But letting the cub wander around all day with that messy mop of hair was simply unacceptable.
Hickson had no choice but to pull Fufu onto his lap and comb his hair himself.
Fufu had a lot of hair, and it wasn't dirty—he'd washed it with warm water the night before. It was just that after a night's sleep, there were a few slight tangles.
Hickson worked through every knot, smoothing out Fufu's curls one by one, then combing the overall direction from the roots.
After combing for a while, he noticed the cub on his lap was tilting his head up with each stroke, letting out contented little hums from his throat, like a cat being petted.
Hickson found it amusing. "What's the matter?"
Seeing him stop, Fufu actively pressed the back of his head against Hickson's hand, mumbling, "A few more strokes."
Hickson chuckled. Hadn't the kid just said his hair didn't need combing? So it wasn't that he didn't like combing his hair—he just didn't like combing it himself. He only enjoyed being waited on, didn't he?
Still, he did as the cub asked and combed it through once more.
Once everything was neatly arranged, Hickson found a thin hair tie from the drawer and tied Fufu's hair into a low ponytail at the back of his head, just like his own.
But the cub's hair wouldn't fall straight and smooth like his. Even tied up, it formed a small curly puff at the back of his head, like a soft little rabbit tail.
When everything was tidied up, Hickson took Fufu out the door.
Brother and cub, with matching hairstyles, wearing similar suits, and looking so alike—they drew quite a bit of attention out on the street. Hickson carried Fufu like he was holding a perfectly scaled-down figurine of himself.
But unlike Hickson's perpetually sour expression, this little figurine smiled sweetly at everyone, even reaching out his chubby little hand to wave hello at unfamiliar neighbors—which made Hickson look like nothing more than an emotionless cat tree.
Fufu's overly friendly attitude greatly slowed Hickson's progress out the door. He had to stop every few steps to explain to neighbors: "No, he's not my son. He's my little brother. Yes, he used to live in the countryside, first time in the Capital Star…"
Hickson rarely chatted with neighbors. He was busy and couldn't be bothered with such people, and coincidentally, others rarely approached him either, put off by his cold, stern appearance.
But today, holding Fufu, he inexplicably found himself in the mood for conversation. Even though he still didn't have much to say, whenever Fufu greeted a neighbor, he would patiently stop and wait for the other person to finish chatting with the cub, offering a smile.
Fortunately, the distance from the apartment elevator to the underground parking garage wasn't far, so he and Fufu didn't waste too much time on that. Soon enough, they got into the car, drove out of the residential complex, and onto the streets.
The city they lived in was Radiance City, the largest metropolis of the Alliance, located on the Capital Star.
The vast majority of residents here were Fantasy Species.
But the Fantasy Species of this era were not the same as the legendary fantasy creatures of ancient Earth. They were, in fact, new races that humans had spontaneously evolved into after expanding across the stars, adapting to extreme environments.
Take their Blood Clan, for example—it was actually early humans who evolved into this form to adapt to dim, cold living conditions.
The reason they exhibit traits similar to classical vampires is said to be because such imagery has long been buried in humanity's collective unconscious, and this tracing back to and emulating classical legends helps humans stabilize their minds in extreme environments.
The appearance of other Fantasy Species—such as werewolves, angels, and mermaids—follows the same principle.
Though individuals like them are stronger than pure humans, their numbers are simply too few. When living among pure humans, they are easily treated as outsiders, even subjected to slaughter and trafficking. It was only after centuries of struggle and revolution that the Fantasy Species carved out a territory of their own in this star sector—the Fantasy Species Alliance.
Here, Fantasy Species are the mainstream. Though the various races have vastly different habits, they have largely managed to seek common ground while respecting differences, living in relative peace.
Radiance City, in turn, is the largest city in the Fantasy Species Alliance—the place in the entire universe best suited for all Fantasy Species to live together. The city is built with extensive infrastructure adapted to every race, and all supermarkets, restaurants, and hotels provide differentiated services for citizens of different species. It's quite convenient and comfortable.
Hickson drove through the city center streets and finally stopped in front of a white building, with a sign reading: Eden Medical Center.
Eden is a top-tier private hospital in Radiance City. Hickson's childhood friend and old classmate, Winster of the angel race, serves as deputy director there—a very reliable person. Though Hickson rarely falls ill, he comes here regularly for routine check-ups and custom-formulated Nutrient Solutions.
