Some of the servants in the room seemed to hold their breath. That name—Dedy—wasn't just any name in this household. He was the Virellano family's personal bodyguard, rarely seen, but his presence was the stuff of legend.
David, though keeping a straight face, swallowed reflexively. Aurielle and Sarah, despite knowing Dedy well, still felt a chilling pressure in his presence. To them, Dedy was someone better left undisturbed.
They couldn't help but wonder—why was Dedy being brought in to punish Al? When they themselves had been punished, it was never more than mild physical discipline, a scolding, or something trivial like a cut in allowance.
Dedy was typically only summoned to discipline outsiders who had committed serious offenses. Did Edward still see Al as an outsider? Regardless, both David and Sarah smiled slightly, pleased by the decision.
Meanwhile, Sandra—Al's biological mother—looked visibly shaken. She glanced away from her husband, her eyes filled with anxiety.
She wanted to say something, to intervene, to stop the punishment. But she knew—once Edward spoke, his words were final. All she could do was clasp her hands, lower her head, and exhale silently.
Al, still standing in the same spot since the beginning, showed no sign of change. His shoulders were relaxed. One hand brushed cobwebs off his hair while the other covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.
His eyes didn't show fear—only sleepiness and mild confusion.
Ugh… is it already this dramatic? Couldn't they let me rest just a little longer? I thought it was all over. But now… they even want to punish me. I can't let this slide.
He then turned to look at Edward and Sandra one by one. His eyes scanned them sharply, assessing every micro-expression.
Bright white lights from recessed panels in the ceiling illuminated the entire space evenly—no shadows stretched across the room, only a clear, cold clarity.
"I don't understand what's happening here. I'm being accused, without clear evidence, only on testimony, without much explanation, and suddenly I'm being punished?" Al said.
"I expected more from this family, but what I see… you all are truly strange. Huff," he muttered lazily, shaking his head.
His words were enough to irritate them.
"What right do you have to comment on us? The proof is right in front of you. Look at this maid. She has told everything," Sarah said, her voice firm, fingers gripping the edge of the sofa. Her posture was rigid, reflecting her certainty.
"That's not proof, that's a testimony. How many times must it be repeated? You and the others discussed this already. So why haven't you realized?" Al replied.
"Huff... I thought elite families were supposed to be rational, but apparently some people don't even know the difference between testimony and physical evidence." Al continued sarcastically, voice steady but laced with disbelief.
Unbeknownst to him, his emotions were stirred again. The bright lights reflected off the polished floor and glass surfaces, adding a sharp sterility to the tension.
Sarah could only grit her teeth at that, wanting to lash out in anger, but Aurielle intercepted her.
"You're just trying to make things difficult for us. You know yourself, there's no clear physical evidence. And you're still asking that?"
"But actually, everything still makes sense. At least there is testimony. And you yourself… You're a wild kid from the streets. It all makes sense to us," Aurielle said lazily.
She leaning back on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other. Her expression was cool, dismissive, but attentive to every word.
"But it doesn't make sense to me. I can't believe someone who serves as a CEO of a major company could think that lowly. You don't even know who I am outside, right?" Al replied, sarcasm clear in his tone, jaw tightening.
But his chest started to feel hot, as if his anger could spill over at any moment. And he was beginning to realize that too.
"What did you say?" Aurielle's eyes narrowed, irritation creeping in. "Hmmm… Besides, I don't need to know who you are outside, cause I have my intuition. Something only a successful businessman possesses."
"But I'm human, not a business opportunity," Al said, shaking his head slowly, shoulders slumping in mild disappointment. The anger was palpable, yet he tried to hold it back.
"Tchhhh, brat," Aurielle scoffed, flicking her hair lightly.
"Enough of this argument. You're clearly guilty," Edward said firmly, standing upright. His stance was rigid, projecting authority, despite the clean sterility of the room.
"Clear in what way, Mr. Edward?" Al asked, raising an eyebrow, stepping slightly closer. Hearing his father respond with apparent indifference made his self-control begin to waver.
"What? You don't even call me father," Edward snapped, voice cutting across the bright, quiet room.
"I don't see you behaving like a father at all. Why should I call you father?" Al shot back, tone calm but edged with quiet fury.
