Hickson hadn't expected the other party to do that, and he was completely stunned.
He watched as Fufu swallowed that mouthful of Nutrient Solution, smacking his lips in satisfaction as if he'd just tasted something wonderful, licking his lips clean before lifting his little head to look at Hickson.
Seeing no reaction from him, Fufu cautiously leaned in again and took another big sip.
Only then did Hickson snap back to reality, asking Fufu with complicated feelings: "Is it good?"
Fufu raised his head and nodded exaggeratedly: "Good!"
As if afraid Hickson wouldn't believe him, he emphasized with his limited vocabulary: "Super super super good!"
Seeing that Hickson showed no sign of stopping him, Fufu boldly took the bottle of mango Nutrient Solution from his hand, bit down on the rubber spout, and sucked in big gulps. In no time, he'd finished more than half the bottle, licking his lips with his eyes curved into happy crescents: "So yummy."
Hickson sat across from him, staring blankly, unable to say a word, his heart aching with bitterness.
He didn't know who had raised Fufu before, or how he'd grown up—what kind of life could make a cub swallow such an awful flavor and even keep saying it was good…
His poor, sensible little brother.
A surge of brotherly responsibility welled up in Hickson's heart—once he took in Fufu, he might not be able to say he'd care for him with perfect attention, but at the very least, in material terms, he'd make sure the cub drank the highest-grade artificial blood and never had to worry about food again.
However, artificial blood couldn't be bought at this hour, so Hickson could only give the cub another carton of milk and some other snacks.
But Fufu showed little interest in those, taking two more sips of the Nutrient Solution before lowering his head to study the cartoon patterns on the railing of the highchair.
Hickson recalled that the cub had already eaten quite a few cookies and chocolates at the police station, and had just drunk half a bottle of Nutrient Solution. With a cub's small appetite, he was probably full by now.
So he lifted Fufu down from the highchair, led him to the bathroom for a quick wash-up, and brought the cub to the bedroom.
Of course, in his bachelor's bedroom, there was no such thing as a children's bed. At this hour, even the procurement robot hadn't been able to buy a small bed suitable for a vampire cub to sleep in.
So the household robot took the initiative to improvise, laying out a set of small pillows and bedding sized for a cub right in the middle of his large bed.
Hickson's bed was coffin-shaped, pitch black, with retractable guardrails on all sides and a coffin lid standing upright at the headboard. Even the sheets and blankets were patterned with black roses and black lilies, so that he'd look even more serene lying within.
Sleeping inside it gave vampires a greater sense of security and improved sleep quality.
But now, in the middle of that ornate, eerie Gothic coffin bed, there was a jarringly mismatched patch of pastel pink-and-blue cub bedding, covered with a small blanket printed with puppies playing soccer, and a soft, dainty little pillow with ruffled edges.
The scene was so utterly absurd that that small patch of bedding looked like it had been photoshopped in—surreal beyond belief.
Hickson, however, didn't mind at all. After all, he would be ordering a custom-made cub bed tomorrow. As for tonight… at this hour, he still had a mountain of backlogged work to get through, so he probably wouldn't get much sleep anyway. He might as well let Fufu have the bed.
So he quickly picked Fufu up, placed him on the bed, tucked him under the covers, and smoothed the blanket over him.
Then, the big guy and the little cub stared at each other, eyes wide.
Hickson frowned at the cub nestled in the bed, struggling to recall the video advertisements he'd seen who-knows-how-many years ago—how did ordinary adults get cubs to sleep? Was it singing? He thought there was also storytelling… and right, a goodnight kiss.
But why would doing those things make a cub fall asleep? Did those actions have some kind of hypnotic effect?
Hickson found it rather illogical. But what he'd seen in the videos was that human parents would gently plant a kiss on their cub's forehead, say goodnight, then turn off the lights, and their cub would fall asleep in a flash.
Would Fufu do the same?
Hickson didn't think so. Not to mention he'd be too embarrassed to give such a sappy goodnight kiss—but in the short time he'd spent thinking about it, their cub had already wriggled out of the covers and started crawling around the bed to play, eyes wide as lightbulbs, showing not the slightest sign of drowsiness.
Hickson decided to give up. It suddenly occurred to him that Fufu had been locked in that shipping container before, possibly having slept for a long time—maybe his sleep schedule was even completely flipped. He couldn't hold the cub to a normal routine.
