As surprise and confusion washed over him, Leon quickly pulled himself together. He shot a sharp glare at the older man, his expression a mix of caution, suspicion, and wariness. Breaking free from the man's grip, Leon stumbled backward, his small frame unsteady as his eyes darted between the strangers in front of him.
"L-Liz?!" the older man stammered, his voice filled with disbelief. The woman beside him stepped forward cautiously, as if to approach Leon, but froze under the cold, piercing glare he directed at her.
Something warm trickled down his forehead, slipping past his cheek. Carefully, Leon raised his hand—now oddly small and unfamiliar—to his face. He touched the liquid and stared at his fingers, now stained with dark red. Blood. He snapped his gaze back to the group, then to the little girl standing beside them. The older couple simply watched him, their faces painted with worry, as they held the girl close.
Who the hell are these people?
Leon furrowed his brows, instinctively taking a cautious step back. He knew when to retreat, especially in a situation where he was outnumbered and overpowered.
The older man, who had held him earlier, frowned but kept his composure. Rising to his feet, the man took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes fixed on Leon.
"Liz, calm down. You're bleeding," the man said, his voice steady but tinged with concern.
Leon arched a brow at his words. There it was again—Liz. Why were they calling him that? His confusion deepened as more questions flooded his mind. Why was his body so small? Why did these people act like they knew him? And why did this situation feel so wrong, like it belonged to someone else's life?
Clenching his jaw, Leon turned his cold, hardened gaze toward the older man. His voice, steady yet sharp, cut through the tense air.
"Who are you? Why do you keep calling me Liz?" he demanded, taking small, deliberate steps backward as he sized up the group before him.
Before the older man could respond, the sound of the little girl crying caught Leon's attention.
"Lizzy, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to get you hurt!" she wailed, her voice cracking with guilt and desperation as the couple beside her tried to calm her down.
Leon blinked, his confusion deepening. Lizzy? Is that supposed to be a nickname for this Liz person? he wondered, his thoughts racing. But he didn't have much time to dwell on it.
The older man seized the moment while Leon was distracted and lunged forward. Leon caught the movement in his peripheral vision, but it was too late to react. He felt the man's arms wrap tightly around him, holding him firmly.
"Ghh..." Leon grunted in frustration, flailing and struggling to break free. His body felt pathetically weak, and he was shocked by the sheer size difference between himself and the man now holding him in place.
This bastard! Leon thought angrily, gritting his teeth as he squirmed against the iron grip. He tried to kick the man to force him to loosen his hold, but his attempts were ineffective. The man's grip was strong yet careful, as if trying not to hurt him.
Suddenly, the woman behind the man stepped forward, her voice cutting through the commotion.
"Liz! Stop being so stubborn and listen to your father!" she snapped, her arms crossed, her tone firm and commanding.
Leon froze mid-struggle, her words echoing in his head. Father?
"...Father?" he repeated softly, his voice laced with disbelief. He stared at the woman, confusion written all over his face.
"Yes, your father!" she confirmed, a hint of exasperation in her tone as she looked at him like he was being unreasonable.
Leon's mind reeled. None of this made sense. Who were these people? Why were they calling him Liz, acting as if they knew him? And more importantly, why did they think this man was his father?
Leon kept his glare fixed on them, his mind swirling with confusion and disbelief. After a few moments, he let out a sharp breath and slumped slightly in the older man's arms, though his body remained stiff and unyielding. There wasn't much else he could do in this situation, but his cold, piercing gaze didn't waver.
Noticing Leon's reluctant surrender, the older man sighed in relief and turned to the woman behind him with a small, tired smile. "Thank you, Liebe," he said softly.
Leon clicked his tongue at the term of endearment. Sap, he thought, though he couldn't ignore the irony—he'd been just as sentimental before everything had spiraled into this bizarre situation.
The older man turned his attention back to Leon, his expression shifting to one of concern. Gently, he brushed Leon's hair aside, revealing a deep, jagged wound on his forehead. The man winced at the sight, his brows furrowing as worry etched itself across his face.
"It's bad," he muttered under his breath. The woman stepped closer, her earlier frustration melting away as she caught sight of the injury. Her face softened, and she reached out to cup Leon's cheek with a gentle hand.
"Darling, what happened?" she asked, her voice low and filled with worry.
Leon tensed at her touch, his body stiffening instinctively, but the woman didn't seem to notice. The other couple moved closer as well, their eyes scanning him with equal concern.
The little girl, still sniffling and red-eyed, hesitated before stepping forward. She clutched at Leon's shirt with trembling hands, her small fingers tightening around the fabric as tears continued to stream down her face.
"Lizzy… please forgive me," she hiccupped, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean to get you hurt…"
Leon stared at her in silence, unsure of how to respond. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, leaving him frozen in place. He had braced himself for oblivion, for the eternal flames of damnation. But this? This was something he hadn't prepared for.