"Let me help you, Mom," David said warmly as he carefully guided Sandra, who still looked rather weak after spending the entire morning in shock and emotional turmoil.

Sandra gave him a gentle smile, clearly touched by her son's kindness. Allowing herself to lean into his support, she walked with lighter steps as David held her hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Al, who was trailing behind them at an unhurried pace. Unlike David, Al did not show the slightest initiative to offer warmth or tender care. His gaze wandered lazily across his surroundings instead, as though his mother's fragile state had nothing to do with him.

The sight left Sandra with a bittersweet ache in her chest. Al was her true-born son, yet he looked so distant, so apathetic.

Still, she asked herself—what could she possibly expect? Seventeen years had passed without her giving him anything, without the warmth or care he should have received from a mother. Was it even fair for her to hope he would treat her differently now?

A small part of her wanted to call out to him, to ask Al to walk by her side together with David. The very thought of being accompanied by both her boys, one on each side, filled her with a fleeting sense of joy.

Yet the awkwardness, the unfamiliar bond she still had with Al, held her back. Sandra could only surrender to her own helplessness and quietly despise herself for not knowing how to act around her son.

David, meanwhile, had been watching her subtle glances toward Al, and he also noticed the strange stiffness in Edward's expression. Something about both of them seemed different this morning.

They weren't acting like their usual selves. What was going on here? Could all of this... be because of that ridiculous thing called blood ties? Was the invisible connection of blood truly strong enough to eventually outweigh the emotional bond I had painstakingly built over so many years? Tch... The very thought made him uneasy.

"David, are you alright?" Sandra's voice broke through his troubled thoughts.

He blinked, caught off guard, but quickly masked his unease with a tender smile. He nodded softly, choosing not to answer with words.

Sandra exhaled in relief. No matter how much David had grown—seventeen years old now, taller, stronger, already on the verge of becoming a man—his sweet and gentle demeanor always made her see him as that innocent boy who deserved to be spoiled and given special treatment.

"You should stay in the spare room upstairs for now. Since your room is under renovation, it might be uncomfortable if you keep sleeping there," Sandra suggested casually.

David froze for a moment. He instantly knew which room she meant—the empty chamber on the fourth floor, the same floor as the master bedroom. Unlike his current quarters, which were spacious yet designed purely for rest and leisure, the rooms on the fourth floor were more like luxurious apartments, each one broad and lavish. On that floor, there are three rooms that can be called bedroom: Aurielle's suite in the west wing, the master bedroom in the south, and the empty room in the east.

But what truly stunned David was not merely the size or luxury. That area was situated right next to Edward's private study and provided a far greater chance of accessing the fifth floor—where many of the family's most important and confidential possessions were kept.

Out of all eight Virellano children, only Aurielle had ever set foot there. Staying in that empty room meant David might finally have a direct line to the family's secrets.

Even more enticing, occupying that room carried a symbolic weight. Whoever stayed there would naturally appear more special than the others, as though an invisible hierarchy had been formed, setting that sibling apart with an elevated status.

From the corner of his eyes, David caught the faint looks of envy from Clarista and Vianna. They, too, had drawn similar conclusions.

Clarista wondered about the secret archives hidden on the upper floors—treasures of knowledge and information she longed to uncover. Vianna, on the other hand, suspected that rare manuals, books, or even weapons capable of enhancing her martial strength might be hidden there.

Both sisters felt an impulse to protest Sandra's choice, yet in the end, they held their tongues.

"R-Really, Mom?" David asked, feigning hesitation, though his voice trembled with poorly concealed excitement.

Sandra nodded. "Yes, that room has been empty for quite a while. Your sister Sarah never wanted to use it for some reason. Rather than leaving it vacant, it would be better if you occupied it for now," she said lightly, as though the room her children were secretly coveting was nothing more than a trivial matter to her.

Edward, overhearing the exchange, let out a small laugh. He knew exactly what the children were thinking.

He, too, was well aware of the treasures and privileges connected to that particular floor. That was why he had tightened the security around the fourth and fifth floors, forbidding access to anyone—except Aurielle—without a valid reason, especially the master bedroom in the southern wing.

"But Mom... that room..." David pretended to hesitate, glancing at his siblings as though embarrassed.

"Hm?" Sandra looked puzzled. "Is something wrong? You don't like the room, David?"