He'd already decided to raise Fufu to be independent, and an independent cub should decide for himself when to sleep. Hickson couldn't be like a nanny, managing every little thing.
He still had a pile of work to do.
With that thought, Hickson stood up, picked out a few items from the cub toys the AI butler had purchased, and handed them to Fufu. "Play by yourself for a while. When you get tired, get into bed and sleep. I'm going to work—don't disturb me."
Fufu let out an "mm-hm" and was already gnawing on a toy, whether he'd actually registered the words or not.
Hickson let out a sigh of relief, turned, and left the bedroom, heading to the adjacent office to work.
The toys he'd given Fufu were all sterilized, with no hidden dangers—safe for the cub to play with alone. If the cub did anything dangerous, the AI butler would report it to him. None of that worried him.
The only thing Hickson worried about was that the cub might get bored playing alone and come pester him again. He'd been on a business trip for the past two days and had a lot of backlogged work—he really didn't have time to play with the cub.
As it turned out, his worry wasn't unfounded.
Hickson hadn't even been at his desk for twenty minutes when he spotted a small shadow sneaking into the room, circling around his study to look at things.
Hickson deliberately didn't call out to the cub, didn't even cast a glance his way, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.
Because he knew that if he kept pretending not to notice, the cub might continue playing by himself for a while longer. But the moment their eyes met, the cub would probably come running over demanding to be held.
However, to him, the cub's presence was simply too overwhelming.
As a former top student who could study peacefully even while his father beat his brother so hard that the castle was full of craters, Hickson found himself shamefully distracted by this quietly exploring cub.
He mentally scolded himself while desperately trying to pull his focus back to the work in front of him.
And Fufu truly seemed not to notice that he was being watched, leisurely wandering around the room: first climbing onto the sofa and circling twice, then slipping over to the air purifier vent to feel the air blowing out, and even running to the wall to play with the long trench coat hanging there, standing on tiptoes to bury his face in the hem of the coat.
By the time the little cub had played with everything within reach in the study and grown bored again, he finally turned his gaze toward Hickson.
Hickson appeared to still be working, but his attention had long since been captured by the cub. He could clearly feel Fufu circling around the desk to approach him, padding over to his side, head lifted, watching him.
He could only try his best to pretend he hadn't noticed, but he knew he probably wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer.
Unexpectedly, Fufu walked up beside him but didn't call out to him—instead, he ducked under the desk.
Actually, "ducked" wasn't quite the right word, because the cub wasn't even as tall as the desk. He didn't need to bend over to get underneath—he just lowered his head and slipped right in.
He crawled under the desk, then grabbed hold of Hickson's pant leg and started climbing up.
Hickson could no longer pretend he hadn't noticed. He scooted his swivel chair back half a step and looked down at the cub still clutching his pant leg. "Fufu, didn't I say you couldn't disturb me?"
The cub under the desk tilted his head and said innocently, "I'm not disturbing you."
"…"
Hickson was momentarily at a loss for words. True enough—from the moment he'd entered the room, the little one had been playing by himself without making a single sound.
He'd just silently stretched Hickson's pants out of shape.
Well then, my apologies—I guess my attention just isn't focused enough!
"You should go to sleep," Hickson said.
"I can't sleep."
"Then you still can't come tug on my pants, understand?"
Fufu nodded obediently, let go of his pants, and reached for his clothes instead.
"Clothes aren't allowed either." Hickson pushed his little hand away.
Fufu reached out several times, but each time his hand was blocked. He huffed and whined a few times, then suddenly transformed into a little bat, flapping his small wings and launching into the air, smacking "thump" into Hickson's chest before shifting back into his human form.
Hickson nearly laughed in exasperation—well, now he really wasn't grabbing anything.
Before he could say anything, the cub had already made himself comfortable, curling up in his arms and pulling the hem of Hickson's jacket over himself, clinging tightly to him.
Hickson took a deep breath. "Fufu, I said I'm busy."
The cub poked his head out, his eyes still innocent. "You're busy."
As he said this, he turned to glance at the screen, then looked back at Hickson, as if to say—why are you, an adult, so unfocused? Can't you work while letting the cub hold you for a bit?
