Mystical Fantasy : The Lazy Real Young Master [EN]
Chapter 4 - 1.4 : The Invisible Wounds

Chapter 4: Chapter 1.4 : The Invisible Wounds

Some of the servants in the room seemed to hold their breath. That name—Dedy—wasn’t just any name in this household. He was the Virellano family’s personal bodyguard, rarely seen, but his presence was the stuff of legend. Towering over two meters tall, his skin was a deep, obsidian brown, his body sculpted like chiseled stone—muscular, dense, and formidable. His bald head gleamed under the light, and a faint scar across his arm only made him look more like a gatekeeper of hell.

Dedy wasn’t just a guard. He was a former international bodybuilder and martial artist who once fought in underground championships across Malaya. In one-on-one combat, few could last more than three minutes against him.

David, though keeping a straight face, swallowed reflexively. Aurielle and Sarah, despite knowing Dedy well, still felt a chilling pressure in his presence. To them, Dedy was someone better left undisturbed.

They couldn’t help but wonder—why was Dedy being brought in to punish Al? When they themselves had been punished, it was never more than mild physical discipline, a scolding, or something trivial like a cut in allowance. Dedy was typically only summoned to discipline outsiders who had committed serious offenses. Did Edward still see Al as an outsider? Regardless, both David and Sarah smiled slightly, pleased by the decision.

Meanwhile, Sandra—Al’s biological mother—looked visibly shaken. She glanced away from her husband, her eyes filled with anxiety. She wanted to say something, to intervene, to stop the punishment. But she knew—once Edward Virellano spoke, his words were final. All she could do was clasp her hands, lower her head, and exhale silently.

Al, still standing in the same spot since the beginning, showed no sign of change. His shoulders were relaxed. One hand brushed cobwebs off his hair while the other covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. His eyes didn’t show fear—only sleepiness and mild confusion.

Ugh... It’s already this dramatic? They couldn’t let me rest a bit longer?

When the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the main hall, the once-loud room fell into eerie silence. The atmosphere froze. Servants held their breath, and even Sarah, normally confident, looked uneasy.

The door opened wide.

A giant man stepped into the doorway. Just like the rumor. Over two meters tall, his bald head gleamed beneath the chandelier. His dark brown skin looked like steel, his muscles so solid they bulged through the black uniform worn only by the Virellano family’s elite guards. His eyes were sharp, steely gray, devoid of human warmth. He was Dedy.

He entered with slow, heavy steps and halted before Edward. With his right hand, he struck his chest in a formal salute.

"Dedy, awaiting your orders, Master Edward," he said, his voice low but firm, like thunder buried deep.

Edward nodded briefly and glanced at Al. He then gave a short explanation of what had occurred. Dedy understood what needed to be done.

Turning his head, Dedy locked eyes with the only unfamiliar face in the room—Al, now the center of attention. His steps were measured, his shoes echoing off the floor as he approached the 17-year-old boy.

Al, standing at 175 cm, was tall for his age. Even so, he had to tilt his head upward to meet this towering man’s eyes. The aura radiating from Dedy felt like it was crushing the very air in the room.

Despite the tension, Al wasn’t actually frightened. But his mind worked fast—if he looked too calm, it would raise suspicion. Acting unfazed would only invite more trouble. So he put on a small show, shifting his body slightly, inhaling shakily, and glancing up at Dedy with a face that tried to mimic nervousness.

"Um... isn’t this a bit too much?" he asked, directing the question toward his father with a deliberately shaky tone. "You still think I’m guilty without any proof. Fine. But... this punishment... why like this?"

Dedy didn’t flinch. "For accusations of this nature, I’m usually instructed to destroy the lower body." His voice was neutral, matter-of-fact. "But since you are the young master of this household, I’ve been ordered to adjust. I will strike... here." He pointed to Al’s abdomen.

"If you can take the blow, you’ll be fine. But for someone raised on the streets like you... pain in the gut should be nothing new."

Dedy said — though it was unclear whether he meant Al was used to it from street fights, or simply from the hunger of having nothing to eat.

Al muttered under his breath, "Nice. Nepotism still works in this family... but why does it have to be at a moment like this, huh..."

Dedy extended his hand again.

"Take off your shirt. The hit will be strong. If you wear it, it’ll tear. Think of it as standard procedure."

"Take it off?" Al looked a bit uncomfortable. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression half-joking and slightly offended.

"You’re not trying to harass me, are you?"

"You’re the harasser here," Dedy replied coldly. "Hurry up."

Al paused, confused as to why he had to remove his shirt. But not wanting to drag it out, he exhaled, lowered his head, and started pulling his shirt up slowly—like a child afraid of punishment.

But as the fabric rose and his torso came into view, the mood in the room changed instantly.

Though Al’s skin looked healthy overall, it was covered in scars. Old slashes, faded bruises, long scratches, and even clean lines that looked like healed cuts from sharp objects. The wounds had clearly healed years ago, but each one whispered of a violent, restless past.

Aurielle and Sarah instantly looked away, uncomfortable. Even Edward’s face froze—his eyes fixated, his tongue stuck. As someone born into wealth, even minor injuries unsettled him. But the body before him was nearly covered in the evidence of years of brutality. Even Dedy shifted slightly, a rare discomfort flickering in his expression.

Sandra, who had been clutching David’s arm the entire time, gasped in shock. Her eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh my God..." she whispered. Unconsciously, tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

She looked at her husband, then stood abruptly.

"Edward... no. Look at his body. He... he’s already been beaten enough. I don’t know where he grew up, but this child..."

"Enough, Sandra," Edward cut in. His tone was firm, but a hint of hesitation had crept in. Still, his wife didn’t back down.

"If you punish him now, you’re not disciplining him... you’re killing him!" Sandra shouted.

Edward stared at the scars, his eyes narrowing. His jaw clenched. He didn’t show any open expression, but his grip on the chair tightened slightly.

He let out a long sigh, looking at Al. His face unreadable. Then he turned to Dedy and raised his hand.

"Cancel it," he said flatly.

Dedy looked slightly disappointed, but only bowed his head and took a step back. "Understood, Master."

David furrowed his brow, clearly trying to mask his mix of surprise and frustration. Sarah, though somewhat sympathetic, had clearly wanted Al punished. She looked stunned by the decision, ready to protest—until Edward’s cold gaze froze her in place. David looked at Sarah, hoping for a reaction, but even she seemed rattled by what they had seen. It made David bitter, feeling like his attempt to bring Al down had failed.

Sandra quickly moved toward Al, who had slowly pulled his shirt back on. She reached out as if to touch his arm, but he stepped back slightly and lowered his head—not in rejection, but as if to say they weren’t close enough yet for that kind of affection.

"Thank you, Ma’am," Al said softly. No excessive emotion, but sincere enough to make Sandra weep harder.

Across the room, David stood stiffly, then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Relax... it’s only the beginning. I’ll get rid of you... sooner or later.

After the heated argument in the family room, the atmosphere began to cool as Edward raised his hand to signal the conversation was over. He rubbed his tired face and spoke with a heavy voice:

"All right. We’ll continue this after dinner. For now, let’s sit down together."

Silence held for a beat. Then people slowly moved, preparing to change clothes and head to the dining hall. Al followed, walking with calm steps and an unreadable face, still wondering why David and that servant had framed him.

But what awaited at the dinner table would prove one thing—

Al had not truly been accepted into this family.

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