an: slightly based off this post of mine, I've been gobbling up acting centric manwhas recently and I feel like this is such a fun plotline to explore

context notes:

Cale Thames -> name of the actor that plays heniRoksoo

Calliope Thames -> Cale's half sister who plays heniRoksoo's niece aka reincarnated Jour

Reader -> plays the role of heniRoksoo's coworker, leader of team 3

"How often do I have to tell you? You can't carry the burden of this world all on your own!" Your voice cuts through the room as sharp as a whip and leaves the same sharp impact. Team leader Kim stands across you in the shabby, run down meeting hall that once must've been the center of political decision.

Now? All that's left of the former prestige are dusty furniture pieces rotting around and half broken walls, destroyed by monster attacks and barely surviving. A relic of a society once taken for granted and now only a figment of yearning and the past.

He looks away, like he can't be bothered to have this conversation with you again. It drives you up the wall—the practiced nonchalance and sheer recklessness of his actions. He moves with such abandon, as if he has multiple lives and no one else is aware of it.

When he turns his head, the bandages you haphazardly wrapped around his injured shoulder peek out from beneath his shirt. The once pristine white gauze is tinged pink—the wound reopened.

"Say something, team leader! Anything at all, show me a sign that you even care about what I have to say, damn it!"

He turns his head to face you, mouth opening and closing but not sound comes out. His fists clench at his side, limbs trembling with something akin to anger.

How dare he be angry in a situation like this?Your fury rages on again and propels you forward. In three quick strides, you cross the distance between you and grab him by the collar of his tactical jacket.

His eyes widen for a fraction, clearly taken back by your sudden outburst. You pull him down to your level and all but scream im his face, voice barely restrained.

"Team leader, why do you live like this is someone else's life? What could you have possibly done to bear this much guilt alone?"

Your voice wavers and dies in your throat, just as the strength leaves your body. You let go of his jacket and allow your head to fall against his chest. You can't see his face, but you're certain he's shocked.

There are tears trying to make their way out of your eyes but you blink them away stubbornly. Your hands remain by your side, formed into tight fists that tremble from the sheer restraint you're showing.

"Why can't you trust me even a little bit, Roksu-yah?"

Despite the muffled words, on account of your face being smushed against his chest, he seems to have understood you perfectly well.

His arms move, hovering unsurely in the air before ever so slowly enveloping you in a light embrace. There's something strangely tender about this man moving his sharp body—one that's worn and marred by scars and pain—in a gesture so painfully soft.

Emotions surge within you, a mixture of joy, regret, fear and longing so profound you can't put it into words threaten to overtake you like a tidal wave.

Your tears are nearly unstoppable now, so you latch onto him and try your best to muffle the sobs coming out of you.

He's warm, the world is cold and the contrast is maddening. Your heart beats erratically in your chest and your throat is dry from crying. Your body begins to give out on you and-

"Cut!"

The director's words immediately shatter your bubble of immersion. The meeting hall returns to being a well made set and the hustle and bustle of the filming crew creeps up on you gradually. You step away from you co-actor, flashing him a bright smile which he returns with one of his own when you high five.

"We knocked that scene outta park, Cale!" Your steps are light when you walk with him to your chairs. He bumps your shoulder affectionately, clearly also drunk on the high of shooting a great scene perfectly.

"The one-take-duo has done it again," he announces to no one in particular when you finally slump into your chairs. Merely a minute later someone comes over with some water and warm tea for the both of you—beverages that you accept all too gratefully after standing under the heat of the lights for hours, screaming and yelling during your various scenes.

The director hasn't approached you or Cale yet, presumably to give you some breathing room after shooting five scenes in a row without a real break. You send a silent thanks to the heavens for finally being able to simply rest without anything to do. A glance at your co-star reveals that he most be feeling the same weariness and exhaustion.

Despite still wearing the costume of team leader Kim Roksu, Cale Thames shed his character's mask the very moment the director ended the scene. Seeing him transition so effortlessly never managed to not take you by surprise, especially when you observed the difference between his real life animated expressions and the schooled features of the character he plays.

Sometimes, you wonder how someone who wears their heart on their sleeve could exert such control and range in terms of acting.

Silence falls between you as both of you nurse your drinks, not pressured to talk or say anything. You simply allow the weight of the scene to wash away and become nothing more than a memory and an experience to draw from.

