Suddenly, his mom stopped cutting his hair.
He shivered.
A chill ran down his spine—not from the draft, but from something deeper, colder. Then, he heard her voice, calm and sharp like a blade pressed against the skin:
"Do you really think of me as someone who would do such a thing?"
His heart froze.
Shit.
He'd said it out loud.
Slowly, he turned his head, forcing a novice smile onto his face. His mom was looking down at him, still smiling—but it wasn't warm. It was still. Dangerous. The kind of smile that didn't promise comfort. It promised consequences.
In her hand, the Shadow Scissors pulsed with faint, dark energy—blades forged from condensed shadow magic. They didn't reflect light.
They devoured it.
He scrambled for an excuse. "Hmm? Huh? No, I just—"
He didn't finish.
Her hand came down in a sharp strike.
Pain exploded across his forehead.
"Brat!" she snapped, voice ringing with disbelief. "Do you really think of your own mother like that?"
He rubbed his swelling forehead, grimacing.
Damn it… why does it hurt so much?
"I just haven't seen anyone get paid," he muttered, half to himself, trying to make sense of her fury.
She cut him off, voice rising.
"Of course I pay the maid! What do you think I am?!"
Yeah… now I know.
Outwardly, he lowered his head. "I—I'm sorry."
She scoffed, flicking him on the head. "I forgive you. Lucky I didn't let the scissors take more than your hair," she added with a giggle, snipping the scissors once for emphasis.
He swallowed hard.
What the fuck... I suddenly feel like I don't need a haircut anymore.
Trying to shift the topic, he said, "Mom, so—what about Aldrich? It's not like I really need a bodyguard hovering over me all the time."
She replied casually, "It's still best to have one. Besides, you can use him as a sparring partner. Might as well put all that energy of yours to good use."
Who the hell wants to fight that bastard? he thought bitterly.
I'd rather spend my time reading books.