Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 245: No Rationality

Arkai waited in front of his father’s office like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.

The minutes crawled past. Each one felt like an hour, each second a small eternity of not-knowing.

He paced, short, tight circuits that ate at the worn stone of the corridor. He stopped. He paced again. He pressed his ear to the heavy wood of the door, heard nothing, and immediately felt foolish.

What was happening in there?

His father was not a gentle man. Not cruel, not intentionally, but not gentle. He was akin to a wolf who had spent decades protecting his territory, his family, his name. If he perceived Cecilia as a threat, if he decided she needed to be dealt with—

Arkai’s hands clenched at his sides.

He had seen her power. He had felt it. Had watched her lift an entire hall full of people with nothing but will and mana. She wasn’t wea or helpless.

But she was also injured. Exhausted. Running on fumes and stubbornness and something else he couldn’t name.

And his father was in there with her.

Alone.

The thought made his stomach turn.

He paced some more.

The corridor stretched before him, empty and silent. Servants had learned long ago not to linger near the patriarch’s office. The walls were thick, enchanted for privacy. No sound escaped. No hint of what was happening inside reached his straining ears.

He thought about bursting in. About ignoring every protocol, every expectation, every rule and simply—

The door opened.

Arkai’s heart stopped.

Cecilia stepped out.

Her expression was... thinking. Deeply, intensely thinking. The kind of face she wore when solving impossible problems, when connecting dots no one else could see.

Yes, at least it wasn’t fear, but also wasn’t relief. Which made him worry

Behind her, through the gap in the door, Arkai caught a glimpse of his father.

August Dawnoro sat on the sofa. It was the same sofa Cecilia had gestured for him to sit on with an expression that mirrored hers. Deep thoughts.

Arkai moved toward the door. He wanted to talk to his father and make him answer, but Cecilia’s hand caught his arm.

"Let’s return to the Athenaeum."

Her voice was quiet and gentle.

Arkai looked at her. He looked at the door, then looked back at her.

"Young Lo... umm, Mr. Dawnoro," She smiled. "Let’s go."

He wanted to argue and push past her, to demand answers from his father. But her eyes held him in place.

He nodded.

They walked away together, leaving the door closed behind them. Leaving August Dawnoro alone with thoughts that would take a long, long time to process.

As they walked back to the carriage that would bring them to the teleportation gate, Cecilia’s mind churned.

Sienna.

The girl’s future in this world, the choices and possibilities, unspooled before her like a dark thread.

Realistically, Cecilia knew what needed to happen. Sienna should never have a child. Never be given another potential victim to use and manipulate, never be given leverage to control those around her.

But that meant—

In this world, Rinne would never be born.

Because Rinne was Roarke and Sienna’s biological son. And if Cecilia’s intervention prevented Roarke from being manipulated into that nightmare... if Sienna’s schemes were exposed and stopped...

Rinne would simply never exist.

The carriage came into view. Cecilia climbed in, and Arkai followed close behind. The door closed and the wheels began to turn.

Cecilia’s mood immediately plummeted.

She stared out the window, seeing nothing. The landscape blurred past. Snowy fields, dark trees, the distant spires of the city... but her eyes were fixed on something else entirely.

Just a fake world.

This was just a world conjured by the System. A game. A series of tasks and rewards. None of it was real.

But still.

Just knowing that her son, the boy who called her Mother, who clung to her in the dark, who asked her to promise she wouldn’t leave... would never be born here...

If only Rinne was her own son. A child conceived in her own womb, with Arkai’s seed. Then he would exist in every world she does, in every timeline, in every possibility. He would be real.

"System..." she whispered, meant only for the interface in her mind. "Can I have Rinne be born from me and Arkai in this world?"

Silence.

Longer than usual.

[...]

Even the System, it seemed, was confused. Shocked, even.

[This is an alternate universe, Cecilia. This is just a world where you can complete tasks and get rewards from it!]

So that would be impossible, huh?

Of course. Of course it was impossible. Why would she get emotional over a fabricated world?

But still.

To think that her son would never exist here—

"Did my father say something that upset you, Miss Araceli?"

Arkai’s voice pulled her back. He was watching her, concerned.

Cecilia smiled. "No. I was thinking about our so—"

She stopped.

Our so—

Right, in this world, they weren’t husband and wife yet.

Arkai’s head tilted, curiosity sharpening his features. "Our so...?"

No.

Perhaps she just had to try.

Cecilia raised her face and met his eyes.

"I was thinking about... conceiving our son."

Arkai froze.

In the space of his mind, the moon collided with the earth. The sun swallowed everything. A supernova erased the universe into nothing.

...Our son, she said...?

The carriage rattled on. The world outside continued its indifferent march.

And Cecilia crawled onto his lap.

Her body settled against his, warm and real and there. Her hands found his shoulders. Her face hovered inches from his, those sea-glass eyes holding him captive.

"Brother Arkai."

She whispered.

"Let’s make sure our son is conceived."

Arkai clutched the cushion beneath him. His mind went completely and blissfully blank.

...Brother Arkai, she said...?

"Y-you—" Arkai stammered, his voice catching in his throat.

In the cemetery too. She had said it so surely and absolutely, that he would fall for her no matter what. Even if she was his sister. Even if they were strangers. Even if they had been nothing more than acquaintances, colleagues at best, before being trapped together in that room—

He wondered—

How?

How could she be so certain? How could she look at him, at the walls he had built, at the control he had spent his whole life cultivating, and simply know?

"How are you so sure... that I—"

"That you’ll fuck me?"

She finished his question.

Even though he had been about to ask something else entirely. Something about offense, about propriety, about the thousand small reasons he should be angry at her presumption.

How are you so sure that I’ll not find offense over your behavior?

But God fucking damnit, what she finished the sentence with was even bette—

"Because I’m sure I will fuck you if you asked."

She answered.

"And we are basically the same kind of person."

She ground herself over him.

The pressure, the heat, the impossibly right feeling of her body moving against his... it short-circuited whatever remained of his rational mind. His hands, acting on instinct, found her hips. Held her. Pulled her closer.

"Now." Her voice was breathless, but still that same maddening calm. "Take off your pants before we soil them again."