for my rudeness, your highness! I am Eric Wheelsmann, son of Count Wheelsman. I apologize for any misdemeanor of Cale. He only recently joined social outings and has still trouble following prober etiquett. If there is any need for compensation please don't hesistate to either contact the Henituse or Wheelsman County. It will be all taken care of."

Alberu blinked at the hastily spoken words, part of him impressed that the boy managed to speak all of it in a single breath and another at the content. Just how much trouble did the redhead get into, for the boy to have memorized such a sentence?

"What am I? A disobeying dog?" Cale mumbled under his breath, eyebrow twitching. It had been quiet but Wheelsman wheeled on his heels towards him.

"You caused a food fight!"

"I did no such thing."

"You chucked a cake at the second prince!"

"What drivel. I would never waste a shortcake for such a thing. He did that all by himself," Cale dismissed but there was a small glint in his eye.

"Robbit threw a cake at himself?" Alberu questioned incredulous, somewhere between disbelief and amusem*nt.

"Are the details that important?" Cale shrugged his shoulders and Wheelsmann blanched besides him as he remembered that they were not alone.

Alberu wanted to know, he really did, but he could get the accounts from the servants sooner or later. For now, he had found something much more interesting.

"They aren't," Alberu agreed and ignored the look Cale threw him as he stood up.

"Young master Eric, I apologize for monopolizing your friend." He turned to Cale still sitting on the grass. "Young master Cale, thank you very much for your help." He stretched out a hand to help the boy up but after a bit of consideration, Cale ignored the proffered arm and stood up by himself. Sluggish and slow but with someting like grace.

"No, no, your highness. We're sorry for disturbing you," Wheelman apologized meekly but as Cale finally stood straight, Wheelman tugged the boy closer to him and slightly behind.

Alberu's smile didn't do much more than twitch.

'Protective, are you?'

Eric Wheelman looked back with a meek expression but his eyes were sharp.

"Your higness, I thank you for your time!" Cale exclaimed, breaking the tension that had fallen over the two boys and with a bow that felt mocking, turned without looking back.

Wheelman left to scramble after him.

"Cale! Please wait!"

"What did you talk about with his highness?" Eric asked as he hurried after him.

Cale stopped abruptly and turned towards the other.

"Why are you limping?" He asked out of nowhere. Eric blinked at him, then down on his feet.

"Uh, I stumbled on the roots when I looked for you," he explained, evading his eyes.

Cale gave a noncommit hum but didn't ask further as he began to move again. This time at a more sedate pace.

"You didn't answer my question," Eric complained.

"Nothing important. He was just annoying."

"You can't talk like that about royalty!" The gray haired boy hissed as he looked around if somebody was able to overhear them.

Cale's lip curled in distaste. Royalty, right. The last person he wanted to get involved with. The future crown prince. The novel didn't paint him as a villain but Cale wanted to stay as far as possible from such a troublesome person.

Days later, Alberu grew slightly frustrated.

There was not much to know about Cale Henituse. He was after all only ten, five year younger than Alberu himself. Still, the lack of information was a sore point.

The oldest and only son of Count Deruth Henituse and his late wife who died of illness. The boy himself seemed to have inherited his mother's weak constitution and it was made no secret that he spend a lot of time out of the public's eye for health reasons. There was really nothing special about him. His stepmother was from a fallen noble line, and his younger half-brother only three.

There was nothing special about Cale Henituse on paper.

But Alberu knew the truth. Saw the well of information the boy sported. He could use him. If he proved himself useless right now, he could still become an important piece in the future.

He just needed a way to incite the boy. No matter how smart he was, he was still only ten.

How hard could that be?

Cale glared at the letter with a royal seal.

It was the seventh letter in four days.

Seventh!

He hadn't even bothered to open them. He knew they were most likely invitation to the palace.

Cale hadn't a clue what the blond menace wanted from him but he had been just a breath away from commisioning Ron to assassinate him. It would derail the orginal novel's plot but by now, Cale had just been sick of it.

He didn't want the attention of the two-faced prince! They only meet once and Cale had been nothing but rude to him.

Why would he even want to talk to him?

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts and he watched his second headache of the day walk in.

Eric Wheelman grinned at him.

"Prince Alberu asked after you again," he said. "He send well wishes for your recovery."

Right, Cale used his health as an excuse to stay away from sozialising. There was only so many spoiled rich brats he could handle. It didn't even matter what age. The younger screamed around and the older played at being adults with little success.

He really started to appreciate Basen after that experience, he was such a blessing in comparison. He needed to find a great gift for him.

Eric moved towards the couch and Cale eyed him critically.

"You're limping again," he pointed out.

The pale haired boy flinched for a moment before he let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, I just twisted my ankle."

Cale crossed his arms and raised an unimpressed brow.

"Really?"

Eric squirmed on his seat.

"Really," he affirmed, evading his eyes.

What bullsh*t, Cale thought and without much preamble walked over and grabbed one of the boy's feet as he kneeled before him.

As Kim Rok Soo, he was more than familiar with all kinds of injuries and also more than familiar with people trying to hide them. His team learned the hard way that it was considered unacceptable. After the first time somebody tried it, Cale made sure to put the fear of the devil into them.

They never tried again

"Cale!" Eric shouted, voice surprised but also pained and swiftly, Cale slide off the shoe and sock in one go and threw it aside.

His expression didn't change as he saw angry red welts.

"Stop it!" Eric jerked his foot away and curled it close to him.

"Eric-" Cale began.

"It's nothing. Forget it. Please," Eric pleaded, face tense.

'He's under the tutelage of his aunt. She's known as very strict and traditional.'

Cale remembered Violan's words.

But there was a difference between strict and abusive.

"Why didn't you tell your father?" Cale asked bluntly. He didn't know Count Wheelman well but surely, he wouldn't find that acceptable and if he did, then Cale needed to have a word with Deruth about what friends he held.

Eric looked at him in surprise.

"It's Viscountess Katherine's doing, right?"

The boy's lips pressed together. It was admission enough.

"We'll tell your father once you get treated."

Eric clenched his hands over his legs. "We can't," he mumbled out. "Viscountess Katherine is my father's cousin. She's like a big sister to him and he listens to her."

"Then I will tell him," Cale decided and as he moved to stand, Eric tugged him downwards in a panic.

"You can't!" He pleaded.

"Why not? It's not right. You are just a kid. No child should be physically or even verbally abused because they're stupid." Cale would never make a compromise on that, no matter how backwards this society was in somethings. "Not that you are particularly stupid," he added.

Eric worried his lip. "But the Viscountess-"

"Screw her."

"Cale!" Eric called out aghast.

"Do you really think your parents want you to suffer, just to learn some outdated etiquette?"

The boy, just a year older than Cale, so very young, looked back at the ground uncertain.

"What if I'm just stupid?" He whispered. "I deserve it if I can't do it." Tears gathered in his eyes and he rubbed them away angrily. "I can do nothing right!"

"Listen, look at me Eric," Cale sat down besides he other boy and shook him by the shoulders. He waited till the boy manged to lift his head.

His red eyes only made Cale more mad.

"There are a lot of assholes in this world who deserved to be hit. You are not one of them. A child should never be it. Even if you acted like the worst brat possible. It still wouldn't make it right."

Eric didn't look convinced and Cale breathed out angrily.

For now, he saw it a lost cause and moved to the door. Unsurprisingly, Ron was already standing behind it, first aid kit in hand.

Cale didn't even want to know.

He didn't say anything and let the man in.

If possible, Eric paled even further once he saw the butler.

"I am under the impression young master Eric is hurt?"

The boy glared at the both of them.

"Let's get over with it. Shoes off," Cale ordered.

Eric felt humiliated and weird and he wanted nothing more than to escape the room.

"Let's just forget it Cale, please," he pleaded. His nose was stuffed and his eyes burned but Cale looked back at him uncompromising.

"No." He jerked his head towards the couch. "Lay down on your stomach."

Eric fidgeted before deflating. With a hung head, he all but threw himself into the cushions.

"I hate you," he muttered into the covers.

Cale snorted and Ron moved to sit down before him and inspected the wounds.

He watched his expression darken as he took in the injury. No doubt an idea already forming.

"What barbaric ways," the man muttered under his breath.

Cale wondered if such teaching methods were really that surprising for an assassin. He couldn't imagine that the Molans teaching method's were gentle but then again, as far as Cale was aware, Ron never raised his hand against Beacrox.

The red head looked over the angry red gashes. He would never try to understand why somebody would hurt a child.

"It's going to burn a little bit," Ron warned as he dabbed a cotton pad into the disinfectant.

Eric gave no answer but that was alright. Let the kid be angry with them.

Eric twitched as Ron cleaned the wound but didn't voice any discomfort.

"Young master Eric, I need to lift your pants a little bit up," Ron said but Eric didn't give answer.

Cale drew closer in confusion. It cleared when even more welts presented itself on his calves.

He walked around like that?

Cake didn't particularly care for the other boy but he was still just that, a child.

"You need to tell your father," he said as he watched the gentle hands of Ron work. He was surprised at himself, that he managed to keep his voice level. It has been a while, since Cale felt such anger.

