Al was still walking backward, waving at Clara's car as it drove away, when he suddenly bumped into something.
"Ugh—" Al grunted.
He turned around.
Standing before him was a tall, dignified man in a world-class business suit. His sharp eyes and stern expression exuded overwhelming pressure.
His father. Edward Virellano.
In his left hand, he was holding a phone he had just lowered from his ear. His face instantly twisted in displeasure.
"What is this?" his father said.
His eyes scanned Al from head to toe. Smudged face, dirty shirt, stained pants… and a stench—an unmistakable stench of a damp, sewer-like evening.
Al stared blankly for a few seconds. Then, in a completely flat tone:
"He... Hello, Father."
Seeing the anomaly before him—his son's disastrous appearance—Edward's face instantly turned dark.
"What the hell did you do?! Fell into a sewer?!" he barked furiously.
Al instinctively took a few steps back.
This time… he knew he really was in the wrong.
"Ehehe… well... something like that."
"This smell?! Why do you stink like this? The Virellano family is not suppo—" Edward's voice cut off as nausea hit him.
Seeing his father fuming, Al turned and sprinted toward the right-wing building—his private residence—shouting over his shoulder:
"Sorry, Father!"
"Don't you run awa— uwekkk!" Edward choked mid-sentence, trying to hold back his nausea while still wanting to scold Al.
His rapid footsteps were like a self-rescue mission from a bomb explosion.
Once the door to his private room slammed shut, Al raised one hand.
"Clean."
WUSHH—
In an instant, his body was spotless. Hair tidy. Clothes looked freshly washed. Sewer stench? Completely gone.
Al let out a deep sigh, slumped to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.
"Ughh, I forgot to clean myself up. That was totally my fault. No wonder Father got mad..."
After feeling a little better, Al finally noticed that his room had changed a bit.
A small bed, an electric fan, a desk, and a medium-sized wardrobe had been neatly set up. The curtains were new, the walls freshly painted with patterned wallpaper.
The fluffy carpet, however, was gone. The door hadn't been replaced either—but it was still in decent shape, just a little worn on the edge.
"They sure cleaned this up fast," Al muttered, mildly impressed.
He walked toward the desk, where a folded note lay on top. Picking it up, he began to read.
"Al, For now, this is what your father and I have decided to give you—just until you can adapt to your new life here. We hope you understand. If you need something specific, discuss it with Harun. If possible, we'll provide it. Consider this your first step here. Sorry that we can't yet give you everything you deserve. We hope you won't take this the wrong way. And welcome back… to your true family.—Mom and Dad."
Al couldn't help but chuckle softly as a faint smile tugged at his lips.
"They could've just said that directly," he sighed lightly.
"But… this isn't bad for someone like me. Hmm… thanks," he whispered.
---
Night had fallen.
The elegant crystal chandelier glowed softly above the main Virellano family dining room. The long marble table was already filled with family members sitting gracefully… except for one empty chair.
The large door at the end of the room slowly opened.
"Excuse me…"
A head peeked out from behind the door—messy black hair and a blank expression, or rather, a lazy and indifferent one.
Al.
He hadn't even stepped in when a heavy voice rang out.
"Stop."
Hmph... What's going on this time? Al thought, a faint sense of unease creeping up his chest.
Don't tell me someone's trying to frame me again?
He didn't move right away. He wanted to make sure what was actually happening first.
Edward glared sharply, half rising from his seat.
"Harun."
"Yes, Sir," replied Butler Harun.
"Check him… see if he's clean. Especially the smell," Edward commanded.
The family's head butler quickly approached Al. With a professional air yet clear concern, he sniffed the air around Al and inspected his collar.
A few seconds later…
"His body seems clean, Sir. Smells like mint soap and... a hint of rosemary."
Edward let out a relieved sigh, though his face remained tense.
Ah, so that's it. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Turns out it's just about that smell from earlier.
At least there wasn't any unnecessary drama this time.
Meanwhile, David—who was sitting beside their father—raised an eyebrow, noticing the discomfort on Edward's face.
"Dad, why does your face look pale?"
Edward, who had been trying to mentally block out the trauma of earlier, but David's word brought the memory rushing back. And instantly…
"…!"
