A Daisy, A White Tulip and a Daffodil
branch au of R! Clopeh: crossover TCF x intkot.
Cruel and Deon is reborn in TCF world as the lunatic younger brothers lol
Oh and fem!Clopeh I guess enjoy!
.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・
It’s been five years—almost six—living as Clopeh Sekka.
Everything seems fine on the surface. Life moves on, quiet and ordinary, until you start to notice the small changes. Your mother health has been slowly draining, ever since your birth years ago, but only lately has it become impossible to ignore.
The way her steps are slower now. The way her breath tires more easily.
She is Clopeh mother, the woman who brought this body into the world—but now she is yours too. Your new mother in this life. The one who loves you without hesitation, who cares for you even as her own strength fades.
She always like to take you to her favorite greenhouse garden, where it protect by the glass and magis to keep all the plants and flowers from the North cold.
"Clopeh look over here... "
" Aren't these flowers are lovely? "
" They are! But not as lovely as you mama! "
" That's so sweet my child, do you want to know what flower that I love? "
You never knew who she was in the novel.
You never knew what kind of person she was supposed to be. She never appeared, never mattered, never told and so you ignored her existence entirely. You didn’t care. Hell, you barely thought of her at all.
You see how she looks at you, how she pours her love into you without hesitation, without condition. Every gentle touch, every tired smile, every worry she tries to hide for your sake.
Losing her feels like something is being torn out of you, something you didn’t even know you needed until it was gone.
Rock Sekka is part of your life now—and so was she. The two of you grieve together, drowning in the same silence, the same unbearable absence.
For the first time in this new life, you lock yourself inside your chamber. You ignore every knock, every voice calling your name from the other side of the door.
You cry until your hard to breathe.
You stay in bed, bundling yourself under the blankets, staring blankly at the wall. Some days, you can hardly bring yourself to move at all.
When you do get up, it’s only to eat—because Cale always said to eat properly, right? —And to pick a few Peruvian lilies, placing them carefully into a pot inside your bedchamber.
Then you return to bed, repeating the same hollow routine over and over again.
And one of those days, exhausted and empty, you cry yourself to sleep.
The air grows still. Too still. Like the moment before a tide pulls back
You are no longer in your chamber.
Water stretches endlessly beneath your feet, clear and unmoving, reflecting a dark sky scattered with dim stars. There is no wind, no sound—only presence.
There is no wind yet your white hair flow around gently, you feels lighter like a cotton.
you already read, watch, and see too much already to not know what this place is.
and you know what this mean.
One of them wearing all black clothes that looks modern and classy, long white hair, handsome face and dark skin.
The other shines softly, like moonlight filtered through water. Gentle. Vast. Watching you with eyes full of quiet sorrow.
And the Goddess of Water.
“…No,” you whisper, taking a step back. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to hear it.”
You turn away, grief flaring hot and sharp.
Even here, even now, you are tired. So tired of gods and everything around, you just want to mourn in peace.
The water goddess does not stop you. She only watches, her expression kind but under those stare is something more.
It is the God of Death who speaks.
Your name sounds different in his voice..... That's not your name either.
But it's yours now and both of you know this.
“I have news,” he says. “From your mother.”
Your breath catches painfully in your throat.
“…Don’t,” you say, voice shaking. “Please.”
But your feet will not move. Your heart is already betraying you, turning toward him despite yourself.
The God of Death steps closer—not threatening nor cruel. Just Simply there.
“She spoke to me,” he continues, voice low
and steady. “Not with regret. Not with fear.”
You clench your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms.
"We told her. " God of the Death tell you making you snapped at him.
You know what he means, the God of Death told her that you are not her child. At least this soul is not supposed to be here, and someone soul should have this body.
They know you are grieving and now they did this?!
What would she think about this? Did she feel disagrouth?, sad?, betrayed? What she would think of you now?
Your breath hitches and fasten—
"Calm down child. " The water goddess say.
You glare at her " I'm not your fucking child. " You snarled, so fed up with them. Those who do as they please and leave little warning, you can't help but frustrated with them.
Despite they are the one who give you this second chance.
The water goddess flatter a bit seeing your expression, she then back away form you sending that you didn't want any of them close with you.
