The Abhorrent is What Makes Us Hurt Ourselves

by zorlovinghue

Summary:

She laughed in delight, she sounded so carefree despite having just fought an adult. "It's so fun," she muses aloud, "beating bad men is the best thing in the world."

He couldn't disagree. Unlike his past self who had given up and stopped fighting against his uncle's abuse, knowing that he could fight back here–together at that, was not so bad. "It would be bettew if we can loot them dwyy."

"...."

"Why?"

"... As much as it's a genius idea, I hate to admit that we're too small."

Kim Rok Soo died alongside his hyung, and one day, he woke up to have an older sister by his side.

Notes:

• Inspired by [Restricted Work] by brokecranberry (Log in to access.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

... I'm not familiar with medical field so do excuse all the inaccuracies. For the tw/cw, you already see it on the tags, since there's no other thing yet (I hope) I'll give specified caution in future chapters. Don't worry, nothing explicit! (I can never do that;-;)

Have fun! ^^/

The scenery was one of a massacre. Ruins, large craters on the ground, fire and its smoke bellowing amidst the scorching sun. Lifeless bodies strewn about, some of them detached from their heads, some others incomplete, with gaping holes and bitten halves. Blood flowed in rivulets, filling through the cracks and shining crimson beneath the sunlight. It ripples, continuous circles sway the silhouette of the living, reflecting the horror of Kim Rok Soo in his twenties—a broken hand, kneeling helplessly before the sight of his dazed sworn brother. He screamed and ran, the fallen Lee Soo Hyuk growing farther behind him with every step, he couldn't afford to lose Choi Jung Soo too. 

 

This mission was a destined failure. You couldn't deny data with sheer will. It was the price of exploring the unknown, it was the naivety of trusting a reinforcement, it was the false sense of hope and foolish determination his comrades had withheld against monsters far surpassed their limits. He reached out, grabbing Choi Jung Soo by the collar and throwing them against the pool of blood. Avoiding the claws of the unranked monster by a hair's breadth. 

 

"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!" 

 

He grabs Choi Jung Soo tightly on his shoulders, knuckles strained and shaking with rage, with despair, with grief, he distinctly wonders if the cracking bones were his imagination. "Don't you die on me. Don't you dare." 

 

But alas, he knew. 

 

He knew the latter was not in a daze. He had gone. He was long gone, he knew his gasping breath was the only breath to last this long, and everyone around him was a corpse. Dead. Silent. Helplessly trampled by the roaring monster, and then—

 

And then—

 

His view rotates on its axis. The destruction blurred and in its place was a juxtaposition of falling stars. Orangish, reddish, the stars sparkling with the aurora of death. His hands still rested on Choi Jung Soo, his body stayed seated while his head splashed into red. Rolling a few more times as one last string of thought rang in his mind. 

 

'... This is better.' 

 

It's better to die together than to be the only one surviving. His hyungs might berate him in the afterlife for dying alongside them, but Kim Rok Soo ... found this situation as a mercy. He couldn't care less about the living, now that he's dead. Maybe the monster would continue on a rampage. Maybe it would destroy everything on its path and demolish humanity once more. There was no clear evidence of the reinforcement team being capable of defeating the massive incarnate of death itself, and that, for once, was no longer of his concern. 

 

The last thing he registered was the monster devouring the bodies, slurping the blood and soaking its wings with a delightful roar. 

 

:: 
:: 
:: 

 

Dark ceiling. Dusted glass windows and moonlight that shone through. Makeshift beddings and children lying fast asleep. Kim Rok Soo blinked his eyes, running a hand to brush on his throat—feeling the jagged scar, like his head was a breath away from getting chopped off and he somehow managed to survive. He sat up, careful not to wake the children, and looked down at his small hands. So small, in fact, that it is smaller than the time he lost his parents in the car accident. He had the scars from his uncle's abuse, too, it's safe to say this was his own body. Albeit a far younger version, probably around the latter half of his three-year-old self. 

 

Not far from him, a little girl woke up. With messy bob hair, dark as jade, blinking in utter bafflement. She looks shaken, for the most part, and terrified. The look of someone who had lost everything overnight. The same look as the children he had met in the apocalypse. There was something else that caught his attention, Kim Rok Soo felt his head whip around the moment he recognised the word she uttered. 

 

"No ... no way ...."

 

That's ... Korean. He ain't possibly have mistaken the language he's spoken with all his life. Of course, this whole thing is already ludicrous and overbearing, yet it's not like Kim Rok Soo couldn't guess. 

 

So he found himself asking before he could stop his younger body satisfy its curiosity, "You too...?" 

 

She gasps and flinches, wide-eyed and jaw dropped. For a while, they were in a standoff, both parties having no clue how to proceed. Kim Rok Soo noted she looks no older than five years old, with gracious and remarkable features behind the dirt and soot covering her skin, much like a main character's appearance. He felt slight guilt pestering his conscience, but what can he do? His world was riddled with apocalypse and people with super powers exist, what's there for a transmigration story unfolding before his eyes to surprise him? Adding on that, he just lost everyone in front of his eyes, lifting the spirit of the despairing main character beside him wouldn't hurt in the long run. 

 

Better yet, she might be able to provide more information, and for Kim Rok Soo who just learned the massive impact information holds—this girl was his lifeline. Dealing with the main character's problem might be annoying, but again, it's not as if his life had ever been spared from problems. 

 

It's decided that taking her side would be more favourable. 

 

Her words resounded, then, tiptoeing in the thin silence, "... Superman?" 

 

He ... He didn't expect such a way of verification, but okay. 

 

"Hulk." 

 

She sniffed, eyes sparkling in recognition. "Tteokboki."

 

"Kimchi Jigae." 

 

"I'm 25 this year, how old are you?" 

 

... Isn't she so quick in taking this all casually? Again, though, it's not like he's complaining.

 

"I'm 22." 

 

"...."

 

"...?"

 

"Call me Noona, then." 

 

"I donn even know youw name." 

 

"We can decide on that later," she brushed it off, decidedly also brushed off his lisps, "lest the child's body mess up and blurt it out accidentally." 

 

... As expected, the main character is different. He nodded in agreement, the sombre tone had softened and he could feel she was calming down. Kim Rok Soo sighed, feeling his eyes drooping. This would be bothersome, he doesn't remember much of his childhood before the accident, but he does remember that his childhood body had been quite sickly—especially so in the years he lived with his uncle. 

 

At this rate, it's not that he'd had to face the main character's problems, but him becoming one of the problem's sources. Not that it matters, the one who'll face the headache is her after all.

 

"I'll look fowwad to woking with you." 

 

She chuckles at that, hand waving off his words like he was being silly. "Noona. Call me properly first." 

 

"... I'll look fowwad to woking with you, Noona." 

 

"Hehehe." 

 

Well, whatever makes the main character happy and he gets to live on. 

 

:: 
:: 
:: 

 

Was this how it was supposed to be with every orphanage out there? His frown couldn't be any deeper. Inadequate food, lack of hygiene, shortage of staff, aggressive and violent adults—nothing new, but that's not supposed to be the case. The girl, or Nia, according to the staff and other children called her, seems to be fuming at their new environment. 

 

"Children shouldn't live in a place like this!" 

 

Indeed. 

 

"Look at those motherfuckers pocketing embezzled money while the children starved!" 

 

Exactly. 

 

"Why do you keep nodding?! Speaks!" 

 

Yeah— 

 

"Oh ...," he blinked back at the eyes glaring at him. "I'm speaking tho? In my mind." 

 

She already spoke his mind, nothing to be added. He ignores her berating on how it was a disrespect for his Noona and whatnot, and instead tightened his grip on the bucket of water they were carrying to the bathhouse. 

 

Listening to her speak while huffing and puffing somewhat reminded him of Choi Jung Soo, he looked down at his hands. The feeling of gripping the lifeless shoulders so hard that it cracked was still vivid–almost as if the phantom sensation remained. His head had been so easily cut off that he didn't have the chance to look back on Lee Soo Hyuk one last time, he doubted their bodies could be salvaged before mercilessly devoured. 

 

He sighed. 

 

"Stop sighing, Dongsaeng. You're not that old yet." 

 

He retorted, "The age gap ish only thwee yeash." 

 

She ruffled his head once they arrived at the bathhouse, ignoring the staff scolding them for being too slow and just heading back before they were tasked with another workload too much for children to bear. 

 

Nia only replied to him when they were far enough, "Grow up first before retorting, those lisps are too cute to be taken seriously." 

 

"You look no owdell than five."

 

"You look three." 

 

He frowned. For the past month, they were becoming more familiar with each other, and during that time Kim Rok Soo learn that this girl is far more annoying than Choi Jung Soo sometimes. Even though the age gap of their current bodies is merely two years, she was smug whenever she mentioned that the real age gap was three years. It didn't help that his toddler body is more expressive, and it only served to intensify her teasing when he cried out of frustration. 

 

If there's a time when she resembled Lee Soo Hyuk .... 

 

"You shithead of an adult!" 

 

... Is that they both throw fists once their patience snaps. Which is an achievement, because that particular hyung has an exceptional level of patience compared to anyone else Kim Rok Soo has ever seen. Upon seeing a male staff member trying to pinch and grope their roommate, Nia precisely targeted the abdomen, taking advantage of her height to kick the male staff in his crotch area and bite off his neck all the while the poor man screamed in pain. 

 

'Vicious.' 

 

He saw Lee Soo Hyuk beat an arrogant higher-up to a pulp before, so much that Choi Jung Soo that day became the calmest version of himself. There was a surge of foreign fury bubbling in his stomach when he watched how angry Nia looked, and when he noticed the male staff member stood back up and was about to slap her— 

 

Kim Rok Soo prepared his hands, running and dodging the upcoming kick aiming his way when the male staff spotted him. His stride was too small in this child's body, but the good side is that he could avoid things more easily and faster within proximity. He smacks the staff's ankles, forcing him to fall on his butt once more before jumping over him and landing both his clenched fists on his eyes—blinding him for a while. 

 

"Aaaargghhh!" 

