Morning arrived with the bright warmth of the sun pouring through the tall windows of the mansion. Light spilled across Vladislav's room, brushing the marble floor and creeping over the bed where its young occupant still lay.
Vladislav was sprawled in a horrendous sleeping position. One leg dangled off the side of the bed while the other rested on the far edge of the mattress. His arms were flung wide as though he had collapsed after wrestling invisible monsters all night. His hair stuck out wildly in every direction, making him look less like a noble heir and more like a ragged beggar child.
KNOCK~ KNOCK~
Someone Knocked on the door.
"Young master, I'm coming in," a voice announced politely before the handle turned.
Laura stepped inside, carrying her usual morning composure. The sight before her, however, shattered her seriousness in an instant. Vladislav, in all his dishevelled glory, was snoring faintly, still tangled in his sheets.
She giggled quietly. He must be truly exhausted not to have heard the knock.
As she approached the bed, he shifted, rolling onto his stomach. His bare back came into view, pale under the sunlight. Laura blinked, her eyes narrowing.
There's no tattoo… she thought. Maybe I was just imagining it that time, like he said.
Her suspicion faded as she leaned closer. Vladislav's face looked peaceful in sleep, so childlike that she couldn't resist. With a mischievous grin, she gently pinched his cheek.
"Hehe… if I ever had a younger brother, it would be you," she whispered, tugging at his skin.
Vladislav stirred, groaning faintly.
"Damned… mosquito," he mumbled in his sleep.
Before Laura could move to the other cheek—
SLAP!
His hand swung out and struck her face squarely.
Laura froze, stunned. Her head turned sharply from the blow, her cheek stinging.
Did he just… slap me?
The imprint wasn't visible, but the sting was real enough.
"This bastard—!" she hissed, fury blazing. She raised her hand, ready to return the favor.
Poor Vladislav. Still blissfully asleep, unaware of the doom about to befall him.
Moments later, a thunderous SMACK echoed through the mansion, followed by the anguished scream of a boy in pain.
*******
An hour later, two figures walked down the corridors together. One pouted with her arms crossed, while the other trailed beside her with a guilty expression.
"I'm sorry, Laura, you know I didn't mean to do that," Vladislav said, rubbing his cheek, which was still red from the retaliation slap.
"Hmph." Laura turned her face away, ignoring him.
Vladislav rolled his eyes. "How many times do you want me to apologise?"
"One thousand times," she shot back immediately.
"What?! I already said sorry two hundred times!"
"Not enough," she declared with finality, crossing her arms tighter.
Clicking his tongue, Vladislav muttered under his breath.
Laura stopped walking suddenly, turned to him, and said with a sly look, "Call me big sis and I'll forgive you."
Vladislav blinked. "Are you mad?"
"Nope. It's simple. Call me big sis and everything's forgiven."
He groaned internally. First it was Asa demanding I call her big sis, and now Laura. What's wrong with these girls?
"I'm not doing that," he said firmly. "And you're the one who poked my face while I was sleeping, so really—you deserved it."
"Oh? So you think women deserve to be slapped in the face?"
"Don't twist my words!" he barked, pointing to his cheek. The imprint of her hand was still faintly visible on his pale skin. "You already slapped me back. That makes us even. And besides, I didn't even hit you that hard—you slapped me like you were trying to kill me!" He winced as he touched the sore spot.
"Hmph. You deserved it, but fine—I'll let it slide this time," she said, turning away dramatically.
Before Vladislav could retort, footsteps echoed behind them.
"Yo, Vlad," a familiar voice called. "Already arguing with Laura so early in the morning?"
It was Athelstan. And beside him stood someone who looked almost identical to Laura.
Dirty-blonde hair tied in a neat ponytail, bright golden eyes, the same delicate features—yet one detail distinguished her. A tiny mole under her left eye. That, and her expression: aloof, detached, as though the world itself barely interested her.
If Laura radiated liveliness, Clara radiated quiet indifference.
"Good morning, young master Vladislav," Clara said flatly, bowing with perfect form.
Vladislav sighed. "Good morning, Clara. How many times must I tell you? You don't need to bow when greeting me."
She only looked at him blankly. As always, his words seemed to pass through her like mist.
Turning his gaze toward Laura, Vladislav smirked.
Laura flinched, sweat beading on her forehead. She knew that smile—it meant trouble. Clara was the stricter twin, and Laura often dreaded her sister's "discipline."
"She slapped me while I was fast asleep," Vladislav said with mock sorrow. "Can you imagine? Hitting a six-year-old in his sleep." He even faked a tear.
"That's because he deserved it!" Laura protested.
