Once his father had left, Al returned to his room. His eyes fell on the door, still bearing faint marks from his father's hard knock.
"Some parents are really something else," he said casually, stepping inside.
Yet, something was bothering him—he reached up to touch his cheek, still tinged with pain. He paused, analyzing the sensation.
Several theories began to form in his mind.
"Could it… be a bloodline effect? A strike from my biological parent can bypass my magic barrier? I couldn't even detect the slap… as if my body had temporarily lost function. Huh…" he muttered.
He rubbed both cheeks, confirming the sting was real.
"Very strange. Does blood relation automatically nullify my magic during interactions? No! Yesterday, I cast a light spell on sis Sarah and a healing spell on Father—and both worked."
A conclusion slowly emerged in his mind.
"Hmm… to summarize so far: light offensive magic affected Sarah, healing magic affected Father, but Father's physical strike nullified my magic. If I combine these… negative—and possibly positive—magic still works on my siblings, positive magic works on my father, but negative interaction nullifies magic."
He paused, his gaze distant
"Add in the sharp pain when Father was about to bow… there must be something affecting my magic in relation to negative interaction with Father, maybe Mother too, but not with my siblings." He stroked his chin thoughtfully.
His mind turned to one of the rarest branches of magic.
"Ah… maybe this is linked to Blood Energy," he murmured. "Hmmm… if this is true, I'll need to study it further."
The theory settled in his mind.
Blood Energy—a branch long considered almost useless because it was so difficult to control. But if this theory held, Blood Energy would be one of the few energies capable of penetrating someone's magical defenses, due to its emotional and biological roots.
Al just stared. His expression was flat. Not sad, not angry, just… empty.
Silence.
He touched his cheek again.
"It's been a long time since I felt pain like this."
He exhaled softly—not in frustration, but because… it was the first time he'd truly felt what it was like to have biological parents.
"So… this is what it feels like to be hit by your own biological parent? Huh. Weird."
He sat slowly at the edge of his bed. No trauma. But no comfort either.
"I hope I don't have conflicts with him again."
Then he remembered something.
"Oh right, I haven't confirmed my school shedule with him yet. And that stalker issue… Hopefully Father's still around when I go."
Al finished his breakfast, wincing slightly as he sipped the now-cold milk.
When he was done eating, a thought struck him.
Hmm… might as well get ready to head to school. I need to stop by his house this morning anyway, it's been a while since I've been there, especially after moving here.
After that, Al chose to take a bath like a normal human—no magic, no shortcuts, no automatic drying illusions.
The bathroom? Not the luxurious en-suite in the elite wing, but behind the house, where the servants usually cleaned themselves.
He passed by a few servants who looked awkward seeing the Young Master heading there, but Al just grinned.
"Relax, I won't dirty the bathroom," he said.
---
After bathing, with half-dried hair and a black hoodie over his school uniform, Al walked to the front yard.
Empty.
No car. No driver.
He must have been a little late. His father had probably already left. Understandable—he was a busy man.
They're gone, he murmured.
And it seemed no other family car remained.
Al then looked toward the main house.
"I guess I'll have to talk to Mother about my class schedule. Let her handle it with Father."
He headed toward the door.
But then—
"You're not allowed to enter, Young Master."
A burly male servant blocked Al at the entrance.
"What do you mean? This is my house—why can't I go in?" Al asked, confused.
"I apologize, Young Master. Due to the unresolved harassment case from before, we were instructed to supervise your movements inside the house. You may only enter with permission from Master Edward or Madam Sandra."
"They said that?" Al asked.
The servant nodded casually.
"Ah… I thought that night was already over. You haven't found a single piece of evidence in the past two days? Honestly, I'd already forgotten about that case."
The corners of the man's lips curled up. A sly, almost sinister smile appeared on his face. He leaned closer to Al, lowering his voice.
"Of course you forgot. You're the culprit," he said in a tone far too informal for a servant speaking to a member of the family.
"Ohhoho, looks like you've got quite the nerve for a servant speaking to your Young Master," Al commented lightly.
But the servant only crossed his arms arrogantly, giving a faint nod without replying. He reminded himself of his role.
Some time ago, before Al arrived at the Virellano residence, this servant had been fiercely loyal to David, the heir apparent.
