Hickson merely raised an eyebrow, showing little reaction on his face.
He picked up the report, flipped through it quickly, and set it back on the table.
"The test is wrong," he said calmly. "There's no way I have a little brother this young."
Valen looked somewhat surprised and asked in return, "How can you be so sure?"
Hickson shrugged.
Of course he could be sure—after all, his mother had already… ten years ago. But that was a private family matter, no need to explain it to an outsider.
So he simply let out a light scoff. "Conventional kinship testing has a high error rate for the Blood Clan. You need to use the latest—"
Hickson's voice paused. He noticed the small print at the corner of the report's cover indicating the testing method—it was indeed the latest technology.
Valen caught the shift in his expression. "What's wrong?"
Hickson didn't answer. He photographed the report and sent it to a doctor friend he trusted.
The other party cursed him out for being disturbed late at night, but quickly sent back the results—the technology was sound, and the results were reliable.
Hickson's hand gripping the Light-brain tightened slightly.
"Retest," he said, looking up, his voice heavier than before. "I'm requesting another test. At my own expense, with on-site blood sampling."
An hour later, Hickson sat in the car heading back to his residence, holding two identification reports in one hand and the cub who had just become his biological younger brother in the other.
Yes, the second report's results still showed that this unfamiliar four-year-old vampire cub was, on a genetic level, indeed his biological brother.
Hickson looked down at the cub sitting on his lap, who was grabbing at the identification report and trying to tear it apart for fun. Doubts clouded his mind.
Even now, he remained absolutely certain that this little one could not possibly have been born to his parents.
But the test report was right there in front of him. Not born of his parents, yet genetically related—that left only one possibility…
Gene Leakage.
Someone had stolen his parents' genes and used technological means to artificially manufacture this young vampire cub.
In the interstellar era, this kind of act wasn't exactly new. The Fantasy Species Alliance's criminal code even had specific provisions targeting such behavior.
But the problem was—this cub was a vampire.
And as everyone knew, none of the current artificial reproduction methods worked on the Blood Clan.
The reproduction issue was like a curse the universe had placed on the vampire race, weighing them down relentlessly.
For this reason, despite their immense power and extremely long lifespans, vampires had always played the role of a marginalized species in Fantasy Species society.
Hickson actually thought that was fair. After all, vampires had already received more than enough. Their long lives allowed them to accumulate wealth and resources over vast spans of time, expand their knowledge and connections, and easily attain fulfilling, prosperous lives—something no other species could match.
Moreover, vampires had once been hunters. Within their kind, there were still plenty of delusional individuals who dreamed grand dreams of Blood Clan supremacy, of trampling other Fantasy Species and humans beneath their feet. They were only held back by the scarcity of their kin, never able to stir up much trouble.
But if artificial reproduction technology for vampires had truly made a breakthrough… then that balance might soon be shattered.
Storm clouds were gathering.
He didn't share his suspicions with the police. Instead, he calmly changed his story, saying he'd misremembered—that his long-out-of-touch parents had apparently had another son, and how careless of them to lose the little one. He might as well take the boy back with him.
Yes, he chose to adopt the little one.
After all, no matter what, a cub was certainly innocent—that much was certain.
Moreover, if those people really had some scheme in motion, then this little one had to be the key to it all. His accidental rescue of the cub meant he'd gained the upper hand—he had to keep Fufu by his side.
Though rationally he knew this was the best choice, here he was, a young bachelor, suddenly having to raise such a tiny cub on his own—especially one that seemed exceptionally clingy… Tsk, what kind of well-behaved cub would cling to an adult all night without getting down?
Hickson couldn't help but take another deep breath.
Since deciding to adopt the cub, he'd taken countless deep breaths.
He quickly ran through his options, thinking about whether anyone in his household could help raise this cub.
He thought of his hot-tempered father, his depressed second brother, and his unreliable third brother…
"Huff—"
Forget it. In this family, only he could handle this task.
But his time and patience were also limited. Saving the cub was one thing; adopting him was another.
This was a long-term endeavor. He couldn't afford to spend his days patiently devoting so much time to caring for Fufu.
So he couldn't let the cub in his arms act like an ordinary child, constantly clinging to adults and begging for affection. He had to teach the little one independence as soon as possible, get the cub to learn how to take care of himself, so as not to drain too much of his time.
This shouldn't be too difficult. Hickson considered himself a capable man—he managed the entire Twilight Group with perfect order, so managing one cub should be well within his abilities.
Step one: get Fufu off of him.
Hickson rallied his spirits and looked down at the cub in his arms, speaking up:
"Fufu, from today on, you're my little brother."
