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The long and tiring day had sapped Cale Henituse's energy and left him breathless. With each little step he took, the six year old boy finally collapsed onto the bed, as if his body was made of sand and every last ounce of energy had been drained out of him. As his head hit the pillow with a soft tud, he let out a weary sigh.
“Lemon uncley…” he muttered.
A middle-aged butler with brown hair held a tray adorned with warm milk in his hand. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly upon the boy, he then gently chided, “don't call me that, young master. I’ve told you to simply call me Ron.” his voice held a low but firm tone.
Cale’s carnelian eyes flickering for a brief moment, fixed on the ceiling, before he hoisted himself up and sat on the bed, “but it sounds boring.” he replied.
The butler, Ron Molan, pondered over the boy’s words. However, he decided not to comment on it further—instead, he merely stepped closer to the bed and placed the tray onto the bedside drawer.
“It’s time to get ready for bed, young master.”
Cale didn’t pay much attention to what Ron said, but instead, he changed the topic, “when I went to mommy’s workplace, everyone was crowded around me. Cameras flashed everywhere.”
Not the least bit surprised, Ron responded, “it’s no wonder, young master,” he nodded, “you’re the child of a famous supermodel and the heir of the Henituse company. Of course they’re interested in whatever you do.” he explained.
“Not only that, they were more interested in interviewing me about my looks, not about the Henituse’s wealth!”
Ron lifted his eyebrows, “and of course the young master has inherited the family’s outstanding good looks.”
Cale’s cheeks flushed red and a proud smile played on his face as he sat up straight.
“They said I looked like an angel!” he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, “when I answered their questions about me, they all seemed stunned and stared at me with a stupid expression. Like this.” Cale imitated the dumbfounded expression exaggeratedly.
Ron’s lips curled into a slight smile, which he quickly suppressed, “maybe they were surprised by your excellent public speaking skill.”
“Or maybe it’s because I’m so beautiful.” Cale responded confidently.
“That’s quite likely.” Ron answered.
Cale immediately stood up on the bed with a casual stride, crossing his arms and letting his face fill with a smug expression, “I was feeling pretty exhausted earlier,” he declared, “but now I feel too beautiful to sleep.”
“You’re becoming quite narcissistic, young master,” Ron said with a soft sigh, “hurry up and go to bed before you transform into a narcissistic god and start floating to the sky.”
“You didn’t say I was ugly, did you?” Cale shot back, lips pursed into a slight pout, to which Ron responded with a shake of his head.
“That would be the biggest lie that ever left my mouth.”
Cale chuckled before leaping off the bed, “I guess this world is unlucky, lemon uncley,” he picked up the glass of milk and downing his drink in one go, “they have to witness my beauty every day and suffer from feelings of jealousy.”
A soft chuckle escaped Ron’s lips. It was rare for him to let his laughter be heard.
Cale’s attention quickly shifted towards him, his eyes widening, “so you can laugh!”
“I’m human, too, young master.” Ron responded while gently patting Cale's back with a soft gesture.
With tender and precise movements, he gently led Cale to the bathroom for toothbrushing, the small footsteps walking alongside him, filling the silence between them with a sense of comfort.
Once in the bathroom, Ron placed a small chair in front of the sink that was out of reach of Cale’s small body. Cale climbed onto the chair happily then promptly brushed his baby teeth, as if that activity had become a pre-dream routine.
Ron stood behind him, observing Cale through the mirror. The boy rinsed his mouth diligently. Cale’s red hair was a bit messy, and his cheeks were starting to turn a faint shade of red, probably from the warm water.
Then, Cale patted his cheeks gently, looking at his own reflection with an almost serious expression. He looked away and turned to face Ron, asking curiously, “Lemon uncley, do you think I’m prettier than the Crossman family’s son?” his tone was casual, as if the question were just a passing thought and not of any real importance.
Ron couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, “you mean that blond boy you called ‘scammy’?”