 

Nia took that chance to land another harsh kick on his manhood, eliciting such a guttural scream that all the children ran away to their rooms. She grabs his hands and runs, heading to the forest behind the orphanage knowing they have to avoid the enraged staff chasing after them. 

 

"What do you think now?" 

 

She asks between bated breath, they've reached a small river bank deep in the forest and were trying to cool off from the sweat. Her splayed and wet hair resembled a newborn kitten's fur, but her fiery eyes still had that spark Kim Rok Soo first saw on the night they woke up in this world. 

 

He sighed, knowing exactly what she wanted to hear. "Yeah," he relents, "Youwe awesome, Noona." 

 

"Hehehe." 

 

She laughed in delight, she sounded so carefree despite having just fought an adult. "It's so fun," she muses aloud, "Beating bad men is the best thing in the world." 

 

He couldn't disagree. Unlike his past self who had given up and stopped fighting against his uncle's abuse, knowing that he could fight back here–together at that, was not so bad. "It would be bettew if we can loot them dwyy." 

 

"...."

 

"Why?"

 

"... As much as it's a genius idea, I hate to admit that we're too small." 

 

It was meant as a joke. His baffled face must have been obvious. "You actually cossidewed that?" 

 

"Yeah? I mean, imagine! We're gonna sucks them dry and make them suffer all their lives!"

 

She looks a bit too excited .... 

 

:: 
:: 
:: 

 

With the main character existing, there was bound to be a fortuitous encounter. He might not know anything in that regard, seeing how it had been too eventful of times for things such as novels and comics to be found in an apocalyptic world, more so to come across stories similar to this world setting. So the best course of action was to bulldoze through while trying to deduce any event from the side. For example, the encounter with the female staff Miss Connie. The lady looks too much like a younger version of a typical assassin in disguise no matter how he looks at it. At least she gave food—but there's that, so when he warned Nia about it the girl had been sceptical, even though she made sure to keep it in mind in case anything suspicious happened. 

 

And that suspicious event happened all too soon because one day, she announced the adoption of an older kid. So suddenly, with too much of a script-like house-play to believe it at face value. 

 

"Wow." Nia sighed in disbelief, "Had I not known that every bitch here is such a jerk, I would have fallen for their scheme and felt envious." 

 

"You know the cliche, owwphanage in a setting like this ish eithew involved in a human twafficking owu human expewimentation." 

 

She ran her hand through her hair, ignoring the tangled knot as she furrowed her eyebrows. They were back in their rooms. Even if their mental age was older, they figured their child's bodies appreciated cuddles for better quality sleep. And since they were part of the younger children, they were allowed to sleep earlier than their peers. It was moments like this when they could talk without the staff checking on them every so often. 

 

"Have any clue whew ish this wolld might be?" 

 

She shakes her head, "Not yet. There are too many fantasy stories in a medieval setting." 

 

That's true. If it were that easy to find out, they would have long since been planning how to move forward. They were stuck in a waiting game, all the while not knowing if they could have escaped this orphanage before something bad could happen. 

 

"Well, then," he yawned and hugged the makeshift doll Nia had once attempted to make after Miss Connie taught them how to sew, "We can only gwow biggew." 

 

She pats his head for a while, watching the younger one fall asleep. Nia realised then that no one in this orphanage had ever referred to him by name—because he's the youngest, so everyone just calls him Little One or Younger Brother. Didn't help that he's too unbothered for his own good she failed to even realise she didn't know his name. "Hey, what should I call you?" 

 

Nia half expected her question to go unanswered, so she was surprised when the child lazily replied, "....Soo." 

 

"That's not a good idea to mention your Korean name, silly. Let's go with Shou for now." 

 

"...."

 

"...? You fall asleep already?" 

 

As much as Nia wants to just escape and be done with it, Shou was right, they can only grow bigger if they want to do more things and survive. 

 

"Sleep well, Dongsaeng." 

 

:: 
:: 
:: 

 

Two years later. 

 

:: 
:: 
:: 

 

Kim Rok Soo woke up with a pounding headache assaulting his skull. The day before, Miss Connie had punished him for stealing leftover stale bread. Assigning tasks to fill the bathhouse by himself and ending up leaving him all drenched. Nia sighed beside him, the already skinny girl looked gaunt after living in the orphanage for two years. Which, in her defence, he was no better. 

 

"I told you I can do it myself." 

 

"The same 'I can do it myself' with a 4/10 success rate." 

 

"As if 6/10 is something!" 

 

"But it is?" 

 

"You little shit!" She half-smacked the wet cloths on his feverish forehead, grumbling. "At this point, shouldn't whatever the novel's plot have commenced?" 

 

"If it's a novel involving war, maybe." 

 

She shuddered, "Never mind." 

 

Indeed, who in the world wants to be caught in a war? 

 

Nia sighed in exasperation, grabbing the wet cloths to properly wipe his face, the cold contrasting with his hot skin was refreshing. They were the only children left in the room, the others headed to the shared dining room to have breakfast, and it's not like there's staff kind enough to look after sick children. 

 

"... But I have a feeling...."

 

"I'm not interested in you. I'm interested in the mighty muscles." 

 

Kim Rok Soo frowned at that, "I know you love muscles. Anyway, that's not what I mean." 

 

"Huh, a fellow devotee brushes aside the might of muscles?!" 

 

"It just feels like shit about to hit the fan real fast." 

 

"...."

 

"...."

 

"... Plot?"

 

"Plot." 

 

"... Your damn gut and its accurate deduction."

 

And right on cue, there was a commotion outside—the sounds of staff members rushing to this room in a hurry, knowing from experience, that was never a good sign. Kim Rok Soo immediately signalled for Nia to jump out of the window, if one of them is out of commission, then the other should know what's happening and take action. It was a great alibi to observe what's happening inside, too, it's not like he can even stand, let alone run to hide. 

 

"Go."

 

"Okay. Scream if they do anything funny." 

 

"Alright." 

 

The staff barged into the room not long after Nia exited. They appear flustered, eyes darting left and right before stomping their way to his poorly made bed. As for Kim Rok Soo, he's already sick, so playing the role of a bedridden child isn't exactly 'acting' anymore. He grunted and cried when they tried to wake him forcefully, each one of them impatiently asking where Nia was. Well sucks to be them, he had no intention to open his mouth except to cry and whine. 

 

But when one of them decided to have enough and pinched his waist hard? A genuine cry resounded clearly in the room. He coughs and gasps and cries. 

 

'... These disgusting, entitled motherfuckers....!!!' 

 

It hurts as fuck. He cried louder when they tried to muffle him from attracting attention. Having a child's body means having lower pain tolerance, and this situation had made it clearer how much pain he would experience despite it being a trivial thing. 

 

These staff acted as if they could not fulfil their sickening heat if not now–which is probably true, if his gut serves him right–but still! 

 

Baaang...! 

 

The sound of the door being barged open surprises him so much that his cries turned into hiccups. When was the door locked anyway? How long has it been? Kim Rok Soo almost made a blunder in his acting, thankfully, he noticed short black hair— 

     
"... Noonaaaa....!!" 

 

And screamed at the top of his lungs until he felt the hug that had become so familiar in this world encompass him. Since the body had genuinely cried, he could only let it out as he hugged back, telling the audience what these sorry excuses of humans had done. Because what else is more joyful aside from throwing bad people into a problem? 

 

By the time he had tired himself out, sleep was hovering close, and he made sure to clutch his sister's clothes tightly. She was the only ally in this world, had to stick with the safest person for survival. 

 

::
::
::

 

Nia, no, Leonia Boleoti, is angry. 

 

Sure, she did say that if anything happens, Shou should scream for help—but she never wishes for it to actually happen. Listening to him crying, gasping for breath, weakly tattling on how these bastards had dared to assault him? His fever had barely weakened, but now he's practically boiling. She knows he's like her, mentally older than their current bodies and is pretty much an adult himself, yet it served no reason for her care for him to be superficial. 

 

For fuck's sake, if there's a reason why she could hold on in this world without getting betrayed, it was because of him! And as the older one, of course she had to take care of her younger brother! The moment she saw the Boleoti emblems, she gave it her all and prayed for the Duke to spare her and give her a job. It would be much better than here. Anywhere is better than here. She could also take care of Shou while she works as a maid. 

 

She couldn't have guessed the Duke would take her as his daughter instead. Naming her Leonia and all. He had stared at her unblinking until she could literally see his eyes shining like in the illustration she occasionally drew and had seen. And then—

 

A scream. 

 

From her brother, no less. 

 

Anything else feels like a blur, she had never run that fast in these two years filled with running away. The Duke had followed her, easily catching up and kicking the door open, the knights had swiftly subdued all the staff members who had discharged their clothes—but her focus was somewhere else. Her brother had his clothes torn, the scars she never dared to ask about were exposed for all to see, even the bruises she didn't know he had were glaring at her in contempt. 

 

He must be so surprised by his own hiccups, he lets out short gasps and wheezes that were hurting her to hear. When he calls out to her .... 

 

"... I'm sorry." 

 

As she hugs him, as she reaches out for the nearest blanket to cover him, as she listens to her brother crying in fear.

 

"I'm so sorry." 

 

The little shit was so good at hiding things. He was too unbothered with things concerning himself. She should've known. They have known each other for two years now, she should've pressed on so this. This. Whatever this is, which she just found out was not a first would not happen. 

 

Leonia didn't know she was crying all the while, she feels like shit, she feels terrible and upset. It feels like the world is too big and she was pressured to somehow hold it on her shoulders. When the Duke lifted her alongside her brother to his embrace, when she cried her heart out on his shoulder while stubbornly holding her brother tight, it was like everything finally catching up to her at once. 

 

Kim Rok Soo would be absolutely horrified if he knew what she just felt, he would never have thought of acting when nothing really happened, but he was basically knocked out. Spared from the terrifying anger radiating from the Duke and his knights, unknowing of the events happening until a certain incident unfolds in the future. 

 

"Waah ... It's my fault ...." 

 

"It's not." The Duke retorted, firm and left no room for objection, "You hold no fault. You're thinking unnecessary things." 