Last night, after Fufu was brought back, Hickson immediately contacted Winster to book Fufu a full physical examination this morning, along with a more precise kinship test, just to be safe.
Winster is of the angel race, with a halo above his head, wings on his back, and short flaxen hair. It should have been a rather ethereal look, but sitting there in the hospital in his white coat and glasses, he inexplicably gave off the vibe of a weary office worker.
The weary Dr. Winster had plenty to say about Hickson disturbing him repeatedly late at night and insisting on a check-up first thing in the morning, grumbling complaints at him—but the moment he saw Fufu, he dropped all his griping and put on a gentle, reliable demeanor.
Fufu had never seen an angel before. He thought the man was simply radiant all over—halo glowing, wings glowing, sitting there like a floor lamp, absolutely beautiful.
Fufu circled around him several times, gently touching his feathers with his fingertips.
Winster was clearly long accustomed to young ones being affectionate, and generously found two freshly shed feathers to give Fufu.
Clutching those two glowing angel feathers, Fufu's eyes practically sparkled with stars as he said excitedly to the angel brother, "So pretty! Thank you, brother!"
This is the racial advantage of the angel tribe—innate charm that surpasses all others. They can charm any little one senseless by doing almost anything.
As for Hickson, being Fufu's biological brother, he simply stood off to the side watching coldly, thinking with a chill in his heart—indeed, young ones are naturally drawn to shiny things.
Last night, when Fufu saw the crystal chandelier in his home, he had worn the exact same expression.
From this, it was clear that in Fufu's eyes, so-called angels were nothing more than walking crystal lamps.
Winster, for his part, was completely oblivious to the look in his Blood Clan childhood friend's eyes that suggested he wanted to string him up from his own ceiling. He dutifully led Fufu through the medical examination instead.
Today's check-up was more comprehensive, with many more items on the list. But because Fufu had those two glowing feathers clutched in his hands, he cooperated throughout the entire process—no fussing, no crying. So well-behaved that it was almost hard to believe.
The results came back quickly. Aside from a few minor scrapes on his body, Fufu was in excellent overall health. There was no sign of malnutrition whatsoever. Every physical indicator matched what a four-year-old cub should be, and he was even a bit sturdier than most children his age.
In other words, he didn't look like a poor little thing who had been left unattended, wandering for a long time, or tortured in a laboratory. Instead, he looked like a beloved little treasure, carefully cared for and doted on by his parents.
This conclusion made Hickson's expression turn somewhat grim.
Of course, Fufu being healthy and sturdy was a good thing—he wanted that too. But the problem was that the child's condition was a little too perfect, almost to an unreasonable degree.
This made him start to wonder: were those two paternity tests done by the police precinct really reliable? Could they have made another mistake?
Was it possible that Fufu wasn't actually his brother who had fallen from the sky, but rather an innocent child that those filthy human traffickers had snatched from somewhere?
The new paternity test results hadn't come back yet. This time, they were using a technology newly introduced by Eden that could measure more precisely and comprehensively, though it took longer to produce results. The big brother and the little cub sat in Winster's office, waiting.
Fufu had collected quite a few snacks from the nurse sisters that morning and had now laid them out in a row on the table. He fiddled with the two feathers while sampling each snack one by one, showing none of the nervousness typical of young children in a hospital.
Meanwhile, Hickson sat off to the side with his arms crossed, his expression tense.
Once the suspicion surged up, it wouldn't stop. He looked at the miniature vampire cub beside him, who had the same hairstyle as his own, and couldn't help but think—if the results came back and Fufu really wasn't his biological brother, what then?
It wasn't that he couldn't bear to part with Fufu. After all, they had only spent less than a day together, and his circumstances weren't suitable for raising such a little burden anyway.
It was just that he felt Fufu's parents must be so careless—how could they lose such a small, well-behaved cub? What kind of vampire could they possibly be?
If they could lose him once, they could lose him again. How could he possibly feel at ease letting someone like that raise Fufu?
Maybe… maybe he just wouldn't return him. He could hide it from them and take Fufu for himself.
But blood ties couldn't be changed, and he didn't know how long he could keep it a secret. He just hoped Fufu wouldn't hate him when he grew up…
Hickson's thoughts grew increasingly absurd, and in the blink of an eye, he had already thought of several measures to prevent Fufu from discovering the secret of his bloodline.
