Chapter 391: What’s wrong with that?
Terry nervously fiddled with his fingers. He didn’t dare meet Yuel’s eyes. His voice grew even smaller.
"I... I woke up when Daddy arrived here."
Yuel widened his eyes. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his face.
Terry had awakened the moment he entered the underground auction house. Not only that, the child had separated from him, moved independently, and killed someone—all without Yuel sensing the slightest disturbance.
That level of talent was terrifying.
"Daddy!"
Seeing Yuel’s expression remain so severe, Terry hurried forward on his short little legs.
He grabbed the hem of Yuel’s coat and gave it a few gentle tugs. His voice turned soft and sweet.
"Daddy, let’s go find Mother."
His eyes sparkled hopefully.
"Mother will definitely be happy when she finds out I can turn into a person now."
"Stand properly."
Yuel’s expression remained cold. He wasn’t about to let Terry distract him with cuteness. Not after what had happened.
"Why did you kill him?"
The question landed heavily between them.
The moment he heard the word kill, Terry immediately lowered his head. The reaction only made Yuel’s expression darken further.
So he knew. He understood that killing was wrong. And yet he had done it anyway. Worse still, he had only just gained the ability to assume human form. Yet he had effortlessly killed an eighth-rank powerhouse without anyone noticing.
The talent.
The power.
The instincts.
All of it was frightening.
If he wasn’t guided properly now... The consequences in the future could be unimaginable.
"Answer me." Yuel’s voice sharpened.
The next second, a massive blue vine burst from the ground. It coiled around Terry’s tiny ankle and lifted him upside down into the air.
"D-Daddy!"
Terry’s eyes widened. A layer of tears instantly formed in his deep-blue eyes.
"I’m scared!"
"Scared?" Yuel let out a cold laugh. "You’re my son."
His gaze remained fixed on the child. "I know exactly what you’re thinking."
The tears didn’t fool him. Neither did the trembling lips.
"Stop pretending. That won’t work on me."
His tone left no room for argument.
"Answer the question."
A child who could casually kill someone without blinking wasn’t afraid of being dangled in the air.
Not even a little.
Realizing that acting cute and pretending to be pitiful wouldn’t help, Terry released a dramatic sigh.
His small mouth puffed out unhappily. Then he looked directly at Yuel and answered with complete confidence.
"I was helping Daddy."
Yuel’s eyes narrowed.
Terry continued matter-of-factly. "I could feel Daddy’s killing intent toward that person."
The little boy tilted his head. "If I hadn’t done it, Daddy would have killed him yourself."
His tone was utterly sincere. "I didn’t want Daddy to work so hard. So I helped."
The child blinked. "What’s wrong with that?"
Yuel froze.
What’s wrong with that?
The little monster had actually asked him what was wrong with that.
A child who had only just opened his eyes to the world. A child who had only recently gained human form. The first thing he had done after waking up was kill someone.
And afterward, instead of fear, guilt, or confusion... He was questioning whether he’d done anything wrong.
As though the answer were completely obvious.
Seeing Yuel’s expression grow darker and darker, Terry continued.
"Daddy, I really don’t think I was wrong."
His voice was calm. Far too calm for a child his age.
"Because whether I killed him or not, that man was already going to die."
He met Yuel’s gaze directly.
"If you were going to kill him anyway..." The little boy spread his hands. "Then what’s the difference between you doing it and me doing it?"
"There is a difference." Yuel finally spoke, but before he could continue, Terry interrupted him.
"Or is Daddy being unfair?"
The innocent question struck like a hammer. Terry’s deep-blue eyes stared back at him without blinking.
"Do you think that because I’m a child, I shouldn’t be allowed to kill?"
He tilted his head. "But because you’re an adult, you can?"
The room fell silent. Yuel stared at him in disbelief. For the first time in a very long time, he found himself speechless.
His mind—usually capable of calculating countless possibilities in an instant, manipulating enemies and allies alike, and finding the optimal solution no matter how dangerous the situation—simply stopped.
Because he suddenly realized something... Terry wasn’t being rebellious. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum. And he wasn’t deliberately arguing.
The child genuinely couldn’t understand the distinction. In Terry’s eyes, the logic was perfectly sound.
That realization was far more alarming than the killing itself.
Yuel looked at Terry. Terry looked back at him.
"Daddy, I didn’t do anything wrong."
The little boy’s voice was calm and unwavering.
"I was only helping you."
Silence stretched between them. Several long seconds passed. Then Yuel stepped forward and pressed two slender fingers against the center of Terry’s forehead.
Something was wrong.
Even the most gifted children inherited only fragments of ancestral memory when they first took human form.
Those memories taught them basic instincts—what species they belonged to, how to survive, and how to use their innate abilities.
Nothing more.
No newly transformed child should possess reasoning this sophisticated.
No child should have developed such a complete and unconventional moral framework.