Hickson had nothing left to say. He could only tell Fufu, "Then you can't talk or move around anymore, and you can't hold up my work, understand?"
Fufu nodded obediently.
But what Hickson hadn't expected was that Fufu actually kept his word—he truly didn't disturb him again, just honestly clung to his chest, arms wrapped around his waist, like a little bat resting on a tree branch.
Before long, Hickson heard even breathing. He looked down and found the curly-haired little cub with his eyes closed, expression relaxed—he had actually fallen asleep just like that.
Hickson found it rather amusing. Here I give you a nice warm bed to sleep in and you won't, but curl up all cramped like this, and you fall right asleep—what kind of quirk is that?
But he didn't dare put the cub back on the bed, afraid that once he set him down, he'd wake up and start fussing again. So he just held the sleeping Fufu and worked until the middle of the night.
It was fine, actually—pretty warm, just that his arm was a bit numb.
Only after finishing the day's work did Hickson stand up with Fufu in his arms and carry the cub back to the bedroom.
But the moment he set him down, Fufu woke up as expected, groggily grabbing at him.
Hickson was terrified of getting the cub all riled up again, so he let him cling on, and in the end simply lay down himself, offering one arm for the cub to use as a body pillow. Only then did the little one fall back into a deep sleep.
Once he saw that Fufu was sound asleep, Hickson finally relaxed. Maintaining the position that let the other hold onto him, he carefully pulled the blanket over the cub with his free hand.
After doing all that, Hickson let out a long breath. Looking down at the cub's fluffy head, his sleeping little face, and his faintly trembling eyelashes, he unconsciously broke into a smile.
Halfway through that smile, Hickson suddenly paused, remembering the educational policy he'd formulated when he first brought this cub home—something about making him independent.
Hmm… but come to think of it, Fufu really had managed to drink his Nutrient Solution on his own, decide when to sleep on his own, and hadn't delayed his work at all, right?
It's just that he needed an adult to hold him the whole time while sleeping. For a four-year-old cub, that should still count as fairly independent… right?
But somehow it felt like something was off. Was this really what he'd planned…
Hickson sank into a daze, thinking for a long time without reaching any conclusion. Eventually, without realizing it, he drifted off to sleep as well.
Hickson hadn't had such peaceful sleep in a very long time.
In fact, his usual sleep quality was terrible—at most three or four hours a night, and any slight noise around him would jolt him awake.
Part of that was due to the vampire constitution itself, and part was because he was too busy during the day, his mind always wound tight.
He didn't really see it as a problem. He had plenty of energy anyway, so even poor sleep didn't hinder his work, and occasionally pulling an all-nighter just gave him extra time, which suited him just fine.
So when he finished work in the early hours, having long missed his usual sleep window and just gone through the absurd ordeal of being forced to adopt a little brother, Hickson hadn't expected to fall asleep at all.
That was why he couldn't figure out for the life of him how—having merely lain down beside the cub to keep him from waking up and fussing without something to hold—he'd inexplicably fallen into such a deep sleep.
Hickson could only chalk it up to being a bit worn out from days of traveling, plus feeling relaxed lying next to the cub, which had allowed him to slip into sleep by chance.
Actually, he hadn't slept all that long—just over two hours or so—so he didn't feel particularly rested. Instead, it felt like the taut string inside him had been loosened, leaving him sluggish and low on energy.
Fufu, on the other hand, was in high spirits, currently sitting in the toddler chair at the side of the table, carefully studying which tasted better between the strawberry and grape Nutrient Solutions.
Yes, this cub had peculiar taste. Even after Hickson had sent the procurement robot to buy him milk-flavored and original-flavored Nutrient Solutions, he still chose the fruit flavors, and was very insistent about it, completely unmoved by Hickson's persuasion.
Perhaps this was just what it meant to be used to hardship. Hickson felt a little helpless. Well, the nutritional value was the same either way—let the little one drink whatever he wanted.
He believed that sooner or later, Fufu would realize the problem on his own, rein himself in, and get on the right track.
The only issue was that the stuff smelled absolutely awful, and Fufu seemed completely oblivious to it. As the older brother, he could only furrow his brow and silently endure that pungent, cloying odor… wait?
Hickson paused.
Why did he sense sweetness?