Across from him, Winster noticed his friend's grim expression and silently poured him a cup of hot water, patting Hickson on the shoulder. "It's fine. Relax."
He knew full well that his childhood friend was not cut out for raising children. The fact that he had managed to tolerate Fufu for a whole night, even taking leave from work to bring the cub for a check-up, was only because of the blood connection between them.
After all, as far as he knew, vampires generally had extremely strong family values and cared deeply about blood relations. If it turned out that Fufu wasn't his biological brother, Hickson would surely lose all patience, eager to cast off this little burden and get straight back to work.
So, being considerate, he said, "Don't worry. Our hospital is connected to the largest public gene bank in the galaxy. Once the test results come out, they'll be uploaded automatically, and we'll immediately be able to identify the biological parents. We can have them come to the hospital to pick him up—I'll handle the paperwork for you. It'll be very convenient. It'll be done by this afternoon, or at the latest, tomorrow."
But to his surprise, the moment he finished speaking, the vampire CEO's expression turned even darker. His black eyes silently glared at him, as if he were about to suck his blood.
Winster: ?? What's wrong now? Getting it done in a day is still too slow for him?
Fortunately, when the results finally came out, they matched what was tested at the police station yesterday—Fufu was indeed Hickson's biological brother by blood.
With that confirmed, Hickson breathed a sigh of relief.
In that case, it was only natural and beyond doubt that he should raise Fufu.
Winster, on the other hand, looked rather worried, gazing at Hickson with concern. "Alright, since he's your biological brother, let's raise him well. Spend more time on him… Sigh, if you can't manage, just find a nanny. There are plenty of elves who specialize in childcare—go look around for one."
Hickson actually wanted to say no need, that he would raise the child himself, but seeing Winster's expression that seemed to say "Don't you dare get rid of your brother just because he's a hassle," the refusal suddenly got stuck in his throat.
Indeed, judging by his temperament over the past few hundred years, he really didn't seem like the type to patiently raise a child.
However, people could change. The universe had given vampires such long lives precisely so they could try their hand at different things.
Besides, he didn't think raising a kid was all that difficult. From last night until now, he and Fufu had gotten along just fine.
With only the AI butler's guidance, he'd managed to get the kid cleaned up and settled in no time on his first try—how could anyone say he had no talent for childcare?
Hickson felt that given enough time, the outside world's prejudice against him would gradually change.
With that thought, Hickson felt a surge of motivation. He brought Fufu out of the hospital and headed straight to the mall.
First, he took the kid to a clothing store to get measured and ordered several vampire-appropriate formal outfits. Then he took the kid to the supermarket, buying a big haul of snacks and toys.
Because Fufu was so small, and he was afraid the kid might get bumped into or lost in the supermarket, he followed the example of other parents and placed Fufu in the toddler seat inside the shopping cart.
Fufu suddenly gained a higher vantage point and got to be pushed around by his big brother—he was absolutely thrilled. He spread his arms wide, saying he was going to fly, laughing with pure joy.
Hickson was equally satisfied, feeling more and more that he was a quick learner and truly a master at raising kids.
That buoyant feeling lasted until the two brothers finished shopping and returned home.
By then, it was nearly mealtime, and this would be Fufu's first proper meal since arriving at his home. Hickson certainly wasn't going to let the kid keep drinking nutrient solution.
He lifted Fufu into the toddler chair, took out a new shatterproof toddler high cup he'd just bought, placed it in front of Fufu, and poured fresh blood into it.
It was high-quality fresh artificial blood he had bought from the supermarket's vampire section—the most fragrant, the most vividly colored, completely free of clots and clumps.
There were plenty of blood beverages on the market for vampires these days, but most of them were blended, with various flavorings and preservatives added.
Hickson had always found it baffling. A vampire's sense of smell and taste deteriorated with age; once they reached a certain age, they could barely feel either sense at all. So what was the point of adding all those flavorings?
That was why he never bought those flashy drinks. He only bought this kind of fresh artificial blood with an extremely short shelf life, using it to occasionally satisfy his vampire instincts.
Fufu was still very young, and Hickson wanted the little one to develop the habit of avoiding seasonings, so he had deliberately chosen the plain original-flavor artificial blood he drank most often for the cub to taste.
The blood was poured into a goblet, looking brilliantly red and giving off the distinctive metallic, savory scent of blood—utterly enticing to a vampire.
