The Problem

The next morning, Adam woke to find his complexion far from ideal.He had experienced the rare torment of sleeplessness the previous night.The restless stirring of his bloodline prevented him from calming his thoughts, as if a wild, unruly dog was rampaging within him, tearing at the very fabric of his being.It could be likened to the turmoil of adolescence, a sign of his body maturing, one of the inevitable milestones in the development of his bloodline.Once he endured this phase and his bloodline fully matured, Adam would be able to master it with flawless precision."I need to be cautious. My thoughts are scattered, and I'm likely to leave vulnerabilities. These next couple of days, I'd better come up with some excuses to give myself more personal time and space," Adam mused.Anxious and unsettled, Adam quickly left his home and headed toward the church. He wasn't sure if his peculiar condition would slip past Alva's sharp senses—he doubted it."So I'll need to think of excuses to explain my mental distractions." Adam wasn't planning to verbalize these excuses; rather, he would let them manifest through his actions, allowing Alva and others to notice them.After all, if he spoke of his condition, it would be seen as a lie, but if he simply displayed it, letting others draw their own conclusions, the credibility would be far greater."As long as I appear injured or ill, I can stay home and rest for a few days, successfully getting through the awakening period of my bloodline." Adam had begun considering this approach during his walk. Adel's injury had sparked an idea, but he quickly dismissed the notion of injury.Adam, unlike Adel, had cultivated strong relationships with a group of monks. Should he feign injury, one of them might pass by and, with a simple divine spell, heal him.Although Adam in his human form could accept the healing effects of divine magic, it would come with immense pain—much like eating a holy wafer, which caused no harm but immense suffering.This pain, though bearable, still posed a problem: once healed, the injury would feel meaningless.With Adam's innate charm, the possibility of such an event happening was high."Could good relationships become a trap?" Adam furrowed his brow, realizing that the best solution had been discarded for this very reason. Yet, he could think of no better approach."Not only must I conceal my abnormality, but I also need to create more freedom and space for myself.""Perhaps I should just take it step by step," Adam finally conceded, glancing at the muddy puddle at his feet. He heard the sound of a carriage approaching behind him but made no attempt to avoid it, allowing the muddy water splashed by the speeding vehicle to soak him.He had seen a similar scene while selling pickled pancakes: a carriage speeding past, knocking down someone who had failed to dodge, only to receive the curt remark, "Move aside, you filthy peasant.""A single unfortunate event can sour one's mood and lead to idle thoughts. It's only natural." Adam observed the mud on his clothes, letting the emotion take root within him.He was Adam the commoner, who, despite his efforts to become an apprentice painter, was still dismissed as a "filthy peasant," which only deepened his feelings of inferiority and confusion about his future.Immersed in his emotions, Adam carried the weight of his self-scripted narrative all the way to the church, forcing a smile and greeting those around him, though his exhaustion and restless turmoil were near impossible to conceal.Every acquaintance who knew Adam could instantly sense something was amiss.Seeing Adam struggle to maintain his composure while working, his mental state clearly deteriorating, caused Alva to frown. He noticed Adam's mistakes, such as the incorrect mixing of materials, and coldly ordered him to start again.Those who observed this began to feel sympathy for Adam.Everyone could see Adam's intelligence and diligence. Even Alva, while working, could sense the disapproving stares of the monks directed at Adam.This only made Alva's gaze toward Adam more complex."This child's charm is terrifying. Had he come from a good family, he could have risen to great heights in no time," Alva thought to himself.Having encountered many people in his life, Alva understood one crucial truth: people were not all the same.Some individuals possessed innate qualities—traits that inspired trust, admiration, and affection. These people could be considered geniuses.Such individuals, when placed in their appropriate field, could display overwhelming power, accomplishing in a few years what others might fail to achieve in a lifetime.Adam was undoubtedly one of those people. Yet, Alva also saw another quality in him."Ambition!" Since Adam had started learning painting, Alva had understood one thing: although Adam was diligent, his goal was never merely to become a painter.Those with ambition were never satisfied. Adam, too, likely viewed painting as a mere stepping stone.Alva was not fond of such people. Had it not been for the requests from Flah and his old friend Shaya to take Adam on as an apprentice and guide him down the right path, he would have been hesitant to offer his guidance.Adam furrowed his brow again, focusing on mixing the materials. The restlessness of his bloodline was affecting him deeply, causing him to make mistakes he should not have made.At that moment, Adam noticed that Alva's expression seemed unusual, and he caught a glimpse of some monks offering him sympathetic looks, while others shot Alva unfriendly glances."Has my charm grown stronger? Or perhaps, displaying some weakness can elicit more sympathy? Am I about to awaken a power of seduction?"Suddenly, Adam's expression froze, and he accidentally spilled too much paint, altering the color of the mixture."Go back for now," Alva said firmly, pushing Adam aside and taking the remaining materials from him without a glance. "Your mind is completely scattered.""Continuing would only make a mess here. When you've calmed down, come back. Let me make one thing clear: if you make another elementary mistake like this next time, you won't be welcome here."This was the most Alva had ever said to Adam."Master, I…" Adam hurriedly tried to speak, but Alva ignored him completely.This left Adam feeling disheartened—not the kind of feigned despair, but a real, tangible sense of defeat.The two mistakes had not been part of his plan.Although the results had surpassed his expectations, the feeling of failure lingered.If unexpected success was possible, then unexpected failure was equally likely.Losing fine control over his actions meant leaving his fate to chance—something Adam abhorred.If he could not control his own actions, how could he expect to control his future?Adam walked away from the church, passing monks who watched him with concern but offered no comfort, just as Alva had suggested—he needed time to cool down."I must solve this bloodline issue," Adam muttered, his gaze fixed ahead. "At least, I need to understand its true nature.""My knowledge of the bloodline is still too limited. Since it stirs when it's on the cusp of maturity, could it react to other factors as well?""This unrest caused two mistakes, but unexpectedly produced good results. What if it worsens at a critical moment?"Adam did not reject the power of his bloodline. Rejection was merely another form of evasion.He would not ignore the issues caused by the bloodline, nor consider them as mere temporary problems that would vanish once it matured.Back home, Adam explained the situation to Alis and Maggie, receiving their comfort. After Lina's little pep talk, he felt somewhat healed.He then retreated to his attic, closed his eyes, and began to confront the restlessness of his bloodline.Tonight, he still had to meet with the Otherkin. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes. He had no idea how many of them Adel would manage to gather.Again and again, he pondered various scenarios, imagining different outcomes and his possible solutions.Meanwhile, Adel limped toward his "friend," determined to complete the task given by Mr. Riggs. Eventually, he knocked on a door.The door was opened by a burly man with shoulder-length brown wavy hair.