Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 213: Quiet Perspective

"I assume now you know what to tell him, right?"

What to tell him?

What an endlessly hollow question. What to tell a ten-year-old child about everything?

"I don’t know—"

Arkai’s tears finally fell.

He scoffed even as they came, bitter, self-mocking, and his words failed him, crumbling into nothing. His hand moved to cover his eyes, to hide, to disappear.

But Cecilia’s hand shot out, catching his jaw, cupping it with a gentleness that cut through the darkness.

"What do I tell him, Cecilia?" His voice was a whisper, broken and raw. "Tell me. Tell me."

Her sea-glass eyes held his, steady as a lighthouse in a storm.

"That his mother loved her brother? That she called on him every month, heat-drunk, in front of his chamber door, begging to be taken?"

His voice cracked on the words, each one a blade.

"That his father took that chance to rape her? That he conceived him in violence?"

Another crack. Another wound.

"Do I tell him that his mother died depressed after giving birth? That she blamed me—me—for never loving her the way she wanted? Do I tell him that after I banished his father, he became a paid assassin? That he killed good leaders on demand?"

"Yes."

Cecilia nodded.

Wha—

Arkai’s eyes widened.

And she wiped the overflowing tears on his cheeks, now unrestrained.

"You have to tell him what he must know," she said softly. "Everything."

Arkai’s lips parted, incredulous. He was a child! A child!

"Do you remember when you were his age?" Cecilia asked. "Do you remember knowing more than the adults around you would think?"

She grasped his face with both hands, holding him there, holding him present.

"He knows more than you think, Arkai."

She reminded him that Rinne was also a smart, sensitive child.

"Don’t just tell him what happened. Tell him about you."

Her voice was firm now.

"Tell him about your decision. Tell him why. Tell him what’s in your heart. Tell him what you think was wrong, or right, or that you had no choice."

She held his gaze.

"Tell him in a way he’ll understand."

"And I know you don’t want him to blame anyone. I know you don’t want him to blame his mother, or his father, or you."

She shook her head slowly.

"But it’s not our right to stop him from blaming. It’s not our right to tell him how to feel."

"But I don’t want him to think he was born from a mistake!" Arkai hissed, the words torn from somewhere deep.

"You never told him that!" Cecilia hissed back, just as fierce, just as immediate. "All you did was love him for all his life and be the father he needed. A father he deserved. You don’t ever treat him as a mistake, so why would he think he was one? He is your son."

She leaned closer, her eyes blazing.

"And if he dares think that way, if he dares believe for one moment that he was anything less than wanted, anything less than loved, I will be the one to beat his ass."

She breathed.

"As his mother."

***

Arkai took Rinne for dinner outside that night.

Just the two of them, father and son, alone under the vast sky. Cecilia had prepared them with food and beverages to go, packed carefully into baskets, knowing Arkai’s plan to bring the boy beyond the Iondora capital, to find some quiet place where they could watch the moon rise and eat together in the open air.

She had watched them leave. Watched the carriage disappear into the twilight. Waited.

At ten, the carriage returned.

Rinne jumped down by himself. Arkai followed, his movements slower, heavier, but there was something in his posture that hadn’t been there before. Something eased.

The boy looked like he had been crying. A lot. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks still faintly blotched, but he didn’t look broken. He looked... processed. Like something had been released.

The moment he saw Cecilia, he ran.

She opened her arms, and he buried himself in them. His body pressed against hers, his face hidden in the folds of her gown, and she felt the last remnants of his tears soaking through.

Cecilia looked up at Arkai.

He smiled. A small thing. Tired. Then he led them inside.

It seemed that it had gone well. Or at least, better than expected.

"How is Eastiel’s side?" Arkai asked as they walked through the corridors, his voice low, returning to the business of the world.

Cecilia nodded. "As planned. He’s posing for war. We’re monitoring the Delanivis’ reaction closely. Nothing from them yet."

"Mm." Arkai’s nod was brief, acknowledging.

They stopped at a corridor intersection. The mansion hummed quietly around them, distant sounds of servants and guards, but here, in this private wing, they were alone.

"I... have things to do tonight." Arkai’s voice hesitated, just slightly.

Cecilia looked at him. Saw the strain beneath the composure, the weight he was still carrying.

"Yes." Her voice was soft. "I’ll sleep with Rinne tonight. You can find me in his room."

Something in Arkai’s expression shifted. A bit of the tension lifting, a flicker of relief in those tired eyes.

"I’ll tell you if my men have news." He paused. "Good night."

"Good night."

Cecilia rubbed Rinne’s shoulder and led him down the corridor toward his room. She felt Arkai’s gaze on her back, watching, until they turned a corner and the silence folded around them.

She didn’t look back.

They walked in quiet, Rinne beside her. The boy said nothing, and Cecilia didn’t press. She simply guided him through the familiar halls, past the guards who nodded respectfully, until they reached his door.

She opened it. Led him inside. Closed it behind them.

The room was soft with lamplight, the curtains drawn, the bed waiting. Rinne stood in the middle of it, uncertain, looking up at her. "Lord Mother."

Cecilia turned to him, raising her eyebrows in gentle question. "Hm?"

"I think..." Rinne’s voice was small, hesitant, as if the words themselves were fragile things he wasn’t sure he should speak. "I think I don’t want to be Lord Father’s heir anymore."