Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]
Chapter 10 - 2.4 : Death Dinner

Chapter 10: Chapter 2.4 : Death Dinner

Al was still walking backward, waving at Clara’s car as it drove away, when he suddenly bumped into something.

"Ugh—" Al grunted.

He turned around.

Standing before him was a tall, dignified man in a world-class business suit. His sharp eyes and stern expression exuded overwhelming pressure.

His father. Edward Virellano.

In his left hand, he was holding a phone he had just lowered from his ear. His face instantly twisted in displeasure.

"What is this?" his father said.

His eyes scanned Al from head to toe. Smudged face, dirty shirt, stained pants... and a stench—an unmistakable stench of a damp, sewer-like evening.

Al stared blankly for a few seconds. Then, in a completely flat tone:

"He... Hello, Father."

"What were you doing?! Did you fall into a sewer?!" his father shouted angrily.

Al slowly took a step back.

"Ehehe... well... something like that."

"This smell?! Why do you stink like this? The Virellano family is not suppo—" Edward’s voice cut off as nausea hit him.

Seeing his father fuming, Al turned and sprinted toward the right-wing building—his private residence—shouting over his shoulder:

"Sorry, Father!"

"Don’t you run awa— uwekkk!" Edward choked mid-sentence, trying to hold back his nausea while still wanting to scold Al.

His rapid footsteps were like a self-rescue mission from a bomb explosion.

Once the door to his private room slammed shut, Al raised one hand.

"Clean."

WUSHH—

In an instant, his body was spotless. Hair tidy. Clothes looked freshly washed. Sewer stench? Completely gone.

Al let out a deep sigh, slumped to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Ughh, I forgot to clean myself up. That was totally my fault. No wonder Dad got mad..."

---

Night had fallen.

The elegant crystal chandelier glowed softly above the main Virellano family dining room. The long marble table was already filled with family members sitting gracefully... except for one empty chair.

The large door at the end of the room slowly opened.

"Excuse me..."

A head peeked out from behind the door—messy black hair and a blank expression, or rather, a lazy and indifferent one.

Al.

He hadn’t even stepped in when a heavy voice rang out.

"Stop."

Edward Virellano glared sharply, half rising from his seat.

"Harun."

"Yes, Sir," replied Butler Harun.

"Check him... see if he’s clean. Especially the smell," Edward commanded.

The family’s head butler quickly approached Al. With a professional air yet clear concern, he sniffed the air around Al and inspected his collar.

A few seconds later...

"His body seems clean, Sir. Smells like mint soap and... a hint of rosemary."

Edward let out a relieved sigh, though his face remained tense.

David, sitting near his father, raised an eyebrow—watching his father’s uneasy expression.

"Dad, why does your face look pale?"

Edward, who had been trying to mentally block out the trauma of earlier, but David’s word brought the memory rushing back. And instantly...

"...!"

His face twisted.

"Hur—"

He shot up from his chair, the seat scraping loudly, and bolted toward the private restroom down the hall. The bathroom door slammed shut just before the sound of—

"HUUUEEKK—!!"

Everyone jumped up in shock.

"Fatherrrrr!!" the entire family shouted in unison.

"Oh no, he’s vomiting?! Call the doctor now!" Sandra shouted in panic.

Everyone scrambled out of the dining room to check on Edward, leaving one person who had just sat down... still motionless.

Al.

He sat alone. Blank stare.

The first spoonful of soup hadn’t even been taken.

Then, a small smile appeared on his face. The whole thing nearly made him laugh. If he didn’t feel it was inappropriate to laugh at his own father, he probably would’ve burst out laughing.

Because to him, the situation was quite ironic—Al was used to his "normal" way of living: get dirty, clean up, forget it. And now here he was, living alongside people who could handle major problems with ease, yet were incredibly sensitive to the smallest issues. Or maybe it wasn’t about the problem at all—maybe it was about him.

"...Wow, I didn’t know Dad could be so sensitive over something like that," he muttered.