His face twisted.
"Hur—"
He shot up from his chair, the seat scraping loudly, and bolted toward the private restroom down the hall. The bathroom door slammed shut just before the sound of—
"HUUUEEKK—!!"
Everyone jumped up in shock.
"Daadddd!!" the entire family shouted in unison.
"Oh no, he's vomiting?! Call the doctor now!" Sandra shouted in panic.
Everyone scrambled out of the dining room to check on Edward, leaving one person who had just sat down… still motionless.
Al.
He sat alone. Blank stare.
The first spoonful of soup hadn't even been taken.
Then, a small smile appeared on his face. The whole thing nearly made him laugh. If he didn't feel it was inappropriate to laugh at his own father, he probably would've burst out laughing.
"This is really ironic," Al muttered. "I used to live by a simple rule—dirty it, clean it, forget it. But now, I'm surrounded by people who can handle massive problems yet get overly sensitive about small ones. Hmmm…"
He turned around, scanning the quiet area. From the small gap of the half-open door, a few servants could be seen peeking in curiously.
Al shook his head, letting out a helpless sigh.
"I guess I should take responsibility too… Wow, I didn't expect Father to be that sensitive about something like this," he mumbled.
After a few seconds of reflection, Al finally stood and walked slowly down the hallway. The amusement in his mind had faded, and his face returned to its usual blankness. Still, his steps were light—like a student heading to the principal's office, ready to be scolded.
Once he reached the bathroom door where Edward was, he gave a slight bow.
"Sorry, Dad. That was my fault earlier this afternoon," Al said calmly, with a hint of sincerity in his tone. He agreed—it really was his fault. He just hoped it wouldn't be blown out of proportion.
However...
A furious voice erupted from inside.
"Of course it was your fault! Why did you come home smelling like a sewer?!" his father shouted angrily.
Before Al could respond, footsteps approached.
"What's going on with Dad?" asked Aurielle.
Followed by a sharp voice laced with sarcasm—Sarah.
"That kid must've done something again. What do you mean 'sewer smell'? Were you playing in the mud? Unbelievable."
Edward slowly opened the bathroom door, face pale. Still strong enough to speak:
"He… came home this afternoon with a smudged face… and smelled like… a sewer… hueeekkk."
Everyone froze for a moment.
"What?!" Sandra exclaimed.
Sarah burst into laughter.
"Oh my God, seriously? Sewer-boy coming home to the Virellano family?!"
"Sarah…" Aurielle scolded, but lazily—as if she half-agreed.
"He doesn't belong in this house, let alone dine with us!" Sarah continued, now glaring at Al in disgust. "From now on, eat outside. It's safer for our digestive systems."
Everyone seemed to silently agree with Sarah.
Al stood there, momentarily stunned—mostly because everyone seemed to agree with Sarah's unpleasant words.
Her sharp gaze was as fierce as ever.
"Huh? So I'm not allowed to eat at the dining table with you anymore?" he asked, half in disbelief.
"Of course not," Sarah replied flatly. "You shouldn't have been eating with us in the first place."
Al felt a flicker of irritation rising.
"Just shut up. I'm not talking to you," he said, shifting his gaze toward the others instead.
Sarah frowned at his response but chose to look away, deciding not to add more fuel to the fire—she already felt she'd won.
Aurielle, meanwhile, looked awkward, and Sandra briefly glanced at Al before focusing back on soothing Edward's back.
David, sitting beside his father, wore an expression of concern—though the faint curl at the edge of his lips revealed a hint of satisfaction.
Silence lingered for a while. No one said anything until Sandra finally spoke.
"Al," she began softly, "I think… for now, until your father feels better, it'd be best if you ate separately. Just for a while, okay?" she said, her tone gentle but tinged with guilt.
Hearing that, Al didn't take it as an injustice—he was more focused on his own mission.
I don't really mind not eating with them, he thought.
But if this keeps happening, it'll slow down my progress. If I keep getting excluded, how am I supposed to integrate into this family?
He didn't reply immediately, his gaze drifting to his father's back through the open door—Edward still looked sick.
Well, this is technically my fault anyway. Hmm… and it's only temporary. I guess it's fine, he decided, accepting the situation.
