How to Redeem a Trashy Side Villain

Chapter 139: Emotional State of the Family

[Cyro]

Was I angry at the bastard who is helping out the demons, or am I angry at myself?

Both, but most likely, the latter was more.

Some people take their anger out by venting. Some people take their anger out by crying tears and screaming until their throat burns.

How do I take out my anger?

None other than taking a visit over to the abandoned lands.

Despite how vast the lands were, at the moment, it never felt so small before.

No matter how many monsters I cut down, no matter how many carcasses I left behind to either rot or be eaten by other monsters, it felt like it was never enough.

Another beast lunged at me from behind this broken pillar that might've once belonged to a beautiful building. Without even fully turning toward it, my weapon moved on its own and by the time its body hit the ground, it had split into two separate pieces.

Already moving forward to the next victim, I was scanning my surroundings with my mana to find the next foolish thing that dared to cross my path.

This wasn't healthy. I know. I understand. But who in the world would give a darn about health when their little brother was kidnapped before their very own eyes?

If anything, I was swinging harder despite understanding that this wasn't healthy.

By the time the sky above me darkened, the wind began to carry a night chill across the open plains and far scarier creatures were about to show themselves. I would've stayed back and entertained them but Mother had informed me that I needed to be home before it was too late at night.

She had one son to worry about. She didn't want to have to worry about two.

Turning back toward the estate, I sighed as I approached the gate.

The guards stationed there saluted me as I passed through. I could see their eyes flickering briefly to the multicolored stains that covered my sleeves, but they looked away immediately out of fear and respect.

Sometimes I would feel that our home was too big. And now… why does it feel even larger?

Not just larger but also empty despite all the workers that occupied the space.

Stepping inside, I took off my shoe and was about to head to the showers to clean up when I saw, in the corner of my eyes, Mother in the living room with Rubi.

She was smiling and was reading some sort of story from a picture book. Rubi didn't look interested as she usually was. A part of her was still listening but I could see that another part of her had her attention elsewhere.

Her eyes drifted over to where I was standing, and for a second, they lit up before looking disappointed.

Was she hoping to see Bell standing where I am?

"That's enough, Mommy," she said as she hopped off the couch. As she ran towards me, nearly slipping on the floor, she called out to me, "Big brother!"

Throwing her arms around me, I positioned myself so that she would be steady in my grasp. As she pressed her face into my chest, she muttered, "You're late. And… stinky."

"Sorry about that. I was a little busy exercising," I answered as I placed her back down on the ground once she began pulling away due to the smell being too much to handle.

"...When will he be back?" she asked me quietly, as if lowering her voice would make it hard for Mother to hear despite her being a superhuman like me.

I could see Mother's fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress as she stood up.

Rubi wasn't supposed to know that Bell had disappeared. We had even restricted all her access to technology ever since the incident but somehow, she found out.

My guess was that one of the maids or butlers was talking amongst themselves and she had overheard, even though Mother had strictly warned them not to say anything.

"...Will he be coming back?" she changed up her question.

"He will," I responded as I lowered myself to better meet her eyes. "Your older brother is very strong and brave. He'll be back in no time. So you have to make sure you're a good girl so that when he comes back, you can brag about how good you were."

Rubi was smarter than most kids her age even though she sometimes acted the opposite.

She studied my face very carefully, trying to look for any signs that I was lying and simply trying to comfort her.

I must've been convinced by my own words in that moment because whatever it was that she saw on my face, it was enough to satisfy her because she nodded once, then turned around and went back to Mother.

"I made dinner," Mother said gently as she picked up Rubi. "You must be exhausted. Hurry up and wash up."

I nodded and before I left, I finally took a look at Eloise; she was standing near the window, her body partially obscured by the curtains.

Unlike Rubi, her reactions weren't exactly strong and she didn't show concern on her face. Not that she didn't care, but it was more like she was so confident in Bell's return that she didn't bother with showing it.

Perhaps it was because she was an angel, but whenever I looked at her, it lowered my worries by just a little bit. But that only lasted as long as I was actively watching her. As soon as my gaze left her, the worries shot back to where they just were.

Just as I took a step up the staircase, I turned back toward Mother and asked, "Where is Father?"

Her expression faltered for just a brief second before she answered, "He hasn't been home all day. I don't know if he'll make it back for dinner."

Of course he hadn't.

Even though we had a family rule always to eat dinner together whenever we were available, at the moment, I reckoned that Mother probably wouldn't scold him for the lack of appearance during dinners.

The last time I saw him was the same day Bell disappeared.

The memory of that night was still fresh enough that I could practically smell the blood again if I closed my eyes.

.

.

.

"Your father is out in the garden," Mother said as she sucked up the tears from her eyes and picked up the two little girls. She was about to take them both to their bedroom so they could begin to head to sleep.

As I stepped outside, the garden was quiet but I could sense some disturbance in the distance.

