CHAPTER 70: CHAPTER 9.11 : A CLASH OF PRIDE (2)

Amid the scattered debris, the courtyard lights caught the swirling dust still hanging in the air.

Al, who had been sitting quietly, slowly rose to his feet, brushing the remaining dirt off his clothes.

He tilted his head back, exhaling a long breath into the cold night sky before looking toward the group that had begun returning to their own business.

"I don’t know who he is, but shouldn’t there be an apology if he realizes he’s in the wrong?" Al’s voice carried a sharp edge of challenge.

It was loud enough for everyone to hear.

The commotion had already died down, and people were ready to move on—yet his words left them irritated, wondering when this matter would truly end.

Still, they knew he had a point. Who would willingly accept being wronged and simply abandoned?

But no one spoke; instead, all eyes remained fixed on Al, waiting to see what the boy would do next.

"Amazing... my room’s been destroyed, yet there’s not even an apology or the slightest compensation," he said with disappointment.

Edward seemed ready to respond, but Al continued before he could speak.

"Oh, right. This building isn’t mine anyway, is it? I’m not even considered part of this family. How stupid of me to ask for compensation."

His voice turned into a mutter, lips curling into a bitter smile as he bent down to salvage whatever belongings he could. "Pardon my rudeness," he added, dripping with sarcasm.

Edward fell silent, glancing at Sandra. Their eyes met, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As usual, they didn’t seem particularly concerned about Al—just here to check that everything was fine—without realizing the issue was far from trivial.

Someone had wronged their biological son, destroyed the very building he slept in, and no one had brought up compensation or even offered him a place to stay.

It was as if they’d forgotten that small building was the room they themselves had approved for Al to live in during his disciplinary period.

A dangerous thought took root—if he really was their son, shouldn’t they care more?

And looking deeper... why was he even sleeping apart from them in the first place?

That thought struck a painful chord, one sharp enough to leave them frozen in place for a long moment.

Sandra’s gaze softened, her eyes glistening with guilt.

Edward too began to feel remorse. He then ordered—rather than asked—Uncle Acok to apologize to Al.

The man was startled. Edward rarely gave him sensitive orders like this, let alone something that could hurt his pride.

He hesitated, clearly unwilling.

"Master Edward, I don’t think I should—"

Edward’s cold stare cut him off.

"Uncle Acok, I respect you and have never treated you as a subordinate, even though you work for me. You’re older and wiser than I am—but what’s so wrong with setting aside pride to act with wisdom? Isn’t apologizing when you’ve done wrong the right thing to do?"

David, Aurielle, and Vianna—who had already walked some distance—were also shocked by their parents’ decision, but chose to remain silent.

Uncle Acok thought it over. The discomfort was still there; how could someone like him—who stood as an equal to Edward—lower his head to a boy who came from who-knows-where?

His brows furrowed, his jaw tightened. But in the end, he didn’t want this to escalate further.

He knew, deep down, he had gone too far. So he resigned himself to the inevitable.

"Very well, Master Edward... forgive me," he said, bowing toward Edward and Sandra.

"Not to me, Uncle," Edward said flatly, tilting his head toward Al. "To him."

"Ah... you’re right."

The man turned, reluctance heavy in his steps. His movements this time were slow, far from the arrogance he’d displayed earlier. His posture was slightly lowered now, lacking the dominating presence from before.

"I... apologize," he said, with a gesture far too casual to be taken as sincere.

"So that’s how a wise man apologizes? I never knew," Al remarked sarcastically.

Uncle Acok glared at him, his brow furrowing. He looked around, feeling his pride had been tarnished—how could he bow his head in front of this boy? Yet, when his gaze landed on Edward and Sandra, he finally relented.

Forcing himself, he gave a slight bow, showing the proper posture of an apology.

"M-My... apologies, young man," he forced the words out stiffly.

"Hmmm?" Al muttered.

"What’s the matter now?" Uncle Acok asked.

"Shouldn’t you be calling me Young Master, not ’young man’?" Al said, smirking at him.

That earned him a sharp glare.

"Y-You..."

Al simply tilted his head and gave a lazy yawn, covering his mouth with one hand.

"Forget it if you don’t want to. Go on! I guess doing the right thing doesn’t suit you, Uncle. You’re probably better at barbaric acts like smashing buildings."

The jab was cold and dismissive as Al turned back to sift through the rubble for his clothes.

Uncle Acok’s shoulders trembled with restrained anger. Energy rippled faintly across his body.

But in the end, he swallowed it down.

"M-My apologies... Young... Young Master," he forced out at last.

Al paused, glanced over his shoulder, and gave a satisfied smile before dropping the matter.

With a sour face, Uncle Acok turned away, heading back to his men. His expression was so dark that no one dared to speak to him.

Just you wait, boy. You dare to defy me...

Sandra then stepped forward, trying to approach her son.

"Forgive me, my dear," she said softly, guilt lacing her tone. Her hand reached toward his shoulder but stopped in midair.

Al said nothing. He didn’t know how to respond. He was the one who had stoked the situation further with his sarcasm, and now his mind swirled with conflicting thoughts.

He was sick of the people who claimed to be his family.

His eyelids lowered slightly, avoiding her gaze. Should he leave this house tonight... or stay?

Wouldn’t it be too soon to give up now?

If he failed to integrate into this family, how could he hope to help millions integrate into a larger society?

What should I do

? he wondered.

Sandra’s voice trembled.

"Y-You can sleep inside tonight. I’ll have the servants prepare your room. And... your things, let them take care of it. You are our son, the Young Master of this family. Never say you’re not part of this family again... please." Her words were sincere, accompanied by tears that had begun to fall.

Her sincerity, combined with the tears streaming down her face, was enough to make Al feel a pang of pity.

Even though he knew she was biased, he still couldn’t ignore the discomfort of seeing his mother cry.

And there was something else—her tears stirred a strange sensation inside him.

His chest tightened, as if something invisible gripped it.

It was unusual to feel this toward someone he wasn’t emotionally close to, but the fact remained—Sandra was his biological mother, and that alone seemed to have an effect.

"Al..." she urged, noticing his blank stare.

He snapped out of it, letting out a long sigh.

So the magical pull of blood ties really does affect me... he thought, mentally sorting through several theories.

He considered Fani, whatever lay beneath the destroyed building, and David.

I guess it’s not time for me to leave just yet.

He lowered his head slightly toward Sandra.

"Alright, Mother. Thank you."

Sandra’s face brightened with relief at his answer.

For Al, the pressure in his chest vanished instantly.

Of course, the irritation at this absurd situation still lingered—but he decided to keep it in check for now.

Because deep down, he knew this incident had its benefits.

With this... I can uncover ’that’ much sooner. No need to go through the trouble of hiding my digging under the floor anymore.

The night sky settled into silence once more, the only sound the chirping of insects.

Everyone returned to their own affairs without further interruption.

Tonight, Al might finally begin to be part of the family.

Unfortunately for him... something unwanted was about to happen again.

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