 

He glanced at the children who'd cried themselves to sleep, feeling the youngest burning with high fever and his oldest gradually burning up alongside him. He calls on to Rupert, "Clean this place up. We shall greet the honoured guests with utmost hospitality." 

 

As it happens, Phileo Boleoti would take it on himself to torture those vermin with his own hands. 

 

"Look up any available doctor as we're heading for the nearest inn." 

 

"Understood!" 

 

::
::
::

 

"Hey, Mister. You have to take my brother too." 

 

The child, his daughter demanded once she woke up. She had been bathed by Dame Levipath, clothed in a new dress and had her hair styled. The gaunt cheekbone reminds him of the old folk he'd have fun torturing once he reached the mansion, they had the nerve to lay their hands on his children, it's only right for him to reply with the most fitting answer for their pathetic lives. 

 

Phileo had considered them both as his children even if she didn't say that, but knowing what had happened throughout their lives in the orphanage, he took her words seriously and responded with her deserved respect befitting of a Boleoti. 

 

"Did you think I would separate you two?" 

 

"... You're not?"

 

"Nothing could have served as a reason to do that." He picked her up and let her sit on his lap, "Both of you are my children, bearing Boleoti's names. Just as you've become my oldest child, your brother has become my youngest." 

 

His daughter seems to have a complicated mind, Phileo could have the world wait so his children could speak at their own pace. 

 

She clenched her dress, avoiding eye contact and looking downcast. "Give him a name too." 

 

"A name...?" 

 

"The teachers never call him by name, we had secretly decided to call him Shou when we're together, but I want a pretty name he can be proud of." 

 

... The more he finds out what these children had experienced, the stronger Phileo's desire to tear them to shreds. 

 

"Shou is a pretty name," he reassures, "We can think of names he might like and have him choose when he wakes up." 

 

She nodded along, seemingly about to mention something else before her stomach betrayed her. Right on time, Sir Pabo Gabel knocked on the door, informing that the table had been set and dinner was ready. 

 

He could feel his lips curl up at the reddish blush Leonia had, "Let's have dinner first." 

 

He motions the knights from mentioning his youngest for the time being, letting the doctor thoroughly check on him is crucial. Phileo could feel his daughter would forego dinner altogether once the topic of her brother came up, which he could understand, but just as she worries about him—he too, worries about Shou. They needed all the strength required for the long journey ahead. 

 

"... It's delicious...!" 

 

It was a simple soup, taking into account the long starvation period and lack of food that had done to her body, they couldn't afford to be careless even if everyone was dying to have the best food out there for her to eat to her heart's content. 

 

'But for such a simple soup to make her this happy ....' 

 

He would need clothes to get tailored, books befitting children to get ordered, every necessity needed and proper teachers on board. The work at home ... would take a while. 

 

They take turns feeding each other, the child babbled about his meagre experience in child rearing and had, as per her words, generously taught him how to do it correctly before he could mess up when he did it to Shou. 

 

His child is such a genius. Where did she learn 'child rearing' from? 

 

When they visited the youngest after dinner, Leonia had run up to her brother and bombarded the doctor with questions. Asking how's he's doing, does it appear that anything serious happens, he keeps having a flare every so often so what's actually wrong with him— the doctor had been kind enough to answer each question, but as he signaled him to stop and had her being accompanied by Dame Levipath outside despite her protests, Phileo finally take proper look to his youngest son. 

 

Black hair ... from the glimpse he had seen when the boy had cried so fearfully, he had black eyes too. He couldn't look older than five years old. Leonia was seven years old. For children so young to have to take care of each other because of the incapable adults around them, nothing could be more upsetting. 

 

"Doctor, proceed to explain. Don't leave out anything." 

 

“Y-yes! Of course, Your Grace." The doctor readily held out the board he was holding, showing him the notes on the diagnosis as he explained. "Taking into account the poor environment the Young Master had lived, he was actually in a better shape than expected given his conditions." 

 

"There are signs of prolonged infection, and his respiratory tract has taken quite a hit. It also caused his immunity to drop easily, since the body has been constantly fighting the infection." 

 

"The bruises would take a much longer time to heal, again, his body was in such a state that it could not afford to focus on healing anywhere else. His lungs, his heart, and his digestive tract would require an extensive observation to see the most favourable treatments to provide. And he had—" 

 

Phileo belatedly recognised the cracking board in his hands, paper sheets crumpled and the notes growing unintelligible. The information had been screeching in his mind, there were ripples in the air, and he was silently grateful to have a keen control of his power before he could commit something he would deeply regret later on. 

 

The poor doctor was sweating bullets, head hung low and hands grasping his coat. To say the truth, he did not expect much from an unknown doctor in some unremarkable inn, but for him to deduce this much was a testament to either his ability or his youngest had simply been that gravely ill. Was it Wilhelm? For a random doctor, he sure had quite a fancy name. 

 

"... Continue." 

 

"... Your Grace, with utmost respect, I would like to mention it was a miracle for the Young Master not to have any of his organs fail yet." 

 

"...."

 

"With my limited knowledge, I do not dare to do any more for the diagnosis. This would take several more doctors specialised in different fields to ensure none of the treatments collide and cause an unwanted reaction." 

 

"Like what?" 

 

"... His body missing the medication's signal and instead causing harm—this is too early to be sure, Your Grace." 

 

Phileo looked over to his son, the fever had decreased and he appeared more at ease. No longer could he hear any wheezing. His lips had regained their pinkish hue instead of bluish purple. The doctor must have known, but he had no intention to address Shou's scars, that must be one of the reasons his son would require more doctors for his care. He would need to confirm if his youngest possessed the Fang, and if he did—

 

... Two of the Boleoti bloodline had been brought down to this state. 

 

The hunt will be a long and tedious process moving forward. 

 

Notes:

I finally catch up with the manhwa for ibtmlad! Had some nostalgia moment too, and then this fic just born! See you on the next chapter!

(pssstt, need to reread to remember the characters name, so sorry with any wrong character name;; I'll edit it out later)

(another pssst, since I have no idea of the official spelling for the names, I shall go with the most familiar ones. So Boleoti it is! I literally just realized cuz the names are always changing everry several chapters:"">)

Chapter 2

Notes:

Muscles! Chant with me, "Muscle! The flexed divinity! Muscle! A fine creation!"

TW/CW: Depiction of the Aftermath of an Assault, Strong Language, Implied/Referenced Body Horror

Phileo ran his hand through his youngest's hair, feeling the feverish heat as he watched Leonia putting the wet cloth on her brother's forehead. He sat near the headrest, while his daughter made herself comfortable to cuddle with the youngest. Gabel and Levipath were in charge of guard duty outside while the Vice Captain was discussing the doctors Whilhem had recommended to run a check for their credibility and to ensure they could tie their mouths shut as pledged loyalty once they set foot into the North. 

 

"You can catch a cold too." 

 

"Silly Mister, I've never fallen sick." 

 

"That's 'Dad' for you." 

 

"I'm not used to it yet, Stupid!" 

 

"My daughter really possesses quite a colourful vocabulary." 

 

His children could take their time, he figured. And Leonia was right, for a Boleoti to fall ill was unheard of. If there were instances of it happening, it would most likely be related to uncontrolled Beast Fang. To withhold a power so massive, the untrained would face significant repercussions—but none of it was something that his youngest should have experienced yet. Prolonged infection, they said, it's not surprising if he took the environment into account. But for it to reach this state, it would take his son to live in an extremely poor environment from the moment he was born. 

 

Moreover, the scars ... especially the one on his throat—it was remarkable for him to survive whatever had happened to cause such appalling remnants—the body had been forced to endure multiple near-death experiences it was both inspiring and heartbreaking to witness. His children were strong and resilient, it was something he should've taken pride in. Phileo wished he had listened to his heart sooner, meeting with his children sooner so it wouldn't be this bad. Dwelling on what-ifs was a useless thing to do, and so is drowning in guilt and self-blame. Yet still, as he listened to his children crying so miserably, in fear and in despair, he wondered if said useless emotions would finally pull their noose around him. Dragging him under and snapping him to his senses that he—

 

He needs to wake up. 

 

He grew up with the best provision there is, he's not once starved nor hit, he's someone who never had an ailment grave enough for his body to shut down just to heal. The only time he gets hurt is while hunting, but that's a given, it's something he could avoid and could fight back just as he grows stronger with more accumulated experiences. 

 

"Mister."

 

"Call me 'Dad'." 

 

"Mister, I actually don't remember anything before living in the orphanage. I was five years old then, Shou was so small, he tripped a lot, and the teachers always pinched him so hard because of it. They said many things were running late because he couldn't move faster like the other kids."

 

"Every one of them?" 

 

Leonia went silent for a moment, patting her brother as they snuggled together under the blanket. "Miss Connie was the worst. I thought, I thought she would be different. I thought we could have an adult we could rely on ... I thought Shou was distrustful because every adult we met was bad."

 

"... He's so good at hiding things," a sob, his daughter was crying again, "I don't even know they often touch him inappropriately. I didn't know Miss Connie had been planning to sell him off to a pimp." 

 

He jolted at that word, wide-eyed as he said, "You know what a pimp is—" 

 

"I know!" Leonia seemed to be surprised by her own shout and immediately checked if it woke her brother. Only sighed in relief when the child snuggled in her arms deep asleep, "... they sell off people to brothels and stuff." 

 

She's only seven years old. The amount of advanced vocabulary made it clear his children were forced to mature far too early. Even cornered rats bite back—the world had been too cruel for them to grow up peacefully so they have to do anything to survive, cautious, discerning, playing along. Those are traumatic responses, he had learned, it's how some children cope with something horrific, while the rest opt to shut down and detach themselves from reality. One would say it was expected for adults to have the same disposition, they named it 'wisdom', but all of these were things one should have learned under guidance. These weren't something children should learn this early. 

 

To fall and have others to rely on as they stood back up. Is that not the role of parents? Of adults? 

 

Phileo Boleoti did not know if his own parents thought the same, but it was wistful thinking to expect them to. He gathered his children in his arms, letting them lie on top of him, "Then, do you want to kill them all?" he proposed to his daughter, she deserved to have choices over her opinions. Although he's someone who would regret swift death for such scums, they were going to hell in the end, giving them a taste of it in the world of the living was the last mercy a Boleoti especially generous with. 

