Shiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint sigh escaped his lips. He still looked a bit drained—though whether it was from the events of the morning or something else, Ao couldn't say. "Right… Well, Kori, I'll make sure to join you all for dinner, but first, I need to get dressed." He glanced down at himself, realizing once again that he was standing in the middle of the household, half-naked, with a guest present. Not the best look.
Kori merely nodded, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Before Shiro could leave, Koi leaned in, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. "Don't take too long."
Shiro grinned, his eyes softening. "I won't, hun." With that, he turned and disappeared into the bedroom.
A few minutes later, Shiro returned, now dressed in his usual attire—a loose dark tunic with light embroidery around the collar, paired with well-fitted trousers and his signature belt. He rolled his shoulders before taking his seat at the table, a quiet sigh of contentment leaving him as he settled in with the rest of the family.
The meal before them was nothing short of a feast. The scent of freshly cooked rabbit filled the air, its crispy exterior glistening under the soft glow of morning light. A spread of homegrown vegetables decorated the table, their vibrant hues adding a rustic charm to the setting. At the center sat a sizable bowl of fruit, ripe and glistening, ready to be picked at.
The cups, filled with fresh water, clinked softly as Koi set them down. Normally, wine or something stronger might have accompanied a meal like this, but with Ao at the table, all intoxicating drinks were off-limits.
Ao's eyes widened, his pupils practically dilating at the sight of the food before him. His tail wagged furiously behind him, a blur of excitement as he wasted no time digging in. The moment the first bite of rabbit hit his tongue, he let out an involuntary whimper of delight, his ears twitching as he chewed. The meat was perfectly seasoned, the juices bursting with flavor as he devoured it with enthusiasm.
"So gooood," Ao mumbled through a mouthful of food, not even bothering to swallow before speaking.
Kuro, who had been calmly eating his own portion, let out a deep chuckle at the sight of Ao practically inhaling his meal. The spirit beast shook his head, amused. "Looks like he started digging in even before me," he teased before taking another bite.
Kori, meanwhile, had been eating at a slow pace, her movements were fluid despite barely seeming to look at what she was doing. She cut into her meat effortlessly, bringing a bite to her lips easily despite her eyesight being poor.
Koi took a sip of water before finally speaking. "So, what brings you here specifically?" she asked, turning her gaze toward Kori.
The older woman hummed thoughtfully, chewing for a moment before responding. "Well, I haven't heard from you in a while, so I decided to stop by and make sure everything was all right. Especially with Ao's birth—he was quite stubborn, after all." Her voice sounded like a mother more than a midwife, her cloudy eyes flickering briefly in Ao's direction before she casually resumed eating.
Ao stiffened ever so slightly, his hands pausing over his plate. He quickly forced himself to resume eating, pretending not to notice the subtle weight of her gaze.
Kori continued, her voice light but probing. "Speaking of which, how is he? Has he ever gotten sick or shown any unusual signs?"
Koi, mid-bite, glanced toward Shiro. There was a brief, silent exchange between them—a flicker of unspoken understanding. Shiro, who had been focused primarily on his vegetables, gave a slight shake of his head, confirming Koi's thoughts.
Koi swallowed her food before answering. "Well, he's never gotten sick," she said truthfully. "And as for anything unusual… well, aside from his rapid development and how quickly he picks up on things, nothing concerning."
Kori's fingers lightly drummed against the table, her expression unreadable.
Ao, suddenly aware of the direction the conversation was taking, forced himself to slow down, his ears perking up slightly as he carefully observed their exchange.
Kuro was right… I should've learned more about how kids my age is supposed to act. I don't know what's considered normal or strange around here.
Kori's unreadable eyes flickered toward Ao, those few seconds of scrutiny sending a chill down his spine. His small heart pounded against his chest, his mind racing in all directions.
Please, Mom… Don't say too much…
He clenched his tiny fists under the table, feeling his throat tighten. He didn't know this woman well, but something about her gaze unsettled him. If she saw him as something unnatural—something wrong—what would happen?
A flood of terrifying images filled his mind.
His mother looking at him with cold, distant eyes. His father gripping a sword, pressing it against his throat. Being cast out of their home, left to fend for himself in the unknown wilderness. Beaten, rejected, hunted.