He nodded slightly toward Sandra, easing her guilt a little.
The atmosphere finally began to calm down—until someone decided to stir things up again.
"Good thing you know your place," Sarah sneered.
"But... honestly, I don't really agree with it being temporary. It'd be better if you just never joined us again. And stop playing around in the sewers, hahaha! What a disgusting hobby. If you need something to play with, just tell me—I'll buy you some toys."
Al's emotions flared again, but his expression stayed flat. He turned to her and spoke with an unsettling calmness.
"I know I was wrong. I apologize. But could we not blow this out of proportion? What exactly do you want me to do now? Will you only be satisfied if I'm punished again? Or…"
He took a step forward. "...do you want me to take responsibilty and help Father? Fine. Let me in."
Before anyone could answer—
"Don't. Stay out," Edward's voice thundered from inside.
Al froze, glancing at Aurielle and Sarah once more.
"See?" he muttered.
Neither of them spoke—perhaps out of words, or perhaps because they'd had enough.
Seeing that, Al decided it was better to leave—not because he was avoiding the issue, but because everyone clearly needed time to cool down. Or maybe... himself.
Argh... my emotions were starting to fluctuate dangerously again. This is my fault—I haven't replaced my neutralizing chip yet. Pushing myself any further will only cause trouble. Haah… I really wanted to argue with that evil woman. He thought bitterly.
He then quietly asked permission to excuse himself, then turned around and walked away—no protests, no self-defense, nothing.
No one tried to stop him. They all stayed silent, watching his back disappear down the hall.
Only Sarah clicked her tongue.
"Remember to drop your filthy habits," she said coldly—not shouting, more like an insincere piece of advice.
But Al kept walking at a calm pace. He wasn't angry or hurt—just deep in thought, already planning his next steps.
With a small flick of his fingers, a faint greenish light shot toward Edward from afar.
This is my responsibility, Father. I hope you won't be that sensitive next time, he murmured inwardly, his face blank.
David, whose magical sensitivity was quite high, felt a strange ripple for a split second but couldn't tell what it was.
Then—
"Eh?" Edward blinked in confusion. The nausea that had been tormenting him moments ago suddenly vanished.
He rubbed his stomach and looked at Sandra.
"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, equally confused.
Just then, the family doctor arrived. He was about to check on Edward when the man raised a hand to stop him.
"Wait, Doctor. I… think I'm fine now," Edward said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Everyone looked puzzled, exchanging uncertain glances. The doctor still performed a quick examination to be sure, but the result was exactly as Edward had said—he was fine.
From a distance, Al watched the whole thing unfold.
People here are overly sensitive, he mused silently.
Alright. Noted. I'll have to be more mindful from now on.
---
Later that night
After the dining room incident, Al finally returned to his room.
It was spacious, yet empty—sterile, almost like an untouched luxury hotel suite.
He threw himself onto the new bed the family had provided. A faint trace of irritation still lingered within him, though it quickly faded as he reminded himself to live a quieter life from now on.
"My life's already full of things far scarier than this," he muttered with a dry laugh. "Something that small shouldn't even shake me… though, I have to admit—it was kind of thrilling, hehe."
An hour passed. His emotions had completely settled.
He stared at the ceiling for a while, then slowly raised his right hand.
There, on his middle finger, was a small ring—pitch black in color. No engravings, no gemstones. Just plain black metal... at least to ordinary people.
Al infused a bit of magical energy into the ring. A soft yellowish-purple glow emerged from it, sending out a faint ripple through the air.
The air around the ring shimmered faintly, like heat rising off asphalt. An invisible space tore open—a personal dimensional storage accessed through the ring. Inside, hundreds of items were stored in perfect, magical order.
Al reached in and pulled out a black outfit. But before he could remove it—
Knock. Knock.
Al froze.
"Young Master… it's Harun. Apologies for the disturbance. Master Edward requests your presence in his study," said Harun from outside the door.
Al sighed softly, returned the outfit, and closed the dimensional slit. As he walked toward the door, he snapped his fingers and activated Aroma Magic.
"Lavender. To feel… more human," he muttered.
Instantly, his body emitted a soft, soothing fragrance.
---