 

He waited for her daughter to cry, everything had been stressful and it was unhealthy for children to bottle up their emotions. He patted their backs, the motion still awkward, but he would make sure it would not be the case soon enough. 

 

Leonia looked at him in the eyes, then, she was livid, "No," the killing intent she presented with each word was too big for her age, "I want you to make them wish they were dead instead." 

 

And to this enraged cub, there's only one reply Phileo could give, "The Boleoti is the best in that regard." 

 

"Wow, I love Boleoti already." 

 

He nodded, pride finding its way to his heart. His oldest had been making him proud so easily, it lightened his mind to listen to her laughing again. Listening to her it was the first time she wore a beautiful and warm dress, it was the first time she wore a pyjamas so soft to her skin, telling him the food was nice and warm. Telling him how silly Sir Pabo Gabel's name was, how Meleis Levipath is a cool and awesome older sister and she wants to be like her. 

 

"Mister ...." 

 

"What is it again?" 

 

"Your chest ... feels so strong." 

 

"...." 

 

His smile froze, and he glanced down at Leonia, but the latter was already asleep. That's ... certainly a mere slip of the tongue. Surely not...? 

 

His wish was cut short once morning came. He expected his daughter would awake earlier than her brother, seeing how he was still unconscious the night before. It appeared that his youngest recovered enough to regain consciousness, sleepily snuggled deeper in his embrace until he jumped out in surprise, leaving Phileo no room to catch him on time as he fell with a thud.

 

"...."

 

"...." 

 

"Kidnapper...!" 

 

... What?

 

"I'm your Dad." 

 

Shou was looking at him with such wariness that it left his heart broken into pieces. His eyes remind him of his younger years, distrustful. That can't be happening, he couldn't have already ruined the parenting journey he had yet to explore. Phileo laid Leonia on the bed and made his way to approach his son who had run to a corner and pointed at him accusing him of his flawed innocence. 

 

He was too small for his age, much like his sister, but while Leonia had at least some baby fat left—he nearly had none. The food required for his growth had proven to have been left neglected and Phileo would need a thorough, specialised plan of diet for his son to recover. 

 

What does one suppose to do in this situation...? 

 

He kneeled to meet his eye level, hoping straightforwardness to do the trick just as it had been with Leonia, "I'm your Dad from now on." 

 

He said so to comfort the confused child—

 

"Perverted kidnapper...!!" 

 

... Something. Something had been crushed inside him. He couldn't move even if he wanted to stop the child who frantically ran over to the door and shouted for help. Staring blankly as Sir Gabel reassures his son that he's fine and that he was not kidnapped with his sister in any way. Dame Levipath seemed to desperately avoid looking in his direction, as if to rub salt on his bleeding wound. Meanwhile, Manuce couldn't hold it in and laughed. He would need to cut his salary after this. 

 

By the time Shou was convinced, Leonia had woken up. His son ran over to her, toddling his way and extended his short hands to grasp his sister's pyjamas and hide behind her. 

 

"... Noona. That kidnapper guy said he's our Dad from now on." 

 

-1 hp. 

 

"Well, Mister did say he's adopting us! Although he's terrible at communication." 

 

-1 hp. 

 

"He looks like a pervert." 

 

"... Can't disagree on that. But he's a good guy and he means well, don't worry, Dongsaeng!" 

 

-1 hp. 

 

Leonia shouted energetically to cheer on his son, punching his heart further just because she can do it, "At least he got such fine muscles! I felt it yesterday, it was so sturdy and hot!" 

 

"You're right...!" 

 

... It's not a mere slip of the tongue. Phileo had been foolish to hope for such an implausible outcome. He had a sudden awareness of how he dressed, and before further damage could be done, he instructed the knights to tell the inn's staff to prepare breakfast. 

 

Please, let the journey to the mansion go by without problems. 

 

But of course, it was foolish for him to hope so. 

 

"...." 

 

His son is staring at him. No, to be precise, his eyes were fixated on his chest. He wore cute blue overalls with a fluffed coat, similar to his sister beside him. In his hand was a giant candy that the inn owner had given him, mindful of his health so it was made with ingredients easy to digest, he'd been holding on to it with no visible intention of finally eating the poor sweet even after the carriage had moved past the inn for quite some time. 

 

"... Divine creation." 

 

"...." 

 

Why? Why would his children be so fixated on people's chests? Phileo had deliberately worn covering and loose clothes, but as if undeterred, both his daughter and son somehow agreed to ignore his effort. 

 

"Sigh...," he picked Shou over, motioning Leonia to grab a blanket Dame Levipath had been carrying outside. His son especially still too weak to face the brunt cold of the North, the magically thermal-regulated blanket was necessary. He questioned, gently covering his son with the blanket, "Do you even see me as human?" 

 

Leonia had an answer for that, "You just get a generous appreciation, Mister. You should be proud!" 

 

"What appreciation?"

 

"Those muscles are a waste on you it's saddening, both of us shall pay respects and grieve over this tragic fate!" 

 

"...."

 

He glanced at his daughter, and then at his son, their eyes were practically sparkling. Thankfully, he had somewhat reconciled(?) with his youngest, the child no longer calling him a kidnapper every so often, but the price he had to pay was a bit too extreme. Phileo had been careful to only touch his children over clothes, knowing what they had faced in the orphanage. He fears that this ... excitement over muscles had stemmed from the desire to be strong, strong enough so they could fight back. 

 

Was his dignity worth leaving him as a subject of this questionable(?), yet oddly reasonable(?), phenomenon? 

 

Shou grabbed a fistful of his blanket, seemingly just realising its warmth, he showed it off to Leonia and as his daughter climbed over to his lap, they both took him as a lance to create a makeshift tent–the three of them fully covered like they had entered a secret place only they could access. All without even asking his opinion on the matter. He watched his children sharing the candy, each taking a tentative bite, apparently found it distasteful and handed it over to him instead. 

 

He absentmindedly accepts the pathetic candy, letting Shou sit on his side before the whole charade could potentially suffocate him, "... Have you two ever crossed a gate?" 

 

Leonia asked while climbing down, whatever motivated her to join forces with her brother had gone and she opted to lie lazily on the couch across from them, "What's a gate?" 

 

"Like a magic gate?" Shou guessed, his whole body being covered in a blanket while he looked up and down reminds him of children who use the same method to act as a ghost in plays. 

 

"It did enable those passing through to cover a massive distance at once. Albeit rare, first-timers could get a little sick." 

 

His son froze at that, awkwardly peeking from the blanket, "... How sick?" 

 

Leonia added, "... Like throwing-up level sick?" 

 

"...? Just throw up if you feel like it." 

 

"Are you an irresponsible adult, not-a-kidnapper Mister?" 

 

"Wow, this clueless Mister." 

 

Again, the way his children spoke to him left Phileo speechless. How come each word leaving their mouths could be so exhausting? Was this how parenting was supposed to be? They said patience is the key, but a Boleoti was anything but patient—they're experts in laying low for a hunt, not in the same sense as putting up with children's babbles. 

 

Or maybe it was, he had no way of knowing even then. 

 

"In this moment you're breathing, another carriage could easily be bought over." 

 

"...."

 

"...." 

 

Finally, some peace. 

 

—Not. 

 

He set his gaze on the tree, appreciating its sacrifice as his children threw up on its roots. He had mentioned it just in case, but it turned out they were in that bad a state for the side effects to be this strong. Phileo had requested (demanded) Whilhem to tag along, and it had been a good decision as the doctor swiftly checked over the kids and prescribed medications for relief. 

 

He brought them to his embrace, each bundled up in blankets, "How are you feeling now?" 

 

Leonia weakly wondered, "Is this ... afterlife?" 

 

"Don't haunt the afterlife with your soul yet." 

 

"Wow ... Mister, you're so mean ...." 

 

Shou ... fell asleep after taking medication, Leonia seems like moments away from joining the dreamland. Their sleeping faces calmed what little heart he still had, it was strange, to find this exhaustion not as something bothersome–but one he couldn't help to recall with fondness. Phileo Boleoti thought he could understand what parents out there feel when their children are having tantrums and succeed in surpassing the hurdle. 

 

"Let's hasten our pace." 

 

"Understood, Your Grace." 

 

::
::
::

 

Cara Kastor had been an observer of the Boleoti for generations. Had seen the former Duke in his golden years and had witnessed the current Duke rise to succession. She's practically one of those most familiar with Phileo Boleoti's whims, she's confident in her abilities to handle said whims with utmost dedication. She merely did not expect the Duke to come home with not just one, but two children, bearing black hair and features far too identical to his appearance in his younger years it was almost uncanny. 

 

The maids, stationed outside and bowing in respect, could not dare raise their heads even if they were surprised by the excited chatter of the children. Cara, too, could only watch blankly as a scene too unfamiliar had decided to grace this mansion on such a random day. 

 

"The house is so big!" 

 

"So big!"

 

"Everyone looks so cool!" 

 

"So cool!"

 

"Look at that snow, it's the first time we've ever seen it piled so high!" 

 

"So high!" 

 

The sight of a young girl cheerfully exclaims and a young boy singing along while a huge blanket was covering him could not be any cuter. And with the Duke reaching out to them and carrying the children, one might wonder if a historical event was currently unfolding before them. So much so that she almost forgot the greetings.

 

"You have arrived, Your Grace." 

 

"Welcome home, Your Grace!"

 

The maids and butlers repeated greetings all the way as the Duke and two children proceeded to enter the mansion, sweatdropping in nervousness as they waited for his next command to disperse. 

 

"... Dongsaeng, doesn't this look like a perfect place for murder?" 

 

"I can guarantee there would be an underground prison for torture." 

 

Phileo had his eyebrows slightly raised in intrigue, "How'd you guys know?" 

 

"So it's true?!" 

 

Such ... conversation. Cara could see the maids and butlers shaking in fear, had the topic not been murder and torture, it would sound like a harmonious conversation parents had with their children. 

 

"Cara, call over the wardrobe designer and craftsmen." 

