Chapter 2: Something’s Definitely Wrong

Butler Yang signaled a maid to fetch the youngest master with worry evident inside his eyes.

Recalling his still blessed-sharp-memory, the young boy's anger from earlier had not yet subsided which was the main reason why everyone continues to feel the heart-stopping suffocation of the poisonous air around the mansion, yet seeing the heiress of the house is already home, all the servants broke out a heavy sigh of relief, their anxiety slowly dispersing, but not completely. At this rate, they thank the greatness from above that . . .

Finally, the stressful day was over.

Praise to the greatness up high, they had survived yet again, well, except for Marilyn . . . They pause and silently say their short prayers, needed not to say another word about their once good acquaintance and co-worker. Peace be with you Marilyn . . . but anyways, it's another day ahead, another life, and another opportunity. They breathe to freshen up their minds, trying to shoo away all the negativity and shoulder-breaking worries. They're still alive.

There's still hope in this world.

And so no one dares to let the heiress acknowledge the earlier wrath of the young boy, no—a beast they must say, in fear of provoking the boy's temper further and thus their lifespan years ahead will be shortened.

They could bear anything in the world, endure however the young master dims fit without a single complaint, but provoking him was the last thing they wanted to do, not yet, and not ever.

The foot of the flustered and nervous maid that Butler Yang had instructed to fetch the young master, had not yet touched the staircase when all of a sudden, a tall, yet still small frame of a boy ran down the staircase. His heavy and haste footsteps echoed repeatedly like a broken recorder in the quiet house and his long hair that hangs perfectly right above his beautiful trimmed squared brows sways casually from side to side.

"Young Master, you had yet to finish dressing!"

Another poor and troubled maid ran in tow behind the young boy whose face was the brightest they have seen this day, and it's always in the afternoon when the heiress arrives home from the office.

The sight of the boy's grin was brighter than the meadow from the distance, but above that, his sudden blinding rays that may be a blessing for the existing human race brought horrid to their faces as they pale drastically—shaken as their foreheads turned slightly purple in an instant.

"Mother!"

His high-pitched voice dominates the silence in the room, making the servants flinch at his incredible speed to arrive in the living room in just half a minute from the third floor.

The house maidens and butlers held their breaths upon the presence of a dangerous predator in the same living room as them as the incident from earlier that turned the house into a busy morning imprinted trauma on their heads.

Terrified and trembling, they took a few desperate and wary steps backward, leading themselves towards anywhere that will pull them farther away from the eerily happy child.

Ivie, who was sitting with too much agitation and extra excited to see her child after a long day of lessening her tight schedule, failed to see and notice the fear in everyone's eyes. She had worn her sweetest smile towards her little handsome prince as she rises from her seat to welcome and embrace the joyous child—her sweet child, but before she could, everyone witnessed the boy's little arms tightly wrapping around her waist and without warning, shove his entire face against her lower abdomen, holding to her for dear life.

"You're home!"

Despite his age, he had excelled in everything twice children of his kind could achieve. With his fluent way of communicating without stuttering, his incredible growth intelligence, and his tall height beyond the average of his age, one could always mistake him as a kid instead of a child, but Ivie knew better.

He was much more of a child by heart.

"You're finally back!" the young boy mumbled happily against her now crumpled clothes. The excitement in his voice was palpable. He then lifts his head and presses his cheeks that resembled like freshly steamed buns against her abdomen.

They were soft, and his healthy thick hair swung backward, revealing more of his prominent features. His keen and dark beautiful green eyes shimmered brighter than the chandeliers above them.

The wonderful sight of him brought a sweet smile to Ivie's lips.

"You smell nice, mother," He says softly in appreciation, smelling her with his eyes shut closed. He relaxes. She always does. And instantly his worries disperse—forgotten.

A few of the newly hired servants as the replacement for the previous ones widen their eyes at the sight of an innocent and tamed child far from the scene they had witnessed and encountered earlier this day, and while they gape in disbelief, the older servants smiled warmly at the sight of both of them, relieved and in awe.