"N-No, Mom. It's just... I don't feel worthy of staying there," he murmured humbly, while inwardly planning to accept once she reassured him.

Sandra sighed lightly. "Hm? Worthy, not worthy... it's only a room, David. Just take it," she insisted.

David's lips curled into a small, cunning smile. He was about to accept—when suddenly a calm voice cut in.

"Just put him in the basement storage. Isn't his room only under renovation? And from what you said, only the exterior is being worked on," Al remarked nonchalantly.

Everyone instantly turned toward him, bewildered by the absurdity of his suggestion.

"What kind of nonsense are you spouting?!" Clarista snapped.

"Nonsense?" Al tilted his head in genuine confusion. "Back then, none of you had any issue with me being shoved into that little storage room while my quarters were being prepared. So why does it suddenly become nonsense now?" he asked casually, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, deliberately reminding them of the prank David had pulled on his very first day at the Virellano estate.

His words froze them in place. Everyone present—except Clarista and Vianna, who only knew part of the story, and Fani—remembered the incident clearly. Edward stiffened, while Sandra unconsciously let go of David's hand.

"Al... are you still holding on to that? It was such a long time ago," Aurielle muttered.

"No. I'm only making a suggestion. Isn't it reasonable? Was staying in that little storage room such a terrible idea?" His tone was calm, but the words carried a subtle edge.

Aurielle faltered. She couldn't answer. If she admitted it was acceptable, it would mean she was fine with David being placed in the basement. But if she said it was wrong, then they would all have to face the guilt of what they had done to Al back then.

"That's not what I meant… That's... Mmm..." Aurielle muttered, wanting to respond but unable to find the right words.

"Hm?" Al murmured in confusion.

His eyes swept over the others, only to find that they too remained silent, offering no words at all.

A heavy silence descended on the group. It was an impossible dilemma. Clarista and Vianna chose to remain quiet, still unclear about the details. Deep down, though, everyone instinctively believed it had been acceptable for Al, but absolutely unacceptable for David.

David's frustration flared. His carefully constructed plan was ruined. He prayed inwardly that no one would take Al's words seriously. Perhaps he should pretend to accept the suggestion and use it as a weapon—to portray himself as the victim, to gain sympathy from the family, to turn their hearts against Al.

But his pride would not allow it. He preferred elegant battles, not cheap performances like some shallow manipulator, a so-called 'greentea' character. He wanted to look great and impressive, not weak.

Meanwhile, Al noticed the awkward stares, the lowered gazes, the atmosphere sinking into tension. He could already sense the drama building up, and he felt too drained to let it spiral further. After all, he had gone through enough action in the last two days, and this morning had already been taxing.

"Oi, oi... don't misunderstand me. It's nothing serious. Stop staring at me like that. It was just a suggestion, haha," he said with a faint chuckle.

Yet no one replied. They only gawked at him, speechless, perhaps too afraid to argue.

Strange. They're acting really odd this morning, Al thought.

He let out a light sigh.

"Seems my little suggestion just ruined everyone's mood. And honestly, it would look pretty bad if the family's precious son was placed in a dusty storage room, even for a short while, haha. Well then, in that case..."

"N-No, Al. That's not what I meant..." Sandra interrupted softly, her memories of that old incident stabbing at her heart. That was the day she had discovered David's mischief but had been utterly powerless to resolve it.

"Relax, Mother, that's okey," Al replied calmly. "Anyway... I should get going. I have something to take care of this morning."

Sandra and the others remained silent. Al lowered his head slightly in farewell and left, unwilling to drag the matter on any further.

He walked not toward a bedroom, but toward the small ruined chamber where his old quarters were being demolished.

The family watched his back, and somehow, it felt as if Al's quiet departure struck them even harder. He had reminded them of the day he first arrived, of the injustice they had allowed, and then chosen to walk straight to that tiny room that had once embodied their neglect.

Sandra pressed her fingers to her forehead, feeling an overwhelming headache. Her emotions had only grown heavier since the morning. If things continued like this, she might not be able to endure much longer. Luckily, Al had cut off the drama before it spiraled further.

Edward, however, stared sharply, his heart in turmoil. Ever since Al had appeared, his household no longer felt the same.