You like that about your chemistry with Cale—after intense scenes, he never rushes to discuss them with you or tries to jump into the next thing. He gives you ample space to process your work and reset yourself before bringing up any concerns he might have.Right on cue, he clears his throat and nudges your foot to draw your attention. You only dignify him with a tilt of your head and a side glance to signify that you're listening.

"Why did you go off script with the last line?"Ah, the dreaded question. You knew the moment you slipped up that this annoying stickler for rules would hound your ass about it, but how on earth do you explain that you changed a line because it just felt right?You shrug, averting your gaze back to watching the crew run around and prepare the set for the next scene. The dark haired man doesn't take kindly to being ignored and invades your personal space to poke your arm like an annoying brat.

"Helloooo? You know you're not supposed to call me by my first name yet, right?"

Even scooting away doesn't do much to deter him from his childish attacks—he simply follows you and keeps poking you until you finally swat his hand away in annoyance.

"Oh my god stop, it just slipped out in the heat of the moment and it made sense for my character to say that!"

"Maybe, but calling me with such closeness? They haven't even dropped the formalities yet and we're like halfway through the season!"

"It literally fit the vibe so much and the viewers will go crazy for it."

"And you know that because you're gifted in fortune telling or what?"

"Why you little-" once again, the thought of striking Cale down with the nearest heavy object and strangling him to death crosses your mind. You remind yourself that unfortunately, you need this man if you want that big fat paycheck landing in your bank account since there can be no production of 'Trash Of Team One' if said trash is not alive.

A sharp retort begins to form in your head, yet the universe conspires against you when you hear a bright voice shout in your direction.

"Oppa!" A blur of brown and white darts past you and crashes against Cale, nearly sending him toppling off his chair. A small girl, no older than ten years old, interrupts the conversation and immediately captures your attention.

Cale's demeanor brightens instantly and once again, the transition gives you insane whiplash.

"Calliope! When did you get here? Your scene isn't scheduled until late afternoon right?"His sister beams at him, and in that moment you can see the uncanny family resemblance the casting director raged about when casting Calliope for the role of the reincarnated Jour. Even though she's only his half sister, Cale and Calliope seemed to be made of the same cloth when they smiled like that.

"Nope!" She replies, "the director said she's gonna move it and 'm supposed to come in early." Great, another change to the schedule no one bothered communicating with you yet.

Still, you weren't too peeved by it because at the end of the day, your important scenes were being shot late at night and you had virtually zero work to do until Cale finished his own scenes.

Whispers and glances are shot into your direction, the entire atmosphere shifting into something warmer upon Calliope's arrival. You figure that this is part of her natural charm—drawing in people's attention and lighting up any room she's in. The gazes are especially soft when Cale hauls her into his lap and begins to grill her about her day, about school work, friendship drama and any and all topics a ten year old girl might want to chat about.

You take the chance to settle deeper into your chair and observe the set, that age old familiar feeling of pride mingling with nostalgia. You couldn't believe that you were halfway through done with shooting the first season of this show, already picturing how sad it would be to part ways with everyone working with you.

Your heart stilled. The pulse of your heart increasing with each tick of that clock in the room. Slowly gathering yourself from the internal panic blooming in your gut. Your guard began to rise up in front on him. That amused sheen in Cale’s eyes only solidifying your suspicion.

yea... best part is I'm the furthest thing from done for this "oneshot"

anyways let me at least show you a snippet lol

And you've got your own life when suddenly you find out that not only do you have a little half brother (huge shock) but also his parents have been dead forever and he's about to be sent to an orphanage??? and he went through horrific abuse with his uncle????

Like that's so many emotions to unpack and sm input to process and while you may have certain feelings towards your own bio father and technically you aren't really obligated to take care of this near stranger, you can't help the pang of sympathy.

Lonely kid that's been hurt time and time again and he's basically all alone? That hits a little too close home.

So, against all logic you do take him in. You take in this kid who's supposed to be your brother and you learn what it means to have a family. It's not pretty and it's definitely not easy but it's a process that fundamentally shapes you as a person.

Earning his trust is actually an entire olympic sport and more than once you have to stop yourself from seeking out a shaman to bring his uncle back from the dead so you can beat him up. Kim Rok Soo is traumatised and detached to the point where he gets surprised by any kind of basic human decency.

