CHAPTER 593: THE FAMILY TRAIT

It was a sunny morning in a certain manor that should have been safe from the problems of the Empire. Virtual birds were chirping, and the room smelled faintly of sandalwood and danger—

"—Huh?!"

Owen nearly leapt out of his bed when his bleary eyes adjusted enough to see not one but two figures looming over him. His parents. And they were standing far too close. For one horrifying second, he thought he had died and was being judged by them in the afterlife.

Then he blinked again and realized there were three. Three people staring down at him.

He screeched so loudly the windows rattled, and if anyone else in the manor had still been asleep, they certainly weren’t anymore. Which was fair, considering that Owen could probably sleep through a bombing and still snore on happily, so drastic measures had clearly been necessary.

But apparently, his scream was only the beginning. Because the next thing he knew, Owen was no longer in his bed. He was sitting in the family confessional chair in his rumpled pajamas, his hair sticking up in every direction like a terrified bird.

His mind raced.

Had they found out about the missed school day? Or the most recent quiz score he may or may not have failed? Was this a disciplinary trial?

Marquise Julienne sighed, her sharp eyes narrowing as she glanced at her husband, who wore the guiltiest expression imaginable.

What kind of family trait was this?

She herself would wake up if someone so much as breathed differently in the night, yet both her sons were capable of sleeping through the apocalypse.

Before Owen could blurt out something incriminating, he rubbed his eyes again... and froze. His older brother was there.

Ollie.

The brother he never thought he would see standing inside their home, not like this. Owen rubbed his eyes once more for good measure, but Ollie was still there, solid and very real.

His heart nearly exploded with excitement.

If only he had known! If only he had known his brother was coming home, he would have stayed awake all night waiting! Because with his brother came an offer that was impossible to refuse!

And oh, how exciting it was!

Owen could not believe his eyes, ears, or even his pores when his brother and parents asked him if he wanted to take charge of a very important and very secretive project—without actually telling him what it was yet.

They were clearly trying to kill him with anticipation. Why couldn’t they just say it outright?!

Then he saw it.

He smelled it.

He practically tasted the air, his entire body vibrating like a predator about to pounce, before his tiny mother threw out her deceptively strong arm and stopped him from lunging at the table.

"M-Mom!!! Look!" Owen squawked, eyes bulging as he struggled against her hold. "Why can’t I eat it yet?!"

"Dad," Ollie asked with genuine worry, "do you think he’ll be able to resist eating the goods before the job is even done?"

"Well, son," the Marquis replied with an overly thoughtful nod, "since you actually managed to get here without devouring anything first, maybe there is hope for your brother."

Which sounded nice until one remembered that Ollie had just used their settlement door to teleport instantly into the capital, where the family was temporarily staying until the upcoming auction was over. If it had been a longer trip, half the leafy greens on the table might have already gone missing.

And what a family trait that was! Thankfully, another family trait was being good at their job.

While it took forever to get Owen to wrap his head around everything, the giant youngest child still managed to get his bearings together when he realized he’d be paid for this.

Because yes, apparently, he was now in charge of preparing the marketing materials.

Not that he was complaining... until he saw what they were originally planning to use.

"WHAT IS THIS TRAVESTY?!" Owen thundered, clutching at his heart as he looked at the draft images like someone had just shown him a crime scene. "Who dares wrong the goods like this?! This isn’t advertising—this is SABOTAGE!"

The child was practically vibrating, his hands shaking with righteous fury as if food had been personally insulted.

"...But I thought those photos were actually pretty?" Ollie said innocently, blinking in confusion.

Silence.

Three pairs of eyes turned slowly to him.

"..."

Clearly, someone needed an eye exam.

Before Owen could start demolishing the entire draft board in disgust, Ollie snapped his fingers and leaned forward, his tone sharpening.

"This isn’t something you can take lightly," Ollie said sternly. "Not even a word, Owen. You slip up once, and you could be picked up by the most random pirates or criminals out there. And if the Federation gets their hands on you..." He let the words hang, heavy. "We’d only see each other again in the next life."

The giant child straightened immediately, posture stiff.

Then, with perfect Mylor logic, he asked: "As expected of my prominent brother... but considering the risk, what about the pay?"

"BAAAH!" Ollie bleated, scandalized. "Is that really what you care about right now?!"

But after fuming for a moment, he grudgingly crossed his arms and declared, "Fine. We’ve got great company benefits. You’ll get star coins."

Owen tilted his head, unimpressed. Although his eyes gleamed like someone from this excellent bloodline, Owen asked, "Big brother, and what would a Mylor need star coins for?"

Ollie’s lips puckered into a pout. He knew it! Just as expected! "...You could have all the food you’re taking photos of."

The giant perked up immediately.

"And," Ollie added reluctantly, "a regular supply of the good stuff, depending on availability. Plus... something substantial for every successful campaign. Don’t look at me like that! Someone—his good brother Luca—said it’s important... for the marketer to know what he’s selling, so I have to give you the products."

Owen’s invisible tail wagged furiously. "Deal."

But before he could dash off to start hoarding food props, Ollie raised a finger.

"Not so fast. You and one other crucial person need training before you start. You’re going to be evaluated by yours truly." He pointed at himself proudly, and the others inside the room suddenly weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

Which was how Applicant Owen and Streamer Dylan ended up in a cooking bootcamp with Ollie, the bottomless stomach pit, and his slightly unwilling, randomly borrowed cook, Kyle.

And judging by the look on his face, he was already regretting reminding them about this problem.