Eric was just a little kid!

"You can't!" Eric argued, voice muffled by the cushions. Tears fell once again from his eyes.

"Please, you can't." He sobbed helplessly.

Ron and Cale exchanged a glance and Cale blanched when Ron indicated pointedly at the distressed boy.

Cale shook his head, looking helplessly at the sobbing boy and when Cale didn't do anything, the man narrowed his eyes slightly at him. Barely enough to be noticed but the expression drilled into Cale.

The transmigrator paled further. He wondered if this was how his team had felt, when confronted with his displeasure. It would explain why they scrambled around like headless chickens whenever Kim Rok Soo let irritation bleed onto his face. He felt kinda sorry now.

He resolved himself and shuffled closer to the boy, patting him on the shoulder.

Eric froze at his touch.

"You can't tell father, please," he mumbled again.

Cale exhaled.

"You're smart. You don't know what's it like," Eric suddenly said, hissing when Ron turned to the other foot.

"You don't have to learn. You know everything. Aunt Katherine is a smart person. If she can make me better-"

"Your aunt Katherine is dumb sh*t," Cale interrupted and Ron had to push Eric down again when he jerked up in indignation.

"She's not!"

"She is," Cale told him bluntly. "If she needs to hit you to teach, then that's a telling sign that she's dumb."

His gaze softened when he stared at the tear streaked face.

"You said I'm smart, didn't you? So listen to me when I tell you that it's going to be alright."

"Thank you for informing me, young master Cale," a pale Count Wheelman thanked him.

Cale smiled politely at the projected image. He had expected it but it was still a relief to have confirmation that Eric's father didn't know.

The Count shifted slightly on his seat.

"Eric doesn't want to talk with me?"

Cale shook his head.

The man released a wan breath as he held his head.

"Katherine, she-," he stopped himself and massaged the bridge of his nose. "He must be so mad and scared," he mumbled under his breath.

"He was mostly afraid that you would be disappointed in him," Cale explained.

"I would never-" the Count started agitated before relaxing.

"Would you please tell him to call me once he's ready? And please relay to him that I'm neither mad nor disappointed."

Then he hesitated a little bit.

"His injuries are... "

"We treated them already and I also ordered some potions that should be delivered by noon or at the latest by next morning. It shouldn't leave him with any scarring," Cale informed and the Count sighed before slightly smiling.

"I guess I need to apologize to Count Deruth. I always thought he was exaggerating when praising you but I now see that young master Cale is indeed a very thoughtful and mature child."

He lowered his head and Cale blinked at him in shook.

'Deruth was talking about him?'

"Where is he?! Where's my Eric!?"

Cale caught her screaming in the foyer as he walked down the stairs, Ron close by his side.

"Viscountess Katherine, what a surprise," he spoke and caught the attention of the woman.

She turned to him and pointed at him with her closed fan.

"You son of a bitch! What gives you the right to interfere in family matters!" She spat.

The knights positioned by the entrance door shifted on their spots but Cale indicated with a hand for them to stand back.

He let his lips curl in amusem*nt as he stepped closer.

"My, such words," his smile deepened. "Is that what you taught Eric? No wonder he ran away in fright," he commented in a mock whisper.

The Viscountess turned even redder and Cale was almost disappointed how easy it was.

"You- you brat!" She missed and lifted her arm to slap him.

In an instance, Ron stepped up before Cale and caught her arm.

"The madam should think about whom she raises her hand against," he smiled at her.

The pale haired woman tugged at her arm and Ron let go, letting her stumble back, her heeled shoes click clacking on the floor.

"How dare a servant touch me! I thought the Henituse were a respectable family!"

She wrinkled her nose down at him before hiding her lower face behind her fan.

"Count Henituse must be disappointed. No wonder he remarried so quickly," she muttered with a loud voice.

Cale noticed some of the servants frowning at her but he smiled.

"I should ask your family for advice then. Seeing how they're used to deal with disappointments."

He watched the fury grow in the woman's eyes and his smile brightened.

"Tell me Viscountes, how did you manage to stay in the family without getting disowned? Let me get a pen and paper to write it down!"

He turned to one of the nearby maids.

"Would you please bring me some writing utensils?" he asked with twinkling eyes.

The Viscountess fought for words.

"Do you think I will stand for this-" she spluttered.

Cale snapped his fingers in her direction, as if in an 'aha' moment.

"You're right, let's prepare a sitting room! No need to stand around. How thoughtful of you Viscountess." He held a hand against his chest and bowed before her shallowly.

"Truly one of the greatest minds around."

It was interesting, it was as if she couldn't turn any more red, she decided to turn white instead. With her gray hair, it made her look like a washed out sheet.

"I have enough of this. Get me my nephew. We're leaving," she snapped out.

"Your nephew?" Cale asked in confusion. "Do we have somebody like that here?" He turned to Ron.

"She means young master Eric," Ron answered with a benign smile.

"Really? Viscountess Katherine and Eric are related? I would have never thought!" He held a hand before his mouth as he whispered to the butler in an easily overheard voice.

"Poor Eric. No wonder he's all distressed."

"Sometimes the apple does fall far from the tree," Ron answered, his voice carrying across the hall.

The Viscountess trembled before them and Cale watched, deeply amused as her attendants tried to calm her down.

"Is there anything else you need, madam?" He smiled innocently at her.

"I'll take my leave once I have my nephew," she bit out. Either finally hitting her limit in dealing with him or realizing that she had been arguing with a child.

Cale hummed, tapping his cheek in thought.

"That would be hard. You see Count Wheelman gave use instructions to care for his son, for the duration of his stay in the capital." He tilted his head.

"If I'll let him leave with you, that would be rather carelessly of us. Who says you're truly his aunt? He never mentioned you to me and I known him for years," Cale's eyes crinkled together.

"Can you identify yourself?" He asked, knowing how great of an insult it was to an aristocrat. They were used to be known, their clothes and their manner alone enough to show who they are.

The woman fumed at him, clearly fighting for words before she focused on his words.

"You contacted my cousin?" Her voice trembled slightly. Only this time not out of anger.

Cale nodded, if possible his smile stretched wider.

"Count Wheelman looked a tad bit upset to me but what do I know? You should know him best. You're family after all," he said brightly.

The attendants behind her whispered urgently and the Viscountess turned stoic before she turned on her heels.

"This is going to have consequences. A child should stay out of the business of adults," she said one last time, words clipped and strutted out of the building with her head held high.

Cale clicked his tongue when the door banged shut behind her. He ignored the sniffles up the staircase, no doubt Eric had been eavesdropping since the beginning.

He waved of the servants and once he was certain that only Ron remained, cought into his palm.

He had been suppressing it since the beginning and wasn't surprised to see his palm splattered with blood. Almost immediately, the burning feeling in his chest, which had been building up since the morning, receded and he felt refreshed.

What an amazing power. He really liked it much more than the shield.

It seemed it hadn't managed to heal him completely but at least it was preventing his condition from getting worse. Anytime he derailed, the power acted up.

A little bit of blood was a small price to pay.

He thanked Ron when he held up a handkerchief towards him but stiffened when the other laid a guiding hand to his shoulder, steering him up the staircase.

"Young master shouldn't push himself to much. I would advice some rest," the man smiled at him and Cale's eyes shook in fright at the scary glint in his eyes.

Ron sounded angry.

What did he do wrong?

Chapter 10: Let's talk

Chapter Text

Eric stormed back into his temporary room as his aunt left. He rubbed at his eyes but it didn't help as new tears gathered and spilled.

Eric didn't know what to feel. He liked his aunt, even if she was strict. She was family.

It was just how it was done in the capital, she always said. If he wanted to succeed, he needed to accept her guidances, she would add.

And Eric wanted to make his parents proud. He wanted to succeed. He wanted to be good.

Cale had no business in interfering!

So what if it hurt? It was Eric's fault and his alone and Cale shouldn't have stuck his nose in it.

Eric didn't like Cale.

He remembered when he met the other boy for the first time. He was only about a year younger but he looked much frailer in comparison. Pale and thin as a stick. Eric had been afraid of playing with the other boy when the adults left them alone. Afraid he would break him like one would a doll.

He remembered Count Henituse being deeply amused when he left them. Parting with mirth filled words of "good luck."

He didn't understand back then.

But now he knew.

The Count knew exactly what kind of rotten character his son had.

Cale barely spared him a glance before throwing himself into a seat by the window, staring outside with a blank look.

He was ignored completely.

"Just do whatever," he had said when Eric stuttered around the room.

"But leave me out of it," he added.

It didn't go much better with future visits but Eric was raised to be well-mannered and kind.

Well-bred, Viscountess Katherine always said.

But Cale was also the son of a Count.

Shouldn't he behave the same as himself?

Cale never fulfilled his expectations but over time, his grievances with the other boy shifted into something more positive. It started to be nice to hang out with the other boy. A reprieve from his usual days.

Cale didn't judge and the most expression he gave was a raised brow, a sigh or at the high of his emotions, a snort.

