The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System-Chapter 10: What In The Hell?

Minutes later, the heavy doors of the House Lord’s office creaked open.

Ignotus strolled in, not bothering to knock, and looked around the fancy room, with shelves filled with books nobody likely read, a massive window overlooking the estate, and a desk that cost more than most people’s lives.

Sitting behind that desk was Genus.

His face was dark, his veins were popping, and the air around him was vibrating with Divinity.

He didn’t wait for Ignotus to reach the chair; he simply explode—

"YOU DAMN KID!"

Genus slammed his fist onto the desk.

Bang!

A stack of paperwork jumped a solid three inches into the air.

"YOU DARE KILL MY PEOPLE?! IN MY KITCHEN?! ON THE DAY OF YOUR FAILURE?!"

Ignotus stopped walking and tilted his head, watching the performance with a... unique expression.

"I’LL RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!"

Genus stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF THE MESS YOU’VE CAUSED?"

He pointed a shaking finger at Ignotus.

"THE HEAD CHEF WHO SERVED OUR FAMILY LONGER THAN YOU’VE BEEN ALIVE IS WEEPING! THOSE GUARDS YOU ATTACKED ARE CRIPPLED!"

He leaned over the desk, his shadow looming large.

"I SHOULD FLAY YOU ALIVE AND DISPLAY YOUR HEAD AT THE GATE AS A WARNING TO ANYONE WHO THINKS THEY CAN DISRESPECT HOUSE PLANT!"

The echo of his shouting bounced off the walls, the sheer volume enough to make a normal person wet themselves.

Genus held the pose for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before sighing, slowly sitting back down, smoothing the edges of his noble clothes, and clearing his throat.

"...is what I was supposed to say."

He picked up a quill and started signing a document, his voice dropping to a conversational tone.

"But I’m not saying it."

This was a test or perhaps a fear tactic.

A classic bad officer routine designed to make the rebellious son beg for forgiveness.

Because, indeed, usually, this was the part where Ignotus would be on his knees, shivering, promising to never touch a knife again... to never go stomp people for damn poisoning him.

Ignotus, however, smiled, a wide, shark-like grin, and took a deep breath, filling his lungs.

"YOU DUMB FUCKING BASTARD WHO’S RUINING OUR HOUSE’S IMAGE!"

He screamed it right back, his volume matching—if not exceeding—his father’s.

Genus’s quill stopped moving, and he looked up, absolutely stunned.

Ignotus wasn’t done, however.

"HOW DARE YOU IGNORE YOUR SON AND LET HIM BE POISONED?!"

He stepped closer to the desk, slamming his fist down on it.

"UNDER YOUR OWN ROOF?! DO YOU HAVE MUSH FOR BRAINS?!"

He pointed a finger right back at Genus.

"AND DO YOU REALLY THINK IT’S A GOOD LOOK TO BE BULLYING A ’DAMN KID?!’ YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSECURE, PETTY TYRANT!"

Ignotus leaned in.

"IF YOU DARE TRY ME, I’LL CUT OFF YOUR HEAD AND THROW IT TO THE PIGS! I’LL FEED THE REST OF YOU TO THE DOGS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

With those ending words that were incredibly far from possible, absolute, ringing silence remained.

Ignotus straightened his back and dusted off his shirt.

"If you said that... that’d be my response."

Genus stared at him.

He stared for a long, long time.

His mouth opened slightly, then closed.

He looked at the door to see if anyone had heard, then back at his son.

"Hm."

Genus looked down at his paperwork.

A low sound rumbled in his chest.

That was a chuckle.

It was a dry, wheezing chuckle of a man who realized the absurdity of the situation.

"Heh."

Ignotus chuckled alongside him.

"Heh."

They stood there for a moment, father and son, laughing at the mutual threat of decapitation.

It was weird.

In his past life, Ignotus had never interacted with Genus like this. Not once. He remembered trembling in this office. He remembered the sweat dripping down his back, the crushing weight of his father’s disappointment, and the burning hatred that grew from it.

He had feared this man. He had hated him with every fiber of his being.

But now?

Ignotus looked at Genus, truly for once, and he...

He didn’t see a monster but a tired, middle-aged politician trying to juggle a failing family, defending it against outside threats, and keeping it in line with their "owners" wants.

This was... different.

It was almost refreshing.

The laughter died down as quickly as it started.

Genus stopped first, his face snapping back to a serious, lordly mask.

"Still..."

He tapped the desk with his index finger.

"You went too far. You should’ve come to me first."

"Come to you?"

Ignotus raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. I can’t have my people thinking their lives are in danger just by working here. Servants talk, Ignotus. If word gets out that the Young Lord is slaughtering staff over a bit of... roughhousing between brothers, who will cook for us? Who will clean? Fear is a tool, but you used a sledgehammer when you needed a scalpel."

Ignotus scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Well, that’s on you, isn’t it?"

"Excuse me?"

"You’re the Head of the House. You should’ve taught them not to mess with your own ’DAMN SON;’ that doesn’t change no matter how useless I am... Unless, of course, you were hoping for that to happen, but I don’t think you’d stoop to such lows."

Though he said that, his eyes seemed doubtful.

"Call it roughhousing, whatever you want, but it should only be ’between brothers,’ nobody else. If our people got to the point of poisoning me, it’s because they were comfortable disrespecting me. That comfort came from how all you idiots treat me."

He leaned forward again, resting his knuckles on the expensive wood.

"If a dog bites a guest, you blame the owner. My food had poison in it, old man. That means your kitchen is compromised. I just did a little pest control. You should be thanking me for saving you the gold on hiring a cleaning crew."

Genus opened his mouth to retort, only to pause.

He ran the logic through his head.

The boy... wasn’t exactly wrong. It was brutal, yes. It was messy, definitely. But technically, a servant trying to kill a Main House member warranted immediate execution. Ignotus had just cut out the middleman, namely, the trial.

Reaching such thoughts, Genus sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I get it... I get it..."

He looked exhausted, realizing he couldn’t bully this version of Ignotus. The boy had no shame, no fear, and apparently, a very loose grip on morality. Arguing with him was like arguing with a brick wall that cursed and screamed back.

"Get out of here and go pack your things."

Genus waved his hand dismissively toward the door.

"You meet your fiancée this evening."

Ignotus turned on his heel, ready to leave.

"Don’t do anything else."

Genus called out after him before he could leave, a warning tone in his voice.

"No more killing, no more maiming... exist quietly until later."

Ignotus didn’t look back, only bothering to throw a lazy wave over his shoulder.

"We’ll see~."

He walked out, leaving Genus alone in the silence of the office.

Genus, meanwhile, much like Felix of earlier, stared at the closed door, then down at his shaking hand.

"What in the Hell happened to that boy?"