 

"... Pardon me for asking, Your Grace. For what reason could you possibly...?" 

 

At that question, Phileo motioned to the children instead, "Go on, just as we practice on the carriage." 

 

The young girl looked at her with late realisation, her sunken cheeks were heartbreaking to see. To everyone's surprise, her voice was strong and brave, lively compared to her skinny appearance. "Hello, I'm Leonia Boleoti." 

 

"Good job." 

 

Since both of his hands were occupied, the Duke seems to have chosen to bump his forehead to the Lady's instead of a pat. Cara felt she had just aged decades of years at once, it was definitely a beautiful scene, but it was too difficult to understand with a sane mind. 

 

"...."

 

"Why?" The Duke asked the young boy then, and Cara also wondered why he kept silent, even after a while. The answer was reluctantly given—

 

"... It sounds too big." 

 

"Nothing sounds too big for a Boleoti." 

 

"Don't worry, Dongsaeng, this Noona's name also sounds too big." 

 

"...? You're accepting it just fine?" 

 

Young Lady Leonia huffed in frustration, "You should support me in moments like this, Silly Mister! How can you be so clueless! You need to know how to read the room!" 

 

It seems to work out for the young boy, Cara couldn't hide her smile as he finally introduced himself. Looking as if he's using the conversation between the Lady and the Duke as a distraction so no one would notice his nervous voice. His big eyes were very much like the younger Duke's, they invoke deep grievances when combined with his visibly malnourished body. 

 

"... I'm Lewellen Boleoti." 

 

Cara held back a gasp. The names of the three in front of her carried such majesty that prompted everyone to bow deeper in recognition. 

 

The Roar (Phileo) of the Lion (Leonia) Monarch (Lewellen). 

 

::
::
::

 

That day was filled with views of families, children running about with candied fruit in their hands, and parents watching in close distance while conversing about each other's children. Phileo Boleoti had been observing within his carriage, paperworks he was supposed to pay attention to were discharged at one corner, much to Rupert Rikos's agony who rode a horse outside. 

 

"Parenthood is something sublime. It's wondrous, you'll only come to understand once you've become a parent." 

 

Carnis Rinne had once said to him, his son, which still some months old by then was secured in his embrace. He was relentless in his boasts, he'd recounted his daughter's achievement every so often—that she drew him so beautifully one day, that she had learned how to braid hair and it's only made sense for him to visit the Boleoti Mansion with his hair being braided in all directions just to show off. The moment his son was born, he would show the magical recordings of his son calling him 'dad' whenever they met. Enough that everything might as well be etched in Phileo's mind. 

 

'Did it ... really bring you happiness?' 

 

For Phileo, who's no more than the Perfect Boleoti for his parents, it was not emotions he could easily sympathise with nor could he imagine sympathising. It was not worth pondering, his time had been too precious to be wasted away. And yet, he found himself following his impulses. 

 

"I'm adopting a child."

 

"... Pardon—"

 

"Prepare to depart." 

 

"My, My Lord!"

 

He visited orphanage after orphanage, meeting children one after another, questioning his decision each time every child who met his eyes cried out loud. The knights and his butler Rupert Rikos had said nothing, but he knew they were following his command without understanding exactly what his intention was. In the fifth orphanage visit, even Phileo started to wonder if he should simply stop trying. He was trying so hard on something he's not even had a clear purpose for— 

 

But when a girl screamed and stood on his path, so daring, clothed ruggedly and bruised all over, he felt a foreign burn. 

 

Jade-like black hair, a unique trait only a Boleoti possessed, she was far too unkempt compared to all the children he had seen beforehand. Rupert had told him, this child was not on the list, he had nearly lived his life never finding out the existence of this tiny kid who most likely shared the same bloodline as him. 

 

For the first time, he had named another human. 

 

Leonia. 

 

Leonia Boleoti. The foreign burn spread fast, it was desire, it was determination, it was an ardent force to protect. He wants to raise her, he will raise her himself, his child. Those peaceful smiles Carnis Rinne had whenever he boasted about his children—Phileo would make sure he came to know how it felt. He would give her the happiest childhood there is, he would make it so the mansion was filled with laughter and become his child's home. 

 

Phileo did not expect a scream. 

 

Not from his daughter, but one she must have been very familiar with to prompt her to dash with no hesitation whatsoever. It was surprising speed, he had followed her before he could understand why, the Glasdigo knights charged in alarm alongside him and it was for justified reason. 

 

The moment he bursts the door open, he learned fury and grief can be felt at the same time. Men and women with undone garments surrounding a child no older than five years old. Who won't be angry? He found it despicable for himself that the first thing he saw was the scars. The child, his son, is like someone who miraculously survived and it was a painful truth to accept. The jagged scar on his throat was appalling, and the deep ups and downs of his skin were too old to wish for any healing even with the highest healing magic. The bruises did not come from hitting, it was pinching, it was forceful grips of vermin who called themselves moral. 

 

Phileo Boleoti did not know what 'Noona' nor 'Dongsaeng' means, he knew, however, that these children had been taking care of each other for so long. He could only watch his daughter hugging her brother, apologising over and over while the one who should've apologised had dared to glare at them in contempt. Why would such experience become the victim's fault? Why would people be so quick to wonder what the victim did wrong before questioning what the culprit had done? He'll make sure it won't be the case. Even if he had to flip the current society upside down, it was something a Boleoti could always do once he put his mind to it. 

 

And so he finds himself giving command. 

 

"Castrate them all before you drag them to their new home." 

 

"Understood, Your Grace." 

 

"Just make sure they don't die from blood loss, and do nothing else." 

 

"Y, yes Sir!" 

 

He won't have such disdainful accessories within his underground prison. He would make sure no such thing would exist in this world no more. As he walked over to his children, awkwardly putting off his robe to cover them better and carrying them to the carriage, he learned what it means to hold fury on behalf of someone else. 

 

Something sublime. It was indeed sublime in the sense that no definite emotions could ever draw near to what one would feel as a parent. It was as if naming any emotion in its place was to disregard the meaning of the emotion itself. How could it make sense? Phileo keep learning, and it appears that he'd continue to learn for the rest of his life. 

 

—Be that as it may, once he was back in his study with Vice Captain Mono, Dame Levipath and Cara Kastor standing before him, Phileo just could not say every single thing. How could one even explain such intricacies? Everything had been summarised as him adopting because he saw his friend's love with his children. It was no surprise to see them exclaim in utter bafflement. 

 

"What were you thinking, Your Grace?! Adopting children for a reason like that!" Cara seems especially angry, she was his nanny in his younger days, the only one in the mansion who could openly scold him and argue with his decisions–of course, before he had his children, that was the case. "Children are not a pet." 

 

"Do you think I don't know?" 

 

"Otherwise, you won't so impulsively—!" 

 

"Please, calm down," Vice Captain Mono Kerres stopped her, he pointed to another thing they should pay attention to, "More importantly, are you sure they're not related to you, Your Grace? Black hair ... I fear we have to investigate this matter further." 

 

Cara sighed deeply, troubled, "I've called in tailors and merchants, words must have been spread that you're adopting children." 

 

Phileo glanced at them, directing his gaze to Levipath who had yet to speak her mind. The latter had clenched fists on her side, "This could be a matter others easily pointing fingers at, Your Grace. Such malicious words are bound to be found behind their (the children's) backs." 

 

"Behind their backs," he parroted with a sneer, "Of course they wouldn't do it upfront, but I could just kill them all the same." 

 

"...."

 

"...."

 

"...."

 

He waved his hand, dismissive, heading to the nearest window as he spotted his children playing with Maid Konnie and Mia. Lewellen was carried by Mia, the look on his face reminds him of a cat, he could guess the snow was still too cold for him to play at ease even with thermal-regulated blanket, but if his poorly hidden curious glances were something, Phileo could say it just a matter of time until his son adapted and develop better health to do anything he wants. 

 

'... I should raise the maid's salary.' 

 

Leonia ... was running around, the poor Konnie running behind with a worried face. The contrast between scenes was evident enough to elicit a chuckle out of him. He should look for guards in charge of them, they would need personal maids and escorts, too. And then ... tutors. If it were him, Phileo would rather do it himself, but with the upcoming monster hunt hovering close by, he had no choice but to let people bear the honour to tutor Boleotis under their tutelage.

 

"Just leave them be for now," he finally said, "It's good to see which fools would stumble first. Since the North has been pretty dirty, it's only right for the owner to do some cleanup." 

 

"... Understood." 

 

He called on, "Vice Captain Mono." 

 

"Yes, Your Grace?" 

 

"How about the doctors?" 

 

The doctors' backgrounds had been sent to him the night before, just as Whilhem was some random doctor he happened to meet, the doctors he recommended were also those he had never heard of. Which was probably inevitable, as it was once in a blue moon for Boleoti Mansion to ever summon a doctor. There was a separate residence for maids, butlers and such, he recalled ever reviewing calls for a doctor for pregnant maids in their maternity leave period but other than that, he never saw anything else. 

 

This time, however, he would need to appoint exclusive doctors for the children. Fame did not dictate one's quality and abilities, the most important thing was that they were capable and tight-lipped. As with the upper class, those in higher positions are often filled with money instead of competence, and Phileo would not take this issue with a meagre amount of care when it is directly linked to his children's healthcare. 

 

"They should all arrive by the day after tomorrow for the latest." 

 

"I see. I shall proceed with the interview myself." 

 

"...!" 

 

The three could not hide their surprise. The Black Beast would interview the pitiful doctors personally? It appears as if the doctors would require another doctor for themselves. It was etched in their imagination the sights of white coated souls trembling and losing half their lifespan in the face of the unknown (Phileo's whims). 

 

"Then," Cara relented, it appeases her heart to see Phileo at least seems to be serious in raising the children, "I'll prepare the dinner immediately, I heard the sweet potatoes from the West had just arrived, the children would love it." 

 

"I'll leave it to you." 

 

::
::
::

 
"Gramma." 