Eric could freely talk about whatever he wanted and even if it looked like Cale had payed no attention he was always able to recite about what he spoke.

Cale didn't care about manners and didn't care even if Eric made mistakes or misspoke. Even Amiru sometimes laughed at him if he did something embarrassing and shared it among her friends. Gilbert was often self-conscious and grew easily offended if Eric accidently bragged without meaning.

Cale never did.

Cale never let anything bother him.

Cale was different.

Eric used to like this.

He was brought out of his thoughts as the door opened. He didn't need to look to know who it was.

Unwittingly, anger bubbled in his chest.

"I hate you!" Eric screamed, surprising himself, as Cale stepped into the room.

"I hate you!" He repeated, more sure, and grabbed the nearest thing to throw at the other boy, which happened to be a pillow.

"I hate you," he sniffed and curled up on the bed, drawing his legs close to his chest.

Cale caught the pillow with ease and threw it back as he stepped closer to the bed.

His expression was as nonchalant as always and Eric hated it.

Cale was always like that. Always so unaffected. As if nothing mattered to him.

Eric used to find that amazing. He could blabber to the other boy anything and the most reaction he would get would be a raised brow.

Eric never needed to watch his words with Cale, yes, but now he saw the truth, Cale just didn't care.

Eric used to like this, he knew, but right now it was beyond agitating.

"It's fine if you hate me," Cale offered and Eric hated that too. That Cale didn't care enough to be upset about that.

"It doesn't make right what she did."

Eric bit his into his lip and held his mouth stubbornly close.

Cale sighed.

"Your father agrees with me and you heard her speak just now, didn't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Do you want to talk like that in the future?"

Eric glared at the wall. He hadn't heard everything the Viscountess had said from his hidding spot behind the banister but he saw her trying to slap Cale and understood that she insulted him.

But didn't Cale deserved it? He interfered in family matters. Eric had enough lessons to know that, that wasn't done.

"Do you like getting hurt? Or is it that you think that you deserve it?"

Eric flinched but he didn't dare to look at the other even as the bed dipped and Cale sat down on the edge.

"She's family," he finally muttered. Not that it would mean much to Cale, he thought viciously. More than once, he caught the other calling his own father by name!

What would Cale knew of loyalty and family. He barely payed any attention to his little brother.

Cale released a breath.

"So what? She's human as you and me. And there all kinds of humans. Kind but also terrible."

Eric though he couldn't cry anymore, his nose was stuffed and his throat hurt but he could still feel tears gather in his eyes.

"She's not," he defended.

Why couldn't Cale see it?

Katherine was strict but she only punished him if he was stupid, if he was a bad boy. Whenever he performed well, she praised him and offered him gifts and sweets.

He just wasn't smart enough. Cale wouldn't understand. Cale was smart and even though he was younger, he knew a lot more stuff. Even the first prince wanted to talk with him.

Eric had been terrified when he found Cale sitting with the prince but the younger boy walked away from the meeting as nonchalant as always.

There was just something wrong with Cale. Eric knew but couldn't explain it.

His parents always said that he was frail and sick and that it was Eric's duty to look after him as the older one and Eric did. Even when he was terrified of the consequences, he looked after the other.

Cale was different. He was weird and wrong and -

Cale couldn't understand. He didn't need lessons and even if he was rude, his family didn't care. They let him do whatever he wanted just because was sick, a cripple.

Cale didn't understand!

"I'm sorry."

Eric jerked at the unexpected words and stared at Cale.

"I'm sorry that happened to you and I'm sorry that you're upset. But I'm not sorry that I interfered. It's not right what she did."

Eric felt anger spark in him and he jumped to his feet and glared down at the younger boy.

"It's not right! Its not right! You always say that but what does that mean?!" He yelled.

"What do you know about right and wrong, huh?! You're just a cripple who everybody pities! You don't have to do anything because you might as well just kick the bucket any day!"

Eric panted, clenching his hands to fists.

"What do you know?!"

Cale only stared back impassively and Eric let out a shout of frustration.

"Do you care about anything at all?!"

Cale turned away from him and looked around the room.

"You wouldn't know," Eric muttered, face red. "It's just how it's done in the capital."

Cale snapped his head towards him and narrowed his eyes.

"It's how it's done in the capital?" Cale repeated with a raised brow.

"Do you hear yourself speak?" He asked before shaking his head.

"What if it was me?" He asked suddenly. "Would I have deserved it also?"

Eric clenched his teeth together.

"What do you mean?"

"If my tutor whipped me for answering wrong, would I have deserved it?" Cale asked but he didn't give Eric time to answer.

"What about my little brother? Would he have deserved it?"

Eric blanched.

"No! He's too little!" He denied immediately.

"Oh?" Cale voiced interested. "So Basen's too young? Then what about Amiru? Is she old enough to be whipped?"

Eric took a step back, wobbling on the bed.

"That's not-"

"Not what?" Cale asked, expression sharp and vicious.

"Somebody must deserve it, right? If not Amiru then what about Gilbert? Would you enjoy seeing him bleed, hmm? Think he would deserve it just because he couldn't name all the rivers in the continent? Is that it?"

"No! I don't- I-," Eric stuttered out.

"No?" Cale raised a brow, his expression mocking.

"Then what? Are you the only one who should be hurt? The only one stupid enough? What about the rest of us? If this is how it's done in the capital then we all should be-"

"Enough!" Eric screamed. "Shut up. I hate you!"

"Oh you hate me?" Cale smirked. "So what? Want me to be hit? Want to hit me?" He jeered.

"Yes!"

"Yes what?"

"I want you to shut up! Stop it!"

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything." Cale tilted his head, expression mocking.

Eric let out a shout of frustration and jumped at the other. His higher position from the bed giving him enough force to send the other tumbling down towards the ground.

They hit the carpent with a dull thud.

"Shut up! Shut up! I hate you!" He punched the other in the face.

Just once.

Before he realised what he was doing.

He breathed heavily and stared in horror at the boy under him.

He watched the angry red mark swell on Cale's face.

What did he do?!

He needed to call for help! For somebody to-

"Pfffh-" Cale snorted before barking out a laugh.

"Didn't this feel great?" He asked, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Eric felt his mouth work but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He sat frozen, perched on the other boy.

"Don't you agree with me now?" Cale asked.

Eric furrowed his brows.

"Agree with what?" He asked unsure. He was too drained to keep up his anger.

"You only hit somebody because you hate them," the other pointed out.

"That's what you get from this?!" Eric spluttered and finally remembered his position.

He climbed down from his friend and hovered over him anxiously.

What if he broke something?!

"Are you alright?"

"Now you're concerned?" Cale snorted without any heat.

"I think you crushed my spleen. How come you're so heavy?" The redhead complained as he sat up and gingerly inspected his upper torso.

"You're just build like a stick!" Eric defended himself. He watched as Cale grumbled to himself and Eric rubbed at his eyes.

"Are you crying again?" Cale asked. He sounded somewhere between tired and annoyed, and Eric felt relieve bubble in his chest.

It would be alright. Surely it would be alright.

"I care about a lot of things," Cale suddenly said and Eric remembered his accusations. It felt so long ago even though he just screamed them mere moments before.

"Honestly, it's really annoying and I would rather not," he paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought before shaking his head. "Maybe it's not the same things you care about. Maybe it's a different kind of caring," Cale shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't want you to suffer Eric," he offered.

"I'm sorry that I had to hurt you for that but I will do it again." He turned to stare at him.

"No matter how often, I'll do it again and again, till you're sick and tired of it and everybody will know not to mess with you," he promised.

Eric felt his chin wobble, he wanted to go home. He wanted Cale to stop.

"The Viscountess was only doing it because she-"

"Loves you?" Cale finished with a scoff but it lacked any bite. He leaned back on his hands and looked up towards the ceiling with faraway eyes.

"Maybe it's love," he agreed. "But Eric, love is not always kind. Just because somebody loves you doesn't mean they can't make mistakes. Sometimes love grows twisted."

Cale thought about a red haired woman and her child.

"Maybe she did love you. Maybe it's the only way she knew how to act. The way she herself was raised," he spoke and closed his eyes for a moment.

"But just because you love somebody doesn't mean that you can't be mad at them."

Cale let himself fall back onto the ground.

"I can tell you countless reasons why the Viscountess was wrong but it would be pointless if you don't care to listen."

There was silence in the room.

"I want it to stop," Eric finally admitted, voice small. "I just want everything to be back to normal."

"I know."

He sniffed.

"I'm sorry I called you a cripple."

"I know."

"I don't hate you."

"I know."

Eric was a well behaved and intelligent child but he was only eleven years old.

The anger evaporated but what was left?

From on moment to the next he started to sob.

Deep wails leaving his throat. One after another.

His breath hitched. His face burned and tears flowed without pause as he tried and couldn't bring himself under control.

"I want to go home," he sobbed, voice wet and nose stuffed.

He cried for his parents. He was loud and annoying and all the things he knew Cale hated but the other didn't move away.

It was the last day of the banquet or whatever and Cale only attended to escape the presence of the aged butler.

