Vira's black history!

Chapter 48: 57 year old kid!

Author: You got called a child? Hahahaha!

Vira (with a dark face): I was 8! And I was the leader of a world-spanning organization. What are you?

Author: Who are you kidding? You were 54 at the time—just a fucking old man in a kid's outfit.

Vira: And you're a student who fucking fails most subjects.

Author: I fucking failed one!

After watching her walk away, Vira turned toward Peter, who stood among the guards, and asked,

Vira: "Where is the old guy?"

Peter: "He's resting beside your room with the experts. There's nothing too serious about his injury—it's a mild one, so he'll be fine in a few weeks. But because of his age, he'll have to stay in a wheelchair for the duration."

Hearing this, Vira rubbed his head a bit and ordered him,

Vira: "Select twelve of the best soldiers we have and have the research team develop anything that might help. As for the information from the suit and other matters, I'll discuss them in the morning."

Peter seemed to have something to say, but Vira simply waved him off, saying, "I'm gonna go sleep and relieve the stress that witch caused me! Everything in the morning!"

After this short conversation, Vira headed inside the mansion and directly to his bedroom. Some of the experts, who had made the room next to his their home for the night, seemed to have something to say, but like with Peter, he simply waved them off and got into his cozy bed.

The night was awful. It wasn't that the animals disturbed him—they seemed to sense his distress, remaining silent. Some even opted to leave and stay in the hall to avoid disturbing his rest.

Vira woke up at his usual time—around nine o'clock in the morning, when the sun was already well past its starting point.

But even though the time he woke up was normal, his sleep was anything but. He had nightmares. Peaceful rest with sweet, enjoyable dreams did not happen this time.

Heck, if not for Silas biting him in the middle of the night, he would have probably woken up groggy and depressed.

The nightmares this time were worse than the ones he had in his first few weeks of life. At least back then, all he worried about—his only nightmare—was waking up to find the doorstep empty, starving to death without the bottle labeled "ENSURE DAILY MILK WITH MILK SMITH!"

Not even close. He had so much more to lose now. And instead of fearing nature and death—things he couldn't even fathom fighting against—this time, he didn't feel completely hopeless. Sure, the wizard kind seemed omnipotent, but they weren't invincible. He had confirmed that himself. He had experienced and found weaknesses he could exploit.

Unfortunately, his mind refused to understand that.

All it showed him—before Silas's bite jolted him back to reality—were horrifying scenes: his animals leaving, the wizards simply killing him, taking over everything he had built in this world.

He was fairly certain none of it would ever come true.

But even the faintest possibility was enough for his mind to use those visions to torture his soul.

After waking up from such terrible nightmares, Vira was feeling pretty down. His usual cheerful self was nowhere to be seen, let alone the innocent persona he had displayed just yesterday.

In his depressed state, he went to the room next door, hoping for good news—or, at the very least, to learn more about the wizarding kind that had put him in this situation.

Of course, he wanted good news, but staying in bed only meant more nightmares. If he wanted answers, he had to go to the people who actually knew what they were doing.

So, without wasting time, he went straight to them.

The moment he opened the door, he experienced something for the first time—he was completely ignored.

The experts were so engrossed in their work that they didn't even notice him entering the room.

However, one person in the room had no particular job at the moment—Nicolas, who had arrived a few hours earlier. Slowly moving his wheelchair, he approached Vira.

Vira: "Well, they seem busy."

Nicolas: "They've been working on it all night. Seems pretty serious."

Vira raised his eyebrows. "All night?"

Nicolas: "Don't look at me—I told them to get some sleep and continue in the morning before I left."

Vira: "Can they…"

It seemed Nicolas already knew what Vira was about to ask because he cut him off.

Nicolas: "Well, they drank that energy stuff. Peter said they'd last for another half a day or so."

Vira: "Seems like they hate the situation more than I do."

Nicolas chuckled. "I asked a few of them. They don't exactly want an entire race ruling over them while still stuck in the 16th century."

Vira: "So… are they planning to take me down too?"

Before Nicolas could answer, someone else interrupted.

A guy who looked like he was dressed for Antarctica—fully clothed with a thick jacket—spoke up.

Jonathan: "No, no, no, boss! You're fine! I mean, you give us money, people to do what we want, and all that. And you're chill—you don't just stick your arse into things you don't understand and mess everything up."

There was a brief awkward silence, but Jonathan wasn't finished. He kept rambling.

Jonathan: "Personally, I just don't want a race stuck in the 16th century ruling over me."

Vira finally recalled who this babbling guy was. He narrowed his eyes and asked,

Vira: "Who the fuck called you back?"

Jonathan: "You called the best in their fields. I'm the best."

Vira was confused—he knew who the head of the chemistry department was. So, pointing at a thin guy working in the corner, he looked at Nicolas and asked,

Vira: "I thought that guy was the best chemist."

Jonathan cut in before Nicolas could answer.

Jonathan: "Boss, I'm not a chemist—I'm a historian."

Vira blinked. "The fuck were you doing in the chem lab then?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I was supposed to be introduced to you. And come on, it's not like I did anything bad. I just asked—'Whose child is it?' Like, that's not bad."

Vira: "You wanna go back to the Arctic?"

Jonathan: "No, no, no, boss, I'm good. It's not fun over there! I mean, you gave me people and money to continue my work, but do you know how much of a torture it was not being able to be here and see all these wonderful things with my own eyes?"