Free Web NovelWen Yuzhi really hadn’t slept well last night.
Just sitting on the edge of the bed and talking with Mansendis for that short while, drowsiness rose up without him noticing.
He couldn’t help yawning. At the corners of his eyes, tinted with a faint flush, tears beaded out.
The teenager’s eyes were still trying hard to stay half-open, but his lashes drooped, trembling softly.
The sounds of speaking and moving around in the room also gradually quieted in that moment.
Mond looked at Mansendis and saw the silver-haired sovereign make a shushing gesture.
The old chief affairs officer immediately understood.
Mond silently backed out, not forgetting to pick up the tray Merita had dropped on the floor.
Merita knew that what happened just now had been improper, and at this point Merita also said nothing, quietly leaving behind Mond.
Alvin was the last to go.
On the way out, Alvin couldn’t help turning back to take one more look.
And in the room that had gone quiet, Alvin saw Mansendis bend down, gently lift the little Highness, and set him onto the bed.
Because it was backlit, from this angle Alvin couldn’t see what kind of expression the silver-haired sovereign had on his face.
But Alvin could feel it: when the king held the little Highness just now, the aura around him had already softened somewhat—like an emotionless statue finally taking on warmth in that instant, no longer seeming so cold.
Everything was moving in a better direction.
Even when Alvin stepped out, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth never went away.
Mansendis knew the commotion of Mond and the others leaving, but he didn’t pay it any mind. After placing the teenager—already drowsy to the point of drifting—back onto the bed, Mansendis personally found a blanket and covered him.
Considering that the cub liked to sleep while hugging a plush, Mansendis, face perfectly calm, placed the shrunken silver giant beast plush beside Wen Yuzhi.
Sure enough, the moment he touched that fluffy texture, Wen Yuzhi was still hazy, but his body had already, out of habit, reached out and hugged it tight, his pale cheek pressed against the silver plush’s belly.
But that also meant the teenager’s arms were left out in the open again.
Mansendis could only adjust the blanket’s height once more, doing his best not to leave any part of the cub’s body exposed.
“Dad...?”
Half-asleep, half-awake, the heavy drowsiness made it hard for Wen Yuzhi to tell whether he was in reality or in a dream.
In his memory, it seemed like there had also been someone who would cover him with a blanket, tuck the corners in, when he slept.
Who was that...?
It was...
He remembered it was...
“It’s Dad.”
Wen Che’s image flashed through Wen Yuzhi’s mind.
Lying on the bed, the teenager also called out unconsciously, “Dad...”
Wen Yuzhi’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough for Mansendis beside him to hear.
The silver-haired sovereign’s eyes were lowered slightly; his expression remained calm.
And after the teenager’s words fell, Mansendis lowered his gaze and used his palm to lightly smooth the cub’s bangs.
Then, he responded in a low voice, “Mm.”
“Dad’s here.”
“Dad... pat me...”
At this point, Wen Yuzhi had plainly already taken Mansendis for Wen Che.
When he was little, whenever he refused to sleep, it was Wen Che who would pat his back to coax him to sleep.
So now, sleepy and dazed, Wen Yuzhi also, like when he was little, instinctively wanted the “Dad” in his dream to coax him.
But hearing that request, Mansendis froze for a moment.
His brow pinched faintly.
Like he was a bit at a loss.
...Pat?
...Pat where?
...How was he supposed to pat?
Mansendis knew none of it.
Alvin had once brought him a childcare knowledge book, but at the time Mansendis had had absolutely no intention of being a parent who patiently coaxed children.
He hadn’t even opened those materials once.
Now that he actually needed it, Mansendis didn’t know what to do.
Wen Yuzhi didn’t know about the silver-haired sovereign’s hesitation. He only found it strange why Dad still wasn’t coaxing him.
He waited, and waited. After a long while, he still couldn’t feel that familiar rhythm. Wen Yuzhi grew a little uneasy and struggled, about to force himself awake through the drowsiness.
Just as Wen Yuzhi was on the verge of opening his eyes, Mansendis, in a rush, awkwardly patted the cub’s back through the blanket.
The silver-haired sovereign pressed his lips together. If you looked closely, you could see the expression on his face was stern and cold.
Yet the opposite of his expression were his hands.
Those hands that held royal power—hands that had personally killed countless enemies on the battlefield—now deliberately lightened their strength, soothing the cub on the bed with a gentle, even rhythm.
Wen Yuzhi had been very sleepy to begin with. Sinking into the soft bedding, head resting against a comfortably large pillow, sleepiness surged in like a tide.
And hearing that familiar patting sound from his back, he stopped resisting that drowsy force altogether, relaxing and letting himself fall asleep just like that.
The teenager’s breathing gradually evened out.
Mansendis waited a moment. Only when he saw Wen Yuzhi settle did he finally slow and stop.
When doing these things, the silver-haired sovereign’s movements were inevitably a little clumsy.
After all, Mansendis had used these hands to kill blood relatives, to kill those of his own kind, and to kill countless enemies—but he had never done anything like tucking in a blanket or coaxing a child to sleep, the way he was doing now.