 

... Why, Cara would like to question the Boleoti ancestors, would the Young Master visit the main kitchen by himself? No longer did the young boy have a blanket covering his tiny body as he walked around like a little snowman. His clothes had been enchanted with the same thermal-regulated spell–which seems to be a bit excessive considering the mansion itself was maintained under said spell already. There's a horrendous-looking doll in his embrace she didn't dare to ask, it seems to be something he treasures a lot that Cara did not have the heart to say anything. 

 

"Young Master Lewellen, where did Mia go?" 

 

"Had to bring more pillows." 

 

"I see ...." 

 

The heart attack the young maid would have would be quite entertaining. Cara bent down and carried the young boy once she saw him raising his arms. He's too light, it was then that she noticed how cold the Young Master was, he's emaciated to a point where his body could not properly generate heat. 

 

"Want something warm? The dinner would take a while." 

 

She also needs to make sure he's not wandering around while the Duke and the Lady are most likely searching for him. Cara could see it, she would need to heighten everyone's training time, one of the children had the potential to sneak somewhere one way or another in the future. If it comes to it she might as well request the Duke to put a tracking spell for the Young Master, which she wishes would not reach that far. 

 

"Uncle Whilhem said no choco yet, said it was bad." 

 

'Whilhem...? Ah, the doctor.' 

 

Since they have to monitor his health carefully, even if giving hot chocolate or warm honeyed milk feels like something obvious to give to a child, they need to make sure to do it step by step. The Young Master must've felt overwhelmed by the strictness. Cara nodded along, swiftly acting to blend dates, cinnamon, cardamom, nuts and bananas. Normally, it would be mixed with milk, but it would be for another time. She offered a spoonful to the Young Master, and generously prepared two more cups for the Duke and the Young Lady after seeing him bobbing his head up and down in approval. 

 

"Let's give the rest to the Duke and Young Lady." 

 

She couldn't immediately give him a cup, young children like him tend to be unable to maintain strength in their holds. And to make sure he had his attention on her without getting distracted and looking for a way to sneak around, tempting him with the not-chocolate-but-looks-as-delicious drink was necessary. 

 

True to her guess, all the way he had his attention glued, the doll tightly hugged like he had already imagined the big cup secured in his hands. 

 

"Dongsaeng!" 

 

Young Lady Leonia called out in the distance, with Phileo following closely. Mia had her face deathly pale while Konnie pointlessly tried to calm her down–despite looking pale herself. 

 

She gave the Young Master to the Duke, making her way to the living room behind them as they chatted along. The young maids shaking like leaves against the wind were quite entertaining, as expected. 

 

"Noona, Gramma makes something yummy." 

 

"I can smell it too! But don't sneak around like that again!" 

 

"What does 'Noona' and 'Dongsaeng' mean, hm?" 

 

"...." 

 

"... Dongsaeng, you have a wick look on your face. Don't tease Mister, he's already old." 

 

Phileo rarely had his emotions clearly displayed, but Cara surely could discern the jealousy the Duke was having for feeling left out. 

 

"It's okay, Phileo Ahjussi, you don't need to know." 

 

"Pffttt—!"

 

"?????" 

 

Notes:

The name Phileo which I found had the meaning of 'To Love', could be taken as 'Affection'. But I decided to follow the manhwa version—which said 'Roaring' because it suitted the context better. This was to highlight the sheer audacity of the Northern Duke Boleoti withholding against the Imperial Family Belius (which would appear much later) since they were completely autonomous within the empire etc etc. The meaning still invokes a quite remarkable sentence:

The Affection (Phileo) of the Lion (Leonia) Monarch (Lewellen).

Lewellen on itself had the meaning of 'Leader-like' or 'Lion-like', it's consists of 'Llew' for 'Lion' and 'Elen' for 'Brightest' or 'Shining One'. I had the thought of maybe it would be something along the lines of:

The Brighest (Lewellen) Roar (Phileo) of a Lion (Leonia).

The Leading (Lewellen) Roar (Phileo) of a Lion (Leonia).

The Roar (Phileo) of the Brightest (Lewellen) Lion (Leonia).

... All of them had left me stuck for a while. Anyway! Hopefully you won't mind with the [The Roar (Phileo) of the Lion (Leonia) Monarch (Lewellen)]! It also goes well with their ages oldest>middle>youngest, so I'm a bit biased once I decided to go with it;;;;

On other notes, I'm terribleeeeee at describing clothes pls spare me—if you guys are familiar with kid characters in fantasy manhwas you'll be familiar with their cute, breathtakingly adorable outfits so I'll be leaving that to your imagination orz....

That's it for the tedtalk, thank you for giving this long note a read and see you in the next chapter!

Chapter 3

Notes:

... I searched back, Ferio means 'To Kill' or 'To Deal a Death Blow'. I think it's funny cuz Phileo means 'To Love' in comparison. Funnier how both names embodied his existence just as well throughout the story. So there's that, little fun fact(?) before you start!

Behold this chapter, where I bullshxt my way into having intravenous treatment possible in this fic, while snowballing the problem in the process.

Have fun!

Phileo Boleoti was the male lead of this world.

 

That's how Leonia told him just before sleep, tucked on their shared fluffy big bed cuddling together (of course, his dear Mr. Dependable was still with him, the Duke simply had to deal with it because Lewellen couldn't care less), an hour after Phileo read them the story of a family of stars shining brighter for each other. Until he pointed out, absentmindedly and not expecting much, that the stars were actually burning themselves to death and senselessly questioning if the story was for them to have nightmares instead of sweet dreams, since the family of stars were practically eager in unaliving themselves–each contending which would last longer until they've turned to mere dust in some expanse far above.

 

What do you expect when the storyteller is the Northern Duke of medieval fantasy? Except this one in particular seems to be headstrong in expressing he's a man of his own rules. Lewellen could see he was doing his best to sound cheerful and dreamy, but really, the siblings earned a therapy session after surviving such a bizarre experience.

 

He cut the story midway because he couldn't afford to associate the sinister smile the Duke has with the supposedly happy ending of the nighttime story. It was nonsense, he had said whatever came to mind, but he didn't think even Leonia would look at him weirdly. The face she made was comically the unrestrained version of whatever Phileo had intended to hide, mindful of the children he'd adopted just some day ago. It's like there's a full page berating his damned words, and the few last sentences were a fraudulent cheerfulness highlighting the word 'kid'.

 

"Everything has an end," Lewellen said then, not sure why he felt the need to justify himself, "They may burn beautifully, but it would be better to live longer instead."

 

Never mind that the subject of the conversation was... stars. Or the fact that Phileo was in his pyjamas between them and had a questionable seating position that forced all kinds of strength to hold him back from latching his gaze on the muscles shyly assembled across the surface as the silk fabric rested on the divine creation.

 

But, wasn't that the closest example of how he, Kim Rok Soo, had died with his hyungs? Each one of them was seemingly enthusiastic to claim the brightest light for the last time. He didn't even shine, he had thought, or maybe he did. The view of crimson earth echoing the sun above could conceivably be deemed as light, and at least he managed to contribute after the blood of his two most precious had drenched the canvas before him.

 

He shifted his gaze to the Duke, but the latter was staring at him unblinking, unclear if it was bewilderment or something entirely dissimilar.

 

His Noona had kindly supplied, "You're five."

 

It was an acknowledgement. As is for whenever he periodically had this random moments of mellow showing up, like when she first try to pat him despite her fluster of how to calm his crying self (really, it's annoying, but he couldn't blame the body after he saw that)—but that was then, it's two years ago now, he grew up in the meantime. She figured words of affirmation provide stronger support for him, which he didn't even realise was the case. It was only because of her Kim Rok Soo understood his hyungs didn't just say he's doing a good job for nothing, didn't actually get upset of him being hurt because he's hindering their efficiency, that when they say he's holding up great and they're glad to see him waking up after another fainting scare, they didn't just say that to make sure he's not thinking they're disappointed at him in any way while they're in truth were indeed disappointed, it feels worse for him when he knew no better. For someone who took pride in his logical reasoning, he's thoroughly lost in his own walls.

 

She'd remind him when he's not in a great shape to talk. That's he's three, he had all the years coming up. He's four, and while it was the hardest part of the year of their transmigration, they'll be flipping everything upside down once they figure out the novel they're in.

 

"I'm old though." He blinked back his thoughts, he's twenty-four now. "Mister should hold more wisdom."

 

"Don't talk about wisdom yet," Phileo lightly tapped the book on his forehead, caressing his and Noona's head in succession. "The wisdom you should know now is to eat well and sleep well. Then you'll be less ugly."

 

Leonia frowned at him, unimpressed, "How can you call us ugly? If we're ugly, then you're Senior Ugly, Mister Ugly Man."

 

"Ugly Ahjussi."

 

"Yeah, Ugly Ahjussi with handsome muscles."

 

"That could work?"

 

"Of course! They're separate entities!"

 

At this point, Phileo could only stare blankly at them, "... What have I done to have two perverts as children?"

 

But he had no choice, especially when the two of them shut him down with, "We're your future!"

 

That was an hour ago. With 'What does 'ahjussi' mean?' Phileo exited the room in determination, what had suddenly motivated him was not their concern. In the first place, they never cared to use the Korean honorific terms here, since it was a kind of consolation. The last bit of familiarity they both shared, and what's wrong with using them on these medieval fantasy figures? They might as well teach them some and make it appear like they've invented a new language.

 

It feels better knowing that Phileo Boleoti was someone in his twenties. He and his Noona were also in their twenties. The sheer disrespect of calling the Duke 'Ahjussi' was exhilarating, refreshing, it's like a special inside joke they didn't mind sharing. Damning more people this way was not a loss, if anything. It would come in handy, probably a good idea to insult the Royal Family which the cliche would likely drop them on the 'villain' part of the board. He had seen it as Kim Rok Soo often enough that the kindhearted Royal Family was a jaw-dropper whenever he stumbled upon one. Somehow the wicked were often the ones ruling, and that hit too close to home.

 

Lewellen hugged Mr. Dependable closer, resting his head on the empty eye socket of the doll. "What's the genre of this world?"

 

Leonia replied with hints of nostalgia, "It's romance fantasy. Our FMC is a regressor, by the way."

