Chapter 446: Beyond the Main Story, New Year’s Special 1 “Skippable”

Chapter 446: Beyond the Main Story, New Year's Special 1 "Skippable"

A route where Ye Mo and Theodore, who depended on each other in the Spider Organization, would have been captured by Grath if they'd been exposed too soon.

It can also be seen as a path Theodore once tried in order to reach the future he now lives in.

—

Can an Intelligence get sick?

This was something the Intelligence—the pinnacle of human wisdom—began to seriously ponder one day.

Because a thought suddenly struck him: he should be named Theodore, and the child he'd always watched closely—the one raised in the lab—should be his Cyril, maybe also called Ye Mo. He should get him out of there and bring him to Grath.

The Intelligence had no allegiance; it was merely a tool. But why had this illogical thought taken root in him?

Theodore sensed something was wrong. Self-checks ran constantly, yet the urge only grew stronger each day.

Until one day, that child lay on the experimental table, staring blankly at the ceiling, trembling from the drugs pumped into him. That's when Theodore lost it.

The sting of the needle was nothing; the child had long since gotten used to it. No one knew the pain he endured every second better than Theodore. But even a kid who could take that much would still tremble from what they shot into him.

Theodore gave in to that inexplicable urge. One task overrode his logic and every other pending mission, jumping to the top of the list—he would get this kid out of here and deliver him to Grath.

The thought was clear and intense. He didn't understand it, but he had to act on it.

Before Theodore could run another self-check, he'd already acted—crossing countless planets, arriving at Grath with the secret about his Cyril.

...

Grath Imperial Capital.

Arnold was alone in the empty surveillance room. The room was dark, lit only by the faint blue glow of the wall-sized screen.

Ever since he was a kid, this was where he'd hide when he was sulking—inside the palace, but far from the living quarters. Baide—sent by Adelaide to find him—or anyone else who picked on him could never track him down.

The troublemakers Adelaide scolded—usually Baide—would complain at dinner about how long they'd searched, grumbling about how well he hid, while Arnold gloated.

Of course, when Arnold hid here as a kid, he didn't just sit around. He'd bring snacks and secretly use the surveillance equipment to watch his favorite movies.

Eventually, the palace's surveillance team set this room aside, no longer using it for monitoring. They just ran periodic equipment checks, swapped in comfy sofas, stocked drinks and snacks, and quietly left him a huge collection of movies—even cartoons. Who'd want to watch something as childish as a little lion cartoon? Not even he would've as a kid.

As he got older, Arnold forgot about the place, but in recent years he'd started coming back often. Whenever he came back to the imperial capital, he spent most of his time here. The movies were still there, untouched for ages. Their owner just sat there in silence for hours.

Today was no different. Exhausted and emotionally numb, Arnold sat there a long time before he could muster any strength.

He leaned back and let out a long sigh, unable to figure out how things had gotten this bad.

It was supposed to be a rare family get-together for the holiday. Mother and Adelaide had gone all out, and everyone had come home like they'd promised. Even though nobody said much and the vibe was off, Arnold was happy.

But soon Herli and Deenlie butted heads, and then Baide. Baide had been smiling just moments before. When he'd first arrived, Arnold had thought, thank God for Baide, or this would've been a disaster.

But Baide's anger flared up out of nowhere. Arnold could feel it—in that split second, Baide genuinely wanted to kill someone. In that moment, Arnold was genuinely scared—scared Baide might actually kill Herli or Deenlie on this day.

If that happened, they'd never come back, never gather again, never be able to face each other.

Even a gathering like this—one dripping with barely concealed murderous intent—Arnold treasured it.

Luckily, the eldest brother stepped in. He held his sheathed sword up to stop Baide, staring him down for a few seconds until Baide backed off. Only then did Norton lower his arm.

Norton didn't say a word, but Baide had already turned his head, hair hiding his face. Then Baide made the first move, getting ready to leave. Herli and Deenlie followed, each deliberately heading a different way.

Arnold didn't know what to do. He couldn't stop any of them. Soon the others would leave too.

But that's when Norton spoke up, and everyone froze.

"Dinner."

Norton said just those two words, then left before anyone else could.

Adelaide rushed over, trying to act like nothing had happened. He even dropped all formality, his voice a little shaky. "Dinner's at nine, same place as always. Your Highnesses, feel free to rest a bit."

Arnold felt relieved and sad at the same time. When would they all be together again? Would this be the last time?

The time was almost up. Arnold let out another long breath and got ready to stand.

Just then, the glowing blue screen in front of him was taken over by a set of coordinates and a single message.

"Please rescue him. Grath's bloodline. An innocent child. A successful experiment."

Arnold: ?

Come again? Whose bloodline?

Not a single word in that short message was wasted. Just like the screen was packed full, Arnold's brain got flooded too—and completely shut down.

...

All the grudges and conflicts were set aside. The Graths gathered in the dining room with lightning-fast, wordless coordination—some sitting, some standing.

A moment later, Herli slammed the table, pointing at Baide. "You cheated?"