" Clopeh..... Child. " God of the Death call you carefully before continue " I have told you this first, that she spoke not with regret or fear. " He said slowly.
" She tell me that the day you born you are hers as much Clooeh is hers, that you are her child to whom she raised dearly. "
This word make your breath hitches again but for a different reason.
“She said,” he says gently, “that she does not want you to stop living for her sake.”
“She wants you to keep going. To do anything you wish. To live freely. To be happy.”
The word hurts more than anything else. Happy.
“She said,” the God of Death finishes, “that she does not want your life shackled by grief in her name.”
Silence crashes down around you. The water goddess steps forward again but not close enough with you, her presence warm like a tide wrapping around wounded shores.
“She loves you,” she says softly. “she take you and Enough to let you go.”
Your knees give out, and you sink to the water surface, which ripples but does not swallow you.
Tears fall freely now from your green eyes.
“I don’t know how,” you whisper. “Without her and her knowing.....”
The God of Death watches you with something almost like compassion.
“You do not need to know yet,” he says. “Only that she wished for you to try.”
Relief settles in your chest.
It’s fragile, Thin. But it’s there and it's enough for you.
Your mother words linger like a quiet warmth, easing the tightness around your heart. For the first time since she left, breathing doesn’t feel like a punishment.
…Then a thought creeps in.
They don’t visit and they definitely don’t gently pass along heartfelt messages and then leave. They don’t appear in dreamscapes out of kindness alone.
They appear when they want something.
You lift your head.
Your tear-blurred eyes sharpen like a predator as they flick between the two divine figures still standing far too close for comfort.
The God of Death stiffens.
The Goddess of Water blinks. Once. Twice.
Suspicious, very loud silence.
“…Spit it out,” you say. “Whatever it is.”
The God of Death opens his mouth.
Your expression must be doing something horrific, because he visibly recoils with how your face make him remember Choi Jung—nevermind, he didn't want to remember—he actually looks to the Water Goddess for help.
Her hands clasp together nervously, water rippling at her feet.
“…You tell her,” she whispers back.
“No, she is your responsibility so you—”
“I think this is more your jurisdiction—”
“I am going to count to three,” you say calmly, too calmly, “and if you do not explain why two gods decided to emotionally ambush a grieving mortal, I will—”
“—tell Cale in the future. Eventually. Casually. In passing.”
The air goes dead. (Is this count as pun?)
The God of Death goes pale.(can he?)
The Water Goddess lets out a small, distressed sound.
“…You wouldn’t,” she says weakly.
“All right!” the Water Goddess blurts out, panic overriding grace. “We gave you another souls to take care!”
“To help,” she rushes on. “You were already—well—handling a lot and we thought—”
“—that it would be efficient,” the God of Death adds hurriedly.
“Another soul,” you repeat slowly.
“You—” you inhale sharply, then explode.
The water beneath you surges violently. You white hair fly around wildly.
“Do you have any idea how messed up reincarnation already is?” you snap. “One no two soul wasn’t enough? You just added another like some kind of divine patch note?”
The God of Death raises his hands defensively.
“It was properly vetted—”
“Oh, I don’t CARE,” you cut in. “You people can’t even keep track of fate without dumping paperwork on mortals and now you’re outsourcing SOUL MANAGEMENT?”
The Water Goddess looks seconds away from tears.
“We thought you were capable—”
“Oh, I am capable,” you say venomously.
“That’s the PROBLEM. Every time a god messes up, you toss it at a human and call it destiny.”
The God of Death visibly wilts.
“That’s… not entirely inaccurate.”
You pace, gesturing wildly.
“This world is already on the brink of become a scramble eggs, ancient evils are crawling out of holes, evil God seals almost pop out, and now I’m what—divine customer support?”
The Water Goddess sniffles. “…We’re very sorry.”
You stop. Stare at them both.
“…Fix it.”
“…We can’t,” the God of Death admits quietly.
“Fantastic,” you say. “Then congratulations.”
You point at them.
“You’re both on probation.”
“Yes,” you say. “Because if anything else goes wrong—and it will—I will absolutely tell Cale everything.”
The God of Death pales further, which is impressive given his aesthetic.
“Oh, I will,” you promise sweetly. “With diagrams.”
The world begins to blur around the edges.