"Even if I did, just look at the mark." Vladislav tilted his face to show the lingering redness. "She nearly killed me with that slap."
Athelstan laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. "Pfft—oh man, that must've hurt!"
He clapped Laura on the shoulder. "You should slap him more often. Especially when he oversleeps. Best way to start his morning!"
"H-hey!" Vladislav growled.
Clara, however, stepped closer. Her cool fingers brushed against his cheek as she examined the mark.
"I apologize, young master," she said evenly. "I shall discipline her properly. It seems she has forgotten her manners."
Laura paled instantly. The word "discipline" from Clara's lips sent shivers down her spine.
"Don't be too hard on her," Vladislav said with false sympathy, though inside he was laughing. Sorry, Laura.
"I won't," Clara replied, turning to her twin. "Laura. Come here."
"W-why should I?" Laura stammered, stepping back.
"Will you force me to come fetch you?" Clara asked, her tone icy.
Laura shivered. Knowing the punishment would only worsen, she reluctantly walked forward.
When she came within reach, Clara pinched her ears sharply. "You're getting cheeky with the young master."
"Ow, ow! I'm sorry!" Laura squealed.
Athelstan and Vladislav roared with laughter.
"Young masters, you may go ahead to breakfast," Clara said calmly while tugging Laura's ear harder.
"W-wait! Young master Vladislav, don't leave me alone with this doll—ow!"
Clara twisted both ears now.
"Bye, Laura! Enjoy your talking session," Vladislav called over his shoulder as he and Athelstan walked off.
"You're so mean, young master!" Laura cried before her words dissolved into more yelps of pain.
The sound of her fading protests echoed down the hall.
"You really got her good," Athelstan chuckled once Laura's screams faded.
"Yeah, Clara is always the best card to deal with Laura," Vladislav said, grinning.
Athelstan smirked. "So… what did you do to earn that slap? Because judging from the mark, she didn't hold back."
Vladislav scratched his neck nervously. "I… might've slapped her by mistake."
Athelstan blinked. "…Yeah, no. You totally deserved it."
"Hear me out!" Vladislav insisted. "I was sleeping, and she was poking my cheeks. I thought it was a mosquito, so I slapped the air and hit her instead."
Athelstan clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "Beating girls in their sleep, huh? I'm disappointed in you, Vlad."
"Hey!" Vladislav shouted, glaring. "You fucker, don't call me that! It was an accident!"
"Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night," Athelstan grinned.
"This bastard—" Vladislav lunged to smack him, but Athelstan darted away, laughing.
Blue lightning crackled around Vladislav.
With a sharp step, he blurred forward. "Don't let me catch you, At!"
Athelstan glanced back, eyes widening as Vladislav closed the distance. Purple lightning crackled over his own body, and he surged faster.
"Shit!"
SWOOSH! SWOOSH!
Blue and purple streaks zipped through the corridors, startling servants who barely leapt aside in time. Curtains fluttered in their wake.
As they neared a corner, Vladislav noticed the heavy shadow cast there. His smirk returned. He thrust out his hand.
"Darkness Chains."
From the shadow, two pairs of inky-black chains lashed out, racing toward Athelstan.
But just as they were about to ensnare him—
"Time Freeze," Athelstan muttered.
The chains froze midair, suspended like puppets in halted motion.
Vladislav's eyes widened. "What the—"
Athelstan dashed past. In truth, he hadn't stopped time entirely—he wasn't nearly strong enough for that—but he had slowed it around the chains, buying himself precious seconds to dodge.
The moment he cleared the area, the chains snapped back to full speed, grasping at empty air.
Vladislav chuckled, impressed. "This brat…"
He accelerated again, lightning flashing under his feet.
Athelstan ran for his life, relief blooming as the dining room doors came into sight. Almost there!
But just before he could grab the handle, a calm yet commanding presence made them both halt instantly.
Standing at the entrance was Atlas.
The butler was tall, composed, and imposing despite his serene expression. His neatly combed grey hair was natural, not aged, and his pristine black suit radiated dignity. With hands clasped behind his back, he addressed them.
"Good morning, young masters."
"Good morning, Sir Atlas," they both replied sheepishly.
"I know youth is filled with energy," Atlas said mildly. "But that is no excuse to turn the corridors into race tracks, is it?"
Both boys bowed their heads. "Yes, we apologise, Sir Atlas."
Atlas's sternness melted into a small smile. He patted both their heads gently with his gloved hands.
"Good. Now go join your mother and cousins for breakfast."
The brothers exchanged a glance, sighed in relief, and pushed open the dining room doors.