One hour later – Virellano Family Dining Room
The main dining table looked grand and luxurious, as always. Each family member sat with grace, some already dressed in formal attire.
The mood was serious and quiet, only broken by occasional clinks of cutlery and light chatter.
Then, footsteps echoed from the hallway. A young man appeared, wearing a wrinkled white T-shirt, lounge pants, and slightly messy hair.
Al.
With a suspiciously cheerful face and oddly sparkling eyes, he strolled in like it was his own birthday party.
Without hesitation, he took an empty seat next to David, smiling widely. It was his first family breakfast—he didn't want to ruin it.
"Good morning, everyone," he greeted brightly.
Every head turned at once to the source of this visual and social anomaly. Several servants instinctively lowered their heads to hide their baffled expressions.
Edward and Sandra exchanged a brief look.
Neither of them seemed accustomed to Al's presence at the dining table.
But after what happened last night—remembering the injuries on Al's body and the sharp sarcasm in his words,
they weren't truly ready to face him yet. Still, since they had no choice, both of them had resolved to treat him better.
And now… he was here.
Or rather, he had arrived, though not quite in the way they expected.
Edward set down his teacup slowly, a short sigh slipping through his lips. Something felt off.
Why hasn't this boy prepared himself yet? Doesn't he have school? The orphanage staff said he was attending one, though they never specified where.
Don't tell me he's planning to quit school altogether… or demand a transfer to an elite institution?
He frowned slightly and called out, voice calm but carrying a restrained edge of irritation.
"Don't you have school today?" he asked calmly. His eyes scanned Al's entire appearance.
"Yes, I do, Father," Al answered with a calm smile and twinkling eyes.
Edward blinked.
"Then why aren't you dressed yet? Doesn't school start at eight? It's already past six. The driver leaves at seven, Where even is your school?"
Al was about to reply, but—
"He probably goes to some second-rate school," Sarah cut in from the far end of the table, sipping orange juice with a smug look.
Al turned to her. Their eyes met. Again—Sarah. Once more, the tension between them sparked—like a silent declaration of war.
This woman again. It's still morning, for god's sake, Al grumbled inwardly, slightly annoyed.
Instead of snapping back or taking offense, Al simply lowered his head slightly, a faint polite smile on his lips.
He turned his gaze away from Sarah and focused on his father instead.
"Sorry, Father. But I have afternoon classes," he said casually.
"Huh? Since when do public schools have afternoon sessions?" Edward frowned, confusion mirrored by everyone else at the table.
Al shook his head.
"My school's private, not public."
Rather than being convinced, Edward looked even more suspicious. "Really?" he asked.
Al nodded.
Edward hesitated, then chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. His gaze shifted toward Aurielle.
"Do private schools even have afternoon classes?"
Aurielle tilted her head slightly.
"Usually only elite ones, Dad. David's school has afternoon programs too, remember? I'm not sure about regular private schools, but maybe some do."
Edward nodded thoughtfully, while Aurielle turned to Al.
"You really attend a private school? You're not lying, are you? Don't tell me this is just an excuse." she asked.
"Of course not, Sister. Why would I lie?" Al replied evenly, then added in a calm but pointed tone,
"But if you keep jumping to conclusions without solid proof—like yesterday—then I honestly don't know what to say."
Aurielle flinched ever so slightly.
"Al," she said sternly,
"You could at least try to be more polite. Smooth your tone—they don't suit the dignity of this family and the way we act as members of it."
"Ah, I'm glad you brought that up, Sister," Al said, brushing past the reprimand entirely.
"I'm still new here. I have a lot to learn about how this family operates. It's part of my adjustment process. As for my tone, well… it's a habit. Sometimes it just slips out."
He looked around the table before adding dryly, "Especially in a house where so many people practically beg to be teased. So, my apologies for that."
Sarah's brow twitched. "It's only natural for people like you to be used to behaving without manners," she sneered.
Al didn't respond. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on Aurielle.
"See? That's exactly what I mean," he said.
"...When you deal with people like her every day, anyone would get irritated. I'm actually being polite for only using sarcasm. Not as barbaric as some people."
He then turned his head slightly toward David.
"For example, people who enjoy spreading false stories. That's barbaric," he added meaningfully.
David realized he was being targeted. He merely offered a faint smile, even though something inside him was quietly burning.
"Ah… I suppose Brother Al is still upset about what happened last night. Even if it was my servant's doing, I imagine you're still quite displeased with me as well."
With a slight smile and a small nod, he added,
"…Once again, please accept my apology."
Seeing this, Sarah felt visibly uncomfortable.
"David! You don't need to apologize. Everyone knows this wasn't your fault."
She shot Al an unpleasant look, then turned back to David with a smile.
"Hmph… Even if you were the one who did it, no one would blame you anyway. And stop apologizing to people like him—it's beneath you."
David could only smile awkwardly, unwilling to let the matter escalate.
Meanwhile, Al simply waved his hand lazily, as if brushing it off.
He had no intention of arguing with Sarah—he knew his emotions might get the better of him if he did.
Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache forming. Sandra could only shake her head helplessly beside him.
