Vol. 4.5 Chapter 1.1 - One fine evening

Vol. 4.5 Chapter 1.1 - One fine evening



After a few years of giving birth and frantically raising children, the sound of their laughter filled the spacious mansion with beauty. Like a sunken masterpiece, the once stark space sparkled like a new coat of colour.

“Thanks.”

“Why?”

“For giving me a treasure.”

Aeroc stood beside Kloff and took his hand.

“That’s usually said by the alphas, isn’t it?”

“Outwardly, I am an alpha, so save your complaints. A thank you is a thank you.”

Aeroc kissed his lover’s lips lightly, which were pouting with interest and maybe a little displeasure.

Lenoc and Eurea had filled his heart, but two children were hardly enough to fill the estate. However, they had agreed to remain childless for the time being. There was nothing wrong with Aeroc’s health. When he objected, Kloff made vile threats that he would keep Aeroc locked up and impregnate him.

“I’ve already got three ticking time bombs running around under my nose, and I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, so I’m going to have to politely decline the offer of a freakishly pretty angel who cries, eats, and poops once every two hours.”

Was childcare that exhausting? Of course, Aeroc was exhausted too. Martha helped, and Hugo lent a hand during the day. But Martha had never broken her solemn promise to rest at night, and Hugo’s help was rejected by Kloff.

As an imprinted Alpha, he hated the idea of leaving Aeroc and the two children in the hands of another Alpha, as they were considered ‘his territory’. In fact, after Martha, Kloff was the only one who was more nurturing than Aeroc. Ever since Lenoc was born, it had been his job to carry the children and put them to bed.

Sometimes it made Aeroc jealous, so he would occasionally take the child and curl up in Kloff’s big arms. Despite the weight, he never complained and stayed with Aeroc and the child until they fell asleep. At the same time, he maintained an active public life.

Ever since he began working at the Treasury, Kloff’s influence had grown with each passing day. As successful as his life had been for a viscount without a title, Kloff was never satisfied.

“I will get a title.”

“A title? Isn’t the Count enough?”

“That’s not mine, it’s yours.”

Aeroc took a seat in the breeze and sipped the red liquid. He deliberately swirled the teacup slowly to spread the aroma and make sure he was heard. He didn’t realise the money-grubbing cobbler was getting off from his heavy arse.

Bulb farming was all the rage this year. Aeroc smiled wryly as he watched the beautiful, colourful flowers bloom in clusters. He hadn’t always been that into gardening. But lately, he had been having a lot of fun in it. Strangled the villain, following those words, Aeroc literally strangled the phallus of Kloff. Not realising that he got carried away with spending money, he had been buying up rare bulbs at international flower markets.

“It’s a good thing you’re not doing a soirée this year, or I’d be dead in my papers by now.”

The man with his nose buried in papers grunted. Aeroc glanced at Kloff surreptitiously and twisted his lips.

He planned to hold a nightly soirée when summer arrived and the flowers were in full bloom. It would be wonderful to play nocturnes on piano, violin, and cello. But even that would not be easy. For some reason, the cobbler, who controlled the house’s finances, didn’t like the idea of holding soirées, among other artistic activities. At one point, Aeroc prodded.

“If you don’t object to buying paintings, why do you hate soirée so much?”

“A painting is a tangible thing. A soirée is a one-off. It’s useless.”

“What a cheapskate.”

In short, Kloff said, a painting or sculpture is an investment, but a soirée is not. Later, he told Aeroc that he wouldn’t discourage him from attending recitals, and that Aeroc could feel free to buy tickets. But it was also important to play music yourself. Kloff didn’t understand that rich emotional experiences are essential for children growing up.

“Playing in front of a crowd builds confidence and a sense of responsibility for the event, and I can’t have children who will succeed the Count without practising putting themselves out there in public.”

“I, myself, turned out just fine without playing recitals.”

“You’re talking as a cheapskate cobbler.”

“Emotional experiences can’t be bought by money, they’re nurtured by running around in the great outdoors. That’s what city kids lack.”

“Aha. Since I’m from the city, so you’ll have to take the children to the great outdoors yourself.”

Kloff was silent. He was not in a position to take time off from the Treasury right now. When Aeroc glared at him, he said something else to distract himself.

“Read a book. Get a poetry collection. Have a recital.”

It was the least expensive presentation a damn hillbilly could come up with. Aeroc bought the book, of course. But literature and music are two different things. No matter how many times Aeroc repeated to him that it was important to have an abundance of musical stimulation from an early age in order to become a good player, his ears wouldn’t listen. He’d always known he lacked musicality, but lately he’d been secretly worried that he might be deaf.

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