"What did you say…" Edward roared, slamming a hand on the armrest, the sound sharp against the echo of marble and glass.
"Don't be rude…" Sarah stepped forward, stance defensive, eyes blazing.
Al stared at them, visibly annoyed.
Outside the room, the maid and bodyguards lingered in the corridor, curious but hesitant, their movements precise and cautious under the bright, even light.
"Huff… forget it," Al sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"Forgive me for that. Even if it's just a label, at least you're my parents. And I hope you end this annoying drama; I just want… nothing bad to happen." He spoke while trying to calm himself, uncomfortable with the anger that could erupt at any second.
"Label?" Sandra frowned, clearly uncomfortable, her fingers brushing lightly over the arm of her chair.
Al nodded slightly, gaze distant for a moment.
"What else, Mother?" he said in a lower tone.
"This is my first day back, and I'm immediately punished without clear evidence, only with testimony. Shouldn't parents act better than this?" Al complained, shoulders drooping in disappointment.
"What do you understand about parents?" Edward shouted, stepping forward, chest puffed in indignation. His voice echoed clearly in the open, modern space, leaving nothing to hide behind.
"You don't even respect your parents, you're truly wild, I guess the orphanage couldn't even teach you properly. Huh, what could we have expected from a child raised among lowly people." Aurielle shouted, voice sharp, eyes locked on him with pointed focus.
And then,
DINGGG!
Her words hit Al like a hammer.
"You'd better retract your words and keep your mouth from mentioning the orphanage I grew up in." Al said angrily, his previously lazy expression instantly turning sharp; this time his emotions began to surge.
The unbearable turmoil of emotions appeared, almost reaching its tipping point. If pushed once more, it could result in something bad.
Aurielle slightly stepped back at that gaze; for some reason, her arrogant attitude seemed meaningless. It was as if she had just awakened something dangerous.
David, in the corner, leaned casually against the wall, smirking. Hands in pockets, eyes glittering with excitement at the escalating tension. Even in the bright, sterile room, the air seemed to thrum slightly with anticipation.
Al saw it, David's cynical smile—the true culprit behind this mess—only made it more infuriating. Al's anger began to rise. The emotions he had been restraining all this time now seemed almost impossible to contain.
Al began to feel unease coil in his chest. Emotions wavered, unstable. Something deep inside sparked, a heat creeping beneath his skin.
He lowered his head. Eyes widened, glassy and shimmering. Red flashes ignited in his irises, a stark contrast to the white, clinical light. The atmosphere seemed to thicken; the silence grew oppressive.
However…
Kill them… Destroy them… Annihilate them…
Dark thoughts surged, invasive and unwelcome.
No! Al whispered inside, gripping his chest. No!
His body tensed and constricted. He lifted one hand to his head, massaging his temples, forcing focus. The red sparks dimmed slightly but lingered faintly, like embers in the clean white room.
Kill them... Kill them...
"Arghhh, stop. I'm human... too," he muttered softly.
Everyone froze, staring at Al. His unusual aura made them hesitate to breathe. The modern space offered no shadows to hide in—only the stark clarity of their surroundings highlighted the tension between them.
And then:
Something seemed to shock Al's body, instantly restoring his consciousness,
"Cough… cough…" Al bent forward, clutching his head as dry coughs shook him. The red glow vanished, leaving only a trembling warmth behind.
His gaze slowly cleared.
He drew a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Straightening, he looked at his trembling hands. The bright light reflected sharply off the polished floor, highlighting the subtle tremor in his fingers.
Agrhh... so frustrating. I can't even argue when treated unfairly. Huff... I can't continue this argument in this state, he thought, closing his eyes briefly.
Should I just accept this? But if I fight back… I might…
"Look at father. He's silent and a bit strange. I guess he understands his position. Punish him immediately. Why is Dedy taking so long?" Sarah muttered, tapping her foot impatiently.
Al's gaze met hers. Irritation flickered, but he forced himself to stay composed.
No one around him understood what had almost occurred. The near eruption of his power, the red flare of his anger—it had passed unnoticed.
Al finally fell silent, drawing a slow, steadying breath. The pulse of his heart returned to normal, the heat within dimming. The room settled back into quiet tension.
I guess it's better if I let this slide this time. But not the punishment. Even though the punishment actually has no effect on me. Al's thoughts began to calm.