Ao bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ground himself, to push the thoughts away before they consumed him.
Kori's voice cut through his spiraling fears in his mind.
"How fast does he learn?" she asked casually, tilting her head. "Does he know the letters for the demi-human language yet? Basic math?"
Koi giggled at the question, completely unaware of Ao's growing dread. "Letters? Oh, he's well past that!" she said, pride evident in her voice. "He knows how to read at a decent pace for his age, he's picked up basic math, and he's even learned a bit of spiritual manipulation. If what Kuro told me is true, he's also just recently awakened his element!"
Ao's stomach dropped.
His hands, once clenched, went limp as all the color drained from his face.
No, no, no…
His ears rang as panic clawed at him. She said too much. She told her everything. I'm so dead... Do I lie? No use in lying, they know the truth… dang it.. I'm stuck...
Kori's eyes widened slightly, her brows lifting as she considered the implications. A child—barely a year old—who not only had mastery over literacy and numbers but had also awakened his element? That wasn't just unusual. It was unheard of.
For a moment, her gaze lingered on Ao, who sat frozen, his cheeks still full of rabbit, his entire body stiff with fear. His tail had gone completely still.
"Is this true?" Kori asked, her voice even, yet laced with curiosity.
Ao couldn't even bring himself to swallow his food. Lying would be pointless now—he was backed into a corner. All he could do was slowly, almost mechanically, nod his head.
Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes.
This is it. She's going to tell the village. I'm going to be dragged out of here. I'm going to die. Even Ao didn't understand the reason why his mind instantly went to the worst-case scenario, but for the past year his main focus was to not have this happen, not be discovered or be considered a monster.
But then… Kori smiled.
A warm, amused smile. As if she didn't believe him at all.
"Alright then," she said smoothly. "Let's test that, shall we?"
Ao blinked, caught off guard.
Kori rested her chin on her palm and tilted her head. "What's two plus tw—"
"Four," Ao answered instantly, not even letting her finish.
There was a slight pause.
Kori's smile widened. "A hundred twenty-seven times ninety-ni—"
"Twelve thousand, five hundred seventy-three," Ao replied without hesitation.
Silence.
The entire table stared at him.
Shiro had stopped mid-bite, his brows raised in stunned silence. Koi's ears twitched in disbelief, her tail frozen mid-wag. Even Kuro, who had been quietly eating, had stopped to watch, a piece of fruit still floating near his mouth, almost forgotten.
Kori, for the first time, seemed genuinely taken aback.
Ao realized—far too late—that he had spoken without thinking.
Oh no.
He had just proved her suspicions right.
The room was thick with stunned silence, the air heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. All eyes were locked onto Ao, who sat frozen, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of the wooden table. His tail, which had been wagging moments ago from the delicious meal, now lay still against his chair.
Kori, for the first time in the conversation, looked genuinely surprised. Her usually calm demeanor had shifted—her brows lifted slightly; her lips parted just enough to show her intrigue.
She hadn't expected that. "Interesting," she murmured, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table. Her fingers intertwined, supporting her chin as she regarded the child in front of her with renewed interest.
Ao's breath hitched.
His heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears that it drowned out everything else. He had messed up. Badly. His own instincts had betrayed him—he had answered too quickly, too naturally, exposing himself without realizing it.
But maybe… maybe she would let it slide?
Maybe—
"One hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred eighty-five times eight hundred ninety?"
Kori's voice cut through the tense silence like a blade.
Ao flinched.
His wide eyes darted up to meet hers, but there was no hostility in her expression. Just… amusement. And curiosity.
The numbers clicked into place in his mind before he could even stop them. The answer was right there, hanging at the tip of his tongue. His brain processed it as easily as breathing. He instantly answered, processing the questions like calculating what was needed to manifest spiritual energy.
"One hundred eleven million, eight hundred fifty-nine thousand, six hundred fifty.," he finally answered, his voice quieter this time.
More silence.
Kori's smirk deepened.
Koi's tail had begun wagging again, though now it was out of shock rather than excitement. Shiro, who had been calmly chewing his vegetables, had stopped mid-bite, his eyes slightly widened as he processed what he just heard.
Kuro? Kuro was just grinning like this was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all morning.
