In the Nakamura family mansion's dining hall, hundreds of children were scattered throughout the space like ants.

The hall itself was not small or less awe-inspiring—its ceilings soared high enough to make you dizzy if you stared up too long, massive chandeliers shaped like crystals sending bright glittering lights across the room, walls lined with long framed windows and so on.

Some children were moving toward their destinations through the crowd with ease. Others had clustered into small groups, chatting with each other loudly and laughing heartily. Some others also were serving themselves from the elaborate buffet tables that nearly lined one entire wall.

The noise level was considerable, not enough to cause discomfort like the chaotic roar you'd expect from hundreds of young people gathered in one place.

At a more reserved, elevated area of the dining hall at the very front of the room, Nakamura himself and the beloved children were all seated at tables arranged in a perfect semi-circle. The positioning was deliberate, to provide the perfect view in watching the entire activities of the hall.

Nakamura himself sat at the center of the elevated area like a king on his throne, scanning his products with the satisfied air of someone who'd built an empire from nothing.

From his elevated position, he could observe everything he wished—every conversation, every interaction, every child who stuffed food into their pockets for later, every sidelong glance of jealousy or admiration or fear towards the beloved beside him.

Somewhere in the middle of the crowd, moving through the sea of bodies, a voice cut through the noise with the kind of clarity that suggested its owner had spoken deliberately to be overheard by someone in particular.

"I can never get used to this feeling."

The same voice continued, "I thought he was a monster of offspring production with the ladies at all times, constantly busy with creating more of us to add to his collection."

"I can't believe we get such a privilege to have him spare time for us like this. To actually sit here, in the same room, breathing the same air, like we matter enough to deserve his presence."

Such a statement was not something many would dare to say out loud in this place—not because it was insulting, but because it was almost embarrassingly truthful.

Yuki's head sprung sideways with the speed of someone who'd heard a familiar voice in a crowd of strangers. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the source of that voice, and when he found it, his face transformed from alertness to genuine surprise.

His suspicion was right.

"Ken!" Yuki exclaimed, and his eyes brightened almost as if he couldn't believe what they were showing him.

The figure turned at the sound of his name, and a smile spread across his face. "Hello, Yuki."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Ken!" Yuki had to exclaim for the second time, the name bursting from his lips, before his body took over from his brain and he rushed toward his friend. He wrapped his arms around Ken in a bear hug that lifted the other boy slightly off his feet, squeezing with so much force that made it hard for both of them to breathe.

"Where have you been, dammit!" Yuki's voice was muffled slightly by Ken's shoulder, but the emotion behind it came through clearly—the relief.

"I could say the same for you, Yuki," Ken smiled, and there was genuine affection in his expression as he reached up and ruffled Yuki's hair, like some elderly person to a kid.

Yuki expected this treatment though—it wasn't the first time he'd seen Ken acting elderly, pretending the behavior and speech patterns that belonged to adults. In fact, Ken had based his entire personality on trying to act like some wise old man trapped in a young body, ignoring the fact that he was roughly around the same age as Yuki.

Pulling back from the hug, his hands still resting on Ken's shoulders as if he needed the physical contact to confirm this wasn't some kind of hallucination or something of the sort.

Ken's warm smile remained fixed on his face as he continued. "How about that trouble magnet you call a brother? Where's Satoru? I half expected to find him glued to your side as usual, causing a scene and generally making life interesting."

The moment that question reached Yuki's ears, his entire demeanor changed instantly, drastically, as if someone had flipped a switch that controlled his emotional state.

His fists clenched at his sides, while his whole body was trembling—not from cold or fear but from the sheer force he was applying to keep himself still, to prevent himself from doing something violent.

"Helloooooooo!" Ken waved his hands in front of Yuki's face with exaggerated movements. "Are you there? Yuki? Yuki! Did your brain just leave the building without informing the rest of you?"

"I'm not in a daze, you know," Yuki responded through gritted teeth, not even carrying a trace of the enthusiasm he was displaying just seconds ago. "I'm in rage. There's a difference, and it's an important one."

He paused, and Ken could literally see him struggling with whether to continue or to stop.

Finally, the words came out. "Satoru is in his room, playing and laughing with some mere servant."

"What do you think I should do, Ken?" Yuki asked, and there was something almost pleading in his voice beneath the anger. "I don't want Satoru to get punished, but the same doesn't apply to the servant."

Ken stood frozen for several seconds, his mind clearly racing through possibilities and scenarios and potential responses. He made sure to keep a casual facade though, to maintain his personality like he believes an adult would do in a similar situation.

He placed both hands on Yuki's shoulders with firmness, his face devoid of emotion now.

"Go watch his door," Ken spoke with quiet authority, his voice dropping to a volume that wouldn't be overheard by anyone close by other than Yuki. "Make sure to alert me if they ever step out. Don't confront them, don't make a scene, just observe and report. Can you do that for me?"

"I, on the other hand, need to hurry before it is too late," Ken continued, and there was urgency in his voice now, a sense that time was running out.

"What do you plan to d—" Yuki had not quite finished his statement when Ken cut him off mid-word.

"Trust me on this, Yuki," Ken interrupted with an intensity that left no room for argument or discussion. "I know the right thing to do."

***

Meanwhile, back on the elevated platform at the front of the dining hall, Nakamura couldn't wipe the smile off his face as he constantly sipped from the wine in his goblet.

Having the two brothers—specifically Yuki and Satoru—around usually uplifted his mood in ways that even he didn't fully understand or particularly care to examine too closely.

There was something about those two that pleased him, maybe it was because they were both exceptionally talented, or because they reminded him of himself at that age.

Today, however, was different for some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on. There was an edge to his good mood, something that made him feel unrelaxed even though he was constantly grinning.

From the position where he sat, he could literally see the entire hall and every single child present. Don't get it wrong—he didn't have such extraordinarily good perception purely because of natural talent or excellent eyesight, though both of those things were true enough.

His enhanced capabilities came from being a contracted summoner.

Unsurprisingly, his familiar was a red-marked specimen—one of the rarest and most powerful classifications that existed. It made perfect sense when you thought about it logically.

If he wanted to rule over such a large force of summoners and exceptional children, many of whom possessed considerable power themselves, he needed to be strong.

No one would want to work under someone that's weaker than them.

Money alone wouldn't guarantee him the absolute devotion of so many powerful individuals, wouldn't ensure their loyalty when it came down to moments of crisis.

Scanning through the room with his eyes, it didn't take long for him to spot one of the peculiar children he was searching for—Yuki.

"Yuki," he muttered aloud without really intending to, the name escaping his lips, and he didn't realize he'd spoken until he noticed the beloved children seated nearby all turning to glance at him with expressions that tried very hard to look politely curious rather than jealously furious.

The beloved children felt many things when Nakamura spoke the names of other children, especially the names of Yuki and Satoru—his very own favorites.

He seemed to pay those two more attention than he did to them, who weren't some nobodies.

If they had the chance—if they could somehow arrange it without consequences, without Nakamura discovering their involvement—they would eradicate the two brothers from the face of the planet to six feet under.

However, they couldn't dare do so. Not openly, not obviously, not in any way that could be traced back to them. They couldn't dare hurt someone Nakamura liked.

The only way the beloved children might get a genuine opportunity to hurt the two brothers would be if Yuki and Satoru got themselves into huge trouble, if they did something so extremely bad that it warranted punishment.

And that opportunity could present itself pretty soon.

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