He and a few other staff were told by David that sooner or later, Al would leave this house—and there was no reason to consider Al important.
Though a little skeptical, he had observed in the past two days that Al's parents clearly favored David. So disturbing Al so far felt completely safe.
"I see…" Al said casually. "So you're one of those who doesn't consider me the Young Master here, huh?"
"To be honest… I can only apologize, but yes. I don't think you deserve to be the Young Master of this family." The servant said calmly.
"Without the blood connection, you're far below me. Your status outside is nothing like your status here. So there's no need to act high and mighty," he added, leaning closer again.
Al nodded, enough to make the servant feel this kid was easily subdued.
"You're right. Outside, my status isn't like it is here. And... I don't quite understand how an elite household operates. Mind if I ask you something?" Al asked casually.
"Hmm… what is it? As long as it's not something strange, I suppose it's fine. Don't tell me you're asking about the female servants again," the servant replied.
Al shook his head, then asked,
"How are servants who act insolent toward their master usually punished in elit household?" he said with innocent expression.
The servant recoiled slightly, feeling confused.
"Huh? Why ask something like that? Are you planning to punish me?"
Al shook his head again.
"I think you understand my situation in this house now. Do you really think I can punish anyone here? I'm just asking sincerely," he said casually.
"Huh… true. I guess I'm overthinking. But if you ask that way, in any elite family, such servants would indeed be punished."
"Punished? How, for example?" Al pressed, clearly curious—part of his mission to study elite families, especially the Virellanos.
"Hm… salary cuts, dismissal, or at the very least, corporal punishment," the servant answered.
"Ah… corporal punishment too," Al said, lightly striking his right fist into his left palm.
"Hm… you really don't know much. But I guess that's normal—you wouldn't know how elites operate. Haha," the servant said mockingly.
Al chuckled softly.
"Hahaha. True. But…" he said. "…I think you're wrong about one thing."
"Hm? I'm wrong? You mean I know less about elites than you?" the servant asked, slightly annoyed.
Al shook his head.
"Not that," he said, his tone suddenly cold. "I mean… you're wrong to think you're overthinking."
"Huh?" The servant confused
Al stared sharply at him, causing the man to hesitate. The air grew tense, almost suffocating.
Then Al smiled.
"You're not overthinking at all." he said.
Hearing that, the servant felt a strange unease, as if he had just toyed with something he shouldn't have—or, rather, approached someone he shouldn't have.
"What do you—" he began, but his words were cut off. Because—
BRUKKK!!
A solid punch shot straight to the man's face, hitting his nose.
Despite his muscular frame, he was thrown several meters back.
Al's expression held a satisfied calm as he muttered,
"Because I intended to punish you. Hehe."
The man hit the terrace floor, pain radiating through his face. His nose was slightly crooked, bleeding a little.
Furious, he tried to rise.
"What are you doing, brat?" he yelled.
But Al was already in front of him, pressing his foot against the man's thigh, preventing him from getting up. The servant could only grimace in pain.
"Arghhh…" he groaned, muffled, as several other household staff turned to peek at the commotion.
Al gracefully spoke,
"I'm only doing what elites do. Don't blame me. After all… I am your master," he said casually.
"But I don't—" the servant started, but Al cut him off again.
"Doesn't matter if you consider me or not. You must learn to accept reality. You are a subordinate here, and you deserve this punishment. Because I…" Al stepped closer and lightly slapped the man's cheek. "…am your master."
The words carried an almost tangible weight—domination and arrogance befitting a master. The servant shivered, unsure of what to say.
Whispers spread in the vicinity. Other servants and workers were watching, gossiping quietly, yet no one dared approach. Clearly, they concluded Al was a wild child—but Al didn't care.
It seemed he still had something else in mind…
But then…
Ckrekk!
The main door swung open.
Aurielle appeared, dressed in a stylish formal uniform, clearly ready for work.
Her eyes fell on Al and the servant from a wrong angle—she saw them from behind Al. The servant was sitting on the floor, leaning toward Al, while Al hovered slightly above him, hand on the man's cheek. Their faces were so close it looked… wrong.
"HUAAAAA!!" Aurielle screamed, throwing her bag in their direction. "WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"
Startled, both Al and the servant jumped as the bag flew, hitting Al and scattering to the floor.