The little cub seemed a bit confused, tilting his head and replying, "I was already your little brother."
…You sure don't act like an outsider.
Hickson curved the corner of his mouth and extended his hand, saying seriously, "Then let's formally introduce ourselves. Hello, Fufu, I'm Hickson Nosferatu."
Fufu paused for a moment, then reached out his small hand to grasp his, mimicking his manner: "Hello, I'm Fufu…"
Hickson nodded with satisfaction. This was a good start.
His philosophy on education held that if you wanted to cultivate independence in a child, you had to treat them with the same equality and respect you'd give an adult.
Children acted willful mostly because adults spoiled them too much. As long as he spoke to the child as an equal, the child would communicate properly in return and learn to take responsibility for himself.
"Alright, Fufu. I have something to tell you now, so please get down from my arms first."
Fufu did seem to listen. However, the cub tilted his head in thought for a moment, then gave an irrefutable answer:
"You can talk while holding me."
And so, Hickson's first educational communication met with a crushing defeat.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then another, and opened them again. The cub in his arms was still clinging to him, black eyes shining brightly as he looked up: "What did you want to say?"
Hickson held back again and again, and finally spoke:
"Fufu, you are the newest member of the Nosferatu family. You're not like other children—when I was your age, I could already take care of myself. You need to be independent too, and not cause the adults to worry, understand?"
The little one didn't seem to fully grasp the meaning, but nodded obediently anyway. "Okay."
"Then get off me."
"No." The cub answered instantly, looking utterly innocent.
Hickson took another deep breath.
Fine. He'd deal with this when they got home.
Hickson lived in a high-rise apartment in the heart of Radiant City. The place was spacious, but also cold and empty—he lived alone, didn't even hire a housekeeper, and only had an AI butler to manage everything for him.
Right now, that AI was the only one Hickson could turn to for help. Before they even reached home, he sent a command to the AI butler, asking what preparations were needed to raise a four-year-old child.
Fortunately, the artificial intelligence was clearly more knowledgeable than him when it came to childcare, and quickly listed all the items that needed to be purchased—and it was a very long list indeed.
Hickson hadn't expected that taking care of a little cub would require so many things. But when he looked through the list carefully from top to bottom, he found that every single item was indeed necessary.
Luckily, he lived in the city center, so there were still shops open even late into the night. Hickson added a few more items he thought were needed, removed a few that weren't urgent, and then instructed the AI butler to dispatch two shopping robots to make the purchases separately.
The first was to buy some emergency medicine, a set of casual children's clothing, daily cleaning supplies, and nutrient solution suitable for a young cub—these needed to be purchased before they arrived home. The second robot didn't need to rush and could take its time buying the other miscellaneous items.
So by the time they got home, everything they needed was already prepared.
However, what truly captured the cub's attention was clearly the interior decor—when the crystal chandelier lit up, Fufu's eyes went wide, letting out an awed "Wow," as if his eyes were filled with stars.
Hickson silently curved his lips.
Indeed, contrary to his own cold temperament, his home was decorated quite luxuriously. Every room was adorned with massive crystal chandeliers, the furniture and wallpaper featured a deep, elegant red-and-black color scheme, and even the windows—long hidden behind curtains and rarely exposed—were crafted from engraved glass.
To the average person, such decor was far too extravagant. But for a vampire, it was just right.
As a fantasy species that had evolved under the influence of ancient Earth's mythical legends, they instinctively preferred environments that were ornate with a hint of eerie atmosphere—just as birds prefer sleeping in trees and cats prefer sleeping in dens. Living in such a place helped vampires recover their energy more quickly.
So, although it might sound pretentious, Hickson had decorated his home this way purely out of practicality—he needed an environment that allowed him to rest efficiently. Whether it looked good or not wasn't that important to him.
That was what he had always thought. Until just now, when the cub in his arms let out that "Wow"—only then did Hickson notice for the first time—oh, so his home was actually quite beautiful.
A sense of pride welled up in his heart.
Alright, Fufu. The days of fear and worry are over. From now on, you can live in a house this beautiful forever.
He changed his shoes and carried the cub into the bathroom first.
"Fufu, you're too dirty. I need to change your clothes, wipe you down, and apply medicine." Hickson took another deep breath. "So, get off me."
This time, the cub tilted his head and thought for a moment. Perhaps he figured that being held made changing clothes impossible, or perhaps he realized his brother wouldn't abandon him again. Either way, he cooperated fully and obediently let go of Hickson.
Hickson took off his suit jacket, which the cub had thoroughly ruined, flipped it to the slightly cleaner side, folded it, and laid it on the counter. Then he set Fufu on it and turned on the warm air.