But you work out in the end, somehow. You take a second and then a third job and you work your ass off so this little boy can have somewhere safe and sound to call home and even though you have so many close calls with death, you make it.

You make it all the way until Kim Rok Soo is 19 and he's now a whole lot more well adjusted to everything. He's not the most sociable person but he knows how to get by. He's not trusting of strangers and very wary of unfounded kindness but his heart is in the right place and maybe, just maybe, he finds the strength to not be mortified by being known.

You're on your way to pick him up from his part time job at the restaurant so you can celebrate your promotion at your new job (you told him to focus on studying and prepping for the entrance exams but he insisted on getting a job as soon as he was out of school, that punk) and you're like literally just crossing the street to get him. He's standing right there, waving at you and telling you to hurry up because he got some left overs and they'll go cold.

He's right there and you're halfway across the street when a car speeds down out of nowhere.

He's there and he watches you disappear right in front of his eyes.

The world tilts and swims, a loud ringing explodes in your ears. When your vision returns all you can see is his panic-stricken face above you. You frown, because that's not an expression that suits your little brother. You tell him you're fine, even as you cough and blood trickles down your mouth.

"Noona, stay with me- stay with me they called the ambulance!"

"Rok Soo-yah," your voice is so hoarse and distant, like you're using someone else's body to speak. You reach out and pat his cheek, a satisfied smile on your bloodied face. "You've grown so well, don't let this hold you back, kay? This noona will always love you."

He says something, maybe your name, but you can't hear him any more. Instinctively, you know your time is up when your vision goes black.

You die, and your little brother holds your lifeless body in his arms when you do.

That's where the story should end, except it doesn't. Because death isn't the end, it's just the beginning of something else.

And your beginning? It's as the oldest daughter of the Henituse family, Jour and Deruth's first born child.

Ever since the two of you were finally able to start on your slacker life, no one has ever seen you wake up before two in the afternoon. Your days are spent in the comfort of the library, reading together while the silence is sometimes interrupted by murmured conversation or commentary. Ron once walked by and saw Cale reading to you while you were sprawled out across the couch, head in his laps with the golden afternoon sun filtering through the window.

It's the most peaceful and content he's seen his young master be.

For all your kids know your diet consists of fruit platters, dessert and intricate meals Vicross manages to cook up every time. If it weren't for the mandatory family mealtime rule where everyone currently in the estate has to partake in at least one meal together in the dining room, they're pretty sure you two would just stay in your room all day long and only eat fruits and sweets.

Raon has long since given up on lecturing his human parents because you two just give him the same lazy smile and nod to whatever he says. If he gets mad you disarm him with pats from Cale and gentle words from you. The most lethal weapons anyone has ever used against a dragon, he's certain.

The only form of actual exercise you get are the daily walks in the garden (supervised and enforced by Choi Han who knows you both will otherwise continue to rot in your bed if it was allowed) and your weekly farming days. Cale complains wholeheartedly, especially in the summer, but he'll still clasp your hand in his and drag you along as to not remain alone on the winding paths.

You will keep cursing Choi Han while he helps you water the plants and work the small plot of land designated for farming but you'll cackle evilly whenever you spray Cale with the hose when he has his back turned to you. Choi Han never gets away unscathed—by the end of the it the strongest swordsman alive is dripping wet and caked from head to toe in dirt. You look proud and a little terrified, Cale tries so hard to not laugh but he fails spectacularly.

At least once a month you'll drag your asses to the imperial palace and while Hans hears your tirade of complaints as you and Cale get dressed for the occasion—though getting dressed is a bit of a stretch, you just put on something a little more formal than whatever it is you lounge in all day long—you never once decline Alberu's invites. You will keep him company in his study, and while Cale and you firmly swear you're just there for the cookies and to laze on the couch, it still ends up with both of you on your respective desks helping the young emperor out with paperwork. Alberu doesn't have to say it out loud for Cale to know those are his favourite days, when the atmosphere is easy and filled with threeway banter and inside jokes.

Cale brought up the topic of the kids sleeping in their own beds one singular time before he never spoke of it again. Ohn knows she's probably getting too old to be sleeping in the same bed sas her parents and brothers, but she can't bring herself to care when you stroke her hair while arguing with Cale about the silliest of things. The sound of your voices lulls all three kids straight to sleep, allowing them a respite that is free of nightmares and terrors.