They both quickly realized what Aurielle must have thought.
Al could only palm his forehead, while the servant—still in slight pain and limping—picked up Aurielle's bag and returned it.
Aurielle was a little shocked upon seeing the servant's battered face and demanded an explanation.
"What?! What happened to you? Is this the effect of your... desire?" she asked, her hand covering her mouth in disbelief.
The servant waved his hands frantically, shaking his head. He wanted to explain but hesitated—thinking to twist the truth slightly.
How can I tell Young Lady Aurielle that this boy struck me? That would be so humiliating...
Yet as his eyes met Al's, fear crept up his spine.
In the end, he explained that he had only been explaining the house's rules to Al and accidentally said something wrong, which caused Al to strike him.
Aurielle blinked, now understanding that this wasn't what she thought it was. But still, she stared in disbelief at Al, who had just acted violently inside the house.
"Al… whatever the reason, you shouldn't have—" she started.
"I was only giving the punishment he deserved. No need to make it a big deal," Al cut her off.
"Punishment? Why do you think you have the right to punish whoever you want?" Aurielle stepped closer.
"So I don't have the right?" Al asked.
Aurielle tapped her forehead.
"No, that's not what I mean. I mean… we could have discussed it first. Make everything clear. Let the family rules decide whether he deserves punishment and what it should be. Don't just enforce your own justice."
"Wow… after two days, you punished me without clear evidence, and now you talk about household punishment mechanisms so casually. Interesting," Al said, a little wide-eyed, then turned to the servant.
"Besides, you deserved to be punished, right?" Al asked.
The servant, almost hypnotized, immediately nodded and lowered his head.
"Yes… Young Master, Young Lady. I deserved punishment. I apologize for my insolence," he said.
Seeing Al as unyielding as always, and the servant seemingly accepting it, Aurielle could only sigh, unable to continue, and instructed the servant to go tend to his injuries.
After the servant left and a new one replaced him, Al asked about the weird restriction on entering the main house.
Aurielle explained lazily, mostly repeating what the servant had said.
"After two days, you still haven't resolved it," Al grumbled.
"Just listen. It's for your own good. We're trying to improve your reputation, so respect that, okay?" Aurielle replied sharply.
Al remained silent, simply nodding.
"Whatever. I hope you can relay my message to Mother and Father. My class is in the afternoon—I don't need to be woken up in the morning. And about the supervisor… reduce the supervision. I need some privacy too."
Aurielle barely heard that part, glancing at her watch in panic. She was already running late, delayed by Al's antics.
"Alright, alright. I'll tell them," she said, rushing to her waiting car.
Al called after her,
"Oii… can I come with you to school?"
Aurielle turned,
"Hm? Where do you go to school? Isn't it far from here?"
"Not really. But I want to stop by a friend's place first…" he said, only to be cut off.
"Ah. You're such a hassle. I can't do that. I'm in a rush. Take a taxi," Aurielle replied, leaving quickly.
She rolled down the window briefly and called out,
"Don't cause another chaos there, okay!"
Al watched her leave, smirking slightly, then turned back to the main house.
"At least I've delivered my message to Aurielle… hopefully she's trustworthy," he muttered, walking off.
---
Meanwhile, from a window near the main door, Sandra watched Al leave.
She heard everything to the end, seeing how frustrated Al was, and a little shocked at his impulsiveness—but she understood. Considering the servant's behavior, it was justified.
Ironically, as she and Edward had discussed the night before, they had already checked and knew that Al was innocent in the harassment case. But she didn't know how to address it properly, especially since David was the one at fault this time.
Sandra could only sigh quietly at her self-made dilemma, unable to intervene.
"I'm sorry, son," she whispered.
---
Meanwhile, Al had already decided to head out.
"Hmmm… just walking again… the weather's nice," he murmured, shrugging.
Casually, he pulled out his phone, just turned on, and called someone from his contacts.
Contact name: Indra.
"Hello, Indra?"
"Yo! Al, what's up—"
"I'm coming over for a bit, as usual."
"Huh? Hahaha. Looking for a free bed again, right? You always come here without notice."
"Of course, hehe."
Al smiled faintly, hung up, and set off.
---
He strolled leisurely along the sidewalk, then squinted. A familiar aura drifted through the air again.
