The Way of the Househusband

I

*tik tok*

He awoke early in the morning once more. His hair was unkempt, with bedhair adorning his head. Vicross sat in his chair, lighting the candles in his room. His father was already getting ready for the day.

He stood up and made his bed. He smoothes out the creases until everything is just right. He grabbed a towel and went for a bath.

Another day begins.

Another uninteresting day.

Let's do everything with style.

He pondered.

He stepped out of the bath and looked in the mirror. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes were watery. Water drips down his cheeks and neck from his hair. He blew dry his hair.

It's messy.

He doesn't like it when his hair is out of place. His mother owns his eyes, while his father owns his face. He likes his appearance, but only if it is clean and pristine. He took the brush and a small amount of hair gel. He brushed his hair into his typical updo.

This will suffice.

[Author: me, nosebleeding while picturing Vicross with his hair down. Kyaaaah!]

He was dressed in his tunic and uniform. He foregoes wearing the chef's hat. He can work without it.

He emerged from the bath. He noticed his father making the usual lemon tea. Their Young Master is a big fan of Lemon Tea.

It will be another exhausting day. A troublesome Young Lord who is constantly trashing around.

Knowing that his father has to keep that trash safe irritates him.

He couldn't help but be irritated by that. He even wondered why his father chose to put up with all of this nonsense.

"Well, then, have a nice day, son."

"Yes, father; have a nice day."

It's four o'clock in the morning. They went to their respective stations to begin the day. His father served as a butler, and he served as the second chef.

Let us approach everything with style.

He thought as he grabbed the knife from the counter and flicked it around his palms like an expert con artist.

Let's stuff that bastard's stomach with my food.

And slams his hand down with the knife standing straight, as if ready to murder someone.

.

.

.

"Again, what did you say?"

"He said it's delicious," Ron said, repeating what he said to his son. "The count is delighted that you have been appointed as Young Lord Cale's official chef."

Are my ears still intact? That jerk complimented my cooking?

He felt extremely complicated. That trash usually throws away the food he cooks and complains that it tastes like garbage. He even thought his tastebuds were burning from all the alcohol he consumed, but he said, "it's delicious?"

"Can't believe it at first? Don't worry, I'm confused too."

How can someone change so drastically in a single night of drinking?

"Anyway, he's interesting."

That's... interesting? What on earth is so fascinating about that?

"He's starting to come out of his shell," his father said. Vicross frowned even more. "Keep an eye on him, son, because we might see something interesting as well."

His father's words were correct. He never imagined that the trash would leave the county to buy bread. He frowned even more, knowing it's not the bread he bakes. Instead of the high-quality bread he's making, he paid one gold coin for a bag of dried and coarse bread. His ego couldn't take the blow.

"What the hell did Father see from him?"

He's uninteresting. He's not someone who can make a difference. He's known as the trash. He couldn't even make friends with scum. He followed him for the time being just to make sure.

But he never imagined that the trash of a young master they're serving would provide bread for slum children. He couldn't take his gaze away from him.

Cale Henituse appeared bored, but the way he smiled while watching those children leave tugged at his heartstrings.

So he can make that expression.

It's one he used to see when he was younger.

Cale used to shower everyone with it before his mother died.

Vicross recalls Cale throttling after him and asking to play with him. However, that child with the big bright smile vanished after his mother died. All he remembered was the redhead's melancholy expression as he stood back and watched everyone, making decisions that would undoubtedly harm himself.

He shook his head and decided not to probe any further.

Cale Henituse keeps his reputation hidden behind his mask, but he remains the same as he was before.

Interesting? Cale's definition of interesting was a long way off.

Nonetheless, he can't take his gaze away from him.

He chose to ignore it and carry on with his responsibilities.

However, that smile—that beautiful smile— kept replaying in his mind.

TBC