"Fascinating," Kori finally said, sitting back in her chair. "Truly fascinating."
Ao swallowed hard.
I'm doomed.
The tension in the room had shifted—no longer heavy with fear, but with something equally unnerving: curiosity.
Ao could feel the weight of their stares pressing down on him, each pair of eyes studying him as if he were some kind of anomaly. He forced himself to keep eating, shoveling small bites of rabbit into his mouth, hoping to distract himself from the pit forming in his stomach. Maybe—just maybe—if he acted casual, this moment would pass.
Kori, however, had no intention of letting it go so easily.
Her lips curled into an intrigued smile, her gaze never leaving Ao. "I see… So you're just as remarkable as your mother claims—if not even more so."
Her tone was light, almost playful, but there was an undeniable weight behind her words.
Ao forced himself to keep chewing, pretending he hadn't heard her.
Kori, however, wasn't finished. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, her voice taking on a thoughtful lilt. "It's rare for a boy to be this sharp—especially at your age." She tapped a finger against her arm. "Most men don't bother with reading, writing, or anything beyond basic arithmetic. They leave that to women or the schools. For you to have mastered numbers so quickly…" She trailed off, studying him like he was a puzzle she was piecing together.
Ao swallowed hard.
This is bad.
Koi, on the other hand, was practically beaming, her tail wagging so fast it was a blur. "I told you he was special, didn't I?" she said, her voice brimming with pride. She turned to Shiro, nudging him lightly. "Did you hear that? Our son's a genius!"
Shiro, who had been quietly eating, finally set his fork down and exhaled through his nose. His golden eyes flickered toward Ao, filled with something indecipherable. "Yeah," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "That… was impressive."
Kuro was grinning ear to ear, casually floating just above his seat. "I knew he was smart, but damn, Ao—" he whistled.
Ao forced out a nervous chuckle, trying desperately to downplay the situation. "It's… just numbers," he mumbled, poking at his food. "Not that hard."
Kori arched her brow. "Not that hard, you say?"
He froze.
Her smirk on the other hand had deepened.
"You say that, but most scholars struggle with calculations that are that complex. Even experienced traders have to write out problems like that to get the answer right." She tilted her head. "But you? You solved it in mere seconds."
Ao clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out.
So I messed up.. I should've just guessed or answered incorrectly.. I just have to hope this lady won't tell anyone or I'm screwed...
Maybe if he acted like it was just a fluke—like it was some weird party trick—she'd drop it.
"I just—" he hesitated, forcing a sheepish smile. "I just remember stuff really fast. When I see numbers, they kind of… click?"
Kori hummed in thought, clearly not convinced, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned to Koi. "Have you thought about enrolling him in school?"
Koi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. "School?"
Kori nodded. "With a mind like his, it'd be a shame to let his potential go to waste. He could start formal education when he turns six. Maybe even earlier."
Ao titled his head at her recommendation.
School?
That wasn't something he had even considered.
He had been doing everything in his power to keep his intelligence hidden, and now she wanted to throw him into a place filled with other people who could start noticing just how different he was?
No. Absolutely not.
Before he could even protest, Koi clasped her hands together, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! Shiro, what do you think?"
Shiro, however, didn't look as enthusiastic. He drummed his fingers against the table, expression unreadable. His golden eyes flickered toward Ao again, lingering for a moment too long before he exhaled.
"I don't know…" he muttered. "School's good and all, but…" He glanced at Ao again, frowning slightly. "It might not be the best idea right now."
Relief flooded Ao's chest.
Thank you, Dad.
Kori raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"
Shiro took a sip of water before answering. "He's already ahead. Way ahead. If we put him in school, he'll stand out too much." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "That could be dangerous."
Kori leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the table as she tilted her head. "Well, isn't that the point? You want him to have the best future possible, right? And the best way to secure that future is through education. If he excels, he'll be recommended into one of the Founding Academies—maybe even become a Hunter or a renowned merchant. That's what you want for him, isn't it?"
Her words hung in the air like a challenge.
Koi and Shiro exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Of course, they wanted what was best for Ao, but this… this was dangerous territory.
Sending him to a school wouldn't mean an ordinary classroom filled with carefree children. No, this would be a structured trial—an opportunity disguised as a risk. Education in their world wasn't simply about learning to read, write, and count.