His entire life goal was to live and enjoy life, melting down into an inhumane puddle that does nothing but eat, breathe and sleep. 

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Yes.”

He was and wanted all of those but having you in his arms was first and foremost.

“Cale-“

Let's Start! Wait—Wrong person!

TCF x Clopeh Sekka! Reader part: 3

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　.・゜-: ✧ :-　　.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Being reborn as a baby seems easy and hard at the same time for you.

easy because that's mean there is no need to pretend as someone else, nor you need to feel worried about snatching someone else body with the chance the original would take their body back.

But hard enough because you need to adapt to grow back again into adult, and it didn't help that you have the mental of grown up already making you understand and aware your surrounding ( god the process of everything is humiliating for you) or that you are too weak to do anything.

You have been grow up well despite everything, you are now very healthy eight year old child. With a loving father and mother— until she passed away at five.

' seriously?! All fantasy novel is either having most wretch parent, abusive mother or loving one only just for to die because of something'

'Like c'mon! Kim Roksoo have bad uncle and Cale mother fucking die when he is young! Like all the classic set up! ' you think with a bit frustrated.

Truth to be told that you love this Clopeh unnamed mother, she is far different from your mother. But you already accepted her with open arms as your new mother in this world. You even start to love Rock Sekka as your father too rather than some character knowing this is now your new life.

Not to mention he is the best Dad of medieval time even more better than Deruth (cough) in your opinion, unlike the cold noble father that is only interested for their child to be worthy next heir.

That aside you have other problem before the main event start....

Namely those pesky nobles.

But luckily for you with child body and adult mind, you find a lot's of way to not just evade them but screwing them over for bullying a freaking child.

And you enjoy this much more than you expected.

But there is other things that need to cleaned up, and this one you have more freedom to do it.

The servants and maids.

This one you didn't need to hold yourself in fearing making enemies like with nobles, servants or those under you have no power over those who have high rank above them.

'Damn, born rich and noble sure is great like Cale said' you muse over.

If nobles feared your polite brutality, then the servants—especially the ones who weren’t truly loyal—learned to fear something much, much worse:

Your inner child gremlin mode.

You didn’t need to act refined when you didn’t feel like it with them.

You didn’t act noble.

You acted like a small, chaotic snow demon with too much intelligence and zero hesitation.

Rock didn’t even know which version scared him more.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It started with a maid—one who wasn’t really a maid. A spy, paid by another noble house, who slipped one of Rock important items into the pocket inside her chest, thinking no one would notice.

Everyone except you.

You walked into the hallway with other servants and maids walking around, stopped mid-step, then stared at her with the stillness of a hunting animal.

The maid forced a smile. “Young master, what are you—”

You straight up sprinted at her like a launched snowball.

“GIVE IT BAAACK!”

"Kyaaaa!!!! "

"GOODNESS! "

"Young master—"

" OH MY! "

Everyone around the hallway screams, while she barely had time to scream before you jumped directly onto her chest. shove your hand to find the pocket and grabbed the hidden item with both hands, yanked it free with a triumphant battle cry.

“AHA! THIEF BOOB POCKET!”

Rock, arriving just in time to see a maid collapse to her knees in terror, could only whisper.

“…young master...... WHY.”

You held up the stolen item in front of everyone there.

“She put Papa thing in her boob! I retrieved it.”

There was no comeback, the servants and maid is the witness.

The logic was perfect, you being blunt as ever and found the item.

And The situation was unholy.

The maid was dragged out by guards, too traumatized to even deny it.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

During a party, a servant who was definitely NOT a servant approached Rock with a dish. You watched with narrowed green eyes from across the room, recognizing the smell—you memorized poisons secretly and for fun. (You're too smart child)

Just as Rock lifted his fork, you sprinted across the floor, leaped onto the table like a feral white cat, seized the plate—

And threw it straight into that servant face.

Hard.

Food splattered everywhere. The servant screamed. The guests froze.

Rock choked. “C-Clopeh! What—?!”

“It was poison,” you said calmly, brushing crumbs off your hands.

“It belongs to him.”

“That’s not—THAT’S NOT HOW ETIQUETTE WORKS—!!”

