Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]
Chapter 11 - 2.5 : Engagement and Midnight Mission

Chapter 11: Chapter 2.5 : Engagement and Midnight Mission

Ten minutes later, the black wooden door creaked open. Al stepped inside slowly. The room was filled with a brown-black tone, lined with bookshelves and stacks of important documents. Inside, his father and mother were already seated at a long table. A warm golden light illuminated the room, full of books and family portraits.

Just as Edward opened his mouth—

"Hmm... What’s that smell?!"

Edward suddenly stood up, glaring at Al as if he’d seen a monster.

"Lavender?! You... you used lavender perfume?!"

Al instinctively stopped mid-step.

"Yeah... I was told I smelled like a sewer earlier, so—" Al explained, but was quickly cut off.

"I hate the smell of lavender!" Edward snapped. "It reminds me of... Ugh, why would you wear that scent?"

Al paused and calmly replied,

"Sorry, Dad, but how was I supposed to know you don’t like lavender?"

Edward and Sandra exchanged glances, then turned to look at Al again.

"Sorry, I forgot," Edward muttered. "But still..."

Sandra, quickly stepped in.

"Let it go, Edward. You’re just too sensitive to scents."

Edward grumbled,

"He puts on perfume carelessly. Who knows where he even got it from."

Then he barked at Al, "Take off your shirt. I can’t stand the smell."

Hearing that, Sandra remembered the wounds on Al’s body and felt a twinge of guilt.

"Just pinch your nose instead," Sandra said to her husband.

"You don’t need to take off your shirt, Al," she added, turning to her son.

"Alright, Mom," Al responded.

Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. Edward looked at her, understanding her thoughts.

They exchanged a brief look before Edward finally spoke, covering his nose with a handkerchief.

"We need to talk about something important."

Sandra added,

"It’s about an arranged marriage."

Al stared blankly.

"...Arranged marriage?"

Edward nodded and explained,

"With the Valendra family from Vali Island. Years ago, your grandfather and theirs made a pact. If either had children of opposite genders and similar ages, they would be betrothed. They have a daughter one year older than you—Nayala. Nayala Valendra. You might’ve heard of her. She’s a celebrity in the capital, and also a junior to your sister, Sarah."

Sandra continued,

"But back then, you went missing. We thought you were... gone. And then there was David. He and the Valendra girl grew up together. They’ve liked each other since childhood."

"W-Wait," Al stammered. "Isn’t this way too soon to talk about marriage? I just got here yesterday, and I’m still in school."

Edward gave him a sharp look.

"The sooner the better. And don’t worry, it’s just an engagement for now. Besides, the right to this engagement still belongs to you—because you’re our biological son."

Al slowly nodded.

"I see. I understand. But if that’s the case, wouldn’t it be easier if David just marries her? Since they already like each other? I don’t mind, Dad, Mom."

His parents exchanged glances.

"...Hmmm?"

"That’s... not what it means."

Sandra took a deep breath.

"Maybe you don’t fully understand—marriages in families like ours aren’t that simple. They involve honor, reputation, business ties, public image—"

"—and they can lead to scandal if canceled recklessly," Edward added.

"If you truly have no objections, we’ll invite the Valendra family to discuss it. But you must be sure."

Al scratched the back of his head. His life didn’t fit this rich-people world, and he wondered why wealthy folks made everything so complicated.

"Alright, Dad, Mom. But wouldn’t it be easier if you just called them and told them David will marry that girl. What’s her name again—Nadia? Nana...?"

"...Al," his mother said sternly.

"Alright, Mom," Al replied obediently. Whatever his family wanted this time, he’d go along with it—he could tell they were trying to give him a chance to integrate into the family.

"If a meeting needs to happen, I have no problem with that," he said casually.

Sandra and Edward exchanged a look.

They... smiled.

Not out of joy for Al’s decision—but because the problem they thought would be complicated was resolved just like that.

They had assumed Al might be enamored by a top celebrity like Nayala and fight to keep the engagement. Thankfully, his decision aligned perfectly with their hidden hopes: the engagement was truly better suited for David.

And Al? They’d find him a more "suitable" partner later—depending on how useful he turned out to be for the family’s business network.

"Good," Edward said curtly.

"In that case, we’ll arrange the schedule. Now, get out! This lavender smell... it’s making my head throb."

Sandra tried to calm her husband, signaling Al to leave quickly.

"Sorry, dear. Your father’s just sensitive to fragrances."

Al stood up, nodded weakly, and walked out.

"Alright then. I’ll excuse myself, Dad, Mom. And... sorry for smelling good."

---

Al walked slowly down the long hallway lined with paintings. The cold walls and luxurious lighting didn’t make it feel like home. Each of his steps echoed softly on the white marble floor.

At the end of the corridor, someone appeared—Sarah, his second sister.

Beautiful and cold-faced, with sharp eyes. Long brown-black hair with bangs, flawless skin, elegant demeanor, yet brimming with internal tension.

Her eyes locked onto Al like a hawk spotting a rat in a palace.

"You just came from the study room?"

"Yeah," Al replied briefly.