Next, he peeled off the cub's dirty clothes and, following the steps the AI butler had taught him, helped Fufu clean his body.
The cub had just arrived home, so a full bath wasn't suitable yet. Instead, Hickson used a towel dipped in warm water to wipe him down while checking for any wounds.
A doctor at the police station had already given Fufu a quick scan earlier, but that had only ruled out severe injuries or serious illnesses—minor scrapes and ailments were beyond its scope.
So the moment Fufu's clothes came off, Hickson immediately noticed red rope marks around the cub's wrists and ankles, some spots rubbed raw. There was also a large bruise on his knee, starkly vivid against the naturally pale skin of the Blood Clan.
Hickson's expression darkened. He'd expected this, really. Since the traffickers treated Fufu and the others as merchandise, they wouldn't bother caring for them properly—just keeping them alive was already generous. The fact that Fufu only had these few rope burns was far better than Hickson had anticipated.
But seeing the wounds with his own eyes still made him clench his jaw silently. Even if Fufu was a product of Gene Leakage, he was still his little brother—and only four years old, at that. He suddenly regretted nailing those traffickers' hands and feet to the ground. That had been too lenient.
He should have nailed their heads.
But there was no use dwelling on that now. He simply folded the towel smaller and carefully wiped the cub down.
Fufu seemed to sense that the adult was taking care of him. Gone was his earlier stubbornness—he sat on the counter, perfectly cooperative, even automatically squinting his eyes when the warm towel reached his face, humming contentedly.
He was as well-behaved as a little curly-haired puppy. Hickson let out a soft laugh.
But this little puppy was absolutely filthy. Each wipe of his face came away with a layer of grime, his body was sticky, and his feet were shockingly dirty. Only his little hands were relatively clean… well, of course they were—he'd spent the whole night wiping them on his brother's custom-made suit.
Hickson had to change the water three times with the help of the little robot before the cub was finally clean, and that was just the wiping—there was still a head of curly hair to wash.
Once the cleaning was done, Hickson disinfected the broken skin with iodine and sprayed medicine on the bruises.
The good news was that, in just the short time since the wiping, Hickson could already see the marks on Fufu's body fading slightly.
That wasn't just in his head. The Blood Clan naturally had stronger regenerative abilities—though it wasn't very pronounced in cubs. Had this been a young adult vampire, wounds like these might have healed on their own before they even made it home.
Fufu was a vampire too, after all, so his constitution was bound to be better than an average child's.
Realizing this, Hickson finally felt a measure of relief.
After the scrubbing and application of medicine was complete, Hickson brought out the newly purchased pajamas. The clothes had already been washed and dried by the household robot, and when he took them out, they still carried a warm, toasty temperature.
The top was a sky-blue pullover with a little whale pattern printed on the belly. Fufu clearly liked it, cooperatively raising his arms to let Hickson slip it over his head.
It fit perfectly. Hickson then helped him into the pants, which also fit—almost as if they had been custom-made.
Hickson's obsessive-compulsive tendencies were satisfied. Looking at the little cub before him, fresh and clean, he felt a strong sense of comfort.
However, the very next second, the robot butler delivered the newly purchased slippers for the cub. When Fufu stepped into them, they turned out to be a size too big.
They weren't that much bigger, and they were still wearable, but they flopped and slapped with every step—extremely unfriendly to someone with OCD.
Fufu, on the other hand, loved them. He shuffled around in circles, deliberately making loud slapping noises.
Hickson let out a sigh. Whatever. As long as the cub liked them, at least he wouldn't be pestering him for hugs anymore.
As for the neighbors, there was no need to worry. The floor below was his, and the floor above was his too—he had bought them all out back then for the sake of peace and quiet.
With his new slippers, Fufu was like a battery-powered toy puppy, pattering around the room in no discernible pattern. Occasionally he bumped into a wall, but he didn't get upset—he just laughed a few times and turned to scamper off in another direction.
Taking advantage of the lull, Hickson quickly changed into his own pajamas, then dashed over to grab Fufu, who had nearly wandered out onto the balcony. He scooped him up by the armpits and carried him over to the dining table.
"Stop playing. Eat something first."
At the mention of food, Fufu's eyes immediately lit up. He stopped running around, tucked his little short legs in, and stood up holding onto the back of the chair, eagerly trying to climb onto the table.
"Tsk. Sit properly." His OCD couldn't stand that. Hickson pressed him back down.
But after pressing him back down, he realized the height difference between the dining table and the chair was too great. If Fufu sat properly in the chair, only a tuft of curly hair would peek above the table edge—his eyes wouldn't even be visible.
