CHAPTER 34: THE BRAVE LITTLE PEA’S STORY.

Rosalia — POV

I noticed that children weren’t that afraid of Cassel, perhaps because, as he knelt, he sounded calm and harmless instead of the terrifying force I had seen before.

But before the children could speak and answer Cassel’s question, the man sneered from the side.

"Sir Cassel, why do you concern yourself with these brats? They’re merely illegitimate children, as that fool of a man decreed."

At his words, the three children trembled violently, but one child stood apart, his eyes burning with nothing but pure, searing hatred.

Despite the older girl’s feeble attempt to hold him back, the child stepped forward and confronted the wanderer. "We are not... we are not illegitimate children."

The wanderer seemed utterly indifferent, bullying a child no older than ten. He stared at him with sheer disgust, his voice sharp and biting. "What? Am I wrong? Your father never married your mother, so naturally, you are illegitimate. Otherwise... what else should I call you?"

Seeing the children struggle to hold back their tears, I could not remain silent. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around the boy who had faced the man, patting his back.

"Tormenting a helpless child, aren’t you ashamed of yourself,? Why not try picking on someone your size?"

My words seemed to strike him like a blow.

The wanderer’s face twisted, flushing with anger, a spectrum of rage flashing across his disgusting face.

He looked too furious.

"Though I appreciate beauty and can be merciful, you truly are insolent. A woman of your... appearance..." His gaze roamed over me, leering with a mixture of mockery and malice. "You look like a cheap prostitute. Best not attempt to seduce President Cassel. He is clever—he won’t fall for a trap. How about that? Try to appease me, and I might forgive you—"

A sudden, thunderous crash interrupted him.

The man slammed violently into the wall—the force so great the plaster cracked and crumbled.

It was he—the man who had dared speak to me. I still didn’t know his name, and frankly, I had no desire to. Trash like this didn’t deserve names.

My eyes didn’t leave Cassel.

His movements were too fast to follow, but it was clear: he had struck the man with a kick so powerful it sent him flying into the wall.

I felt no pity. Not even a flicker. The man bled from every side, his torn clothes saturated with crimson.

Ah... Cassel had unleashed his power.

Had he infused the strike with the raw force of thunder? Or had he used his incredible mental strength to tear the man’s body apart?

"My dear, my dear, are you alright? How dare you strike him! This is a crime!"

Cassel said nothing. Instead, Henry, standing to the side, laughed loudly, almost theatrically.

He imitated a terrified man, biting his fingers and trembling with exaggerated fear.

"A crime? Oh my God! Boss! Boss! What do we do now? This is a crime! Are we going to jail? Boss, I’m scared! Will the police arrest us?"

Cassel shot him a warning glare. Henry froze, then quickly returned to his usual composed, noble demeanor. "You must understand what the outside world has become. Millions have died, their bodies left to rot. The rest struggle to survive. Crime? Law? Those things no longer exist."

We left the pale woman holding the unconscious man in the corner and turned our attention to the children.

"Do not be afraid. This wanderer acts as he wishes, but he is not evil. He will not hurt you. Trust me."

He looked at the child who had spoken earlier. There was no fear in his face.

His features were astonishingly beautiful—soft, delicate, yet marked by hardship. His eyes, a rare mixture of gray and pale green, shimmered even amid dirt smudges from a week in the hospital. His tan skin accentuated his striking appearance.

I felt an ache of sorrow for him and his siblings. They were far too young to endure the horrors this world had delivered.

"It’s alright. We are not afraid. He beat us constantly and forced us to fetch food. We nearly died at his hands countless times. Even if we saw his rotten body before us, we would not fear it—we might even rejoice."

The child’s eyes, dark and intense, were more frightening than the empty gaze of a zombie. I realized he must have endured horrors far beyond imagination to speak with such resolve and to carry such a gaze.

I was almost certain the children had suffered abuse from this vile man long before the end of the world. One week alone could never have cultivated such deep-seated hatred.

"Excuse me, little one. Is the patient your father?"

"Yes." The child’s gaze turned toward the hospital bed. Finally, warmth returned to his eyes, replacing the shadows of fear.

"He is our father. Our mother gave birth to us without telling him. We are triplets. At the time, she fled while pregnant, leaving him behind. So calling us illegitimate isn’t entirely false. Though our father asked her to marry him after learning of us, they reconciled but never married. A car accident killed our mother, and our father has been like this ever since."

Tears stung my eyes at the story.

The child had condensed a lifetime of pain into mere sentences, yet I knew the depth of their suffering far exceeded words.

This world... is brutally unjust.

Not just for Cassel.

There are countless others like him—people abandoned by luck, by the world. People whose lives were worse than death. People stripped of everything, wronged without anyone knowing. They lived and died in darkness.

Oh, how cruel you are, merciless world.

"Sir, could you help us and our father? I know it’s a burden to aid someone in a coma, and we cannot know if he will survive, but please, we beg you."

The other child spoke—the one almost identical to his brother, differing only in that his eyes were fully black. He approached Cassel, gaze shining with hope.

Despite all the cruelty they had endured, the children still possessed pure, faithful hearts. They still believed in light, even without ever having seen it.

The eldest girl stepped forward, appearing older than her brothers—girls mature quickly. She knelt alongside them, joining their plea.

"Sir, I have a power. A supernatural power. I can heal wounds and even fractures, though I do not yet know if I am strong enough to heal my father completely. I will lend you my power in exchange for saving him."

Faced with the three kneeling children, Cassel was speechless, unable to articulate a single word.