As you’re pulled back toward waking, you hear frantic whispering behind you. But loudly that you can hear them.
“We shouldn’t have told her—”
" Not telling me is the worst choice. " You tell them
“You said honesty was best—”
" It's not the damn honesty! " You snapped.
“She threatened us with Cale—”
"I AM HERE!!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT?! I'M JUST GONNA WAKE UP, YOU ARE ALL WASTING MY TIME! " you scream.
“You can’t wake up yet,” the God of Death blurts out suddenly, words tumbling over each other.
They both turned around at you looking desperate.
You pause mid–mental threat list.
He straightens, clearly panicking now.
“There’s—there’s something else we should clarify.”
The Water Goddess wrings her hands. “It’s about the souls.”
“Explain,” you say slowly. “Carefully. Quickly. Preferably without ruining my remaining sanity.”
The God of Death nods far too fast.
“They’re going to be reborn in this world,” he says. “they are once a siblings.”
“They’ve suffered greatly in their previous life,” he continues, like he’s reading off a badly written report. “They are deeply wounded, emotionally unstable, and carry a significant amount of karmic debt. They should be even here but I fear if left alone those souls might turned into.......something.”
“…Cruel Hart. And Deon Hart.”
The water around you goes perfectly still.
“…You have got to be kidding me.”
“No,” you say flatly. “No. Absolutely not.”
The God of Death looks confused. “You… recognize them?”
“Oh, I recognize them,” you say, voice sharp with disbelief. “From "I’m Not That Kind of Talent." ”
The Water Goddess blinks. “From… what?”
“You gave me them?” you demand. “Those siblings?”
You rake a hand through your white hair, fury reigniting at full force.
“Do you have any idea how broken they are?” you snap. “They’re emotionally destroyed, drowning in trauma, carrying karma like it’s a second spine—”
You point accusingly at the God of Death.
“—and one of them is bipolar. BIPOLAR.”
“That… that was accounted for—”
“Oh, was it?” you bark. “Because dumping two traumatized brothers with unresolved grief, abandonment issues, misunderstanding and enough emotional baggage to sink a empire onto me does not sound like accounting.”
The Water Goddess looks ready to cry again.
“We thought you could guide them—”
“Guide them?” you repeat incredulously.
“What am I, a rehabilitation center?”
“You people are fantastic,” you sneer. “Truly. Outstanding. Ten out of ten divine incompetence.”
You start pacing again, hands flying.
“You see a pair of abused, shattered siblings with catastrophic mental health and karmic debt up to their eyeballs and think—yes. Let’s reincarnate them into another future war-torn fantasy world and put a grieving mortal in charge.”
The God of Death stammers, “You’re… uniquely suited—”
“Oh, I’m uniquely tired.”
You stop and turn on them both.
“And you didn’t even ask.”
The Water Goddess finally breaks, voice trembling. “If we had asked, you would have said no.”
Silence falls again as You exhale slowly.
“We aren’t allowed to interfere that much.”
You laugh again, bitter and sharp.
“So let me get this straight,” you say.
“You already have your hands full because of Arm organization and the close call off Evil God seals almost released, but think is a good Idea to reincarnate a pair of tragic brothers with enough emotional damage to qualify as a natural disaster, and assign them to me like an unpaid side quest.”
The God of Death nods weakly.
“…When you put it that way.”
“If Cale finds out,” you say calmly, “he will dismantle your pantheon with paperwork and passive aggression alone."
The Water Goddess lets out a small sob.
You look at them. Really look at them.
Two gods. Ancient. Powerful.
..... No wonder the characters from TCF always annoyed and disilile the gods that they served.
“…I hate you,” you say sincerely.
Oh you didn't want to do this, but the other alternative is not good either. There is a second part book about them that Cruel become a guardian spirit and Deon ascend into godhood, maybe this is another reason why gods worried for the new god born from ruins.
The water beneath your feet ripples uneasily.
“But if they get hurt again,” you continue quietly, rage simmering under every word, “I will personally drag both of you down here and make you fix it.”
The God of Death swallows.
“Now,” you say coldly, “start explaining exactly what kind of mess you’ve dropped into my lap.”