The man became unbearable the last few days and barely left his side. Cale was so terrified over the constant attention he could barely sleep, afraid the man would turn up in the corner of his eye. The worst was, it wasn't only Ron. Whenever Beacrox brought him his food, he always threw him a dirty glare and when Ron was doing gods knows what, the few times he wasn't around him, Hans picked up his slack and hovered over him like an anxious mother in postpartum.

Thankfully, Eric still had been a little bit too upset to show his face in public and as such Cale was alone.

All alone surrounded by snobbish, rich kids. There were those who were just normal young kids, too young to understand their position, screaming and laughing around as kids do and then there were the older ones, the ones who tried to copy their parents. Too old to mingle with the young children but too young to be considered adults.

He snagged a dessert from the table and wondered if it would be too childish if he just climbed under the table and hide there.

At least Prince Alberu wouldn't look there for him.

He bit into the pastry and repressed a yawn, eyes watering slightly.

"I can't believe it, the young master from the Henituse Family finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Cale turned his head lazily and observed the person who spoke.

A lanky teen with dirty blond hair.

He munched on his pastry.

He had no idea who that was.

He turned his head dismissively and reached out for a glass. Cale had no intention of getting into petty fights with children.

"Guess the Henituse became even more arrogant just because their territory is doing well?" The teen sneered.

Cale felt a dull spark of indignation. The Henituse Territory was doing more than just well, they were flourishing.

He took a sip and was surprised at the nice quality of the apple cider. It wasn't alcohol but it would do.

"Are you daft?! Don't you see that I'm speaking with you? Or was Count Henituse hiding you because you're retarded?"

Cale settled the glass down and turned on his heels, smile fixed on his face.

"Oh yes, I'm very retarded," he admitted easily and the teen and all the gawkers looked taken back.

"But if I'm retarded what makes that you?" He tapped his chin in thought.

The teenager clenched his hands to fists.

"I wonder too, what does that make you, little brother?" A soft voice spoke up behind Cale.

Cale watched the teen pale before sneering.

"Stay out of this Taylor. Nothing to do with you," he bit out and Cale finally realized whom he had before him.

Venion Stan.

He wanted to laugh. The brat that grows up to enjoy torture?

"You bullying a child reflects bad on our family. Surely you know better than to cause a scene," Taylor Stan stepped up besides Cale and the redhead watched the gawkers slowly retreat.

The Stan Family reputation was well known and nobody wanted to be involved in a confrontation between those crazy family members.

Cale wanted to go with them too.

Venion's nostrils flared, before he stomped closer to his brother.

"Don't think your place as the oldest makes you safe," he hissed with all the venom his adolescent voice allowed before turning around, his coat fluttering dramatically and left without a backwards glance.

It was kinda funny.

Taylor seemed to think the same because the teenager let out quiet laughter.

"I apologize for my younger brother. He was out of line," he said, eyes still filled with mirth and stretched out his hand.

"I'm Taylor Stan. The oldest son of the Stan family," he introduced and Cale only hesitated for a moment before shaking it.

"Cale Henituse," he said simply, face nonchalant and Taylor smiled again.

Cale knew he wouldn't have an easy time laughing in the future. So maybe it's pity, that lead him to open his mouth and utter complete nonsense.

"You should take his words more serious. Legs are important. Walking around is pretty nice. Yes, legs and feet should be protected. Legs are great."

Taylor frowned at him, clear confusion coloring his face.

"Legs? What are you talking a-"

"Young master Cale!" Another voice butted in and Cale froze.

He didn't dare to turn.

"Your highness," Taylor greeted with a bow, though the confusion was still on his face.

"I apologize, young master Taylor. I would love to catch up with you but I do have something important to discuss with young master Cale. I hope I'm not interrupting!"

Cale knew he couldn't escape so he slowly turned his head around.

The bright smile of the first prince greeted him. If being rude and dismissive didn't work then Cale should try a different direction. He matched the princes' expression.

"Nonsense, your highness! I'm always honored to speak with our future sun." The moment Cale spoke, he knew he made a mistake.

Alberu hadn't been yet declared as crown prince and just now Cale all but stated that he believed Alberu would become the future king.

He should have hide under the table, he thought, as Alberu's smile turned sharp.

They were alone in a sitting room. The small round table separating them, was decorated with various pastries and tea.

It let out a delicious scent but yet both, weren't interested in it.

"I wonder what I did wrong, that young master Cale has been ignoring me," Alberu said, hurt radiation from his expression, as he sipped on his tea.

"I must apologize, your highness," Cale smiled, gentle and frail as his own expression turned rueful. "Unfortunately, I'm a sickly person. It was all a little bit too much stress for me to handle."

See how much of an useless person I am? I'm too pitiful to be even bullied. It's not worth it.

He wanted Alberu to think such thoughts but alas, his luck was always very low.

"Then it's me who must apologize. I didn't want to cause any discomfort. Please accept my sincerest apologies," Alberu smiled gently and Cale wanted to throw his teacup into his face.

What does that bastard want from him? Getting closer to the wealthy Henituse?

In the first place, Prince Alberu was a person without support. To have the Henituse sponsor him could have certainly been one of his goals but he should have known that the county stayed neutral since decades. A measly prince with nothing wouldn't be enough to sway them. Especially if he accosted the oldest son of the family.

Cale felt his headache grow. Crown Prince Alberu in the books was somebody who cleverly used the people under him, it wouldn't surprise him if this one already started to do it too .

But Cale Henituse was just a ten year old boy. What use is there for him from a child?

"Let me be frank," the prince said as he set down his cup.

"I was really impressed with your knowledge that you showed me," he started before his smile vanished and he turned serious.

This was a gamble for Alberu.

"I want you to tutor me in finances and management."

Cale couldn't help but blink at the teen in shook.

"Come again?" He asked weakly. Surely he misheard.

"Tutor me in finances and management," Alberu repeated dutifully.

"Your highness," Cale started hesitantly, "are you sure I'm the right person to ask?"

The Prince nodded.

"I'm ten," he reminded bluntly.

"I am aware."

"Then why? I'm hardly capable," Cale argued.

Who would want to learn from a child? What self-respecting teenager would want to learn from a kid?!

"You are young but far from incompetent. The last time we spoke, I was really impressed with your knowledge."

Cale schooled his features and took a sip of his own tea to buy himself time.

They spoke once and Cale had just been quoting books. He even made sure to tell some random theory to make it as boring as possible!

The crown prince in the books wasn't a scholar, he shouldn't have shown any interest in impractical theories.

"But that's all that it was, your highness. I was just reciting books. Nothing more."

He smiled gently at the teen.

"I'm honored but I wouldn't be able to teach you any of it. I'm just good at memorizing." It wasn't even that far from the truth, Cale had a lot of random knowledge but hardly the capabilities to put it to use.

Alberu's expression didn't even so much as twitch.

"That's more than fine. I don't need more."

Cale waited for an explanation to follow but the bastard remained silent.

The transmigrator realized that gentle rebuffs wouldn't help, he choose to change tactics.

He crossed his arms and leaned back. His gentle smile fell to a more neutral expression. Almost insolent in the presence of royality.

"Isn't it humiliating? To ask a boy five years younger for help? Are the royal tutors that useless?" He tilted his head, let arrogance fill his face. "Or maybe it's the first prince who's useless?"

This had a reaction, Alberu set down his cup with a loud click and let his head fall slightly forward.

His blond hair shadowed his expression.

"You are right," he admitted, voice careful and he clenched his hands before him.

"I would have preferred somebody else but I don't have much of a choice."

Alberu abruptly stood up but once upright, he walked calmly up to the windows.

"I believe my unfavorable position with the king is known but it goes much further than that," Alberu spoke as he looked out the window, towards the playing children in the garden.

"I'm isolated. My father would never care to give me a decent tutor and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even remembered my name. I'm first in line for the throne in name only.

"My allowance is pitiful and any opportunity in trying to extend my power is stopped by my siblings' supporters. I can't even get an instructor.

"I'm only able to keep my retinue functional because they're my mother's family and friends.

"Knowing my position, most nobles spurn me and those who don't only want to use me as a stepping stone.

"If I had you tutor me, nobody would pay it any attention. At the worst, they would just see it as me trying to suck it up to the wealthy Henituse Family. And the Count's neutral stance is very known, nobody will believe that he would break it just because his oldest son struck a friendship with the first prince."

He turned around, his hands clenched behind his back as he lowly bowed his head.

"I known humiliation very well in the fifteen years I lived but asking you for help isn't." He lifted his head and his eyes were heavy as they stared at Cale.

"Please help me become the next sun of this kingdom."

Cale realized it years ago but there was really a difference, in reading about a character as opposed to have them before him.

He could understand how the Prince managed to keep the hero under his control.

Alberu was honest in his admission but it was a calculated honesty.

Cale realized that he played his biggest weapon. It was a sympathy play mixed with pure determination. If that failed, Alberu would have no choice but to retreat.

However, Cale wanted a stable kingdome. Alberu may be not a good person, he had hardly enough information to judge that, but he was or rather will be a good ruler in the future.