Blood Clan members were born with the trait of sensory atrophy. Only in childhood did they briefly possess full senses; after growing up, they retained only the most useful ones like sight and hearing, while taste and smell deteriorated significantly. By the time they reached adulthood at a hundred years old, they could basically only perceive two things: blood and sunlight.
So no matter how exquisite the food or intense the incense, he felt almost nothing. Including last night—when he opened that mango-flavored toddler nutrient solution, he only detected the nauseating smell of sunlight and nothing else. But now, he was sensing sweetness…
This was even stranger than him suddenly falling asleep last night.
Hickson couldn't help but lean over, drawing close to Fufu's side, wanting to sniff that strange odor again.
Seeing him approach, Fufu was quite generous, obediently offering the half-drunk strawberry nutrient solution to Hickson's lips, inviting him to taste it.
Suddenly so close, Hickson only felt a strong surge of sunlight scent rushing straight into his nostrils, making him sneeze twice in a row. He was uncomfortable for a good while, and the sweetness he'd just detected had vanished without a trace.
Hickson rubbed his itchy nose, pondering for a long time, and finally could only reach one conclusion—it must have been that he'd just woken up and wasn't thinking clearly, and combined with the little one slurping the nutrient solution with such obvious enjoyment, it had created an illusion.
Hickson awkwardly shook his head and stopped dwelling on the matter.
Today was the first day Fufu had been taken in by him, and everything was different from before. He needed to properly educate Fufu, to make him a strong, independent, sensible child—one who could ease the adults' worries and uphold the dignity of their Nosferatu Family.
The first step was to teach the little one to take care of himself.
Hickson brought out the toddler clothes he'd had the robot butler purchase earlier that morning—a basic set of a shirt and trousers.
Formal wear made for toddlers was very rare, especially in such a small size. Normally, one would need to have it custom-made by a specialist. But they had to go out today, so there wasn't much room for fuss—he'd just bought this simple, well-fitting set.
Though the clothes were plain in style, the craftsmanship was decent, and since they were made in a size suitable for a four-year-old, they looked exquisite and miniature, with soft fabric.
Such formal attire was not only elegant and dignified, but also more conducive to the health and stability of a vampire's mental state. Though the effect might not be as significant for a toddler, he still wanted Fufu to adapt to it as soon as possible.
Hickson carried the little suit into the bedroom, spread it out on the bed, laid it face-up, unbuttoned the shirt, placed the trousers below the top, and arranged them into a flat human silhouette.
Then he lifted Fufu onto the bed, gestured toward the clothes, and said, "Change yourself."
Formal attire wasn't as comfortable as pajamas, and it lacked bright colors and little whale patterns. Hickson had expected Fufu to resist, but to his surprise, the little one's eyes lit up, he happily chirped an acknowledgment, and then actually began undressing and changing on his own.
Hickson hadn't expected the cub to be so agreeable, and he froze for a moment.
An obedient cub was certainly a good thing, but this one was almost too well-behaved.
An uneasy thought crossed Hickson's mind—based on his earlier deductions, Fufu was likely a man-made creation who had escaped from a laboratory, then fallen into the hands of cub traffickers, probably suffering quite a bit along the way.
So for Fufu, being able to come home with him, eat well and stay warm under his care, and even gain a legitimate identity as a member of the Blood Clan—this was an excellent opportunity.
So, could it be that Fufu was acting this obedient, accepting whatever he asked without question, simply out of fear of being abandoned?
At the thought, Hickson's heart grew heavy. He wanted a low-maintenance cub, but if this little one, barely four years old, had to learn to please others…
"Fufu," Hickson spoke up, "do you like this outfit?"
If he really didn't like it, there was no rush to change—after all, the cub was only four…
To his surprise, Fufu answered instantly: "I like it!"
Hickson saw no sign of pretense in his expression, but still couldn't help asking, "Really?"
"I like it, because um…" Fufu couldn't answer properly at the moment, because he was busy pulling the sky-blue pajama top over his head.
It was a pullover style, and the cub's head was too big while the collar was too small, getting stuck at his chin and refusing to come off, making the cub whimper in frustration.
Hickson quickly lent a hand, helping pull his head free from the pajamas.
Fufu shook his little curly head, planted his hands on his hips with a long sigh of relief, then picked up the white little shirt from the bed and looked at Hickson, his eyes curving into crescent moons again: "Because it's big brother's clothes!"
