12 - An Observant Guest

“All right. Then, I’ll go.” Valrion’s father gave his wife another kiss and patted Valrion’s head before leaving the room for good.

Once Valrion’s mother finished feeding him, she placed him back in the cradle. Right after, he couldn’t hold back from relieving himself. His mother didn’t seem to mind at all—she didn’t laugh nor raise her voice—as she moved him to the changing table. Quickly, she made her way out with the used cloth and basin to fetch a fresh set of everything.

The whole ordeal made him blush even harder than in the morning, but this was something natural that would happen to every mortal being at least once a day, so he would have to learn to accept it. Once he was all cleaned up, he was returned to the cradle and drifted off once more, even when his mother was still around.

He woke up again around three and five in the afternoon, each time followed by hunger and frantic calling for help. It must have been a newborn trait that drained his energy, but at the same time, he was grateful to skip over many hours of the day. It helped him wait “less” to grow up.

When he woke up next, the bump on his head throbbed with pain as if it had its own heartbeat. There was also a mild itch, and he was frustrated that his hand couldn’t reach it to scratch.

Glancing around, the room was pitch black except for the light coming from the lantern on what must have been the drawer next to the cradle. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the room, so he did what he had to do: he began wailing.

It took quite a while for someone to show up—Octavia. Her breathing was heavy, probably from running, and she gripped the edge of the cradle’s slats. “Wait, Valrion, I—are you hungry? Your mother is busy. Wait.”

She definitely wasn’t behaving normally.

From her voice alone, it was as though she was in the middle of finishing a crucial task downstairs and was on a tight deadline. Thankfully, she seemed to have understood his concern. She snatched the jar of ointment that apparently was kept on the changing table and applied some onto his bump. The itch was still there, but at least the icy sensation managed to mask the overall irritation, and he stopped making a ruckus.

[Wednesday, March 10, 5723]

[19:26]

[Level: 2]

[EXP: 85/115]

[Health: 231/281]

[Mana: 25/25]

His health had risen by more than thirty points before, but now it was just six. Though [Status: Injured] was still present, he didn’t feel any internal discomfort. Initial treatment had always been crucial and had a significant impact on wound healing, so that must have been the reason. What mattered most was the number that kept improving.

Much to his surprise, Octavia scooped him up after putting away the jar. Holding him tightly, she rushed outside the room and stomped down the stairs. It felt like reliving the morning with less light as the wall lanterns replaced the sun. He could also hear chatter in the front area of the house without all the shouting or sarcastic banter. It sounded more like adults sharing stories about their mundane days.

As soon as they arrived in the common room, Valrion noticed how everyone he knew was present. His parents sat on the same couch where his mother had been when handling the strange elderly man. Fina stood near the hallway with Sergius, and a male stranger settled on the seat across from his parents.

He must be Firmus.

The man appeared a decade older than his father due to the heavy bags under his eyes. Though his face lacked any visible wrinkles, he looked as if he hadn’t adequately rested from caring for hundreds of newborns at the same time. His hair was a deep blonde, contrasted with a thin layer of darker stubble on his chin.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

It brought Valrion indescribable relief to see Sergius standing upright as usual with his face unharmed. Beneath Sergius’ loose shirt, Valrion noticed thick layers of bandages around his right arm and shoulders. He even smiled when glancing at Valrion, which suggested that there were no ill feelings between them.

Valrion felt a strong urge to ask for forgiveness, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t that he had never apologized to anyone. It was the opposite—he knew he had left permanent scars and a single sorry would never be enough. He had never made an irreversible mistake in Heaven—at least not before the release of the Twelve Eidolons.

“I’m running out of assumptions,” Firmus began, folding his hands between his spread legs. “It could be Dominic, but it could also be Octavia, or even Sergius, trying to extract something from this in the future. I’m not saying this to plant seeds of doubt, but I honestly can’t think of a definitive answer. We lack concrete evidence, so everyone is a suspect, even me.”

Valrion could sense Octavia flinch at the mention of her name. Looking up, he saw her expression turn bitter. Considering how she had been so far, it seemed she wasn’t someone who could conceal her emotions. Sergius, on the other hand, remained impassive.

“The closest probability I can offer is as good as yours,” Firmus explained, locking eyes with Valrion’s mother. “To put it simply, it’s fifty-one percent to forty-nine: someone is trying to give you a warning. Most likely, it’s someone connected with the Liberators.”

I did it. Now, let it go and have a nice day, everyone, Valrion was dying to say. The air in the room was thick with worry. He didn’t know whether to laugh or go insane that these people were worried about a problem he had caused.

“Our organization is spread across the world,” his father explained. “I won’t single out Dominic. I’ve had my share of bad blood with many people. Just because I had a disagreement with Dominic a month ago doesn’t mean someone from a year ago isn’t taking their revenge now.”

“Do you have a list of names? I’ll gather some information,” Firmus added.

Valrion’s father threw a deadpan look at Firmus. “That’ll be a lot.”

“One I can think about is that guy—what’s his name? The one who got banned from the organization for using your money to buy a house instead,” Valrion’s mother chimed in.

“Oh, that one. Cassius beat him up so badly that he almost died,” Firmus corrected, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“Tiberia,” Sergius said. “I remember him. It’s been quite a while, maybe five years ago. Octavia wasn’t even there during that time.”

“Is that so?” Octavia asked.

The tension faded a little as Sergius brought up the people who weren’t important at all, proven by how everyone in the room laughed at their mere mention. He even recalled how Valrion’s father had once scolded a woman who, out of jealousy over Valrion’s mother’s smooth skin, had intentionally recommended bad soap to her.

Valrion still hadn’t fully figured out what kind of organization the Liberators were, but from the anecdotes shared by everyone in the room, it seemed that at least half of the members secretly despised each other. It sounded about right when it came to human relationships.

As everyone in the room brought up more names and the stories behind them, Valrion’s gaze drifted to the vacant fireplace across the room. The conversation was light-hearted now, but he was certain it would likely heat up again the next day as long the culprit hadn’t been found. He had decided it wouldn’t be the end of the world if his family found out about his elemental power, so the idea that popped into his mind was quite mad.

Revealing the truth seemed like the best solution to put an end to their endless theories.

It could be the plain view of the fireplace and his deep longing to practice his power, his determination to resolve the issue within his family, his frustration at being unable to act freely, or a combination of all these things, but he knew that the potential rewards of his plan outweighed his hesitation.

He glared at the fireplace, and the firewood sparked to life within seconds. A few embers briefly danced in the air, their glow wavering before catching on the dry wood. Slowly, the flames spread, licking at the edges of the logs and filling the room with a comforting warmth.

Everyone gasped in unison, hushing up all at once. They exchanged confused glances, eyes darting between one another and the fireplace. All except Firmus. The guest was the only one who caught the hint—his eyes widened in shock as he stared at Valrion, as though the child were the most precious gem anyone had ever seen.

Valrion’s heart raced, bracing for what would happen next, but he kept telling himself that he would be all right.

“Is this real?” Firmus began, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “Valrion—I think it comes from Valrion.”

The statement sent all eyes swiveling toward Valrion.