No wonder the kid insisted on standing on the chair to see.
Hickson was a bit troubled. He hadn't expected to run into this kind of problem raising a cub. For a moment, he found himself deliberating between letting the cub keep standing on the chair, letting him sit directly on the table, or sacrificing himself and continuing to hold the little one.
Fortunately, just then, a sound came from the entryway. The other small robot that had gone out shopping had returned, loaded down with bags and bundles.
This time, what it brought back were common childcare supplies, including a cub chair with an adjustable height.
After a quick disinfection, Hickson moved the chair to the table, adjusted it to the right height, and set Fufu into it.
This cub chair was really quite good—not only was the height right, but it also had railings on all four sides. On one hand, they prevented the cub from falling off; on the other, they kept Fufu contained, preventing him from randomly clinging to adults at every opportunity.
Hickson was very satisfied and began preparing food.
On the subject of food, he actually felt a bit guilty. He had no idea what a three-year-old vampire cub would like to eat.
Logically speaking, since he was a vampire, drinking blood should be the safe bet. But the problem was, he didn't have any ready-made artificial blood at home for the cub to drink.
Yes, although he himself was a vampire, he rarely drank blood. Not just blood—he barely touched any other food either.
Because theoretically, the nutrients a vampire's body needs are actually quite similar to those of a human. With today's advanced technology, the high-grade nutrient solution custom-formulated by professional nutritionists can meet all his needs—quick and comprehensive.
So aside from social meals, Hickson relied on nutrient solution for almost every meal.
Naturally, his residence was stocked with nothing but large quantities of nutrient solution, with not a single thing suitable for a youngling to eat.
Fortunately, his reliable AI butler had already purchased a large bag of youngling snacks, along with a specialized nutrient solution that Hickson had specifically added—enough to last the youngling a full week.
Human youngling nutrient solution is a highly mature product, capable of providing all the various nutrients needed for growth at different stages, more comprehensive than real food, and the efficient choice for modern child-rearing… Hickson consoled himself with this thought.
But when he tore open the packaging and actually saw those plastic bottles of nutrient solution, Hickson fell silent.
He suddenly realized he seemed to have overlooked something very important—these human youngling nutrient solutions were actually fruit-flavored.
Hickson stared at the row of packaging printed with mangoes, bananas, strawberries, melons, and grapes—gaudy and flashy enough to blind the eyes—and felt a wave of irritation.
How could he have forgotten this? If one were to rank the foods vampires hated most, these fruits would undoubtedly take the top spot.
His younger brother Kaelan even claimed he would rather eat garlic than touch any of these things.
It wasn't that they particularly disliked sweets—in fact, adult vampires' sense of taste and smell had almost completely degenerated; aside from the metallic tang of blood, they could barely perceive any other flavors.
Rather, it was that all these colorful fruits were steeped in a strong scent of sunlight—the very aura vampires detested most.
It wasn't just fruits either; they were also extremely selective with vegetables, generally only consuming those that grew underground, such as onions, carrots, potatoes, and various mushrooms. They avoided leafy greens at all costs, at most tolerating fermented items like pickled vegetables, and when purchasing food, they would carefully steer clear of anything containing fruits or vegetables.
But because Hickson never bought food himself, he had never input this instruction into the AI.
Yet he couldn't really be blamed for this. He had never drunk youngling nutrient solution before—how was he supposed to know it would come in fruit flavors?
Hickson hesitated for a moment, clinging to a sliver of hope that maybe the images on the packaging were just a marketing gimmick, and the contents might not actually contain any fruit ingredients.
He picked a mango-flavored bottle, twisted off the cap, and a pungent wave of sunlight scent rushed toward him.
It couldn't really be called a scent, since with his sense of smell he couldn't detect any actual odor, but he could still feel that aura—that burning, stinging sunlight presence that vampires found so repulsive.
Hickson took just one whiff, furrowed his brow, and immediately wanted to pour the stuff out and have the AI butler repurchase a version without fruit flavor.
But when he looked up, he caught sight of Fufu lying in the youngling seat, entire body leaning forward, staring at him with eager, pleading eyes.
Hickson: "…What's wrong?"
Fufu wriggled with seven parts anticipation and three parts shyness, then blurted out: "Brother, Fufu wants to smell it too~"
Seeing him like that, Hickson found it amusing. Some kids were mischievous like that, especially fond of sniffing things that stank.
He then leaned over, holding the bottle out to Fufu, trying to tease the other.
The next second, Fufu directly bit down on the bottle's nipple and took a big, hard suck.