That familiar presence again.
The stalker.
Tch. That guy was seriously persistent.
Same as yesterday. Dressed like some cool bodyguard out of an action movie, but with sneak moves so obvious it was laughable.
Al smirked slightly.
He kept walking calmly. No running. No glancing back.
He knew the tailing guard thought he had improved this time.
Eventually, they arrived at the major traffic light in the city center.
People began to flood in from all directions. Vendors, students, office workers, beggars—all mixing together.
Just like yesterday.
And then—
CLICK.
The light turned green.
People scattered in every direction.
The guard, now fully alert, scanned frantically.
"Okay… black hoodie… about 175 cm… walking to the left? Or right? Wait, was he in the middle? Huh?!"
The next second—
"...Shit. GONE AGAIN?!"
Al walked calmly through a narrow alley.
Elsewhere, the guard was now speed-walking in panic—having lost track again.
Al glanced back slightly.
"I thought he'd take a break... after last night."
---
Flashback — The Night Before
Al stood in his room, preparing to head out for the night. He gazed at the long shadows cast by the outside lights filtering through his window.
He knew.
Someone was watching from afar.
This time, it was just one person.
A guard in a black uniform stood at a distance like a failed horror statue in a cursed park, staring at Al's room with sharp vigilance.
Unfortunately... he didn't realize that Al had already left the room five minutes earlier.
Using his magic skill—
Elemental Magic - Dark Type : Shadow Blend,
—a high-level dark element ability—
Al had merged into the shadows on the floor, allowing him to move through them.
"He'll probably stand there all night watching an empty room," Al muttered, lounging inside a corridor of shadow.
Then, a mischievous thought crossed his mind.
"Hmm… how about messing with him a little?"
Using his skill, Al dragged the guard into the shadow realm.
WHAM!
The guard was stunned. Pitch black. It felt like he'd been pulled into a living blanket of darkness.
"Where... am I?!"
he yelled in panic, surrounded by total darkness. Then he felt the presence of an invisible figure.
"Who are you?!"
"I'm… your worst nightmare," Al whispered from behind.
Then he proceeded to pummel the guard inside the shadow space. A kick to the gut. An elbow to the jaw. Even a barrage of slaps.
The guard tried to fight back—but the power gap was far too wide.
Every strike and swing of his own passed right through the dark mist.
Eventually—
THUMP!
The guard was flung out of the shadows, completely unconscious.
Al hung him up behind the house, beaten to a pulp—wearing nothing but plain red underwear.
The next morning, a servant taking out the trash screamed:
"GHOOOST!!!"
Morning – David's Room
The bandaged, limping bodyguard reported:
"Sir David... last night... there was an intruder..."
"Huh? An intruder??"
"I couldn't see his face. He attacked from the darkness. I couldn't touch him."
Annoyed, David checked the CCTV footage.
Nothing.
Al's room? A blank spot.
David sneered.
"Don't tell me you had a dream and fought your own shadow in your sleep."
But the guard's face was a mess. One black eye, split lip, swollen cheek. David was irritated but let it go. Still unconvinced, but with no proof he was lying.
"If it were Al... I should be able to sense his energy. But he's just a filthy, empty shell. Like... a used mop bucket."
"No way it was him. What kind of intruder could beat a guard of your level to such a—ah, whatever. I have to get to school."
David stared at the sorry state of his bodyguard.
---
Back to the Present
The panicked guard, having lost Al again, began acting erratically, looking suspicious.
A nearby traffic officer approached.
"Sir, sorry, can you remove your mask?"
The guard stammered.
"Sorry, I—"
"Please cooperate."
Reluctantly, the guard pulled down his mask.
WHAM!
The officer recoiled, almost dropping his baton.
"Wh-what happened to your face, sir?!"
"Are you seriously injured? Do you need an ambulance? Were you assaulted by a gang?!"
"It's fine, sir. I... I just fell from grace, sir..."
Seeing the cop still stunned and the crowd beginning to gather, the bodyguard panicked and fled before getting detained.
Meanwhile...
Al finally arrived at Indra's house. Located on the city's outskirts, it was larger than an average home, yet still felt humble. Parked in the front yard: a family car and a large fish delivery truck reeking of the sea.
A humble place that would welcome him with warmth.