Do we truly want this child, or not? Should I... send him away? Arghh! No. He is my son. He cannot go anywhere. He belongs here.

The Virellano daughters showed varied expressions—Vianna looked confused, Clarista uncomfortable, Aurielle's shoulders trembled slightly.

David, inwardly, cursed Al with bitter hatred. But at least, he thought with relief, the boy was gone.

"So, Mom...," David suddenly spoke, startling Sandra.

"Shall I stay in the upstairs room then?" he asked.

Now...

Sandra hesitated.

After Al had raised the issue of injustice, she felt a strange guilt at the idea of rewarding David with such a privilege. The dilemma weighed heavily on her.

Back then, when Al's room was being prepared, no one had cared if he slept in a storage closet. But now, for David, she was ready to give him a chamber even more extravagant than his current one, which was already luxurious.

After a brief silence, she made a decision. For the first time, Sandra chose to be slightly firmer with David.

"David... I think it's better if you use one of the guest rooms on the first or second floor. There are still plenty of empty ones, aren't there? They're closer to your original quarters too, and you won't need to climb up to the fourth floor," she said, her tone light but decisive.

David was caught off guard by her sudden change. Disappointment flickered across his face, a trace so raw it was almost impossible to hide.

He could tell Sandra had noticed his frustration, yet she remained quiet, waiting for his response.

Sandra felt a bit uneasy seeing how David was treated, yet she had no idea what she could actually do to mediate this headache of a problem. Why was it so difficult to find common ground between her two sons? Even though David and Al never openly fought, for some reason they always seemed to be at odds with each other. As if something was fundamentally wrong in this household.

Edward could only give a faint nod, as though he agreed with Sandra's words. He also tried to reassure her about the decision she had made regarding David.

In the end, with great reluctance, David could only comply.

"Very well, Mom," he said softly, forcing a smile.

Everyone seemed relieved. At least David didn't create another argument over the matter of the rooms. Clarista and Vianna, in particular, felt the sting of injustice ease from their hearts.

But within David's chest, flames of hatred roared higher. At that very moment, he wished nothing more than to obliterate Al completely.

And with that, the family quietly returned to their activities.

---

Meanwhile, Al had already arrived at the construction site where his former bedroom was being leveled to the ground.

At this point, only two workers could be seen laboring there, busy with their tasks.

"Weren't there supposed to be three of you here?" Al asked, his tone casual yet sharp enough to make his presence immediately known.

The two men turned around, and unlike their usual demeanor, they seemed oddly uneasy in front of Al. It was a stark contrast to the attitude they had displayed before, back when the issue about the coffee had taken place.

"Ah… well… the other one went to meet with Sir Mudi," one of them replied, trying to sound normal while continuing his construction work. But the stiffness in his movements betrayed the tension he felt.

Al narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable. Something about their behavior was off.

"Are you two all right?" he asked, curiosity mixed with suspicion in his voice.

The pair immediately fell into silence, as if they didn't know how to answer him. The air grew heavier for a brief moment—until footsteps could be heard approaching from behind.

Three figures appeared. Leading them was Sir Mudi, the head of the construction team, still carrying himself with the same air of authority he had displayed earlier. Beside him was another worker, and the third was the man who had earlier been sent for minor medical treatment.

Al slowly turned his head toward them. His gaze swept over the three, calmly but firmly. Mudi, as expected, looked composed and dignified, but the other two appeared rather strange. They kept their heads lowered, shoulders stiff, and their tension was almost palpable.

Particularly the worker who was wrapped in bandages—his face twitched as his teeth ground together, but he quickly shifted his eyes away, refusing to meet Al's gaze. His body bore numerous scrapes and bruises, though nothing seemed life-threatening.

The sight left Al with a quiet sense of satisfaction. The very man who had dared to irritate him earlier this morning was now standing there, clearly suffering. Still, there was a faint trace of irony in Al's mind as well, because he knew all those injuries were the direct result of his actions.

Fortunately, I put a light protective spell on him before I smashed him hard into that shadowy figure, Al thought, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Yet even with that small measure of reassurance, there was something undeniably strange about the collective behavior of these five men. Their odd glances, their tense silence, the way they avoided looking him in the eye—all of it created an uncomfortable atmosphere.

What's with these people…? Al muttered inwardly, his thoughts clouded with suspicion.

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