“It entered his mouth.” You said and blinked, watching the servant gag on the poison meant for Rock.

“That’s karma. It teaches him IMPORTANT life lessons!”

Everyone else immediately moved their food away from themselves.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

Then there is this accident.

An aide from a high-ranking Duke attempted to smuggle money and valuables through the Sekka estate by hiding the record book among official documents. Trying to wash their hand or find a way to put fault on Sekka household.

Key word: attempted.

Because somehow—no one knew how—you got the book.

You marched right into the palace parlor, where several nobles were having a polite conversation, climbed onto a chair, cleared you throat dramatically, and began reading… loudly.

Very loudly.

“‘THE DUKE SECRET FUNDS, PAGE ONE!’” You flipped the page loudly.

“‘Money stolen from taxes! Money stolen from count agreements! Money stolen from—wow, is there anything he didn’t steal?’”

Nobles gasped. A tea cup shattered.

The aide ran toward you, panicking. “Young master, please give back that book—!”

You just hopped off the chair and ran in circles around the room, reading even louder as the aide chased you around.

“‘AND HERE IS A LIST OF WHO HE PAID OFF—OH WOW, UNCLE BARTHOLOMEW, YOU ARE VERY CORRUPT!"

“CLOPEH STOP!” Rock shouted, mortified.

But you only yelled back “IF THEY DIDN’T WANT ME TO READ IT, THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE WRITTEN IT!”

By the time guards arrived, half the room knew the Duke entire financial crimes, and the aide was sobbing on the carpet.

The next week the Duke have been punished and stripped away from their name.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

OH YEAAAHH~~~

You will enjoy this new live in the best wa as much as you can, if the world give an opportunity to do whatever you can and act? of course You gladly accept it with open arms. or find any way possible to milk it worth besides.....

You already have a mission not just to guide but protect this favorite oblivious pretty protagonist of yours, and follow his lead as well.

" Being alive is the best"

That's what Cale said right?

Might as well enjoy it while last~

Let's Start! Wait—Wrong person!

Part: 2

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　.・゜-: ✧ :-　　.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Everything people said about the boy—every rumor, every whisper—still lingered in the halls of the Sekka estate.

The miracle, the melted lake, the blessings of the goddess… all of it followed Clopeh Sekka from the moment he entered the world.

But none of that mattered as much as what Rock Sekka saw with his Two own eyes.

After Clopeh birth, the duchess grew weaker day by day. At first, everyone believed it was simply the strain of childbirth, something she would recover from in time. But her strength slipped away quietly, like snow thawing under a rare warm breeze.

Before Clopeh reached the age of five, she passed away, leaving behind only her final wish—that her son would be happy in the future.

Rock carried that wish with him. He guarded it like something sacred.

Clopeh grew quickly. Faster than any ordinary child.

He crawled sooner than expected, walked with steady steps long before he should have, and possessed sharp, alert eyes—like a small snow serpent always watching its surroundings. With his pale skin, white hair like fresh snow, and light green eyes, he embodied the Sekka household legacy more strikingly than any heir before him.

Bearing uncanny resemblance to their ancestor, the first Sekka.

But his appearance was only the beginning.

The boy was brilliant.

Language, etiquette, swordsmanship—anything placed before him, he learned almost quickly. It was as if he had been born with a purpose already set, something pushing him to grow beyond the limits of ordinary childhood. Watching him was both awe-inspiring and unsettling.

Even after his mother death, Clopeh continued to thrive.

He did not falter, did not break.

In moments, Rock thought the boy carried traces of her—the same quiet determination, the same gentle presence.

And to ensure his wife wish and son happiness, Rock need to focus on the present.

Because as the years passed, it became clear that Clopeh Sekka was… odd. Unique.

A child who did not quite fit into any box the nobles tried to put him in.

His brilliance alone was enough to make some nobles uneasy. A boy learning faster than normal child should be, carrying the Sekka bloodline, and born under a miracle? It was the perfect recipe for jealousy.

Whispers spread through noble gatherings, hushed complaints about Rock “unnatural” child or how too perfect the heir looked. Some feared what he might become, like the first Sekka. How the ancestor go into madness and afraid Clopeh would follow that path.

others simply didn’t like the idea of a boy outshining them before he could even hold a proper conversation.

But Clopeh handled it all in the most unexpected way.