The so-called schools were more akin to testing grounds.
Students would be placed under the tutelage of professors, scholars, and spiritual guides. The curriculum wasn't just about basic literacy or arithmetic—it was about discovering talent. It was a filtering process, a way to identify prodigies who could be molded into powerful figures for the kingdom's future.
If Ao entered, he'd be watched. Measured. Tested.
If he performed well—if he shined—he could be recommended to a Founding Academy, one of the prestigious institutions that produced elite Hunters, commanders, scholars, and visionaries. Those academies would pay off any debts incurred in his training, ensuring his family's stability and his own rise to power.
But if he failed—if he showed promise but not enough to be exceptional—he'd be discarded.
Families whose children failed to make the cut were burdened with a crippling debt. The resources spent on the child—food, training, weapons, materials—would be demanded back tenfold. Since the kingdom itself funded these preparatory schools, they expected a return on investment. If a child didn't become a worthy asset, the family was held financially responsible for the wasted effort.
Many poor families never risked it. Some had already gambled and lost, trapped in a cycle of debt they could never escape.
Koi's tail had slowed, her expression thoughtful. "It's… true," she admitted, tapping her fingers on the table. "If he's naturally gifted, it would be foolish not to at least consider it."
Shiro, however, wasn't so easily convinced. His golden eyes were dark with contemplation, his fingers curled into a loose fist on the table. "It's not that simple," he muttered. "The moment he enters that system; he's on their radar. If he doesn't stand out enough, it could ruin his future before it even begins."
Kori raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze flickering toward Ao. "And you think he wouldn't stand out?"
A smirk tugged at her lips as she studied the boy.
Ao had been silent the entire time, his small hands gripping the edge of his plate. His ears twitched ever so slightly; his tail curled around the leg of his chair. He had known fear before—he had imagined the worst possible outcomes when Kori first questioned his intelligence.
But now?
Now, he felt something else.
His parents weren't just talking about sending him to a place of learning. They were debating whether or not to throw him into a system designed to shape—or break—him.
Kori knew.
She knew exactly how sharp he was, how unnatural his abilities seemed.
And she was waiting to see if they'd risk it.
Shiro's voice cut through the air, firm and unwavering. "It's not just that." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his white eyes narrowed. "The schools would eat him alive. The Founding Academies—they aren't just about learning. They're tests. Trials. They hone Hunters from raw potential—and if you don't meet their expectations?" His jaw tightened. "You don't graduate. You don't get sent home. You get executed."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Ao froze, the piece of rabbit in his mouth suddenly tasting like ash. He swallowed hard, his little hands clenching his wooden fork.
Shiro continued, his voice darker now. "Once you're inside, there's no turning back. They break you down, mold you into something useful. You make it? You become a graduate, a recognized Hunter, maybe even something more. But if you fail—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "—you know too much. They can't let you walk away with that kind of knowledge."
Koi's ears flicked back, her tail stiff now, no longer wagging. She had always known the academies were brutal, but execution?
Kori remained quiet, listening carefully. She had already known this, it's not like it was new information to her.
Shiro's voice dropped lower. "And let's not forget—it's a dog-eat-dog world in those academies. The professors? They don't protect their students as well as they should. Because in the end, the royals still run the system. Bloodlines, high-ranking noble houses, spiritual heritage—" He scoffed, his fingers tightening around his cup. "Unless Ao has a title, a rank, or some kind of extreme merit, they'll eat him alive."
Ao's stomach churned.
He had never heard his father speak like this before. There was a cold edge in his tone, something almost bitter.
Kori's expression softened slightly. She folded her hands in her lap, considering his words carefully. Shiro had been there. He wasn't speaking from rumors—he was speaking from experience.
She sighed. "I understand your concerns. Prestige is everything in those institutions. Bloodlines matter, influence matters. If Ao isn't protected by status, then his only option is to be so exceptional they have no choice but to acknowledge him."
She paused, then continued, choosing her words carefully. "But… if he can even reach the level of an official D or C-rank Hunter, he'll have a wealth of opportunities. Miner, adventurer, mercenary, royal knight—even a city guard. He wouldn't have to risk the Founding Academies. And if he's gifted enough, he could follow in your footsteps."