If Cale supported him a little bit and the future king would own the Henituse a favor, that wouldn't be a bad thing. If he was on good terms with Alberu, it would also be easier to get rid of Choi Han, once he left the forrest and send the hero on his merry way to the capital.

Cale wanted to choose the option with the most gain but he had a hard time deciding.

He was still in the middle of thinking, when he felt a by now familiar, burning sensation in his chest. He knew better than to fight against the urge and let himself cough into his palm.

This time, it didn't stop with just one and he felt the blood frothing up his throat.

He tried to locate a handkerchief but his searching must have looked a tad bit desperate, otherwise he couldn't explain the plain panic of the first prince.

Alberu hurried over to his side, unknowingly copying Beacrox, as he hovered over the coughing boy.

"I- I wasn't aware your condition was this serious!" The teen exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling unwell? Wait, I call for a healer," he rambled.

Cale grabbed the other by the wrist as he made to leave.

"It's alright," he managed to speak as he calmed his breathing. He reached for a clothe on the table to clean his hands and mouth and frowned at the princes' sleeve.

"I apologize for getting blood on your clothes, your highness."

Alberu blinked at him before looking down at his arm, frowning before shaking his head incredulously.

"This is- that's not important! I get you a healer, please sit or do you want to lay down?"

Cale threw the bloodied serviette at his plate and smiled in satisfaction that no evidence remained on him and as such Ron wouldn't known.

"Why are you smiling?!"

Cale let his lips fall and sighed before looking at the troubled gaze of the teen.

"I'm fine your highness. This is nothing a healer or priest can heal. It would be pointless to call for one."

Alberu's eyes trembled as they looked at him and Cale wondered what the fuss was about. Was this the first time the other saw blood?

"You crazy-" the prince stopped himself and sighed before letting himself fall into a chair.

For a moment there was quietness before Alberu spoke.

"Are you really fine?"

"Yes."

At his short answer, Alberu let out another breath.

"Your highness," Cale started, voice unconcerned, as if he hadn't just coughed up half his lung. "I'm a Henituse. We only move for family or money. Neither of which you are or have."

Alberu raised a brow, as if to ask, are we going to ignore you nearly dying right now?

But he conceded.

"I believe young master Cale is forgetting to whom he's speaking. I'm still a prince of this kingdome."

Cale snorted.

"Please, we both known your situation. You said so yourself. You're as penniless as a prince can be."

Instead of being offended, Alberu smiled.

He smiled because this was Cale's way of asking about money and if the other was asking about money, then that was almost a sealed deal.

Besides, there was an easy answer to this.

"I'll pay you back. Once I'm Crown Prince," he declared. He was serious even if he was only speaking to his ten year old boy.

"With interest," he added when the other only looked back at him sceptical.

Cale's expression grew stoic, something like contemplation in his gaze.

"And a favor," he added once more. "For the Henituse Family-"

Cale held up a hand.

"And a favor to me, personally, in the future. No questions asked."

Alberu wanted to curse at this impudent child but relented and a rather sharp smile formed on his face.

"And a favor to you. No questions asked as long as it doesn't harm me and the Roan Kingdome."

Cale mirrored his smile.

"As long as it doesn't harms his highness and the Roan Kingdome," he agreed.

Alberu barked out a laugh, it was filled with relieve.

"Well, I'm glad we got it settled this way. I don't think you would have liked the alternative," he mused aloud and Cale didn't like the glint in his eyes.

"What would have been the alternative, your highness?" Cale regretted asking as soon as he spoke the words.

"I would have gone through the prober channels and officially requested you as a tutor." Alberu stated merrily, grabbing a biscuit.

"I think father would have found it ridiculous enough, that he would have granted it without much thought. Once it would become puplic, you would have become the center of attention. If you played dumb you and your family would be ridiculed and if not, people would have swarmed around you and praised you as a genius without equal." Alberu closed his eyes as he gave him a smile, showing a row of shiny white teeth. "I mean sure, if you choose the first option, I would have been scorned too but my reputation can hardly fall any lower." He shrugged his shoulders, the cheer not straying from his face.

Cale let his own fake smile fall. He wondered if he could take back his words.

Chapter 11: Back Home

Chapter Text

The next few days happened in a blur which Cale spend almost in a daze.

It was not his usual empty thoughts phase, where he just let his mind wander away. Zoning out for hours was his specialty after all.

No.

Cale realized he had been duped.

By a fifteen-year-old.

He became the very thing he swore to use for himself.

He'd been duped by a stupid brat.

The disgrace.

The dishonor.

Cale swore he would make the blond nuisance regret it.

The prince wanted reading recommendations? Some quaint books to pass the time? A little bit of self-study? That had been Cale's plan in the beginning but the little sh*t played him.

He expected to just give the other a reading list, maybe answer some questions via letter - my health wouldn't allow me to come to the capital that often, your highness - but the prince presented him with a communicator. A stupid orb that would let the prince call him whenever he wanted, as long as a handy mage was nearby.

sh*t, they had one at the county but Cale could have argued that Deruth wouldn't let him use it that often. This was out of the question now. Knowing how opportunistic the man in the novel was, he was sure Alberu the teen wouldn't let go of the big fish he caught called Henituse, even if Cale turned out to be an incompetent tutor.

At the very least, Cale had now a written contract that detailed that he would get paid, no matter how lousy his tutoring would turn out to be.

He may be stuck with the prince but the prince was also stuck with him.

Alberu wanted to learn? Cale would show him how studying was done in Korea.

He remembered his own studying for college entrance exams, even if it felt like a lifetime away - and that's what it was, wasn't it? Truly a lifetime away - and also the studying some of his mostly younger colleagues did to get higher educations. For many, their company was the only way to earn money to survive, their abilities the only qualifications that they had, after the near-collapse of society.

It had taken a while before they could safely provide educations and even longer to built-up back schools. Those that fell into the gasp where there was nothing, often struggled even with governmental programs in place and the ones that ended up in his company, Cale had always made sure to give as little fieldwork as possible.

It wasn't only once that instead of a field report, a term paper landed on his desk for proofreading, or somebody would timidly come into his office and ask for help for their entrance exams. Cale wasn't the only one who helped around, many of his older team members, at least those that got an education, offered their help. More often than not, it left them scrambling in finishing their own work but Cale gladly took on some extra hours to compensate for that.

It was a mutual understanding in his team, that one shouldn't be confronted with the possibility of death, just because of the need for education.

He let out a breath and concentrated back on his task at hand, not noticing the various concerned gazes directed at him, while he was busy plotting the ultimate studying sessions.

With half an ear, Cale listened to Eric's babble on the carriage. After a few days, the other boy finally cheered up enough to gain his mostly normal deposition.

They left the capital without much trouble. Contrary to Viscountess Katherine's threats, nothing happened.

It seemed she was not as stupid as she appeared and knew the consequences of messing with the Henituse family and the scandal she would have caused if the rest of the noble caught wind that she bullied a Count's sickly son.

It was really a great reputation to have. Nobody would accuse an ill person of any wrongdoings.

"There's the manor!" Eric exclaimed as he looked out of the window and Cale leaned tiredly back.

The plan had been to kick out Eric in the Wheelman territory on their way home and be on their merry way but the Count insisted on inviting him to dine together as thanks.

Cale had wanted to refuse but Eric had pleaded with him and he relented with the thought that it would strengthen the ties of the two families. It would be good to have allies in the future.

He watched Eric beam at his home, no traces of worry left and closed his eyes.

"Cale! You're back!" Deruth called out happily as Cale stepped into the office.

"How was the capital?" He asked as he stood up and walked around the desk.

"It was fine," Cale shrugged his shoulders and let himself fall into the couch.

Deruth chuckled as he sat opposite him.

"Not impressed, huh?" He waved for a maid to bring some tea and he asked a more pressing question once the door clicked shut and they were left alone.

"The ancient power?"

"Got it," Cale answered with a pleased smile and munched on a cookie.

"What about the fact you started up coughing blood? That's new." Deruth was impressed he managed to keep his own voice level. When he first got the reports of that, he had been ready to storm after the other.

Cale faltered. Just how fast did the news spread? He thought only Ron and Beacrox knew, how did they manage to report it to the Count so fast?

"I hope you didn't plan to keep it a secret from me," Deruth's tone was accusing as he watched the other resume his eating with a nonchalant expression.

"I believe it's just a side-effect of the power."

Deruth raised a brow.

"You believe?" He repeated. "So you don't know for certain."

Cale shrugged his shoulders.

"I feel better than before," he simply said and Deruth knew it was a lost cause. Getting angry at the other would make the other just defensive and may get him to become more secretive from him.

He would need to keep a closer look at the other. Openly and covertly.

"What happened between you and Prince Alberu?" He asked instead and Cale blinked at him.

"He send some gifts and how thankful he is to have made such a great friend like yourself."

Cale scowled.

"No friends then?"

"I became his tutor."

"Pardon?"

"I'm his highness tutor," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, what? How did that happen?" Deruth expected trouble to follow Cale in the capital or even Cale being the one to cause it, but to become the tutor of the first prince?

Cale took an irritated bite out of a cookie.

"Don't ask me. I'll meet him just once."

