Mornings at the Zeviero residence always felt like a scene from a diamond-studded mafia movie.
The sky was a clear blue. The sound of expensive birds shipped directly from Switzerland could be heard faintly in the back garden. The servants moved as silently as shadows. And amidst all this luxury, Caelum sat on a children's dining chair in a navy satin housedress, his face a mask of innocence that was, of course, just a mask.
"Caelum, eat your porridge." The voice of his mother, Lady Avelaine Zeviero, was soft but insistent. She was checking email on her crystal blue tablet, her high heels elegantly crisscrossing.
Caelum stared at the nutritious oatmeal porridge in front of him. It tasted like paper glue. He vividly remembered that in his old life, he would start his day with scotch and claret. Now? Porridge and almond milk.
But he obeyed. Spoonful after spoonful went into his mouth, his face remaining impassive.
One of the essential strategies in times of war is to survive, adapt, and absorb.
And that's what he was doing. The Zeviero residence wasn't just a wealthy home. It was a fortress for predators. His father, Damien Astaroth Zeviero, was the head of the family. Not only a world-class businessman, but also a former shadow general. His older brothers, Lucien, Riven, and Thorne, each had their own reputations in the underworld. From street fights and digital systems to political battles.
And he, Caelum, was the youngest and supposedly the favorite child.
But everyone knew that love in the Zeviero family was a myth.
---
One afternoon, in the backyard, Caelum was playing with alphabet blocks and puzzles, surrounded by two nannies and a bodyguard. Meanwhile, from the second-floor balcony, Riven, the second older sibling and renowned Data Architect, watched with narrowed eyes.
"Strange," he muttered.
"That kid is too focused."
Riven had seen many children. But Caelum was different. When the puzzles were difficult to put together, the boy didn't complain or whine. He tilted his head, calculated the pattern, and put them together with a speed that surpassed that of a 10-year-old.
Riven typed something on a tablet.
In Caelum's head, they tested me. Covert psychological tests, skill detection, personality mapping, and the classic system of a throne-seeking family.
Caelum knew. He was the youngest, but in a family like this, birth order didn't guarantee safety. Everyone competed for father's recognition. For power. For inheritance.
He remembered the night two days ago, when Damien had secretly monitored Lucien's training while jotting something down in his black notebook. Caelum was certain the notebook wasn't just a notebook, but a list of potential heirs.
And he would be on that list.
That night, as soon as his nanny fell asleep after drinking tea he'd secretly laced with a light sleeping potion (stolen from the medical room downstairs), Caelum left his room.
His feet were small, but his steps were practiced. He made his way through the dark hallway, down to the third floor where his father's private office was located. Not everyone knew it, but in his old world, he was an infiltration and intelligence specialist.
He slipped through the vent, opened a secret panel, and reached Damien's study.
He had a maximum of three minutes.
He pulled up a chair, climbed onto the table, and opened an encrypted drawer.
Password?
He smiled slightly.
"Nombre de maman quand elle avait 16 ans," he whispered in French. His mother's name when she was 16, a typically sentimental Damien thing.
Click. The drawer opened.
It contained a record of the Zeviero organizational structure, a list of extended family alliances, a map of the dark business network, and important names in Project Heredity.
Caelum read quickly, copying it into a small chip he'd hidden in a toy block.
Suddenly, footsteps.
Time ran out.
He reverted to his original form, sprinted to the vent, and disappeared. When Damien entered, all he saw was a neat, untouched table. But he did catch a glimpse of a stuffed panda that had suddenly sat on the sofa.
"Mmm… strange."
The next day in the Main Hall. The Zeviero family gathered. That morning, Damien announced that there would be a power simulation, a competition of games, strategy, and influence.
Lucien wore a straight face, Thorne grinned, while Riven sipped her cold coffee.
And Caelum?
He sat in a child's chair, his face innocent and his eyes shining like a kitten's.
"This simulation will last three months," Damien said.
"The people involved are Lucien, Riven, Thorne, and Caelum."
Everyone fell silent. A chuckle broke out.
"A four-year-old? Seriously, Dad?" Thorne nearly spat out his drink.
But Damien glared. "You're underestimating me too quickly."
Caelum looked at his father. His gaze seemed to say, "Thank you."
That night, Caelum's plan began. He opened the chip he had stolen. All the information began to be reassembled. He drew the organizational structure like a puzzle. He identified weak points, memorized the names of important figures, and even devised a method of approaching key parties.
His goal wasn't to win, not yet. It was to establish a stronghold. And his first target was Riven's influence.
Riven was smart, but lonely. Distrustful of people. I'll use that.
---
A few days later, Caelum approached Riven's study. With a pleading face, he brought a broken toy.
"Brother Riven... Caelum is confused. How do I fix this?"
Riven, who rarely interacted with anyone other than his system, snorted.
"Why don't you ask a servant?"
"Because Brother Riven is the smartest... like Iron Man."
Riven was silent.
A minute. Two minutes. He finally took the toy.
And so Caelum's courtship of Riven began. He appeared several times, asking strange questions, discussing AI, and pretending not to know certain terms. And each time, Riven was interested in explaining. Slowly, trust was built.
Behind it all, Caelum knew one thing: Strength isn't about muscle or age. It's about information, influence, and strategy.
In this family, everyone plays a role. Everyone fights, even when they smile.
And Caelum?
He may look like a sweet, cuddly boy who loves to cuddle pandas. But behind his round eyes, hides the mind of a war demon ready to dance on a battlefield of blood.
Lucien is strong, Thorne is wild, Riven is a genius. But I… I am a shadow. One who lurks, infiltrates, and then takes everything.
The simulation hasn't even begun yet.
But the game… has long been underway.