The God of the death then explain how messy and young The brothers world is, how the world still see only black and white in rules. That Karma is given to those around them all in logistics, where the world think that demon is a bug and still quite understand themselves.
How those two brothers are the victims of every thing, sure they have their wrong doing but they are the one that get dragged first by everyone.
After telling everything Silence settles again.
Not the awkward kind this time.
The heavy kind. The kind that makes even gods stand straighter.
You inhale once. Steady. Controlled.
“fine....…I’ll do it,” you say.
Both gods visibly react—the Water Goddess lifting her head in fragile hope, the God of Death letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.
“But,” you continue calmly, “I will do it under my conditions.”
This make both of them look at you in surprise.
“You will not interrupt me,” you say, eyes hard as stone. “You will not refuse me. And you will not pretend you have a choice.”
The God of Death swallows.
You know every thread. Every turning point. Every hand that pushed those brothers toward ruin while calling it fate.
“You said their world imperfect,” you say quietly. “You let karma fall blindly. Logical, maybe. Balanced, perhaps. But not just.”Your gaze sharpens.
“And I won’t clean up your mess without leverage.”
The God of Death braces himself.
“I want a familiar face reborn into this world,” you say. “Someone from their life. Someone close enough to anchor them when I can’t.”
You think of Remember and the Lofty knights, how loyal and caring they are toward Deon. You can't think much on Cruel side friend but at least having Deon group would ease you up.
The Water Goddess opens her mouth—
She shuts it immediately.
“I will need more hands,” you continue evenly.
“More than mine. Someone they can trust instinctively. Someone who knows them before the blood and madness hollowed them out.”
“Do not tell me this is impossible,” you say coldly. “You’ve already broken enough rules.”
The God of Death nods stiffly.
Only then do you lean back slightly, eyes narrowing as you think.
You sift through names like knives, You know who shaped their suffering.
“Emperor Eduardo Dessert,” you say at last.
“For all his sins,” you admit flatly, “he was competent. A good emperor to his people. A terrible man to some of his subronate. ”
He at least have enough self awareness and know what he is doing, not to mention he take responsibility on his wrong doing too.
You close your eyes briefly.
“Let fate decide his punishment. I won’t interfere there.”
The Water Goddess exhales in relief.
“And Atlas,” you continue, voice colder now.
“That suicidal Demon King who treated Deon like entertainment.”
“I would have liked him very much alive.”
The God of Death shakes his head. “His soul was erased. No rebirth. No hell.”
Then— Your expression changes.
Your face goes blank. Dead calm.
The name drops like a corpse.
The water beneath your feet darkens.
“That man,” you say softly, “is the root of it all.”
He is the one that summon the demon king, the one that make the deals, the one that dragged Deon into the war the one that—
The God of Death does not interrupt.
“He does not deserve redemption,” you say. “He does not deserve reincarnation. He does not deserve to fade peacefully.”
Your eyes lift—green. Sharp. Cold.
“My second request,” you say gently, and that gentleness terrifies them both, “is that Duke Starbe never touches another world.”
The God of Death stiffens, just slightly but enough to notice.
“I want you,” you say, meeting his gaze without blinking, “to make him suffer.”
The Water Goddess gasps quietly.
“In any way Hell allows,” you continue, smiling faintly. “Stretch it. Be creative I know you can”
Your smile sharpens.
“No second chances. No narrative excuses. No gods mercy.”
The God of Death feels something unfamiliar crawl up his spine.
“…Yes,” he says hoarsely.
“Well, looks like it’s time for me to wake up. Happy to do business!” you say, suddenly bright, almost cheerful.
The shift is jarring, A full turn One hundred and eighty degrees.
The dream blurs at the edges as you turn away, already fading, already gone.
.
You wake with a long, theatrical sigh, one arm flung over your face like a woman burdened by fate, destiny, and a truly unreasonable workload.
“Great,” you mutter to the ceiling. “just mourning my mother lost and got a New assignments with the Same cosmic nonsense.”
And this one is out of agreement! You agree for Cale and all of his glory in his failure to get his lazy slacker dream, spread his legend and built a Caleism. Not— not whatever this is!!!
The bed is too soft. The room too clean. Sunlight pours in like it has no idea what crimes against the universe you authorized less than a dream ago.
