CHAPTER 3: An Idiot's Guide to Babysitting

In the blink of an eye, Yiren returned to his castle. The grandiose halls, decorated with arrogance and self-indulgence, seemed to mock his sense of order. The moment he stepped inside, carrying the infant securely in his arms, a wave of anger swept over him. The sight of the chaos that had befallen his domain made his sharp eyes narrow.

"What in the heavens?!" he barked, scanning the disarray in the large hall. "Who dares enter my castle in my absence?!" His gaze settled on the room as he strode forward. "I'll tear them apart and feed them to the crows!"

He glanced down at the child in his arms, as though searching for an answer. "I don't think this was the work of your parents... Could it have been those foolish mages coming for the secrets of my power?"

Yiren nodded to himself, as though convinced by his own theory. "That makes sense... but they'll pay for it."

With an annoyed sigh, he snapped his fingers. In an instant, the chaos was reversed, and everything in the castle was exactly where it had been before. The perfect image of Yiren's controlled environment.

He took a moment to survey the space with a sinister grin. "They think they've gotten rid of me? They think they can tamper with my things? I'll show them what it truly means to anger the great Yiren!"

Suddenly, he froze, a thought crossing his mind. "Right! What's your name, little one? I can't keep calling you 'the child.'"

He examined the baby carefully, looking for any hint, any clue that might help. After a moment, his sharp eyes caught sight of a small golden bracelet around the child's wrist. On it, inscribed in delicate script, was the name [Gardiyan]

"Gardiyan? What is this long name?!" Yiren scoffed. "Sounds like it means 'the Guardian'… Ridiculous."

Without further hesitation, he carefully laid the child on a small, dusty bed in the corner of the room, his movements precise but with an air of disdain. He stared at the sleeping baby, then sighed heavily, his patience wearing thin.

"What now? Do I feed you? Do I change your diaper?!" he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. "By the heavens, this is worse than dealing with foolish mages. At least they don't cry!"

He gazed down at the sleeping child, his sharp eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Now... how exactly does one procure milk for you?" he muttered, frowning deeply. "And worse... how does one prepare it?"

Contrary to what many might assume, Yiren was hardly incompetent in the kitchen. Years of solitary living had honed his culinary skills far beyond mere necessity. He could roast a duck to perfection, brew elixirs with the finesse of a grandmaster, and even bake a cake that could make a grown man weep. Yet none of these talents, he realized bitterly, equipped him for the most basic need of an infant.. a bottle of milk.

After a short pause, Yiren's trademark smirk surfaced.

"Well, I've already asked one idiot today. Might as well consult another."

Sweeping a black cloak over his shoulders and fixing a crimson mask over his face, he lowered his voice into a theatrical whisper, as if announcing the start of a secret mission.

"Time to move."

In the blink of an eye, he vanished.

When he reappeared, he was standing squarely inside the nursery of Count Doyle's estate. Twin babies lay bundled in a heavily fortified crib, their soft snores filling the air—until they saw him. The moment their eyes met the red glow of Yiren's mask, they erupted into howling cries.

"Excellent," Yiren muttered, rubbing his temples. "Exactly the kind of stealth I had planned."

The ruckus summoned the Countess with alarming speed. She burst into the nursery, eyes wide with panic, only to freeze at the sight of the tall, masked intruder looming over her children.

Yiren turned toward her with glacial calm. "Silence," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me how to feed this creature, and no harm will come to you."

For a moment, terror flashed across the Countess's face. Then, astonishingly, her gaze fell upon Gardiyan—his tiny frame bundled in Yiren's arms—and melted into pure adoration.

"Oh, heavens!" she exclaimed, rushing toward him, utterly ignoring his threatening posture. She snatched the child from Yiren's arms with the air of a woman who had just discovered a priceless treasure. "What an angel! Look at those cheeks! So calm... so sweet! Such a well-behaved baby! Even though his diaper is dirty!

She bustled about the room, fussing over the baby with expert precision, completely ignoring the dark sorcerer still lingering by the door. Yiren stood motionless, internally debating whether he had somehow crossed into an alternate dimension where threats meant hospitality.

The Countess, still cooing at the child, turned sharply back to him. "And you! How dare you leave him hungry and sitting in a full diaper! Are you trying to ruin such a perfect little soul? You're a terrible father!"

"I'm not his father," Yiren muttered through gritted teeth. But no one was listening.

Moments later, the Countess was bustling around the nursery as if Yiren were a dear family friend. She brewed a fragrant pot of tea, offered him biscuits, and proceeded to demonstrate—step by step—how to change a diaper and prepare a proper bottle of formula, all while scolding him like a wayward schoolboy.

"If you need anything else," she said brightly, patting his shoulder, "don't hesitate to visit us again! Oh, and bring the baby next time!"

Yiren gave a curt nod, retrieved Gardiyan with as much dignity as he could muster, and vanished before she could stuff a second biscuit into his hand.

Back at the castle, he carried the now-sleeping Gardiyan into one of the many empty guest rooms he rarely used. The child's tiny fingers twitched in his sleep, and Yiren watched him for a moment longer than necessary.

"Diaper changed. Belly full. All set," he said aloud, almost convincing himself.

Carefully, he laid Gardiyan down in a soft, makeshift crib, surrounding it with firm cushions to prevent him from rolling off. Yiren stood back, surveying his handiwork with a critical eye.

"Hmph. Acceptable," he pronounced.

Yet as he turned to leave, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. A room like this—empty, bare, cold—was no place for a child.

"I suppose... I'll prepare a proper nursery," he muttered grudgingly.

Not because he cared, of course. Merely for efficiency. An environment conducive to the child's growth would ensure fewer problems later. A purely pragmatic decision, nothing more.

He exited the room humming a low, unsettling tune, the kind that might precede a villain's entrance on a stormy night.

The door clicked softly behind him.

Inside, Gardiyan cracked one eye open. He watched the door for a few heartbeats, then closed his eyes again, a faint smirk curling at his lips.

"Idiot..." he murmured, before surrendering once more to sleep.