Hickson blinked, looked down at himself, and only then realized. He was also wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and a jacket—though the style was far more ornate and refined than the cub's outfit, at a glance they did look somewhat similar.
He always just grabbed whatever matching set was laid out in his wardrobe, and unless it was a particularly important occasion, he couldn't even remember what he was wearing himself.
But this little one had noticed all of it, and even wanted to wear the same clothes as him…
Hickson felt a stir in his heart and couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth.
This silly cub—he'd probably only ever seen him dressed this way, so he assumed this was his big brother's signature look and wanted to match him.
Little did he know, men across the entire galaxy wore formal attire in much the same style, with nothing distinctive about it at all.
Even so, Hickson felt a soft warmth in his chest.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.
The little cub, completely oblivious to his thoughts, had already pulled the shirt on by himself and was now wrestling with the buttons—human things were way too hard to use!
It wasn't really his fault—after all, Fufu's arms had once been meant for flying, not for delicate tasks. Even now that he had become human, his hands could at most serve a grasping function, far less dexterous than those of other children his age.
The little one fumbled for quite a while before finally managing to fasten one button. Fufu nearly wanted to cheer, hopping up and down to share his joy with the older brother in front of him.
Hickson just smiled and shook his head, turning him around to patiently teach him: "Before buttoning, you need to align the two sides of the shirt and find the corresponding buttonholes."
Then he undid the buttons he had fastened incorrectly earlier and re-buttoned them one by one from bottom to top.
Fufu watched his brother buttoning the shirt, staring for a long time without learning anything—he only felt that the brother's hands moved up along the buttons and buttonholes one by one, and the feeling of him getting closer and closer was simply wonderful.
When the buttoning reached under his chin, Fufu couldn't help lowering his head to nuzzle against his brother's warm hand, then squinted his eyes in contentment.
Having a brother to take care of him was just too good—being a human cub was so comfortable!
Hickson was also disarmed by the soft, obedient look of the little one, completely forgetting his grand plan to train the cub to dress independently. He first fastened all the buttons for the cub, then smoothed down the collar, straightened the cuffs, and then put the little pants on him, tucking the shirt in.
Looking at the neatly dressed cub, even his perpetually expressionless face couldn't help but ripple with a faint trace of a smile.
That smile lasted until he lifted Fufu off the bed and brought him to the full-length mirror.
Hickson finally managed to recall his plan to train the cub. He took out a light pink plastic comb printed with little strawberries from the drawer—this was also newly bought yesterday, with wider-spaced teeth and a lighter weight, suitable for a cub's grip.
Hickson handed the comb to Fufu.
Fufu's hair was the same reddish-brown as his, but very curly, fluffy like a cloud, feeling nice to the touch—though if not properly managed, it would look very messy.
Hickson's hair had also been naturally curly when he was young, but as he grew older it became increasingly stiff and straight, until now it was no different from straight hair, flowing smoothly over his shoulders.
Hickson valued tidiness. Every day he would carefully comb his hair, keeping it perfectly neat, then tie it into a simple low ponytail at the back of his head, looking formal yet gentle.
However, after he finished combing his own hair and looked down at the cub beside him, he found the little one squatting on the ground, using his fingernails to flick back and forth at the comb's teeth, trying to make sounds with it, with absolutely no intention of using it to comb his hair.
"Fufu." Hickson spoke up to interrupt him: "Stop playing. Comb your hair."
Fufu lifted his head, a hint of surprise in his big eyes. He shook his head and said: "I don't need to comb it."
Hickson was amused despite himself—you sure have your own opinions.
"You need to comb it. Your hair is too messy."
The little cub became even more surprised. He even scratched at his head with his little paw and shook his head again: "It's not messy. It doesn't even cover my eyes."
Your standards are way too low… Hickson felt a bit helpless. Remembering what happened earlier, he had a flash of inspiration:
"Don't you want to have the same hairstyle as your brother?"
Unexpectedly, Fufu answered instantly again: "No."
"…" Hickson frowned. He had thought the cub wanting to wear the same outfit as him meant he really liked him, but now it seemed… the little one just liked the clothes?!
If he didn't like something, it didn't matter whether it matched or not—the cub wasn't tempted at all.