Getting deeper into the greenery, I could see a large mana bubble in front of me. I stepped through it and was able to hear the breathing of my father once I was on the other side.

Father was standing in front of the shadows that had been assigned to watch Bell.

They were lined up in a single row, kneeling with their heads lowered.

At first glance, Father looked calm, but I could tell by the way he was breathing that he was most definitely not okay.

His coat was on the floor, tossed behind him. There was a chair beside him and in his hand was this thin knife that I sometimes saw Mother use to cook.

The blade was red even though it was usually silver.

One of the shadows was already bleeding and had these long, shallow cuts that had been carved deep into the flesh of their arms and shoulders.

"I assigned you guys to watch him," Father said in a quiet voice. He didn't shout. He didn't raise his tone. But I could hear the anger that boiled beneath his voice. "I told you when I handed your freedom and life over to my son that all of you were to do whatever it took to die before him. Did I not?"

None of them dared to answer, as answering would only lead to a worse punishment.

"And yet," Father continued as he took a seat on the chair and crossed his legs, leaning his head backwards so that he was staring up at the sky, "my son was dragged into a portal to who-knows-where while all of you are still on this world, present and alive. Isn't that just wonderful?"

After he asked that, a blur appeared in the air and the knife was embedded in one of the shadows' chests. It hit a spot that wasn't fatal and wasn't deep enough to kill the man.

Then, with the flick of an index finger, the knife came back into Father's grasp as if it had a mind of its own.

As blood poured out of that man's chest, he didn't even scream, even though I could see that it hurt.

His body jerked when the knife struck, his shoulders tightening as the blade sank into his chest, but his mouth remained shut.

Even as the blood was turning his suit a different color and was dripping down onto the grass below him, he forced himself to perfectly mirror the others.

Father didn't even bother looking at the man whom he had just stabbed and instead, he began muttering something to himself that even I couldn't hear.

Once he finished, he lowered his head and the gaze in his eyes was so intense that I saw literal chills crawl up the bodies of the shadows as if multiple spiders were climbing up the waterspout.

Standing from his chair, he took a few steps forward, the knife hanging loosely at his side.

He was more than a couple of arm's length away from them. From my perspective, his arm didn't even move. And yet whenever I looked, another cut would open up across the bodies of the shadows.

"Tell me, why do any of you deserve to live? I can just replace you guys with more once my son comes home."

Another gash opened up and blood spewed out.

I stepped forward before he could swing the blade again.

"Father," I called out to him.

He didn't turn around, but the knife did stop moving.

For a moment, the only sound inside the mana bubble was the faint rustling of the leaves above us and the slow and uneven breathing of the wounded shadows who were trying their hardest to be absolutely silent.

"They failed, Cyro," Father said after a few seconds. "Their only purpose in life was to ensure his safety and to listen to every command of his."

"...There was no way that any of them could've stopped it. The portal wouldn't even let others follow after Bell because it would send others flying back."

"...But they were there. They were there and yet—"

"Father, I was there too."

"..."

After what felt like an hour, Father let out this quiet breath through his nose.

"What's the point of having them alive if Bell is over there? They're just useless without their owner. Might as well just replace them with stronger ones once he returns home."

Stepping a little closer, I told him, "Killing them isn't going to bring Bell back any faster."

That sentence made him glance at me over his shoulder. There was something in his eyes I had rarely seen before — not just anger, but something far more dangerous sitting beneath it.

"Bell would hate this," I continued before he could respond. "You know he would."

Father's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer.

"He's too kind for his own good," he muttered.

"That's exactly my point," I said. "You've seen how he treats people. If he came back and learned that you killed the people he was literally tied to by the soul… what do you think he'd say? It might not be the reaction that you'll want to see."

The knife in Father's hand lowered slightly as he imagined Bell's reaction.

"He probably wouldn't get mad at you," I said. "Instead, he would just—"

"Blame himself," Father cut me off to finish my sentence for me.

That idea seemed to reach him as he dropped the knife.

Clatter. Clatter.

"Consider yourself fortunate," he said flatly to the shadows.

"You're fortunate," he said flatly. "You live to see another day."

Then Father flicked his hand forward and the air before him exploded. An invisible force slammed into the row of kneeling figures and sent them all flying backwards at the same time. Their bodies crashed into bushes, trees, and even a stone pillar.

Father turned toward the chair and kicked it slowly and yet, the wood shattered into fragments so thin that they were thinner than toothpicks.

Turning off the bubble, the rest of the night sounds rushed back into my ears.

For a few seconds, neither of us moved.

Then Father began walking back in the direction of the mansion.

When he reached where I was standing, he paused just long enough to place a hand on top of my head and ruffle my hair.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly.

I looked up at him.

…Worry about what?

"It isn't your fault." His hand lingered there for a brief moment before he removed it and continued walking. "Don't beat yourself over it."