Deruth didn't look convinced but Cale had nothing to confess.

"Just ignore him. I'll annoy him enough, that he'll rethink the whole thing."

"Hmm, but it's the first prince. I can hardly just ignore him," Deruth sweatdropped. He was sure Cale and Violan bonded over their mutual disdain of nobility, especially the royal family.

Cale looked at the skeptical expression of the other.

"Do you want ties with the first prince?" Cale was sure Deruth enjoyed his neutrality if only to laugh at the other nobles who had to bow low to their superiors.

"Not really, but we did gain a lot of attention since our tax reforms and it wouldn't be too bad to have better connections to the royal family."

"The first prince is hardly popular," Cale pointed out.

Deruth nodded. "Indeed, however, I met him last year, when I was in the capital for the nobles meeting. I wouldn't say he's without potential- or what was your impression?" He asked.

"He has potential, alright," Cale grumbled out. He could tell so from his own encounter and knew so from the books for certain. "But I don't want to be anywhere near him or his glib tongue."

Cale didn't really want to think more about the prince than necessary.

He frowned at the paperwork littering the Count's desk.

It looked far too much. In fact, it looked exactly around a week's worth of work.

"... did you really take a week-long vacation?" Cale questioned, a little bit incredulous, thinking back on Deruth's offer to Basen. His vassals must be livid.

Deruth evaded his gaze.

"I hope you know that I won't help you with that."

"Are you looking for another ancient power?" Violan questioned. It sounded ridiculous saying it aloud but with Cale, she wouldn't exclude the possibility.

They were both sprawled on a picnic blanket. Well, Violan was sitting as was fitting for her status, while Cale was lying down with crossed hands behind his head. Sun filtered between the leaves of the oak tree standing behind them and the pleasant smell of tea and fresh bakeries wafted through the air.

Laughter echoed over the garden and the woman followed the figures of her husband and son as they played around on the grass, a bright ball tumbling across the green.

It was an unusual day where they all had free time, though it took a family effort to drag Cale out of bed and outside.

Cale hummed.

"No, there's something else," Cale trailed off. There was another ancient power he was interested in but it had no hurry.

Violan took a biscuit and she wondered if she should press for more but to her surprise, Cale spoke further.

"If you had the possibility to end the loneliness and suffering of a person earlier, would you do it?"

"The answer seems obvious. Is that a trick question?" She offered in lieu of an answer.

"I'm not sure," he murmured out.

"If it causes no disadvantages to myself, I would do it in a heartbeat," Violan finally said.

Cale closed his eyes.

"What if you didn't know what disadvantages it would cause?"

"I would plan for the worst and do my best," she answered without much pause.

Cale sighed.

"I need to go to Harris Village."

Violan furrowed her brows.

"Harris? Isn't that the small village right by the forest of darkness?" She turned her eyes away from her husband and son and glances down at the other.

"What do you want to do in such a place?"

"End the suffering of a person earlier."

Did that mean he wanted to mercy kill somebody? Getting answers from Cale, Violan thought, was like pulling teeth.

However, she respected Cale and knew not to push. Sooner or later everything would fall into place. She trusted him enough not to hurt anybody innocent.

"Well, maybe it's better for you to be out for now," she commented idly.

There was still the matter of Viscountess Katherine, Count Wheelman's horrid cousin. For that hag to have raised the hands against her family, Violan will make her regret her whole life.

Cale leaned up on his elbows, eyes searching hers but Violan only smiled.

Cale can keep his secrets. She will keep hers.

The mage who set up the communication device flitted out of the room, steps hasty and nearly tripping and Alberu dropped his smile.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

The prince looked rather haggard and Cale refused to show any obvious satisfaction at this.

"I would never dare, your highness!" He gushed out. "I just want the best for our future sun. Why, I am moved by the dedication that his highness shows and can only bow my head at this display off-"

"-enough," Alberu held up a hand and massaged his forehead. His eyes glided to the pile of documents and books at the corner of his room. The boy's studying space was harrowing but somehow still barely manageable. The worst was, that whenever Alberu tried to trip the other up with outlandish questions, Cale barely bats an eye, answers his questions with precision, and merrily recommends him even more reading material.

Whenever Alberu complained that he needed more time, the other would throw him a look that was somewhere between belittling and pitying. A smug satisfaction twinkling in his eyes.

And all this from a ten-year-old!

Alberu refused to show weakness but he was hitting his limits. It wouldn't be so infuriating if it wasn't so damn useful. Alberu already learned more than he did in the months before and Cale easily pointed out outdated or misleading information. It was his main problem with his tutors who intentionally sabotaged him.

He sighed, shaking his head. There was another problem he stumbled upon. He didn't expect Cale to have a solution for that but maybe the other would throw a little bit of pity his way, hopefully without the expense at his character.

"I contacted you for something different today."

Cale watched the prince scratch the side of his face with a finger, his expression rather sheepish.

He raised a brow in question.

Alberu cleared his throat while thinking about how to word his problem without sounding too pathetic. He wanted a little bit of pity but moderately.

"There might be a little problem with your recent book list," Alberu finally said.

"Why? The royal library should be the most extensive in the kingdom, your highness," Cale pointed out to the projected image.

"Well yes, if I had access to it," he answered before waving his arm. "Don't misunderstand. I do have access, I just don't want to-"

"-cause suspicion," Cale finished and Alberu's glare at his rudeness was easily ignored.

The child tapped against his desk with a finger.

"Is your situation that precarious?" Cale frowned slightly. He didn't know much about Alberu's rise to power in the novel but it seemed unbelievable that he started with such a small base. He must have had some support.

Alberu clearly hesitated about how much he should tell and Cale certainly didn't want to involve himself, yet he still opened his mouth.

"Your highness, I don't care much for politics but if you want me to help you, I need to know your situation."

Alberu sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder if your really only ten," he mused before shaking his head.

"The problems are my siblings' supporters and my father's vassals. They would take notice about what kind of books I study from the library."

"And if we plant duds? Some ridiculous titles to throw them off?" Cale suggested as he eyed the clock in the corner. It was almost dinner time. He needed to get rid of the prince or his meal was in danger.

"That would only give me some time," Alberu trailed off.

"You don't want that." Cale stated absently as he pondered: How rude would it be to eat before royalty, anyway?

"I want them to realize it only when it's too late for them to do anything. My support base is currently not able to handle that." The prince didn't know why he was that open with the other but Cale expressed clear goals - a slacker, really? - that he had and those didn't interfere with his. For now, he would trust that a little bit.

"Can't you just order the books from outside?" Cale leaned back against his chair. Would it be just enough to get under Alberu's skin or would it be a punishable offense?

Alberu grimaced. The books Cale recommended were all rather pricey.

"If you could adjust your list to more reasonable-" he began but Cale waved him off before he was finished.

This punk.

"Would it be possible to send you packages unnoticed? Or hide them as gifts?" Cale was hungry. He wanted the prince gone.

Alberu frowned.

"It would be a little hard if one would send it directly to my quarters but there are some other possibilities. Why?" He really didn't have the finances to buy them. A rather sad state of affairs for a prince.

"I lend you our books, your highness," Cale offered and Alberu couldn't stop the astonishment from showing on his face.

"With a fee of course," Cale added slyly and Alberu's face fell.

Harris Village greeted him with cold winds and the first signs of fall, leaves scattered across the village and it was obvious that the people were busy with the harvest.

Cale knew that they had much lower taxes as opposed to the rest of the county because of their proximity to the forbidden territory but they still needed to work had to survive.

He exited the carriage and was greeted with a multitude of onlookers. Those that didn't hide at the first opportunity quickly averted their eyes and dropped their head in subservience. The older children copied their parent's demeanors while the younger were held back as they tried to crowd nearer with inquisitive gazes.

Cale sighed. It wasn't an unusual reaction but they were citizens, not servants. It must have been a long time since somebody from the Henituse family came by.

"Young Master Cale, I presume?" An elderly lady came for. Her back was hunched and the walking stick she used to support herself had seen better days. It looked ready to crumble at a moment's notice.

Her face had many lines and the long gray hair framing her face, gave her a rather gentle if weathered expression.

Cale ignored the frown of the guard behind him and nodded, keeping his face neutral.

"Yes, please be at ease, ma'am. There's no need for bowing." He waved carelessly.

He had no problem in rubbing in his status at people once in a while but he drew the line at the elderly.

"It's an honor to have the lord's son here in Harris Village," she said as she straightened herself from her bow. Her shoulders still looked a bit stiff and face betrayed a little nervosity but Cale supposed there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," he reassured. "I'm here for the yearly inspection of the wall." It wasn't a lie.

The wall was regularly inspected, usually smaller ones with a small team of architects lead a few knights inspected the wall for cracks and other damage after a seasonal change. Once a year there was a bigger one, with a bigger team and a more thorough inspection. It was usually done by one of Deruth's vassals but the baron in charge of it had no problems, even more than happy to spare himself the trip, to give the task over to him.

With how grateful he had been, Cale suspected he thought he would take it over forever.

"We are touched that the young master decided to come personally."