“Yeah, him!” Cale replied, his voice tinged with annoyance, “he told me I need to diet because I have too much fat in my cheeks!” he protested, his hands rubbing his round cheeks in front of the mirror.
“He doesn’t even realize that his own appearance is terrible, with his piss-blond hair!” Cale continued, his tone explosive.
“Where did you learn a word like that, young master?” Ron asked, sweatdropped, confusion and amusement mixed together, “I thought you two were close, you and young master Alberu?”
Cale snorted, “well, his cookies are delicious, I’ll admit that—but I haaaaate his glib tongue!”
The older man standing next to Cale couldn't help but chuckle, “well, I think you’re far more charming than he is, young master.”
Cale turned to Ron with shining eyes, his face pushed forward as he exclaimed, “I know you’re on my side!”
“Settle down, young master,” Ron replied flatly, his expression barely concealing his amused smile, “and move your face away from my nose, it’s too close.”
Cale chuckled softly, his hands instinctively covering his mouth in his usual manner when he was feeling particularly joyful. He then raised his hands, signaling silently to Ron to carry him.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Ron stooped down and effortlessly lifted Cale’s small body into his arms. He walked out of the bathroom, making his way to the bed.
“I know everyone is interested in me,” Cale declared, “that includes you too.”
Ron responded with a snort, seemingly used to bold statements from the boy who was never at a loss for words and always spoke his mind.
Still, his hand instinctively came up to gently pat the boy’s head, his reply given a little bit of a pause, “I was paid to take care of you.”
Cale tilted his head and asked with a hint of a smile, “but you love me too, right?”
“Hmm.”
Ron simply hummed noncommittally in response. Of course he wouldn’t admit it out loud.
Just one lazy murmur from Ron made Cale fix him with a piercing gaze.
“You have to say it directly,” Cale insisted.
Ron met his gaze and responded firmly, “no.”
“You have to say that you love me, or I’ll tell mommy you’re the one who’s been hunting birds in the back garden,” Cale threatened, poking Ron’s cheek once as a final warning, “mommy will be very sad, she loves animals so much!” he added, knowing that the threat would work.
Ron’s eyes narrowed, his voice still steady, but there was a hint of resignation in his voice, “that’s not ethical, young master.”
Cale shrugged, as if brushing morality off his shoulders, “I can do whatever I want.”
And Ron was fully aware that this little boy—with his sharp tongue and warm heart—had an uncanny knack for getting his way.
After a few moments of silence, Ron let out a soft sigh before replying, “of course I love you, young master.”
Before Ron could gently place Cale onto the bed, the boy had already squirmed out of his grasp and jumped down onto the mattress, bouncing around on it gleefully. Like a puppy, Ron thought.
“I knew it!” Cale exclaimed.
“Young master, if you keep acting up, I might have to call your etiquette teacher.” Ron warned, but his voice sounded more like someone who had lost a game.
Cale laughed again, a sound that echoed through the room with an air of mischief. In a world filled with busy business affairs and a family that had little time for him, Ron was the one who always remained by his side, playing with him.
Though he never outright admitted it, Cale could sense the deep affection Ron had for him, a feeling akin to that of a father towards his son.
At least Cale’s days no longer felt quite so lonely that Ron was there to fill the emptiness with his presence.
As Cale finally settled down, his small frame snuggled beneath a warm, soft blanket, Ron tenderly pulled the covers up, making sure to tuck him in snugly.
“Lemon uncley?”
“Hm?”
Ron leaned in slightly, his voice barely a hum, but enough to let Cale know that his every word was heard.
“Even when I turn 90 years old,” Cale said, “I’m sure I’ll still be incredibly good looking.”
Ron raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. A small smile graced his lips as he responded, “I have no doubt about that.”
And with that, Ron began walking towards the door, each step leaving behind a trail of warm impressions on the cold marble floor. He reached out to turn off the light, plunging the room into hues of soft blue-purple.
Just a single goodnight muttered from both was all that was needed to end the day, the simple word carrying a myriad of unsaid words and unspoken affection between them.