A way that Rock had never seen anything like it, how his eight year old son simply acts like one while dissing nobles adult left and right.

The boy, armed with intelligence far beyond his age, chose to use it in the most ridiculous ways imaginable.

If a noble tried to test him with complicated political questions, Clopeh would answer flawlessly… then immediately follow it by pointing out something absurd about them.

Once, noblewoman tried to subtly insult the boy motherless upbringing, only for Clopeh to calmly reply, “You must be very lonely if you spend all your time thinking about other people families.”

That one left red-faced and close to tears.

Rock would sit there in silent horror and pride, unsure whether to scold his son or praise him.

Clopeh never raised his voice, never threw a tantrum (at least a normal child tantrum)—he simply had a talent for slicing through adult pride with blunt, sharp honesty, leaving nobles questioning their entire lives afterward.

Even worse, Clopeh seemed to enjoy it.

A little too much.

He would smile childish, eyes glinting like a mischievous winter fox, and Rock knew—knew—the boy had done it on purpose. That his son do it not because the usual blunt innocent or curious child word.

And yet, even through the chaos, Rock felt relief.

Clopeh might be strange, might be unpredictable, but he was strong. Strong enough to survive noble politics, even at eight years old.

Maybe that was his mother gift or Maybe that was the goddess blessing.

But the Sekka household just chide it… that was simply Clopeh Sekka being Clopeh Sekka.

And that's happened more than Rock really wish it, because of his son boldness to those who opposed the Sekka household is more open with the hostile.

Knowing that the child won't be easy opponent nor easy to be manipulate (of course not on Rock protective watch).

Sure this make Rock more easy to see and protect not just his son but the Sekka Household too, but that means his headaches is two time more worse and a heart attack every time his son pull one of his many stunt.

Clopeh Sekka just had a talent—an unbelievable, terrifying talent—for outsmarting grown nobles while looking completely innocent about it. It wasn’t even intentional malice. (Is it?)

He simply… existed, thought, and spoke differently from other children.

And unfortunately for the nobles, he spoke too clearly for his age.

One afternoon, during a tea gathering, a baron leaned close to Rock and whispered loudly enough for Clopeh to hear the conversation.

“Your son is very… spirited. Perhaps too spirited for someone meant to inherit such a serious household.”

Clopeh turned from his teacup, blinking. “But Baron, you drink three cups, two cakes and ten cookies more than everyone else. Aren’t you the one with a spirit problem?”

The baron choked on air.

Rock pressed a hand to his forehead.

And Clopeh wasn’t done.

He added, with absolute politeness “I sincerely apologize if my existence has inconvenienced your liver.”

The room fell dead silent. A tea cup cracked somewhere in the back as a maid tried not to laugh.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Another time, a noblewoman leaned down with a fake smile and said “Little Clopeh, you must learn to behave. Nobles need proper manners.”

Clopeh nodded. “Yes, madam. So when will you start learning them?”

Her smile died.

“I—I beg your pardon?”

“You said nobles need proper manners. I am still learning, but you are already old.” His eyes went soft with concern.

“Shouldn’t you be better at it by now?”

The noblewoman fled the hall like a ghost had grabbed her ankle.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But the most iconic incident happened at a political meeting—a place where children normally stayed far away. Clopeh was only there because Rock couldn’t find a babysitter willing to deal with him for a moment and his trust aides is doing some important mission.

A Marques, annoyed by the boy presence, sneered “Why bring your son? This is a place for adults.”

Clopeh looked up from the book he wasn’t actually reading “My apologies, Marques. I didn’t realize you were aiming to be included.”

The marquess blinked. “Included? In what?”

“In the adults.”

Clopeh tilted his head, perfectly innocent.

“You seemed so emotional I thought you were closer to my age.”

Rock inhaled sharply. Several nobles had to turn away to avoid laughing. The Marques expression went from red to purple.

Clopeh, oblivious in appearance only, added gently “But don’t worry. I believe in your potential.”

The room erupted—quietly, painfully, with suppressed wheezes and trembling shoulders.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

For all his innocence—or whatever version of innocence this was—Clopeh had a terrifying way of turning noble politics on its head.

He remained a polite, terrifying little white snake of a child—brilliant, blunt, and utterly impossible to deal with.

But for all the mess his son bring?