The Saint Clan didn’t have the concept of “taking care of cubs.”
In their childhood stage, Saint Clan grew independently.
Mansendis’s childhood...
It was almost all spent in sleep and absorbing energy.
Open his eyes, close his eyes—always in the nest. What ran through his entire childhood was darkness and solitude.
It seemed every Saint Clan was like that. Everyone had come up that way.
Until Mansendis met Wen Yuzhi.
His child.
A Saint Clan who was so fragile, so unlike a Salilaino.
Through him, Mansendis learned that cubs actually [N O V E L I G H T] needed careful care, needed to be soothed—so much so that even just one night of poor sleep could leave them weak, could even make them fall ill.
...So this was what it meant to raise a child? The things you had to worry about?
If it had been before, Mansendis would only have found it troublesome.
But...
Looking at the teenager on the bed—hugging the plush tightly even in deep sleep—
Mansendis couldn’t deny it: this child seemed special to him.
An exception that kept making him yield, again and again.
“If I ever had a child, I would give him everything best. I would give him the happiest childhood. I would let him grow up under love and joy.”
“I want all beings to submit to him as king. I want even the stars to revolve around him.”
“Mansendis, my little brother—you and I can’t escape this tragic fate. But that child... I don’t want him to end up like us.”
It was as if that flamboyant, unrestrained figure appeared before Mansendis’s eyes again.
She lay on the throne, drenched in blood, yet her gaze had softened—rarely gentle.
Probably because of the child she spoke of.
At the time, Mansendis had only thought Tasiya still hadn’t woken from her madness.
After all, in that period, the Saint Clan hadn’t had new royal blood born for a very long time.
Where would a child even come from?
So faced with Tasiya’s final words, Mansendis had only replied coldly and blandly, “You don’t have a child.”
Tasiya didn’t say anything. She no longer had breath.
Silver hair spilled beneath her like a rose waterfall, winding as it bloomed. Her head rested against that lofty throne, and until the final moment, she died wearing a smile.
A smile that was mad to the end—like raging flame burning itself out.
She died, and left behind nothing but a rotten mess.
Waiting for Mansendis was a Saint Clan battered with wounds, ruined from end to end.
And Mansendis could have not cared about any of it.
Only, what he never expected was—
Tasiya really had made a child.
Those last words hadn’t been mad rambling.
Yet at the time, whether it was Mansendis or Alvin, neither paid it any attention.
And that was what led to the royal-blood cub who should have been at their side, once, being lost outside.
......
Mansendis walked out of the room. The corridor, which had been crowded before, now had only Mond left.
Seeing the silver-haired sovereign come out, Mond still cautiously craned to peek inside the room.
Mansendis knew exactly what Mond wanted to see.
He spoke first. “He’s asleep.”
Mansendis didn’t name the subject, but Mond also understood who it referred to.
The worry that had been hanging in Mond’s heart finally loosened at last.
“The little Highness is still so young, and he’s only just arrived. It’s easy for him to feel unsafe.”
Mond didn’t have children, but Mond had seen plenty of royal blood.
And it had to be said: among those royal blood, Wen Yuzhi truly was the most special child Mond had ever met.
The teenager almost didn’t have that inborn arrogance and self-importance royal blood tended to carry.
He was very gentle, very soft—he even looked like he didn’t have the slightest edge.
That wasn’t an insult.
It was simply that a trait like this was far too rare among the Saint Clan.
Almost every Saint Clan who had come into contact with Wen Yuzhi felt it: by the teenager’s side, they would become calm. That violent, irritable malice and pain would, without them noticing, be dispelled by the little Highness’s softness and warmth. freewebnovel.cσ๓
But Mond also knew very well that a temperament that was overly obedient and overly considerate was actually exhausting for a cub.
It wasn’t normal.
Only living long-term in an environment of unease and anxiety would make a cub learn sensitivity early, learn to be “good,” and even learn to pack every negative emotion into the heart—forcing himself to digest those barbs alone.
Mond’s words also made Mansendis think of the first day back on Dark Tower Star—those scenes he had seen in Wen Yuzhi’s room before leaving for Thorn Castle.
In his sleep, the cub had still been hugging the plush tightly, as if terrified the thing in his arms would be stolen, and his lips had still been calling softly, clingingly, for Dad.
Combining that with what he’d observed these past few times, Mansendis realized that when the cub slept, he always seemed to prefer curling his body in.
Wen Yuzhi would press the inner side of his body tightly to the plush, as if that plush was what made him feel safe.
And even with the plush, it still wasn’t enough. In sleep, the cub would still instinctively call for the existence he cared about most.
Very clearly, in Wen Yuzhi’s subconscious, he still hadn’t been able to treat this place as home.
Thinking of how they had never truly learned about how the cub had lived among humans before, Mansendis suddenly understood why, in sleep, the cub called for a different dad.
He truly wasn’t a good parent.
He hadn’t even managed “passable.”
