That night, the Virellano family dining room was filled with the delicious aroma of food from the ever-busy kitchen.
The crystal chandelier bathed the room in warm light, reflecting off the long dining table draped in white silk and gold embroidery—trying, perhaps, to mask the tension that had just unfolded.
Al stepped in and instantly felt the stares, especially when the servant gestured for him to sit at the far end of the table—still at the same table, yet clearly apart from the rest of the family.
Despite there being plenty of empty seats in better spots, it felt like he had been deliberately set aside.
David sat there with a faint smile, arms crossed. Sarah twirled her spoon, a dissatisfied look on her face.
Sandra sat near her husband, unsure, her gaze on Al a mixture of maternal concern and quiet guilt.
Even if a large part of her hadn't accepted Al yet, her motherly instincts made her worry for the child she'd finally found.
Al felt uneasy with how his chair was positioned. He spoke up.
"I'm sitting here?" Al asked, his tone casually laced with irony. "Isn't this a bit..."
Edward stared at him for a moment.
"It's not like that, Al. I just wanted to see you more clearly. If you sit beside me, I'd have to keep turning my head," Edward replied calmly.
"But if you're uncomfortable, feel free to choose where you want to sit. Beside David, or Sarah?" he asked.
Al took a look around. Edward sat alone in the middle; to his left were Sandra and David, while to his right sat Aurielle and Sarah.
He then gave a small nod.
"I don't really want to make a fuss over something this trivial." He began.
"It's just that… seeing my chair placed a bit farther apart feels odd. But after your explanation, I guess it makes sense. Besides, there's no way I can sit next to those two right now," he said, referring to David and Sarah.
"One of them hates me. And the other? His lackeys are the ones who hate me," he added.
"...If I sit next to him, who knows what stupid idea those lackeys might come up with next. So yeah… sorry."
Sarah was slightly offended, but she chose to ignore it. David, on the other hand, could only turn his head and let out a quiet sigh.
Al ultimately decided not to dwell on the matter. Still, what he did next was enough to get on everyone's nerves.
He dragged a chair from the far end and set it straight across from Edward, forcing the two of them to face each other—rather than taking a seat on the sidelines like the rest of the family.
"How dare you sit there!" Sarah snapped.
"Al. I don't think you should be sitting there…" David said next, his voice calm, though there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"Al! Do you even know what you're doing?" Aurielle added sharply. Even she herself had never dared to sit there—and yet Al just did it without hesitation.
Edward frowned, his gaze sharpening.
"Don't you understand things like this?" Edward asked coldly.
All eyes turned to Al, making him feel slightly tense. Still, he remained seated comfortably and nodded.
"It's kind of dining etiquette among nobles, right?" he replied. "The person who sits in this position is usually someone important, or someone with a certain status."
"You know that, and you still did it?" Sarah said in disbelief. "Don't tell me you think you're important?"
"Not really," Al replied calmly. "I just have a few reasons. At least three."
"More reasons?" Sarah shot back. "You really have a lot of excuses."
"There's nothing wrong with having reasons," Al said. "What's wrong is having bad ones."
"Tch…" Sarah clicked her tongue, not knowing how to respond. "So what exactly is your point? There's no reason that justifies sitting there. Don't think you're on the same level as Father."
Al could only sigh before explaining.
"I have three reasons," he said.
He raised one finger.
"First, Father said he wanted to see me more clearly. This seat should be the best position for that."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, I also want to see all of you more clearly. This spot makes it easier."
He paused for a moment, then lifted his third finger.
"And third, today is supposed to be a special day for me—my first day returning to this family. Taking a special seat feels reasonable for a special day, doesn't it?"
With that, he closed his hand and rested it against the floor.
"So I think there's no problem with me sitting here. Right?"
Having said that, he simply handed the trivial matter back to them—leaving it up to everyone else to decide whether it was reasonable or not.
Hearing that explanation, Edward stared at Al for a long moment.
The room sank into silence. No one dared to speak first.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
"Huff… fine. Just this once, it's not a problem. Just sit there," Edward finally said.
His voice was flat, almost emotionless, as if the matter wasn't worth further debate.
Sarah opened her mouth, clearly about to protest. "Dad—"
Edward raised one hand.
A single, simple gesture. That was enough.
Sarah fell silent at once, her teeth clenched. Dissatisfaction was written all over her face, but she didn't dare continue.
Aurielle stiffened slightly. She clearly disagreed, yet her gaze could only drift away.
If Edward himself didn't see an issue, then there was no room for anyone else to oppose it.
David glanced at Al, his expression complicated. There was confusion, a hint of tension—and somehow, a trace of understanding.
Yet the same conclusion settled in the minds of the three of them: Al's presence was anything but simple.
It felt as though he was trying to show that he intended to step into the competition for power as the future patriarch—or perhaps even declaring that he already stood above them.
Al remained seated where he was, leaning back casually, his expression calm, as if a small storm hadn't just swept through the room.
As for Al himself, such things were trivial. He wasn't thinking about power at all. He simply refused to accept 'special treatment' when that special treatment came with negative implications.
Edward leaned back in his chair.
"Al's reasons…" he said coldly, "…are acceptable—for now."
His gaze locked onto Al.
"But remember," he continued, his voice low and firm, "that position is more than just a seat."
The air grew heavier.
Al nodded lightly, not feeling pressured in the slightest, yet still showing his normal side. "I understand."
No one spoke after that.
Though reluctance was still clearly visible on some faces, one thing was certain—
As long as Edward didn't take issue with it, no one at that table had the right to do so.
Sarah, who could only swallow her frustration, muttered a sharp remark.
"Instead of trying to understand your position in this family, you're acting arrogant," she sneered.
"You should be grateful we're even letting you sit here. Normally, we wouldn't share a table with someone like you."
Al glanced at her and shook his head.
"Really?" he said calmly. "From what I see, my arrogance is still nowhere near yours."
He let out a light sigh.
"But at least I understand one thing," he added. "The public image of a famous artist is very different from who they really are."
That was the last straw.
Sarah shot up from her seat, slamming her hand onto the table.
Being criticized as an older sister was one thing—she could still tolerate that. But being judged as an artist? That was her world, and she wouldn't accept it.
"What did you just say?!" she barked.
Al wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He simply lifted his spoon and gave it a lazy wave.
"Hey now," he said casually, "how can you be the one getting angry when you're the one doing the mocking, and I'm the one being mocked?"
Sarah's fury flared even hotter.
"How dare you—!"
"Sarah. That's enough." Edward's voice cut through the air like a blade.
Sarah froze, then turned to Edward, and finally to Al.
She knew she couldn't push it any further. Still, she sat down with visible annoyance, her eyes locked on Al like daggers.
Al met her gaze.
They stared at each other, one filled with contempt, the other with scorn.
Sparks flew between them.