"That's enough. All of you—stop arguing and throwing insults," Edward ordered firmly, ending the morning's drama.
Everyone nodded.
"Including you, Sarah. Stop provoking him. He's your brother. I expect the two of you to at least try to get along," Edward added, directing a sharp glance at his daughter.
Sarah's face tightened. She clearly didn't like being scolded, but she could only nod reluctantly.
"Understood, Dad," she muttered stiffly.
"Good," Edward exhaled in relief before turning back to Al. "So, you really have afternoon classes?"
Al nodded casually while sampling his breakfast.
"Do you also not believe me, Father?"
"Hm… not entirely. And frankly, that isn't particularly important," Edward admitted.
"I don't really care where you study or what time your classes start. You've lived as an ordinary person all this time, so I don't expect much when it comes to your school's status," he continued.
"Even so, I'm still a little sensitive about this matter. I just want to make sure you're attending school properly…"
"…Even if it's only a second-rate school, that's still far better than hearing that a Virellano son isn't going to school at all."
Sandra nodded and chimed in.
"And about that, Al—we were planning to transfer you to the elite school David attends. But since this is already your final semester…"
She paused briefly.
"…we decided to let you finish where you are for now. After that, we'll arrange for you to enter a top university when you start college."
Al was slightly stunned by his parents' words. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he simply nodded.
"Don't worry, Father. I'm attending school properly."
Then he smiled at Sandra. "And… thank you, Mother."
Edward and Sandra gave a small nod in response.
"Good," Edward said.
Then his expression shifted, growing more serious.
"But there's something else I want to ask."
"What is it?" Al asked curiously, drawing everyone's attention.
"Do you know why the data about you—and the other orphans from your foundation—are restricted? Both by the foundation and the Ministry of Child Protection?" Edward asked.
The question piqued everyone's curiosity. They'd all heard rumors about it, but never got clear answers.
David, in particular, was staring sharply—he had tried to dig up anything he could about Al, but the records were sealed tight.
Hmph? I'd understand if the Ministry restricted it, Al thought silently.
But the foundation too? They still haven't told me anything about that. Why? Hmph... I should look into it.
Out loud, however, he simply shook his head.
"I don't have any concrete details, Father. But I believe Uncle Khalil has already given you some information, hasn't he? He works there, after all—he should know more."
He paused briefly before adding,
"And if there's anything you wish to know about my life up until now… please feel free to ask me directly."
His answer left the table mildly disappointed, though it was understandable that Al himself didn't know.
Edward did not press further. He merely gave a small nod, as if acknowledging that this was as far as the conversation would go for now.
It wasn't that he lacked curiosity—rather, the moment Al mentioned Khalil's name, he knew continuing the conversation would only lead to trouble.
"I see," he said calmly.
David, however, couldn't hide his curiosity. He glanced between Edward and Al before speaking up.
"Hmph. May I ask… what exactly did Uncle Khalil say about Brother Al's life before this? I'm quite curious," he said, his tone polite yet probing.
Edward was momentarily taken aback by the question.
His gaze shifted to Al, hesitation flickering in his eyes as he weighed whether that information should be voiced at all.
Before he could respond, Sarah frowned slightly.
"I don't think there's anything important about his life before this," she cut in, turning toward Al. "He probably just lived recklessly out there."
She then continued, her curiosity sharpening.
"What I've always wondered is this—where does Uncle Khalil actually work? You keep saying he has a good job, but no one ever explains what he does or where."
For a brief moment, silence fell over the table.
Edward, Sandra, and Aurielle exchanged a look—subtle, restrained, yet unmistakably deliberate.
In this household, only the three of them knew the truth about Khalil's occupation. And work tied to the World Magical Association was not something that could be spoken of freely.
The WMA was a massive organization, still shrouded in secrecy. Due to the weight and danger of its responsibilities, it remained obscure—even among the elites.
"That's not something we can discuss," Edward said at last, his voice firm yet composed.
"You know… it's confidential," Sandra added softly, offering a faint, polite smile. "For now, there's no need to talk about your uncle's work, hehe."
Aurielle gave a small nod, reinforcing the point without saying a word.
David noticed it immediately. Their reactions told him far more than their words ever could.
This only deepens the mystery, he thought.
Even my shadow forces failed to uncover anything about Uncle Khalil's work. And now, even this boy's past seems connected to him. Hmph… troublesome indeed.
Because Al mentioned Khalil's name, the conversation became a little awkwad. More than that, they understood one more thing—Al's past was just as untouchable as Khalil's work.
They understood without needing it spelled out—anything tied to Khalil, and by extension to Al's past, was not something to be spoken of lightly… not even within the family.
Edward calmly brought the matter to a close.
"That information isn't relevant to this discussion. Let's leave it at that."
Sarah clicked her tongue in frustration.
"Hmph… you always say that, Dad," she muttered. "But fine."
Though annoyed, she didn't press further. After all, Khalil's work had always been wrapped in secrecy—this was nothing new.
The topic was quietly dismissed, yet the unease it left behind lingered, settling deep beneath the polite atmosphere of the breakfast table.