“Mond... am I not suited to be his father?”
Mond’s expression changed at once in shock. “How could you not be suited?”
“I almost killed him.”
Mansendis turned his head. They had reached a floor-to-ceiling window along the corridor.
The silver-haired sovereign looked down at the snow beast below. A faint flicker passed through his eyes, yet his voice stayed as cold and indifferent as ever.
“He stood in front of me, and I attacked him.”
Mond had heard about what happened on the Thanatos from Alvin as well.
It was something expected—and also unexpected.
A Saint Clan’s mental sea turmoil was uncontrollable in the first place. What Alvin hadn’t expected was simply that it would happen when the little Highness was also present.
That was a situation no one wanted to see.
But it truly had happened.
Only...
In that moment, Mansendis had been in a state of loss of control, and Mansendis hadn’t directly attacked Wen Yuzhi.
Mond was more inclined to believe the king hadn’t truly wanted to kill the little Highness.
Otherwise, with Mansendis having killed twelve blood relatives as precedent, there was no reason to hold back. He’d already killed that many royal blood—one more wouldn’t matter, one less wouldn’t matter.
So Mond still wanted to persuade Mansendis again.
But whatever Mond was thinking, Mansendis wasn’t unaware.
Before Mond could speak, Mansendis cut in as if anticipating it. “Keeping him at my side is dangerous.”
A Saint Clan out of control was no different from a beast. In their eyes, there was only destruction and slaughter.
Ordinary Saint Clan could be suppressed.
Mansendis couldn’t.
His power was too strong.
Once he completely lost control, even Alvin and the others wouldn’t have the strength to stop him.
What happened on the warship was the best example.
Mansendis had never thought that one day he would also be afraid.
—Afraid he would hurt his own child.
............
“Beep—”
A soft chime. A sizable bonus was deposited into the account bound to the light-brain.
Xi Heyan glanced at the number, expression perfectly calm.
Beside him, Zhuo Haoyu clicked the tongue in admiration. “First place’s bonus really is generous. My family’s monthly wages don’t even add up to that. With this money, you shouldn’t need to go work part-time anymore, right?”
Xi Heyan didn’t speak.
And when Xi Heyan didn’t speak, it usually meant not stating a position on the matter.
Seeing that, Zhuo Haoyu only muttered, “I’m just worried you’re grinding yourself down every day—training and working part-time. This bonus isn’t small. Why don’t you take this period to rest a bit?”
“No.”
Xi Heyan shook his head and refused.
Zhuo Haoyu shrugged. Zhuo Haoyu already knew there was no persuading him.
Xi Heyan’s background wasn’t any secret in the Combat Department anymore.
—The commoner-born top student.
That was the line everyone most often used to joke with Xi Heyan.
Because even in a place like the Combat Department, where there were comparatively more commoners, it was rare to see a poor student like Xi Heyan—someone whose family circumstances were so bleak he had to go out and work part-time.
Zhuo Haoyu’s family was also commoner-class, but they had always lived on the Imperial Capital Star. They weren’t rich, but they never lacked food or clothing, and they still had enough to support Zhuo Haoyu attending this military academy.
Even so, Zhuo Haoyu’s background made Zhuo Haoyu count as lower-tier in the academy.
But Xi Heyan’s situation was even worse than that.
On the “place of origin” line, the address Xi Heyan filled in was Blackrock Star.
Blackrock Star lived up to its name—covered in black stone. It was on the far edge of the empire, a wasteland so poor that even star pirates wouldn’t bother to visit.
In the eyes of the people on Imperial Capital Star, Blackrock Star was basically no different from a slum.
And Xi Heyan was the first person to ever test in from Blackrock Star to this place.
Only, Xi Heyan didn’t give people that crude, self-abasing feel you’d expect from someone who came out of a slum.
On the contrary, a lot of the time Zhuo Haoyu felt Xi Heyan looked more like someone raised out of a good family environment. Zhuo Haoyu had even wondered if Xi Heyan might be some noble young master deliberately hiding an identity, coming to the Combat Department to “experience life.”
But that thought was quickly rejected.
Because Xi Heyan was truly short on money.
What kind of noble young master could be so broke that he went to work part-time every single day?
Besides, the high-intensity pace of training plus part-time work wasn’t something an ordinary person could endure.
Over time, Zhuo Haoyu got used to that desperate drive in Xi Heyan.
This time, seeing there was no persuading him again, Zhuo Haoyu wasn’t surprised at all, and simply stopped bringing up part-time work. Instead, Zhuo Haoyu glanced at the light-brain on Xi Heyan’s wrist.
“Your little friend sent you another message.”
Xi Heyan didn’t react to Zhuo Haoyu’s teasing. He opened the light-brain.
The first thing that appeared was a pile of desserts—still unpacked, sitting in boxes.
Below that was a message the teenager had sent.
“Gifts prepared for family.”
And looking at that table piled full of desserts, for some reason, the very first thought that rose in Xi Heyan’s mind was—
That family seems like a pretty big one...