"Right," Cale swept his eyes across the small village. It was really a tiny thing.

"Is there anybody knowledgeable about the forest in this village?"

The woman inclined her head respectfully. "If the young master doesn't mind talking to this old lady then I would be happy to answer any question the young master has to the best of my ability."

Cale smiled. "Great, please lead the way."

Agathe, as Cale finds out the woman is called, led him to a small and quaint inn.

Cale is honestly surprised that it even has one.

"I don't expect you get many travelers here." Cale pointed out and took a seat on the simple stool. It was dusty and as Cale slid a finger over the table, he was unsurprised to find it just as covered with dust.

He was impressed when Agathe didn't even react to his inspection. Rather, she seemed to gauge his own reaction. She must have expected a spoiled brat who would throw a fuss over the sorry state of the accommodations.

In the corner of his eyes, he spied a rather nervous-looking man, whom he suspected to be the innkeeper.

A plump woman stopped up behind him and Cale flinched in surprise as she smacked him rather heartily on the shoulder. The man, built like a long spindly stick, flinched harshly.

"What are ya doing? The son of the lord is here and you are trembling like a fish out of water!" She swatted him with a towel. "Go do your job! The young master's gonna think we are retards if you're like this!"

"Ebba! T-that's the count's son!" The man stuttered, face aghast. "He's a noble!"

"You think I don't know? I just told you that!" She settles her hands on her hips. "Go take his orders! Bring some refreshments!"

"You don't have to scream at me like that. Why don't you do it, if you're that eager?"

Cale watched the exchange with blank eyes, blinking as they proceeded to argue further.

"Did they forget about me?" He mused, a little bit amused at the display.

"I apologize young master. Those two are always like that. How they stay married, no one knows," Agathe commented, shaking her head.

"It's fine. I don't like attention. This is good."

Standing behind him, Ron frowned and Cale felt a shiver run down his back.

"Young Master, I shall take my son and make sure there's something prepared."

"Sure, whatever," Cale said. It wasn't as if Ron was asking for permission in the first place. He pitied the couple as the former assassin made a beeline towards the counter.

When he turned his attention back to Agathe, he found her watching him with gentle eyes.

"Young Master Cale is very casual and close with his servants," she commented.

Cale thought she must have misunderstood something, even if he wasn't sure what exactly she got from this short exchange.

He didn't think he let his confusion show in his face but Agathe must have noticed something.

"Outside also. No knight looked nervous in your presence but still alert and not dismissing."

The woman smiled at him.

"I'm glad to see that the future of our territory is in good hands."

Cale felt his heart stop.

"I don't plan on becoming the Count," he offered faintly in answer, dismissing her words before and further delusions could take place.

Agathe's eyes crinkled and Cale quickly changed the subject.

"About the forest of darkness, what can you tell me?"

Chapter 12: Harris Village

Chapter Text

"I want to go up," Cale told his entourage.

An enormous wall of stone was looming ahead of him, stretching far beyond his sight to the left and right. He had to tilt his head far back to see the edge of the ten-meter wall. The gate to his right was the only way to enter the Forest of Darkness. The only times it opened the last few years were for adventurers and foolish knights seeking out glory and conquest.

No one came back.

Cale himself had currently no intention of entering the Forest. He had the shield and his healing powers but he had little idea how well that would hold up against the monsters behind the wall. He wasn't Choi Han, he had neither any fighting ability nor had he plot armor that would guarantee his success.

Cale was weak and the thought of facing monsters similar to his old life just made him weary. He sighed, laying a palm over the cold stone.

Somewhere, Choi Han was fighting for his life— was he already strong enough not to fear anything in the Forest? Cale didn't know. The novel had been from the hero's perspective mostly and after a few years, of fear and fighting, of surviving and unchanging appearance, Choi Han lost all feeling of time.

He could only guess and estimate. For now, Choi Han was safe at least and Cale had little reason to barge unprepared into the monster-filled forest.

A cold wind blew from the side and Cale gratefully tugged the dark outer coat around his shoulders, that Ron held up. It didn't help his shivers much but at least it made them less visible. He was slightly jealous that nobody else showed any signs of struggling with the weather. He was surrounded by monsters, even the knights were freakish in their own way. He wondered from where the Henituse County recruited them but asking would imply interest in the territory's affairs and that was the last thing Cale wanted.

He should have waited till it was summer, he bemoaned internally. He laid a hand over his chest where his heart was beating strongly. Unlike with the vitality of the heart, there had been no reason to rush this.

He should go back to the inn.

The two Molan's all but took over the establishment and after the first night, Cale had been flabbergasted to be greeted with clean and dustfree tables, even the ground looked spotless enough to be eaten from.

The owners of the inn, Ebba and Lennon, looked dead on their feet though and Cale could only imagine what kind of torturous pace the father-son duo put those through. He felt guilty enough that he made a mental note to pay double his rent price at the end. He wondered how they financed themselves anyway, he couldn't imagine that they get enough visitors to make a living and an inn for such a small village just seemed pointless.

He found it weird that the Baron who was usually doing the yearly inspection didn't build himself a mansion, even if he only stayed for a few days at most, it's not like a noble to skip on comfort.

"Excuse me?" The architect wrangled his hands, making himself as small as possible before the child. He had been a bundle of nerves the moment he found out that not the usual Baron would lead the inspection. It wasn't his job to entertain the whims of a child, even if said child was the son of the lord.

"Up, young master?" He questioned aloud to gather the attention of the young master.

The red-haired child stared up at the wall and nodded.

"Yes, up," he turned to smile at him. "I'm sure somebody as talented as you will be able to build something reasonable."

The middle-aged architect felt sweat form on his brow.

"But we are only here to inspect the outside of the wall," he reminded weakly.

The child's eyes closed as his smile sharpened.

"And miss the view? No, I expect something to be up in-- let's say a few days? You have all these knights, use them however you want."

He turned on his heels and waved his hands as he went.

"And make sure it's not something feeble as a ladder."

The architect watched blankly after the young master before turning his gaze up to the massive wall.

What was he supposed to do?

"Do you want to play?"

Cale blinked at the group of children crowding before him. There was a range of ages but they all seemed to be around his own age.

"Excuse me?" He asked for clarification and a small boy, clutching a ball tightly in his hands, stepped forward. He looked as if he just took a bath in the mud and the other children looked no better.

"Our parents said you're here for grown-up stuff but maybe if you have time you want to play with us?" He shuffled on his feet and sunk his head shyly.

"You're supposed to address him with an honorific!" An older girl hissed behind him and flushed red as the attention turned to her.

Cale was about to answer before he heard a muffled snort beside him. He turned his head and watched blank-eyed as Beacrox held a hand over his mouth to try to hide the twitching of his lip.

Was the punk laughing? Beacrox? Beacrox was laughing?

He didn't even dare to look behind him where Ron was standing.

His life expectancy would no doubt lengthen if he just ignored the Molans. He couldn't see what was so funny. There was no way he would play around in the dirt or run around the fields. His lungs burned just at the thought alone.

"My lord?" The boy spoke up again, his eyes flitting unsure between them.

"You should only address the lord of this territory as my lord, that would be Count Deruth. For his son, you may use young master," Ron spoke up and Cale could hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry... do you want to play with us young master?" The boy tilted his head, his dark eyes boring into his own.

"No," Cale answered bluntly and watched the disappointment bloom on the children's face.

At a closer inspection, he spied weird little red spots on the boy's skin, through his dirtied appearance, Cale couldn't tell if those were just freckles or something more into the direction of measles. At the thought, he instinctively took half a step back and felt immediately almost guilty for his reaction, as the children eyed his every move. Now, he only needed to hold up a handkerchief over his nose and the picture of a disgusted and haughty noble would be perfect. He hoped no wariness showed on his face. Cale had no problem in hurting the feelings of adults and stuck-up brats but these children, living almost in poverty didn't deserve it. Surely, if there was some kind of epidemy going on, Cale would have been notified.

"He's a noble, of course, he wouldn't wanna play with us dirty brats," a child muttered somewhere in the back and a few other children nodded, their faces a mix of indignation and embarrassment.

"I'm busy," Cale offered, keeping his voice softer. "And it's too cold for me. I have a weak constitution."

"Constitution?"

"A weak body," he clarified.

The children exchanged glances among themselves. The older didn't look as if they were buying his words but at least they looked beseeched from the fact that Cale didn't insult or ignored them outright.

"Maybe later?" The boy from before asked and the red spots peeked out on his cheek as the mud cracked and fell off as he spoke.

Freckles or measles, Cale wondered faintly and tried to remember how those were transmitted. Droplets or airborne?

"Maybe." Never.

Cale gave them a smile and a wave before twisting around, making sure to keep Beacrox between himself and the children.

He wasn't fleeing.

It was a tactical retreat.

"You could have done them the favor," Beacrox said as he set down a dish on the table before him. His face was as stoic as always but his eyes were full of barely hidden mirth.

Cale slid the steaming soup closer to himself and warmed his hands against the warm porcelain.

"And run around in the mud?" He questioned, raising a brow.