He forced a smile onto his face and lifted his head to look at his father.
"Forgive me. But fine, if you insist on punishing me, I will not accept this punishment as the result of a false accusation." He said flatly, glancing at David with a sneer. Then he looked back at his father and mother.
"I will consider this punishment because... I haven't done anything for this family since I was born." He said, laced with irony.
His words made Edward and Sandra, including the perceptive Aurielle, feel that they were being mocked again. In truth, they should have felt guilty for failing to protect Al back then.
And they were the ones who had the obligation to give to Al, because up to this point, Al was still a child who should have been under their care.
But their egos now only allowed them to stay silent at that mockery.
Meanwhile, David and Sarah merely regarded his words as nonsense to elicit sympathy. They were more focused on the reality that Al was about to be punished.
And silence returned among them. Until a startling sound—or perhaps a presence—shifted the energy in the room once more.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the main hall, the once-loud room fell into eerie silence. The atmosphere froze. Servants held their breath, and even Sarah, normally confident, looked uneasy.
The door opened wide.
A giant man stepped into the doorway. Just like the rumor. Over two meters tall, his bald head gleamed beneath the chandelier.
His dark brown skin looked like steel, his muscles so solid they bulged through the black uniform worn only by the Virellano family's elite guards. His eyes were sharp, steely gray, devoid of human warmth. He was Dedy.
Dedy wasn't just a guard. He was a former international bodybuilder and martial artist who once fought in underground championships across Malaya. In one-on-one combat, few could last more than three minutes against him.
He entered with slow, heavy steps and halted before Edward. With his right hand, he struck his chest in a formal salute.
"Dedy, awaiting your orders, Master Edward," he said, his voice low but firm, like thunder buried deep.
Edward nodded briefly and glanced at Al. He then gave a short explanation of what had occurred. Dedy understood what needed to be done.
Turning his head, Dedy locked eyes with the only unfamiliar face in the room—Al, now the center of attention. His steps were measured, his shoes echoing off the floor as he approached the 17-year-old boy.
Al, standing at 175 cm, was tall for his age. Even so, he had to tilt his head upward to meet this towering man's eyes. The aura radiating from Dedy felt like it was crushing the very air in the room.
He wanted to protest, but he knew he couldn't let his emotions take over now.
It would be better to pretend to submit like a normal human, to avoid any further trouble that might trigger my anger. Besides, this kind of punishment wasn't a problem for me—it only felt like a mosquito bite. Al thought.
Despite the lingering tension, Al's body still ached from the surge he had just suppressed, and his hands trembled slightly. His mind raced, he remembered his mission to show himself as a normal human at the start of integration.
With that, he knew that showing too much composure—or too much weakness—would draw suspicion. So he put on a small show: shifting subtly, inhaling shakily, and glancing up at Dedy with a face that mimicked nervousness.
I thought this would be something else, but apparently, it's just this. he thought.
However, his thoughts were different from what he showed.
"Um... isn't this a bit too much?" he asked, directing the question toward his father with a deliberately shaky tone. "You still think I'm guilty without any proof. Fine. But... this punishment... why like this?"
He tried to lighten the mood with a little joke after the tension had thickened, making others still see him as a normal person afraid of punishment, while also calming his anger—though it was replaced forcibly by a positive emotion he made himself show.
This was one of his usual techniques when his anger peaked: covering it with a calming situation, like joking around.
However, no one responded, leaving him alone in his amusement.
Dedy was already ready.
"For accusations of this nature, I'm usually instructed to destroy the lower body." His voice was neutral, matter-of-fact.
"But since you are the young master of this household, I've been ordered to adjust. I will strike... here." He pointed to Al's abdomen.
"Hmph? That punishment sounds strange. But fine, I guess. I just didn't know elite families also like using violence even in the modern era. Good, good. Useful additional info." Al commented.
Dedy did not respond and continued his duty like a robot, carrying out his task as instructed.
Yet, from his rigid face, a slight discomfort began to show:
"Forgive me, young master. I cannot bring myself to do this to your weak body, but a mistake is still a mistake, punishment is still punishment, and orders are orders," Dedy whispered
"So you're not some kind of heartless guy, huh?" Al commented again.
Dedy ignored that and continued his task.