"Hmph. So... they finally talked about that engagement? You know that girl, right? She’s my junior. A woman like her is only suitable for David. Don’t expect a top celebrity to be with someone like you."

Al just stared at her calmly, too lazy to argue.

I don’t even know who that woman is. What was her name again? Nano, Nandar? Wait—that’s a guy’s name. Ugh, don’t tell me I’m being arranged to marry a guy?! Thank goodness David’s the one marrying her, he thought.

Seeing Al stay silent, Sarah stepped forward, her tone turning icy.

"Listen carefully. That Valendra girl is only fit for David. Don’t think you can steal her just because you have... inheritance rights or whatever."

Al remained quiet, feeling mildly disgusted. He looked at Sarah and gave a small smile.

"Aren’t you bored?"

"Huh?" Sarah blinked, confused by the sudden question.

"Ever since I got here, you haven’t stopped bothering me. Are you that interested in your sweet little brother? Do you miss the brother who disappeared for a while?" he said, teasing and mocking her.

"What are you saying?! As if I... I just don’t want you here. It’s better if you leave this house."

"But that’s not up to you, right? Instead of wasting your time harassing me, why not just tell Mom and Dad? If they ask me to leave, I will," he said firmly.

Sarah fell silent, not knowing how to respond to that. Al had just made it clear he would leave only if his parents told him to. And she knew there was no way Mom and Dad would kick him out just like that.

"Until that day comes," Al continued, "I hope you stop bothering me. It’s bad for both our mental health."

"Wh-Who’s bothering you...? You think I want to? Just seeing you disgusts me!" Sarah snapped.

"Then stop seeing me." Al said, shook his head.

"Whatever. Well then, excuse me... my dear sister Sarah," he said with a touch of sarcasm.

Then he walked away.

Hearing that, Sarah’s face paled. Her lips trembled. She rushed after Al, who had walked some distance.

"What did you say?!"

Al turned around.

"I said, excuse me... my dear sister Sarah," he repeated, dragging her name out more mockingly.

A brief silence followed.

"How dare you call me your sister?!" Sarah snapped.

"Aren’t we siblings?" Al replied, feigning innocence.

"I only have one sibling—and that’s David!" she shouted sharply.

Al raised an eyebrow, pretending to be confused.

"But don’t you have five younger siblings? There’s... Vianna, Clarista, Elena, Lysha... then David. And if you count me... that’s six."

Sarah squinted, her rage briefly turning awkward.

"I-I meant... only one younger brother—and that’s David."

Al froze for a moment. His gaze emptied, as if he’d switched to "don’t care" mode.

Then he bowed slightly.

"Alright. Excuse me."

He turned and walked off calmly, leaving Sarah behind. There was no anger. No emotion. Just a slight tilt of the head and a faint smirk, as if to say:

This family... is weird.

Behind him, Sarah stood still, glaring at his back in disgust and irritation. But behind the disgust... was a feeling she couldn’t explain:

Was he mocking me?

She let out a scream—aimless and angry.

---

Al’s room was quiet.

He had just arrived. Exhausted.

Too much drama today.

Too many voices.

Too many... people.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Al pulled his phone from his backpack. He stared at the black screen.

"Oh right, I turned it off this morning..."

His thumb pressed the power button.

The screen lit up—followed by a familiar ringtone...

That tone. The special one.

The one that signaled a certain person.

His eyes twitched slightly, as if his soul wanted to escape his body.

"God... not now..."

But he knew.

He had to pick up.

If he didn’t, she would show up in person.

And... that was far worse.

With the face of a prisoner receiving a life sentence, he pressed the green button.

"H-hi—" Al stuttered.

"How dare they arrange a marriage for you?! Do they want to die?! You’ve only been there a few days and the fa—"

Click.

The call ended.

Al sighed deeply.

"Wow... how many times have I been yelled at today..."

He stared at the ceiling.

One hand rubbed his face.

Then... he stood up.

With slow, deliberate movements, Al reached toward the black ring on his middle finger.

He channeled magic gently.

The air around him warped.

The small ring emitted a violet-blue light, opening a thin dimensional slit—his personal storage vault.

From within, he pulled out a black outfit.

Crafted from magitek materials: lightweight, flexible, bullet- and magic-resistant.

Its design was simple yet sharp—hooded, face cover, and a hidden emblem on the chest visible only to select eyes.

His secret team’s uniform.

Al dressed slowly.

Every move precise.

Controlled.

Silent... like someone who had done this thousands of times.

Gloves secured.

Hood pulled up.

Face mask slipped into place.

Al’s face was now completely hidden, save for a pair of black pearl eyes that faintly glowed in the light.

---

The night sky loomed above. A salty sea breeze drifted from afar.

Atop a ship-shaped building—Vinishi Tower, an icon of Makazhar University—a lone figure stood on the roof.

A black silhouette.

Still.

Looking down at the city’s glowing chaos.

Only a single red glyph glowed on his palm: a secret communication sigil for his subordinates.

His black cloak fluttered gently, blending with the night.

Al slowly lifted his head.

His gaze was sharp...

...even though his face still looked bored.

"Time to move."

---