You sit up, rubbing your eyes, already mentally sorting souls.
Okay. Priority list. Lost causes first a lot of it. Kids second. Traumatized nobles—ugh, always a mixed bag.
You pause. 'And if anyone comes pre-packaged with tragic backstories that rival Kim Roksoo childhood, that’s not my fault.'
Your gaze drifts, unfocused.
You wonder, idly, what the gods will make of it.
How Cruel and Deon will be tied to your path for this? . Loosely? Tightly? Dramatically? With matching trauma ribbons, perhaps?
“Please don’t let it be symbolic,” you murmur. “I hate symbolism. At least flowers are pretty”
Just as you’re about to swing your legs out of bed—
“My lady!” a maid practically screams, skidding into the room like her life depends on it—which, given the household politics, it probably does. “Urgent news!”
“Yes?” you say, voice still thick with sleep and impending regret.
“There—there is news from the Colletar family,” she pants. “They’ve sent word that an illegitimate child have been found, but it seems there is problem and your father have take them to the Sekka household immediately!”
“Yes! Well—children, actually. Two and one of them is still a baby it seems.”
You stare ahead, soul leaving your body for a brief moment before coming back with paperwork.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Those absolute son of bi—
“They didn’t warn me,” you hiss. “They didn’t even—that was literally last night.”
The maid blinks, confused. “My lady…?”
“They’re already reborn,” you mutter, horror dawning. “Already placed. Already tangled into the plot like a badly tied knot.”
You drop back onto the bed, staring at the canopy.
“That’s it. That’s actually it.”
Your hand slaps over your face.
“I swear to every afterlife I manage,” you groan, voice echoing off the silk pillows, “if they ever pull this stunts in the way, I am billing the gods.” you don't know how to bill gods, but fuck it for all they have pull into you.
Now you understand more for Cale feeling to all this.
The maid does not know what to do with that information.
“Prepare rooms,” you snap. “Extra wards. Emotional support tea. And if anyone asks—”
“…Tell them the Sekka household is very experienced with unexpected souls.”
Under your breath, far less politely, you add:
“Damn it all.”
Somewhere, very far away, the gods absolutely feel a chill.
You just visit the new children in the guest room where they are staying right now, bringing Peruvian Lilly flowers putting them in pot as a welcome gift for them.
And now you are looking at them, Green eyes stare empty at the young boy on the bed guest room, a sick boy with Raven hair and pale skin with pinkish from fever.
Beside the bed is a crib with a baby.
A sleeping baby with pale skin and white hair that a jarring symbol of Sekka household.
But you know the other reason the baby have white hair is because he is an albino too.
Apparently Viscount Skonel a very far of Sekka family tree is whoring around. without whatever it is of protection On playing in bed.
He haven't a wife yet either and very ambitious despite being a total incompetence in your mind, Rock Sekka even agree with you on this too. And because of that Rock put him on watch to make sure he didn't do anything ridiculous.
And Rock for all his grieving still force himself to be a functional adult, to make sure you can grief in peace. You feel guilty
That's when he found out Viscount Skonel tried to schemes his way into taking over Sekka household by using his illegitimate children. Since Clopeh is a lady ("she " Should not but this might a different version) her place as an heir is a bit shaken, Because it's uncommon for a women to become a head household.
but you are proven to deserve the title even you're still a 5 year old with the proclaim that you are born genius,and other branch family at the moment only have one child to inherent their own family titles so you are safe.
Viscount Skonel get caught red handed by Rock Sekka on not just his plan but how he abused his old son for only having a green eyes, while tried to get rid the baby since he is very weak despite having a white hair.
And that's how they end up here after Rock erased Viscount Skonel from family, Rock still didn't know what to do with the kids but you have begged him to adopt them as official. Of course Rock being weak for his daughter agree easily, thinking it won't hurt to have other children here and might help them in their grief.
You snap back to reality as the baby wake up, you walk closer to the crib and see him wake up.
"Abubu.. " The baby wiggle his arms around.
On instinct you over him your fingers, and the baby grap one of your finger.
he is cute as a white rabbit.
Ah well they are your responsibility and they are here with you now, smile twitch on your face.
" Hello.... " You coo at the baby.
" Welcome to the family my dear little brother Deon Sekka. "