 

The title of the novel was, 'Varia: The Black Beast', the FMC was originally a pacifist, hopeful and believed humans could always be understanding to each other, which led to betrayal and death. The one who came back to the past was bound to change, they could imagine the FMC now would be a kind of scary, if ruthless, woman. That was understandable, it was honestly admirable, he found her to be someone worth admiring the more Leonia told him what the story was about.

 

The perfect female main character for a male lead like Phileo Boleoti. By extension, that means she's their fated step-mother. Who doesn't want to have a cool mother? The settings, filled with political plays abound, might require a good head or two to tread through, but that was fine. Both of them had qualified for the prerequisite, furthermore, Lewellen could see that Leonia would be better equipped than him in this regard.

 

"Noona."

 

"Hm?"

 

"Be the heir."

 

This had to be addressed early. Kim Rok Soo's leadership experience was limited to the time post-apocalypse, when non-combative Ability Users found their significance on the battlefield. Sure, medieval fantasy nobles might consist of those possessing aura or mana, but leading people who use their strength to keep each other in check with leading people who had to combine their strength to fight off monsters daily was wholly different. To say it bluntly, he's not up for bullshit and glib-tongue.

 

So he pressed on, "I need freedom of movement. I can't be too big."

 

Noble daughters are often depicted as children to be married off to powerful families. Their position as the Lady of the Household was likely respected, but before they could reach that position it was awfully obvious what kind of society they were in. While this story supports women to hold significant roles not only in major trade and imperial finance but also political field and frontlines, the other part of society that looks down on them still exists.

 

If the Dukedom of Boleoti, a completely autonomous region in this empire, had a daughter as the official heir. As the Duchess in the future. They could pave the way for Phileo to have an easier time in shaking up the foundation (which stemmed from the opposing party) that could have hindered the plot's progress, at the same time providing a guide light for Varia who had failed to show the truth before regression. Since it was a romance genre, it's basically impossible for them to avoid the spotlight with how they've now become the Duke's adopted children. If they're doing this, they should do it properly. They could build the stage for the future couple to shine, and secure their home in the process. Playing their part as children was easy—in truth, it's fucking worth it.

 

"... You know," she had a blank look on her face, realisation dawned on her after he explained what was on his mind. "That amount of thinking should place you on the heir seat instead."

 

He gasped and wide-eyed, "I don't want to!"

 

"Why again?"

 

He strongly dissents, huffing his breath in petulance, "My job is to fuck them over. Looting them dry and being a slacker."

 

The North was sadly not a perfect place to farm, but no matter. He can farm the wealth of the wicked as a substitute and still withhold his promises in the end. And what if the Boleoti had unlimited wealth in comparison? Lewellen was determined to have a source directly under his name. Better yet, he can always think of one that could let Leonia shine and prove her position as an heir before the story starts in earnest.

 

"... I should have known. Well, okay. I'll make sure you can have fun."

 

Really. She's the best older sister in the world!

 

"Noona is the best!"

 

She happily agreed, "I am the best!"

 

"But, what part of the novel are we in right now?"

 

"...."

 

"You don't know."

 

... He should've asked first before he asked what the genre of this world was.

 

::
::
::

 

'How are you supposed to be a slacker while looting the nobles dry?'

 

It was what Leonia thought, but she would not crush her brother's little bubble. Especially with how happy Lewellen looks right now, deciding they could figure out the timeline later on. He seems to have blissfully forgotten that even if he's not the heir, he would still have mountains of paperwork to leisurely fucked the lives of the nobles. Who knows, maybe the Duke can somehow do that if he never retires? Leonia would be happy if her brother could have fun anyway, she's not stupid enough not to know the implications of how he behaves for these years—he did not live an easy life, so she would give him an easy life if she could do so. Maybe after getting him to work together a bit, what's important is that he can be a slacker in the end.

 

"... Thankfully this is fantasy, again."

 

She tilted her head, curious, "And?"

 

"Imagine there's no potato yet. No chocolate yet. No toilet yet."

 

Goodness, she grimaces, what a random topic. Of course, she's agreed, it would be a pain in the ass had the settings been historically accurate. This world had magic exist, people had the means to touch a realm of invention far early on and it could still be acceptable since, again, it's a fantasy world. Leonia remembered the advice of the fantasy genre, that even if there's magic and other power sources, they should remain logical—which is, a good part of it is true for the story to be balanced, but the rest was utter nonsense! Why would magic be logical? Let alone mathematically intricate? How much headache did she have when she had to come up with fresh magic circles for her illustration because the source material focused heavily on numerical formulae based on actual theories?! So bless them for having a potato already!

 

"Do you like potatoes?" She asked, conveniently not mentioning chocolate and toilet.

 

He huffed at her, like it's obvious, "Sweet potatoes."

 

"Why? What's the difference between sweet potatoes and potatoes?"

 

"It's sweet, you dummy."

 

.... When she just thought of how to make him happy. This ungrateful brat— "I mean, why do you like sweet potatoes in particular?"

 

And that, she watched him lose in his thoughts again. Fidgeting on the doll her five-year-old body had tried to sew. It was supposed to be a deer. But the ears ended up like a crook crossbreed of bunny and elephant. It already lost one eye, and the body part was disfigured to a point where one would wonder if it was some rugged cloud drawing of a kindergartner. Yet she saw he treasured it nonetheless. The doll was a gift she hastily tried to make after a very bad day when he'd say nothing and just cry for the first time, the day he'd flinched if she were to come closer to him, like a wounded kitten with raised fur in fright.

 

They both learned their bodies responded to stress just as children do, and they also figured out it's easier to be a child when it comes to big emotions. She feels like she can breathe after a good crying session, and her body adapts better compared to adults. She cried so much early on she didn't even bother when he teased her because of it, awkwardly talking about other topics if she tried to question why he didn't try to cry then.

 

Leonia ended up regretting it, and he cried very painfully. It filled her with terror. The cry that darkens the world around her, that deafens the voices but highlights his. She's familiar with cries of sadness, of anger, of frustration, of helplessness. She's not and could never familiarise herself with a cry of flesh-cutting anguish. One that clenched at anyone's heart, enough to invoke fury in whoever had heard of it.

 

She may have been too out of it back then, but she recognised the anger blaring from the Duke and Glasdigo Knights that one time. She went around the mansion with the Duke to make sure no one separated the doll from him, not sure if they understood the word 'emotional support doll' or not but better to say it upfront before they found out. Found out what, Leonia couldn't be exactly sure herself, but if it's about her brother then what's unknown shall be kept unknown.

 

"It's fulfilling," he shared, tiny and unsure, "it's yummy and not hurt."

 

Why would he look at her like he's expecting repulsion? What happened to cause this supposedly simple information to be heavy on him? This kid. Leonia had to fight back her laughter to not break the tension, but what can she do when she's happy at the moment?

 

"If you want to share, I'm all ears. If you're not ready, you can have my shoulders. If you're not sure, just grab my hand because it's alright." She reaffirms, offering her hand to him, smiling when he finally grabs hold. "No such thing as a shameful way of surviving. Let alone a shameful favourite food. Didn't you say so yourself? I'm the best older sister, I may want to punch you sometimes but you're precious to me all the same."

 

Hm. They're having quite a heavy conversation tonight. What an achievement. Or maybe it was because Granny Cara's not-chocolate-but-looks-as-delicious drink? Her brother could hardly be straightforward when it comes to how he felt, but if you know him enough the underlying intentions were crystal clear.

 

That's why she made sure to let him know. The brat somehow regressed if she stopped mentioning her words over and over, but she could understand why. This is the sign of someone who never had people to reassure him for so long.

 

"Well done in letting that out, know that I'm proud of you, Dongsaeng."

 

::
::
::

 

The morning they woke up, when Konnie and Mia carried them to have breakfast, what greeted their sight was Phileo discussing matters with Viscount Rupert Rikos in the hallway. According to Noona, he had gained a noble title himself after he dedicated his life to the Boleoti, abandoning the name of Pardus. He's the Northern Mansion Head Butler of Boleoti, with Cara Kastor as the Capital Mansion Head Butler. They're practically the right-hand figures of Phileo Boleoti.

 

"Sister Mia," he called out, looking at Leonia who was walking before them not far ahead, "Wanna down."

 

"Please be careful, Young Master."

 

He could see the Duke seemingly ready to carry him next, but he didn't want to be carried all the time. Don't get him wrong, it's nice not to have to walk, but the height could occasionally remind him of the time he had his head separated.

 

"Noona, what are we doing today?"

 

"Well, does Mister finally want to tell us?"

 

They glanced at him, the man awkwardly stood back up, and the sight made them feel secondhand embarrassment. He wore a remarkably casual attire, complete with home slippers. Really, fantasy settings at their finest, he could imagine there's a chancla in this world. Painting the picture of the Duke of the North throwing slippers at them left him torn between laughing at the absurdity and hiding from the sheer horror it would give. What if the chancla was actually made of steel or iron?

 

"We're seeing your gifts."

 

Leonia asked, "Gifts?"

 

"Welcome home gifts. It should have arrived yesterday."

 

What gifts? He strained his neck to look up. With Leonia holding his hand on her left and holding the Duke's on the right, they made way to the stable, to a place nearest to the entrance–which signifies the importance–and greeted the middle-aged man who was in charge of nurturing the horses.

 

Opening the door slowly, their focus immediately settled on two ponies. The mane shone deep black, with hints of purplish and bluish respectively. He made eye contact with one of them and felt the hold on his hand tightening, startling him.

 

"Noona?"

 

Was she nervous? Truth be told, even Lewellen was nervous. He's too short to catch glimpses of the horses pulling the carriage, instantly knocked out after he vomited on some poor tree, and too preoccupied with the sight of the snow-covered mansion so massive his eyefield couldn't capture the whole thing the first time he arrived here to pay attention. Looking back, why does he spend more time in dreamland than reality again?

 

'Right, that Whilhem guy said to get lots of rest until he figured out the treatment something-something.'

 

The moment he glanced at her, he reflexively pulled his hand and reached out to the Duke's pants, hiding behind him. Her eyes, to say the least, were holding no small amount of mania and her smile was widening by the seconds. She's happily dancing around the ponies with a panicking middle-aged man and Konnie trying to calm her down.