Their young miss's and young master's smiles were contagious. Such a lovely sight to replenish, and they can't help but put a smile on their faces, seeing the mother and child had finally reunited for today.

Ivie laughed at his enthusiasm and for being such a sweet tooth. She bends down, leans in, and levels her head against his. My sweet, sweet, sweet boy. Slowly, she brings her arms around him. He smells like lavender—he smells like home.

He has always been her home.

"You're not too bad yourself, my little mitten," she smiles, teasing him as she pinches and presses his reddened cheeks with her fingers.

The servants who heard her words more vividly than the vacuum in the garden suddenly broke free from being hypnotized by the too-much-love enticement spell laid before them as they almost choked on their saliva.

Little Mitten?!

They felt their stomach twists hideously, barely able to grasp their souls from leaving their bodies.

Although they have heard the endearment every single day, they still can't find the heart to get used to hearing it.

"Mother . . . " her child whispers, whining in a tearful manner.

Seeing he had melted under her embrace, she couldn't suppress widening her grin further. She cupped his face and kissed both of his cheeks lovingly before peppering kisses all over his pale white face as an apology.

Staring at him this closely, anyone could tell he resembles her feminine features, pale white skin, soft and delicate jaws, clear bright smile, and bosom red lips. An ideal doll to be called for and that's just ridiculous because these features are temporary as he's still a kin, her adorable cub. And how she wished he could remain like this forever.

After seeing him continuously growing up, day by day she was reminded that someone's genes were too strong to be overpowered, a person she'd hoped to stop thinking about, even just for today, but just like the previous days in the previous years, she failed before even attempting to do so.

From the young boy's point of view, he was ecstatic about his mother's teasing, after all, he loves it as much as he adores her. He presses his face against her stomach, sulking and never wanting to let go. He needs to keep his act up so he can receive his extra kisses from her. Yes, that's what he wants. He missed her so much.

Her kisses and her returning home were all he yearned for from his doting mother.

Ivie bites her lips, covers her teeth with the back of her lips, opens her mouth, and pretends to bite his puffed cheeks. Soon, his audible and playful giggles dance through the thin air above them, like a sweet melody stretching far in the quiet and wide living room, filling the once gloomy room with both of their merry laughter and after their audience had witnessed her pampering their spoiled young master with kisses, they resume walking to their designated tasks.

The boy cling his arm around her neck and pursed his lips at her. The heels of his oxford were jumping up and down in glee while spouting 'more' at her repeatedly.

"Now, now, don't pout on me. I know you did something earlier this day."

Sadly, she flew off to work before he could even wake up because she had an important proposal to revise, and it was mad urgent. Her secretary was already panicking enough for the whole company to compare against.

Due to her early departure to work, she had no idea what happened in the house since then and failed to check on him, and no one was willing enough to stand up in front of her and tell her the truth in full detail which she needed.

After hearing her statement, the muffled voices suddenly died down in the entire living room as if a living undead had temporarily visited.

Servants halted on their feet once more, their eyes wide in horror and only to spree away immediately after seeing the shift of expression on the face of one merciless child, who now felt wronged and looked uneasy in front of his mother.

His tiny fists were clenched firmly on the side of his thighs as he gave off swift murderous glances towards the maids present, who already had 'terror' written on their faces as they pale even more. Their throats run dry as they gulp.

Whoever god is watching them . . . save their helpless souls . . .

They once again witnessed the menacing darkness around him—his anger that they mentioned and wish to not provoke. Their trembling and weakened knees desired to be out of here—out from his sight. Should they run out of here? But would they get fired by doing so?

"Is that so?" The young boy uses the clueless card on her, "I haven't done anything, mother. Who told you?"

The young boy maintained his sweetest smile and the sight of his grin was like fatal venom rushing through the bloodstreams of the uneasy attendants, killing them little by little with apprehension.

No one knew better than him how genuinely and automatically his face and mood would light up upon the presence of his mother before him in any odd or tight situation he's facing . . . and they dare use that advantage against him.

Betrayal. How lovely, he can almost taste its foul sourness under his tongue.

But he thought everyone was aware of how heavily he despises anything that brings out a sour smell?