Book 7, Chapter 7, Episode 105
There's 20 seconds left before Ortho's time limit. He's not going to make it! But mama and papa Shroud haven't given up; they're deploying everything in their arsenal in order to retrieve Ortho at all costs. The scientists are panicking and are advising that their system will burn down if they crank it up further, but papa Shroud shouts that he doesn't give a damn. Do it! Whether it be 10 seconds, even 3 seconds-- it's enough. They just need to distract Malleus so he'd turn his attention to his domain itself rather than Ortho.
Papa Shroud: "Aim at the magic domain! ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK!!"
The earthquake was STYX assaulting Malleus' barrier! Now's Ortho's chance!
Ortho: "Magic thruster, full burst!"
Malleus: "... Wha--?!"
Go Ortho, go! Now papa Shroud orders to cease fire and focus on defense instead. Get ready for Malleus' counterattack!
... But...
"... ORTHO has reached its activity limit. System down. Unable to establish signal!"
Mom and dad are in disbelief. But then they get a call from one of their deployed teams. They've retrieved Ortho at sea! They discover that his body was destroyed, but his core is unharmed. He's also managed to bring all the anchors with him.
Mama and papa shroud collapse in relief. Omfg, they're so lovely...
Mama Shroud: "Really... Even if I were to have multiple hearts, they will never be enough..."
Papa Shroud: "What a coincidence, mama... I think the same..."
"... Tch. Clever little humans."
"No matter. How ever many times they turn up, uninvited guests will always be turned away."
"Again and again, no matter how many times..."
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Young!Samuel Seo with Young!Reader: Baby
G/N. Your family owning a convenience store AU: Leave Him Be | Dinner Guest | Doctors and Patients
Samuel is pissing you off.
You could have sworn he was shorter than you.
Or at least he was when you first met. You could have had a fun few months goading him for his height if you knew this was going to happen.
You glare at how much taller he is.
He smirks and calls you a shortass when you point it out. Then you stamp your feet, telling him it's unfair and he calls you a baby when you pout.
You're growing. By the day, your mother would complain, tutting when you need new trousers again. But Samuel is growing faster.
For a brief moment in time, you were the same height. Maybe it was just for a day you were at eye level. Then he started to tower over you.
He's no longer short or scruffy, underfed with unkempt hair and threadbare clothes. That's thanks to your parents, who have graciously taken this kid under their wing.
And as he grows taller, it instilled in him strength, and his fear of home and of his mother recedes.
He stays at yours later and later. Hanging out in the aisles turns to staying for dinner turns to sleepovers in your cramped living room above the store.
Lying side by side with pillows and duvets pulled from your bed and spares from the closet. Nights filled with conversations that lead to everywhere and nowhere. Playing on your game console, both fighting over who gets the better controller instead of the one with the sticky buttons and dodgy joystick. Watching TV and movies, full of violence and other content that you're both too young for.
When Samuel is around, your parents are lax. You both get spoiled more than ever.
When he leaves, checking in on his own home occasionally, it makes you want to cry. You bite your wobbly bottom lip as he calls you a baby again, then placates and tells you he'll be back tomorrow with a roll of the eyes and a huff of amusement.
You can't remember the time before Samuel was in your life, although it's only been a few short seasons, and you are starting to piece together the origins of his bruises and scars. Appearing less frequently now, but still appearing nevertheless.
Sometimes you worry about him never coming back.
.
.
"My dad is a gangster," Samuel wants to comment one night when you're lying together, in matching pyjama sets, watching some gangster on TV do something awful to the rival gang.
He doesn't though. He can't bring himself to say it.
It's something he now sprinkles into conversation with pride, demanding respect and reverence from his seniors and juniors and everything in between.
Yet he has never mentioned any of his home life to you, his lineage, and you never asked. You never treated him any different.
You're pure, innocent. A small piece of his life untainted.
He supposes he never needed to demand respect from you, even since the beginning. You already look at him with reverence, like he holds all the answers in the world.
Most of all though, Samuel doesn't want to demand anything more from you than you're willing to give. And you have already given him so much.
He watches you squeak at the screen and shield your eyes with a pillow. You never had a stomach for violence but like to pretend you're much braver than you are.
"Sammy!" you squeal at a particularly gory part, the camera panning over to a severed horse head. You shuffle onto his side of the makeshift floor bed and cling to his arm.
Normally, Samuel would wonder if his dad has ever done that. Ruthless and brutal, sending a message, a warning to his rival. Wonder how Gapryong became King, and how he himself can follow in those footsteps.
But with you, he doesn't wonder that at all.
He doesn't think about the past or the future, just the here and now.
Samuel calls you a baby. Laughs, mean and taunting, at how squeamish you are. He inches closer anyway, making it easier for you to tuck yourself into his shoulder.
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