"If you can take the blow, you'll be fine. But for someone raised on the streets like you... pain in the gut should be nothing new."
Dedy said — though it was unclear whether he meant Al was used to it from street fights, or simply from the hunger of having nothing to eat.
Al muttered under his breath, "Nice. Nepotism still works in this family... but why does it have to be at a moment like this, huh..."
"Take off your shirt. The hit will be strong." Dedy said, extended his hand again.
"If you wear it, it'll tear. Even if it doesn't meet the standard of this family, at least that shirt must be something valuable to you. Just think of it as standard procedure." Dedy said, still giving a small understanding to Al.
"Take it off?" Al looked a bit uncomfortable. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression half-joking and slightly offended.
But on the other hand, he saw that Dedy wasn't that bad.
"You're not trying to harass me, are you?"
"You're the harasser here," Dedy replied coldly. "Hurry up."
"Ugh." Al muttered, still not accepting the accusation.
At that moment, he was still figuring out a way to avoid the punishment. Fortunately, Dedy's request gave him an idea. It made him smile slightly before returning to his innocent, fearful act.
He then exhaled, lowered his head, and started pulling his shirt up slowly—like a child afraid of punishment.
But as the fabric rose and his torso came into view, the mood in the room changed instantly.
Though Al's skin looked healthy overall, it was covered in scars. Old slashes, faded bruises, long scratches, and even clean lines that looked like healed cuts from sharp objects. The wounds had clearly healed years ago, but each one whispered of a violent, restless past.
Aurielle and Sarah instantly looked away, uncomfortable. Even Edward's face froze—his eyes fixated, his tongue stuck.
As someone born into wealth, even minor injuries unsettled him. But the body before him was nearly covered in the evidence of years of brutality. Even Dedy shifted slightly, a rare discomfort flickering in his expression.
Sandra, who had been clutching David's arm the entire time, gasped in shock. Her eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh my God..." she whispered. Unconsciously, tears formed at the corners of her eyes.
She looked at her husband, then stood abruptly.
"Edward... no. Look at his body. He... he's already been beaten enough. I don't know where he grew up, but this child…"
"Enough, Sandra," Edward cut in. His tone was firm, but a hint of hesitation had crept in. Still, his wife didn't back down.
"If you punish him now, you're not disciplining him... you're killing him!" Sandra shouted.
Edward stared at the scars, his eyes narrowing. His jaw clenched. He didn't show any open expression, but his grip on the chair tightened slightly.
He let out a long sigh, looking at Al. His face unreadable. Then he turned to Dedy and raised his hand.
"Cancel it," he said flatly.
Dedy somehow felt relieved, bowed his head and took a step back. "Understood, Master."
David furrowed his brow, clearly trying to mask his mix of surprise and frustration.
Sarah, though somewhat sympathetic, had clearly wanted Al punished. She looked stunned by the decision, ready to protest—until Edward's cold gaze froze her in place.
David looked at Sarah, hoping for a reaction, but even she seemed rattled by what they had seen. It made David bitter, feeling like his attempt to bring Al down had failed.
Al observed everyone's reactions, smiling slightly, unsure exactly what he was doing, but it certainly helped him avoid that unfair punishment.
He glanced at David,
You want me punished and scolded? Even with all this drama, don't think I'll fall for your game. Hehe. Lucky for you, I'm not some barbarian. he murmured in his mind.
Sandra quickly moved toward Al, who had slowly pulled his shirt back on. She reached out as if to touch his arm, but he stepped back slightly and lowered his head—not in rejection, but as if to say they weren't close enough yet for that kind of affection.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Al said softly. No excessive emotion, but sincere enough to make Sandra weep harder.
Across the room, David stood stiffly, then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.
Relax... it's only the beginning. I'll get rid of you... sooner or later.
---
After the heated argument in the family room, the atmosphere began to cool as Edward raised his hand to signal the conversation was over. He rubbed his tired face and spoke with a heavy voice:
"All right. We'll continue this after dinner. For now, let's sit down together."
Silence held for a beat. Then people slowly moved, preparing to change clothes and head to the dining hall. Al followed, walking with calm steps and an unreadable face, still wondering why David and that servant had framed him.
But what awaited at the dinner table would prove one thing—
Al had not truly been accepted into this family.
---