 

"My Little Pony~ My Little Pony~"

 

To call them little when they're smaller than the ponies was ironic. He tugged on the Duke's pants harder, shaking his head when he was once again offered to be carried. "Why ponies?"

 

Of all gifts the Duke could give them, why ponies, which they couldn't immediately ride on? Or was it exactly why? So the ponies would grow big just as they grow up? But isn't ponies small? Or was it a magic thing doing magic work?

 

"So you can play with them. Yes, no, still bigger than you, and it's certainly not a magic thing doing magic work."

 

What the heck?

 

To his surprise, the Duke simply patted his head and carried him. No, why did everyone want to carry him? Even that Gramma, when he simply wants to wipe his sleepy eyes! And it's the fact that Phileo was doing it very gently too, he couldn't even protest because the Duke's beautiful biceps and triceps were all in reach. Even the chest—so sturdy and firm he'd like to pretend he didn't hear the gulping sounds he just made, cushioned his face so readily—

 

"... hehehe."

 

"Sigh," Phileo's voice was heavy, like he had just accepted a painful truth of the future he'd need to face from now on. "You seem happier with this than with the ponies."

 

"Mister!" Leonia approached with bright expression, sparkling and filled with desire. "Me too, me too!"

 

"...."

 

Behind Phileo Boleoti who's carrying two perverts in his hold, Rupert, whose existence is forgotten, weakly informed, too drained from holding back his laughter. Perhaps he could afford to laugh a little, discarding the fact that his life was at stake?

 

"Your Grace, it seems we should've searched for muscly ponies."

 

"...."

 

"...."

 

"Shut up."

 

"Understood."

 

Whether ponies can be muscly, Phileo would agree as long as it's not about his muscles. His children appear all too comfortable for him to complain, and as much as it haunts him, both of them are indeed his future. Fated to inherit the Boleoti Household. He could only hope they're not transforming the admiration of muscles to be mandatory by law, or else he'd certainly failed his ancestors.

 

::
::
::

 

"The four doctors Mister Whilhem had recommended are waiting on the first floor, Your Grace."

 

Cara approached him once they finished breakfast, with the children now playing in the front yard. She handed him the additional documents, listing the more recent records of the doctors on their way to the Dukedom. Phileo read over the notes.  Including Whilhem, there are five doctors to be potentially appointed as the family's exclusive doctors. Whilhem Wharre in respiratory, Dror Rhugee in digestive, Drogo Woodsone in immunity, Jolene Baines in physical trauma, and Maea Rennes a therapist.

 

There are research papers, folded neatly that consist of what might be required for treatment. Details of developing an injection through a syringe—which he couldn't help but frown in displeasure at the savagery—until he read the reassurance of correct dose administration and other papers specifically discussing ways to conduct the treatment as painlessly as possible.

 

Phileo glanced at one paper in particular, which bore the name Ortio as patronage. This was research directly approved by the Marquess Ortio. It was to be expected, since every research in the empire went through the Ortio's Magic Tower's Research Institute jurisdiction. Those doctors might be some random people for him, but the records and their credibility prove to be the opposite.

 

"Send a message to the Marquess of Ortio."

 

"Understood."

 

It stated that oral treatment has presented undesired variables in assuring the correct dose throughout medical history. Albeit potions and non-magic-infused medicines had been developed throughout the years and now there are even ones that are friendly for children and sensitive groups available, variables are bound to arise along with humanity. It also stated that such a method was not ideal in long-term treatment, particularly in cases where the patient was a high risk of unconsciousness / children / elderly and administration through the oral route carried more risk than benefits.

 

The injection treatment through the syringe research patronages involved quite a lot of names. Phileo looks over the documents stating whoever is involved so far, noting the name Carnis Rinne as a primary source link for the materials.

 

'... The Boleoti has never fallen sick.'

 

The only occurrence of doctors setting foot in the residence was for his subordinates' maternity or childcare doctors. As for those injured during the mission, light first-aid was more than enough when their injuries could heal within hours—even the maids and butlers in Boleoti Mansion simply needed to rest upon exposure to the Beast Fang. That's how much endurance and health one should have to be able to work in his mansion. All of them are trained for a reason, and the additional training ensures they can escape upon ambush at the very least. Those living here are merely weak against Beast Fang, could still die from prolonged direct exposure, but are generally capable of fending for themselves enough to guarantee survival.

 

So it's no surprise that such research and things regarding the development of the medical field were not in his focus. He's aware of the news, but not very deep into the research in progress.

 

He resumed reading the research, which provided the material known as the Phermish shell. A type of sea creature abundantly found in the West. No wonder Carnis Rinne is at the very top of the name list. Phermish shed their shell in their early growth phase, shedding every month for the next three years until they reach adulthood. It had been used as an ingredient for potion bottles because of its non-reactive and well-balanced durability, but the speed at which Phermish reproduced invokes a debate of whether they should be considered pests. That's why this research was welcomed.

 

... The orphanage where Leonia and Lewellen were found was also in the West. Now, while Phileo could see this research had only needed several more trials to be completed—which was to be expected because he would instantly disapprove and dismiss those doctors if they just started it—there seems to be something bigger lurking beneath the surface. It's good news for him to have his children receiving the best treatment, yet the knowledge of this massive research being underway certainly smelled trouble.

 

"... Send a message to Count Rinne too."

 

The research discovers a new truth. Phermish shell had very distinctive characteristics, it softened upon contact with blood. Fresh blood, typically the very recent and still warm. It would harden back upon induced coldness by outside stimuli. The prerequisite was for the blood to be abundant, and for the exposed surface of the Phermish shell to be as minimal as possible. Which means creating a syringe with this material was a sound argument considering the injection itself involved blood flowing in real time. It being softened through contact also means less risk of injury, offering only initial pain during injection.

 

'What a peculiar people.'

 

Of course, since the Boleoti held immense influence even on the East, the Magic Tower's secret was as clear as the day. The Research Institute's subject of experimentation's source was also from Boleoti after all. Trashes he'd found of no use were sent there, and any additional information extracted was relayed back to him.

 

Phileo sighed deeply, with the upcoming monster hunt, there seems to be a surge in paperwork he'd need to take care of upon returning. He tapped on the lower section of the research paper, the negative side was the limited movement because there needs to be a pole. And because it's inherently a way to administer medication through non-oral, there'd be an infusion tube as well.

 

His youngest is five years old. He's at the age where he would be running around causing headaches and somehow finding himself in danger. Vice Captain Mono had specifically warned him, children of Lewellen's age were like a magnet to trouble, it's like they're tempting death by walking innocently. Wasn't it proven already? The little rascal had the built to sneak around seamlessly, Phileo could envision how chaotic it would be once this injection treatment—which they called intravenous—started.

 

... He's sighing a lot today.

 

He addressed Rupert, belatedly realising Cara had long exited the study, "Lead the way."

 

It's time to meet said doctors.

 

::
::
::

 

The poor, poor white coated souls trembled. Vice Captain Mono Kerres found his position to be rather awkward. Before him were doctors of magnificent names seated huddled together, and across from them was the Duke who leisurely had his legs crossed and looked down on them. Well, 'look down' was an exaggeration, as in truth Phileo Boleoti probably simply looked casually. His natural intimidating impression inevitably blurred the truth and created a living nightmare.

 

Besides him, Rupert especially appears like he wants to exit the room immediately, sweat dripping continuously despite the thermal-regulated magic. He patted the fellow on the shoulder, understanding. If he could, he'd rather guard the door outside. This was important, however, this was a rare opportunity to witness the Duke doing an interview personally. They're likely the only humans to be able to witness this phenomenon without being the ones interviewed.

 

As for the Glasdigo knight's duty ... he could place his sentiment for this one before such decorum, he figured.

 

"Introduce yourself."

 

Even though there are pictures of them on the documents already...?

 

The doctors, though, are very obedient. Mono could imagine Young Lady Leonia chiming in, ’Mister, are you trying to freeze them to death?!' because anyone who's witnessing the same scene would share the same thought.

 

Mister Whilhem introduced himself, perhaps because he's more familiar with the Duke by now that he's volunteered to be a motivational support for the four doctors. His blue pastel hair briefly covered his eyes as he bowed, his appearance far too memorable for a doctor.

 

"Allow me to introduce myself once more, Your Grace. This humbled one went by the name Whilhem Wharre, I am from the East."

 

... No wonder. He had thought of where he'd heard that name, it was the family known for being a long-standing protege that the Ortio took care under its wings. That hair colour is probably caused by his mana training, resulting in a lighter shade with time. Considering the East was a place dense with mana, the fact that he's specialised in respiratory was a given.

 

The next one, Jolene Baines, dropped a bombshell in the room.

 

"I came from the South. Although I've long since taken refuge in the West."

 

The South. The territory in which another Ducal family reside. The Dukedom of Aust. There's a reason why the discrimination against the Southerner was more apparent, because while the Boleoti's influence could as well be called the North itself—the Aust was very discreet. Almost as if their existence was doubted upon. The events happening in the South could hardly be accessed, which is why when someone from the South was spotted, they nearly automatically became a source of attention.

 

Jolene bowed briefly, she continued her introduction, unfazed, "I've studied in physical trauma, albeit my previous record was in forensic. I've assisted and offered help in both fields, as Your Grace could see on the documents I've humbly submitted."

 

Mono Kerres would like to question. Was it because this was the Boleoti Household we're talking about? It feels like every person involved with them was a famous figure. How many famous figures would there have to be for it to feel 'random' for a Boleoti?

 

"... I would like to have my salary raise."

 

He could only agree with Rupert, "We earned it."

 

They're not being paid enough for such stress.

Notes:

Can... Someone tell me how old Leonia is (can't remember). Did I... Accidentally makes her the same age as Phileo...? Wdym he's 27....wdym he was 17 when Regina ran away? Wdym the canon is scarier than what I'm envisioning for this fic. Wdym he's 20 when he inherited the title. When I'm twenty I prolly have no clue why I'm alive💀

See you in the next chapter!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Crossover Works