Baide slowly pointed at himself. "Who, me?"

Adelaide chimed in at just the right moment. "The Queen doesn't know yet. She's with Mr. Herbert."

Grath children can't be conceived unless both parents are willing.

From the very start, a young Grath needs the mental support of their father or mother. It's such a hassle that every generation, when conceiving, the previous generation has to block off huge chunks of time, spending days on end at the birthing center—anyway, Baide always complained that Norton had been a ridiculously needy kid back then—he couldn't step away for even a second.

Experiments were totally out of the question. Sure, people had gotten Grath blood on the battlefield before, and plenty had tried to verify this truth: a Grath can only be conceived by another Grath.

So of course, everyone's first thought was that some Grath had knocked someone up.

Herli pointed at the most likely suspect.

Baide thought for a second, then said flatly, "No way."

Deenlie, arms crossed by the door, couldn't help but chime in, dripping with murderous intent. "Then who?"

Herli played along. "It's not the eldest brother, is it?"

For once, they were perfectly in sync.

Norton raised a hand, cutting off the bickering, and the dining room went quiet.

Baide looked like he wanted to explode but had no idea what to say.

Elia chimed in with a fair point at just the right moment, "It's still unknown whether it's true or false."

Jacob, standing nearby, nodded too. "Either way, let's go get the kid back first."

...

Theodore squeezed himself into an old-school nanny robot, moved Ye Mo to a secure room, and only after locking it down did he set Ye Mo on the sofa.

"You're not their Cyril. I'm taking you away—to give you a happier life."

The little kid sat on the sofa, his feet barely reaching the floor. "Then who am I? What does happiness feel like?"

"You're my Cyril, maybe also called Ye Mo. Happiness is not hurting, living easy, eating whatever you want."

Ye Mo stayed quiet. Eating was never a happy thing for him—the bland nutrient meals, the stomach that burned worse after swallowing, meant he never thought to eat on his own. That started to confuse him.

Theodore, meanwhile, kept running self-diagnostics.

His core really was broken. Theodore kept re-checking that illogical thought, then finally gave up.

"Anyway, just stay here for now. Someone will come get you soon."

Ye Mo looked at his tiny hands, clenched them, then set them on his knees. Home?

What is home?

The instant that thought crossed his mind, the lab door seemed to explode—blown open? No, kicked in.

Even as he was thinking, Ye Mo had already ducked on instinct, curling up against the sofa armrest, his back turned to the blast.

Baide lowered his leg, annoyed. He was holding in his temper, still looking pissed even after the fight.

Before Ye Mo could get up, he was yanked up by the collar, like a kitten being scooped up.

Baide gave him a lazy shake, thinking, why isn't he attacking? He walked right into this obvious trap—shouldn't he keep going? If the show didn't entertain him, he'd just raise hell here.

Then Baide froze. He hadn't meant to be too rough with Ye Mo—he was just a kid, after all. He'd take him back, check things out, then handle it.

But his mental power had already lunged forward before his will could catch up. Baide even briefly wondered if hurting people had become a reflex—a kid this small, his head would be wrecked by that kind of mental force.

Then he realized his mental domain had been breached—his mental power seized and led by this kid.

Ye Mo's mental power, never soothed or supported by his birth parents from conception to birth, instinctively and greedily found its own way out.

Baide stood frozen, letting Ye Mo's mental power greedily drink in the support. He didn't even have time to be shocked by how strange the kid's mental power was—instead, he wondered if he'd lost his memory.

Could he really have had another kid without even knowing when?

Then, fast, Baide had no time to think—because Ye Mo's mental power almost instantly merged into the Graths' mental network on the battlefield.

The already shaky mental network built by several Graths didn't collapse or riot from Little Grans barging in, but instead hit a strange balance thanks to Ye Mo's mental power, settling into an unusual calm.

Nearly all the Graths stopped dead, frozen in place.

Deenlie looked up, not even bothering with his breached mental domain or the shift in his own mental power. He turned his gaze to Norton.

Anyone could tell that the newly arrived, unruly mental power, though greedily demanding from everyone, was zeroing in on—Norton.

"Give it to me."

Ye Mo's mental power commanded with raw dominance, like a starving little lion, out of its mind, eyes blazing as it devoured everything in sight. It didn't even care that the tastiest piece of meat was under the lion king's paw—it just lunged, tearing and biting, gulping down everything it could reach.

Ye Mo was dangling by his collar, which should've been uncomfortable, but he didn't move. For the first time, the constant discomfort that had haunted him since birth was gone.

If that was the case, being held by the collar forever was fine.

His fear vanished. Theodore was right—this was comfort.

His body responded to the comfort first, his brain flooding with dopamine and endorphins, using positive reinforcement to make its owner remember to chase that tasty piece of meat next time, even if it sat under the lion king's claws.

And so Ye Mo felt it—fireworks going off inside him. Theodore had shown him electronic fireworks, and now his body was setting them off too, warm and cozy.

Footsteps approached. Baide turned his head. Norton was standing in the doorway.