She smiled slightly. "He could become a knight of the R—"
Shiro's chair scraped against the wooden floor as he abruptly stood.
"I'd rather he didn't end up like me." His voice was so sharp that if it was physical, Kori's head would be off of her shoulders..
The warmth in Kori's face faded.
Ao stared at his father, wide-eyed.
Koi frowned, concern flickering in her dark blue eyes. "…Shiro?"
Shiro scoffed, shaking his head. "If you think I want my son to go through what I did, then you're out of your damn mind." His fists clenched at his sides before he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down. "I won't throw him into a system designed to break him unless he chooses it himself."
Ao blinked, his gaze shifting toward Kuro, hoping for some sort of clarity. But Kuro looked just as lost, his small form floating slightly above the chair, ears twitching with uncertainty.
Shiro went to one of the academies? Ao thought, his young mind racing. Not only that, but he graduated at the top? That explains a lot… but if he was so accomplished, why are we living in a place like this? His eyes flicked toward the modest home around them—functional but worn, built with care yet showing clear signs of age. Did he choose this life?
His gaze settled on his father, silently pleading for answers.
Shiro met his son's eyes, reading the unspoken question there. He sighed, running a hand down his face before forcing himself to settle back into his chair.
"…My apologies." His voice was exhausted. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. That was beneath me."
Koi reached over, resting a gentle hand on his arm. "It's fine," she murmured, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You're only looking out for Ao. That's not a bad thing."
Kori, however, had a different response. Her expression remained unreadable. She exhaled, crossing her arms as she studied the boy in question. "I understand your frustration," she admitted. "I also attended the academy, so I know what kind of nightmare it can be."
Shiro's eyes flickered at that, but he said nothing.
Kori leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with him before shifting her focus back to Ao. Her next words were blunt, cutting through the room like a blade.
"But this boy… he will be something else if honed correctly." Her voice carried certainty, as if she had already seen his future laid out before her. "He needs proper guidance. And you can't shield him from the world forever."
Shiro's jaw tightened.
"If you do, the world will eat him alive." Kori's eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on them all. "You have two choices—either you do everything in your power to make Ao the absolute best he can be, or you let the world take advantage of his gifts, just as they did to us… and watch him die horribly."
The room was silent.
Koi's tail, which had been wagging moments ago, now hung still.
Kuro stopped floating, his massive frame to Ao and smaller frame to the others lowering slightly as he processed the intensity of her words.
And Ao… Ao could feel a chill creeping up his spine.
She wasn't trying to scare him. But she didn't sugarcoat the truth either.
Shiro exhaled slowly, his expression dark. "…You don't think I already know that?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it, something dangerous.
Kori didn't blink. "Then act like it."
Kori's expression remained unreadable as she slowly rose from her seat, her movements deliberate, measured. She reached out, placing a hand lightly on Ao's small shoulder. For a fraction of a second—just the briefest moment—Ao felt something surge through him. A pulse. It wasn't painful, nor was it overwhelming, but it was there—a controlled wave of spiritual energy washing over him before disappearing just as quickly as it had come.
His breath hitched.
Kori's voice was calm, yet each word she spoke carried weight, pressing down on them like an immovable force.
"It's up to you now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Make this boy grow. Nurture him. Push him. Shape him into the best version of himself."
She pulled her hand away, her gaze shifting between Shiro and Koi.
"You have a few years to decide, but don't waste them. In this world, only three things matter—power, money, and strength. If he has all three, no one will dare look down on him. Make him undeniable. Make them have no choice but to see him."
With that, she turned toward the door, her cane tapping against the wooden floor as she walked away.
"I've done what I came here to do," she added over her shoulder. "He's healthy, no illnesses. Take this time to process what I've said."
And then, she was gone.
The house fell into absolute silence.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The weight of Kori's words hung heavy in the air, lingering like an unshakable presence. Ao shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his ears twitching as he glanced toward his parents. His mother stared into her bowl, ears slightly drooped, tail still. His father had his arms crossed, gaze fixed on the table in front of him, his expression unreadable.
They didn't say a word.
Ao swallowed, glancing toward Kuro, who seemed just as unsure of how to break the silence.
This… is gonna be a long day.