Unless...
The problem lay within the inherited memories themselves.
A vast tide of spiritual energy flowed from Yuel into Terry’s tiny body.
Terry remained perfectly still.
There was no resistance.
No fear.
The moment Yuel touched the source of Terry’s inherited memories, his entire body froze.
"How is this possible...?"
What Terry had inherited wasn’t ancestral knowledge. It was Yuel’s memories.
The memories from his years within the Command Division.
The schemes. The betrayals. The bloodshed. The endless calculations. The darkness.
All of it.
Yuel stared at his son, his gaze trembling.
To Terry, these weren’t stories. They weren’t distant lessons.
He had experienced them.
Every betrayal.
Every death.
Every cold decision.
Every act of violence.
Through inheritance, those memories had become his own.
Yet unlike Yuel, Terry had not spent years forging the discipline necessary to control them.
He lacked the mental resilience that had allowed Yuel to survive without being consumed by the darkness.
He couldn’t conceal murderous intent behind a calm smile.
He couldn’t distinguish which actions were necessary and which were morally wrong.
He couldn’t separate survival from cruelty.
In Terry’s world, everything followed a simple and perfectly logical rule.
Daddy wanted that person dead.
Therefore, that person was bad.
Helping Daddy kill a bad person was the right thing to do.
Therefore... He had done nothing wrong.
"Daddy, I wasn’t wrong."
Terry repeated quietly.
Yuel looked at him.
The child’s face was unusually calm.
There was no childish innocence in those deep-blue eyes.
Only the same absolute confidence Yuel himself possessed whenever he reached a conclusion.
At that moment, Yuel didn’t feel like he was looking at a child.
He felt as though he were staring into a mirror.
A smaller version of himself.
A version stripped of restraint.
Stripped of control.
A version guided solely by logic and instinct.
For the first time, a chill crept through Yuel’s heart.
With a single thought, the vine suspending Terry transformed.
Countless tendrils intertwined and wove themselves into a soft yet unbreakable dark-blue cradle.
The little boy was gently secured within it, unable to move.
Terry watched the entire process without fear.
His eyes remained calm.
Steady.
Because he couldn’t sense even the slightest trace of killing intent from Yuel.
He knew his father would never hurt him.
The only thing he felt was confusion.
Tilting his head, he asked curiously,
"Daddy, are you taking me to Mother like this?"
His soft, childish voice carried a note of genuine concern.
"You might scare her."
Yuel slowly walked over.
His gaze settled on the child who seemed less like a son and more like a fragment of his own soul given form.
A reflection.
A continuation.
A consequence.
He reached out.
His cool fingertips brushed lightly across Terry’s soft cheek.
The gesture was gentle.
So gentle that even Yuel failed to notice the faint tremor in his hand.
"You’re right."
His voice was low and rough.
Heavy with a weariness he had never allowed anyone else to see.
"This would scare her."
His eyes never left Terry’s.
Then he added quietly, "But that’s not what I mean. You would scare her too."
The room fell silent once more.
Yuel couldn’t imagine Rory’s reaction.
She had nurtured this tiny fruit with excitement and anticipation.
She had waited eagerly for the day her child would finally emerge.
What would she feel when she discovered that her adorable little son could kill without hesitation?
That he believed taking a life was perfectly natural?
Would she be disgusted?
Afraid?
Terrified?
The thought alone made Yuel’s chest tighten.
"Terry."
His voice softened.
For the first time that night, the harshness disappeared.
"Daddy doesn’t hate you."
The little boy blinked.
"No matter what you become..."
Yuel gently stroked his hair.
"You are my son."
A pause.
"And Daddy will always love you."
Terry’s eyes widened slightly.
"But..."
The single word carried a weight unlike anything before it.
"You shouldn’t have inherited these memories."
Yuel closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, there was only sadness.
"Not yet. You’re still too young."
His gaze drifted somewhere far away.
Those memories had never been gifts.
They were scars.
Wounds.
Survival lessons carved into flesh and bone.
They had made Yuel who he was.
But they had also cost him pieces of himself he could never reclaim.
And now they were doing the same thing to Terry.
Twisting his view of the world.
Distorting right and wrong.
Turning innocence into cold logic.
Just as they had once done to Yuel.
Slowly, Yuel rested his forehead against Terry’s.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"The darkness Daddy walked through..."
His eyes closed.
"...is not a path I want you to walk."
For a moment, all the masks were gone.
No strategist.
No manipulator.
No ruthless schemer.
Only a father.
"You have a mother who loves you."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"You have a father strong enough to protect you."
His hand gently covered Terry’s.
"You don’t need to fight storms to survive."
His voice grew softer still.
"You were never meant to grow in darkness."
Then he looked into his son’s eyes.
Eyes so much like his own.
And quietly said,
"You were meant to grow toward the light."
"Freely."
"Fearlessly."
"As a child should."
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