After a few seconds of reflection, Al finally stood and walked slowly down the hallway. The amusement in his mind had faded, and his face returned to its usual blankness. Still, his steps were light—like a student heading to the principal’s office, ready to be scolded.

Once he reached the bathroom door where Edward was, he gave a slight bow.

"Sorry, Dad. That was my fault earlier this afternoon," Al said calmly, with a hint of sincerity in his tone. He agreed—it really was his fault. He just hoped it wouldn’t be blown out of proportion.

However...

A furious voice erupted from inside.

"Of course it was your fault! Why did you come home smelling like a sewer?!" his father shouted angrily.

Before Al could respond, footsteps approached.

"What’s going on with Dad?" asked Aurielle.

Followed by a sharp voice laced with sarcasm—Sarah.

"That kid must’ve done something again. What do you mean ’sewer smell’? Were you playing in the mud? Unbelievable."

Edward slowly opened the bathroom door, face pale. Still strong enough to speak:

"He... came home this afternoon with a smudged face... and smelled like... a sewer... hueeekkk."

Everyone froze for a moment.

"What?!" Sandra exclaimed.

Sarah burst into laughter.

"Oh my God, seriously? Sewer-boy coming home to the Virellano family?!"

"Sarah..." Aurielle scolded, but lazily—as if she half-agreed.

"He doesn’t belong in this house, let alone dine with us!" Sarah continued, now glaring at Al in disgust. "From now on, eat outside. It’s safer for our digestive systems."

Everyone seemed to silently agree with Sarah.

Al simply stood there, his gaze as sharp as ever.

Then, flatly:

"I know I was wrong. I apologized. But can we not blow this out of proportion? So, what do you want me to do now? Help Dad? Fine. Let me in."

He took a step forward, but—

"No. Don’t come in," Edward shouted from inside.

Al stopped and looked back at Aurielle and Sarah.

"See?"

The two didn’t say a word, perhaps out of things to say.

Seeing that, Al felt it was better to just leave. Not because he wanted to run from the problem, but more so to give them space to cool down. He knew that right now, even his presence was enough to spark negative emotions—let alone if he made a mistake.

He then politely excused himself and turned around, walking away—without arguing, without trying to defend himself.

Silence fell for a moment, everyone caught off guard by Al’s reaction.

Sarah clicked her tongue.

"Just... get rid of that wild habit of yours," she said—not loudly, more like a sharp piece of advice.

But Al just kept walking away, his steps calm and unhurried.

All I did was help a kitten... he thought.

---

After the dining room incident, Al finally returned to his room.

It was spacious, yet empty. Sterile. Like a luxury hotel no one lived in.

He flopped onto the bed—a new one provided by the family. Small, plain, and paired with a modest wardrobe. But enough for Al.

There was a bit of irritation within him, and that was normal—but the thought of living a quieter life, especially during his free time, kept that frustration from lasting long. His life was already filled with far more terrifying problems. Something this small wasn’t a challenge that could shake him.

Al glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, then raised his right hand.

There, on his middle finger, was a small ring—pitch black in color. No engravings, no gemstones. Just plain black metal... at least to ordinary people.

Al infused a bit of magical energy into the ring. A soft yellowish-purple glow emerged from it, sending out a faint ripple through the air.

The air around the ring shimmered faintly, like heat rising off asphalt. An invisible space tore open—a personal dimensional storage accessed through the ring. Inside, hundreds of items were stored in perfect, magical order.

Al reached in and pulled out a black outfit. But before he could remove it—

Knock. Knock.

Al froze.

"Young Master... it’s Harun. Apologies for the disturbance. Master Edward requests your presence in his study," said Harun from outside the door.

Al sighed softly, returned the outfit, and closed the dimensional slit. As he walked toward the door, he snapped his fingers and activated Aroma Magic.

"Lavender. To feel... more human," he muttered.

Instantly, his body emitted a soft, soothing fragrance.

---