Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 214: Nuanced

"I think I don’t want to be Lord Father’s heir anymore."

Cecilia froze.

Did telling him make him think he had no right to it? The thought flickered through her mind. A flash of worry, of protective instinct emerged, but she didn’t let it settle.

"Sure." Her voice was calm. She tapped the pajamas she had set on the bed for him, to signal him to change from his travel clothes. "Did your father know that you don’t want to be heir anymore?"

Rinne chuckled.

"I think this is why you are the best, Lord Mother."

Cecilia blinked. "Hmm?"

Rinne took the pajamas and disappeared behind the partition. His voice floated back as he changed, explaining with the earnest thoughtfulness that always caught her off guard in one so young.

"You will never assume things people are thinking unless you are very sure it can be dangerous." Fabric rustled as he pulled on the sleep clothes. "And you avoid just saying no just because you think it’s wrong."

Cecilia sat on the edge of the bed, absorbing his words. Such observation. Such understanding from a ten-year-old.

"Then," she said softly, "do you also think not wanting to be the heir anymore is wrong?"

Rinne’s head peeked from behind the partition, his hair tousled, his expression thoughtful as he nodded.

"Mm. I do think it’s wrong to just let go of a responsibility like that."

Ah.

Cecilia’s eyes faltered. He saw it as a responsibility. A duty.

"But sometimes," Rinne shrugged, stepping out from behind the partition in his pajamas, "there are people who have more rights to have that responsibility."

He jumped onto the bed, settling beside her.

"Like if one day you and Lord Father have a biological child."

Cecilia’s eyebrows rose.

"Uncle Dad East said he used rock paper scissors to determine who’ll go on an inspection between him and his brother." Rinne’s tone was matter-of-fact, as if this were the most natural comparison in the world. "Which means, he and his brother have both shouldered the responsibility of being a ruler."

Cecilia wasn’t entirely sure that using Eastiel and Elias’s system, two lion brothers with their own unique dynamic, to compare with the wolves’ rigid succession structure was entirely responsible. But as she looked at Rinne’s earnest face, she found herself slowly smiling.

"You know," Rinne shrugged again, shoulders rising and falling, "you and Father will live for a long, long time. It’ll perhaps be a long time until you get a biological heir."

He turned to look at her, his eyes clear and steady.

"While we wait... I want to be someone Father plays rock paper scissors with. And I want to be one to play rock paper scissors with my siblings later."

He smiled.

Cecilia’s smile warmed, widened, as she reached out to caress his forehead and temple. Her fingers traced the soft skin, the line of his brow, the shape of his face that was becoming more his own every day.

"I see."

So even in a crisis of identity, even after everything he had learned, everything that had shattered and been rebuilt, Rinne understood things with a little more nuance than she had given him credit for.

"Were you sure you wanted to be the heir before, Rinne?"

Rinne nodded, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he settled against her. "Because Father said he wants no one else."

"Mm." Cecilia nodded, acknowledging. "Do you still want your father to want no one else?"

"Of course." His voice was soft, certain. He blinked those glassy eyes, staring at some invisible point above. "I still want Lord Father to only want me."

"Yeah." Cecilia scooted closer, wrapping her arms around the pre-teen boy and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Thank you for being honest. Also, thank you for changing your mind." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "You can also change your mind completely later when you’re older. It’s no problem."

"Thanks, mother."

Rinne buried his face in her clothes, his body pressing close. For a moment, he was silent. Then she felt it. The faint tremor of silent tears, absorbed by the fabric of her robe.

"I love Father and you so much."

***

The deep night wrapped around the temple. Candles flickered in the small chamber, their soft glow pushing back the darkness just enough to see the simple cot, the still figure upon it, the woman keeping vigil at his side.

Arzhen’s body jerked.

Consciousness returned slowly, painfully, dragging him up from depths he couldn’t name. His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused, and he gasped. A sharp, ragged breath. Cold sweat drenched his skin, plastering his hair to his forehead, soaking through the thin linen of the bedclothes.

The room spun. Settled. Spun again.

But through the haze, through the disorientation and the lingering terror of dreams he couldn’t remember, he became aware of something. Someone. A presence beside him, close and warm.

A damp cloth touched his forehead. Gentle. Steady. Wiping away the sweat, the fear, the evidence of his torment.

In the candlelight, Ruby’s face came into focus.

She turned to him, and despite the exhaustion etched into every line of her features, she smiled. A relieved, trembling smile that held more warmth than he deserved.

"Arzhen..."

His hand shot out, grasping hers with desperate strength.

"Did you hear what I said?" The words were rough, urgent, tumbling out before he could think.

Ruby blinked, startled by his intensity. "Huh? Arzhen, calm down—"

His eyes went wild again. The same frantic, haunted look that had been there before his collapse.

"You heard, right?" His voice dropped to a hiss, panicked and barely controlled. "That the Dragon Lord is still alive?"

Ruby’s breath caught. "Wait—Arzhen... ow..."

She winced, her hand trapped in his grip, his fingers squeezing too tight. But Arzhen didn’t notice. Didn’t realize he was hurting her. His mind was elsewhere, trapped in that clearing, those cold grey eyes, that voice that had sent him home like a child.

"Ruby, don’t tell anyone what we did." The words spilled out in a frantic whisper. "Don’t release any prophecy. The Dragon Lord... he’s alive and well, and he told me to tell you—"

His eyes rolled back.

"—tell you—"

He was gone again. Unconscious. Collapsed back onto the pillow like a puppet with cut strings.

Ruby stared at him, her face draining of all color.

"Arzhen? Arzhen?!"

Panic clawed at her throat. She shook his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. His chest rose and fell. Alive, still alive. But lost to her, lost to consciousness, lost to the nightmare he carried.

She sat back, trembling.

What do you mean the Dragon Lord is alive and well?!

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Extra Chapter 1! (There will be three, then two for the normal update. Five in total.)

And you know why we have it!!! 🎉🎉🎉