"Some physical activity would do you good," the teen answered and Cale wondered if that was how Alberu felt whenever Cale talked back at him.

Cale didn't honor that with a response and took a spoonful of the soup. A smile flitted over his face at the taste. Beacrox's unpleasant personality aside, his cooking was improving rapidly.

He looked up to the teen who stood at attention. Ron was somewhere in the back, no doubt bullying the innkeepers and it was a rare moment where he was alone with the other.

Some knights were mingling in the inn but they kept their attention among themselves.

"Sit down and eat something too. You hadn't yet anything, right?"

Beacrox frowned at him.

"That would be improper."

"Who cares?" Cale shrugged. "We're not at the castle and the knights and villagers don't care."

Beatrix didn't look convinced.

"Sit down," Cale ordered.

"Check," Cale said for the fourth time this evening and Beacrox narrowed his eyes at the board.

Chess wasn't something he ever played as Kim Rok Soo and even as Cale his experience could be counted on one hand. It wasn't a bad game, Cale supposed, if only because he only needed to move an arm to play.

"Should we stop?" Cale asked but the teenager only scowled at the pieces instead of answering him.

A few seconds ticked by and if possible Beacrox scowl deepened. Cale shifted warily on his chair. He needed to be ready if the teen tried to throw the board at him.

Behind him, a person cleared his throat.

"Why doesn't the young master play a round against this servant?" Ron spoke up, leaning down towards him.

Cale froze and eyed him out of the corner of his eye.

Was this how prey felt like?

"Uhm-"

"I shall take care of dinner then," Beacrox excused himself, standing up. His scowl was gone but there was a glint in his eyes. That little sh*t knew exactly that he was throwing him at the wolves.

"You don't have to," Cale offered feebly as Ron took the vacant seat.

"Nonsense, it has been a while since I played. I hope young master will go easy on me." Ron smiled and Cale swallowed dryly.

He placed the first piece.

Moments into the game, Cale's eye twitched in irritation. He was slowly losing.

"Young Master should try to sacrifice more of his pieces," Ron advised.

Cale had the intention to throw the game, to get rid of Ron as early as possible but the other's expression stopped him. He had the feeling if he didn't take it seriously, Ron would make sure he only had lemonade all around the clock. And there was no escape in this damn village from him.

"Maybe it's you who's too careless with his," Cale commented idly.

Cale didn't know much about chess but Ron's playing style reflected his personality, and even his profession, very well. Sacrifices are discarded without a second thought and his way of attacking was sneaky and careful.

"There's no reason to keep onto something useless."

Don't pay attention and you'll get attack by a piece you completely forgot about. Ron wasn't going in for the big win but slowly accumulated small advantages to try to make him crack under pressure.

"They might prove themselves valuable later one."

Cale wondered if he should shift his playing style. He played defensive to eliminating any trace of enemy counterplay. It worked well with Beacrox, he became frustrated that his attacks didn't work and began to pile on more and more mistakes.

However, Ron remained unimpressed and it left Cale scrambling to keep up with him. What a torturous game.

The only sign that Ron was even the slightest bit challenged by Cale was the slight frown on his face as he stared down at the board. The expression terrified him.

What did Ron want? Would he be insulted if Cale won? Would he be disappointed if Cale, his supposed superior, didn't win?

Cale didn't know what the safe bet was and his playing reflected his indecision. It started to look messy and his shoulders tensed as Ron's mouth tilted slightly down but instead of looking at him, the butler turned to stare towards the center of the inn.

Cale followed his gaze and finally noticed the commotion brewing. A clatter of voices reached his ears.

"-master Cale!" There was a small, lite person trying to push their way towards his corner. An arm waving urgently towards him.

"Young Master Cale!" The voice was clearly feminine and as a knight held her back, Cale got a good look at her. Fuzzy brown hair was framing her face, messily falling out of her bun and freckles - this time he was sure those were freckles - littered her face, barely visible from the stark red flush of her face.

"Young Master Cale! Please hear me out!" She pleaded and Cale frowned as a knight grabbed her roughly around the waist. It was hard to pinpoint her age, somewhere around a young adult and late teen.

"I shall deal with this," Ron said, moving to stand and Cale leaned back in his chair, trying to keep the sheer relief out of his face.

"Tell them to let her through." The perfect distraction.

Ron nodded and stepped away. He easily slid past the knights and Cale watched as a few words got the knights to scramble away and the young woman proclaimed her heartful thanks, her rambling words reaching across the whole inn. Her whole face lit up as Ron indicated towards the seated child, a clear invitation.

She skipped towards his table and Cale could see her clutching a stack of papers close to her chest.

"Young Master, thank you very much!" She bowed her head.

"I didn't do anything," Cale said. "What do you want?"

She straightened up.

"I am Hilda, I live in this village," her expression turned hesitant and whatever courage she showed while facing the knights seemed to fade as she wilted into herself.

"I wanted to- uhm, there are some problems that the Count might have interest in," she mumbled finally out.

"Problems?" Cale raised a brow. He wasn't aware of such things, before he left, he gazed briefly over the documents Deruth had over the village and there was nothing standing out as particularly troubling. Nobody dared to mess with the village that stood beside the monster-filled forest.

"It's not a problem per se," Hilda explained and clutched her stack of papers tighter. "I believe there's a lot that can be improved in this village!"

"..."

"That is to say I don't blame the Count! And we live here very well!" She quickly added, growing slightly pale at the thought he might take her words as an insult. "I just think it could be better."

"Better?"

"Yes! I have written some ideas here and I know it's a lot to ask of the young master but maybe there's a way you could get them to your father?"

Cale stretched out his arm with his palm upward and Hilda blinked at the offered hand in slight confusion.

"It's an honor to meet you, young master Cale," she more asked than stated as she took his hand and shook it, a smile slowly growing on her face.

Maybe nobles were not as bad as many said? The lord's son was still a child. Maybe he hadn't yet learned to be arrogant! And how cute and dainty his little hand was! Hilda suppressed a delighted squeal.

Her handshake became firmer at the thought.

Cale watched her blankly and at his hand in hers.

"The papers," he said dryly. "I want the papers."

"What?"

"The papers, Miss Hilda," he requested and watched realization bloom on the freckled face, followed by horror.

She snatched her hand away as if burned.

"I'm so sorry! I thought-"

"Papers," Cale interrupted. What an exhausting person, he thought faintly.

"Ah, yes. Here please!" She fumbled a bit before stretching out the stack towards him.

Cale refrained from wrinkling his nose at the mess. The paper was good quality, surprisingly so for this part of the territory but it was crumbled and littered with ink blotches. The handwriting was atrocious, something he might have expected from an elementary school kid, sentences crooked and letters growing smaller and bigger.

The grammar wasn't any better, he realized after a few sentences, once he managed to decipher it. It was horrible and if she had presented this before the usual baron that came, Cale couldn't even blame him for ignoring it. He would entertain her for now, like this he could keep Ron away from him. If he drew it out long enough, it would be too late to finish the game and-

"Ho," Cale couldn't help but make a sound of surprise as his eyes flitted over the content. He turned to the next page. Its appearance wasn't any better but the content-

The content wasn't bad, not bad at all.

Grammar and presentation aside, it could almost rival Alberu's work. Almost. It was not as polished and there were a few mistakes littered in the calculations but if the prince presented him with that, Cale would have stamped it down for the blond having a bad day.

This, however, was the work from somebody from a tiny village at the edge of the territory. It made no sense that it was on the level of a well-educated noble.

He frowned slightly and slid the chessboard to the edge of the table, the pieces wobbled precariously. Ron was already by his side and packed it away without comment.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," she answered, slightly confused.

Cale set down the papers and indicated towards the other seat.

"Please sit."

The girl faltered slightly but timidly stepped closer and sat down, spine rigid.

"I don't think I need to tell you this looks terrible," Cale tapped the wrinkled papers spread before him.

The girl flushed, the red flooding her freckles, and Cale could see a spark of indignation growing in her eyes.

"I am aware that it's lacking but I believe the ideas I presented have merit," she protested, keeping her voice even.

"Where did you learn this?" Cale was curious. He wasn't aware that the village had any scholars. Then again, any scholar would shudder over the poor grammar.

Hilda looked down at her hands in her lap.

"My grandparents were academics from the capital. My grandfather was an accountant and my grandmother an pharmacist. They settled down in this village for their retirement."

"They taught you then," Cale commented but couldn't help but be skeptical. They needed to be well educated for their professions, it seemed irrational that they would skip over such big parts in their granddaughter's education.

"Just a little, they died when I was very young," Hilda explained. Her eyes grew distant but there was a small smile playing on her lips. "They left me a lot of books and I mostly taught myself with that."

She didn't mention anything about her parents and Cale saw no reason to ask about it.

This explained enough. He felt a smile form on his face. He could use her. He had wondered how to best proceed with Harris Village but this solved it.

"I won't give this to Count Deruth."

Hilda clenched her hands on her lap and closed her eyes in defeat.

"There's no reason to. I approve of this."

She looked up and found the young boy smiling at her.

"We'll improve Harris Village."

Hilda gasped before delight spread across her face.

"Yes!"