Hickson pushed the goblet in front of Fufu.
Fufu lay on the railing of his high chair, staring curiously at the drink in the cup, full of confusion—What is this? It looks like tomato juice, but the smell is so strange. Did it go bad?
Seeing the expression on his face, Hickson sighed inwardly. His little brother had been raised all the way to this age without ever having tasted blood once. It just went to show what a hard life he'd had before.
No wonder he liked fruit-flavored Nutrient Solution. His poor little brother.
A wave of tenderness washed over Hickson. He sat down at the side of the table, the corners of his mouth curving up. "It's food. It tastes good. Give it a try."
Fufu looked at the cup of "tomato juice," then at his brother, and came to a conclusion—this must be some new flavor he'd never tried before!
In any case, his brother would never lie to him. Ever since his brother had saved him last night, Fufu had confirmed that this person was incredibly capable and always managed to find delicious things to eat. He was full of trust in Hickson.
So the cub didn't hesitate. He picked up the goblet and took a big, hearty gulp—
The next second, Fufu was completely petrified.
A salty, astringent taste flooded his mouth, mixed with a powerful metallic tang that shot straight up his nasal passages and attacked his brain.
Fufu felt as if that fishy, salty bomb was detonating inside his mouth and his mind, staining his entire being with a foul, bloody stench.
He was no longer clean!!
Fufu really didn't want to swallow this strange liquid, but if he spat it out… he'd never spat anything out before!
Little bats had such a hard time foraging for food. How could you spit out something that had already gone into your mouth?
The usually quick and nimble little cub was now completely frozen by the fishy, salty taste in his mouth, with no idea what to do. All he could do was puff out his cheeks, stare blankly ahead, flail his hands and feet in the air, utterly at a loss.
Hickson was stunned watching from the side.
What did this mean? Was he choking? Could you choke on liquid too??
Cubs were way too fragile!
He hurriedly grabbed several tissues and held them out to Fufu.
"Spit it out! If you can't swallow it, spit it out."
He wanted to pat Fufu's back, but he was afraid of hurting the cub, so he could only place his hand awkwardly on the little one's back.
Hearing his brother say this, Fufu finally couldn't hold it in anymore. With a "wah," he spat out the entire mouthful of blood.
Once the stuff in his mouth was out, Fufu felt as if he had been reborn. He went "ptoo, ptoo, ptoo" and spat several more times.
What is this stuff? It smells so gross!
Fufu spat for a long time, but that fishy taste still lingered in his mouth. He looked at his brother with a face full of mixed emotions.
His brother actually thought this stuff tasted good… Had he never eaten fresh fruit before? Could he only eat rotten things??
Wah wah, his poor brother—he must have suffered so much growing up…
Fufu secretly resolved: once he grew a little bigger and his wings were a little stronger, he would go find a mango grove and pick big mangoes for his brother to eat!
Hickson was still pulling tissues to wipe the blood off Fufu's mouth, completely unaware that in the little cub's eyes, he had already become a big clumsy bat who didn't even know how to forage for food.
He just sighed at how fragile the cub was—he could even choke on a sip of blood. It seemed it was still too early for a goblet; maybe he should go back to using that little baby bottle with the rubber nipple.
But there was still a bit left in the cup, so he might as well have Fufu finish it.
He pushed the goblet, which had only a sip left at the bottom, toward Fufu: "There's a little more. Here, take small sips."
Fufu was horrified—his brother actually wanted him to drink more!
"No!" He immediately pushed his brother away.
Hickson wasn't ready to give up, and brought the cup closer to him.
That fishy smell came near again. Fufu dodged left and right, squirming around in his high chair, and finally, relying on his agility, flipped himself right off the chair and landed on the floor.
"No, Fufu won't drink!"
Hickson was also puzzled. Why wouldn't the cub drink anymore? He only choked a little—it couldn't be that bad.
But he quickly understood. The cub must have been tasting blood for the first time and wasn't used to it. Combined with the choking just now, he was a bit intimidated.
This was only temporary. After all, Fufu was a vampire. Once he adapted a little more, he would definitely come to love the taste of blood.
So Hickson carried the little goblet and chased after him: "Just one more sip, Fufu. It's delicious. Come on, just one sip…"
The moment Fufu saw that stinking, fishy "juice," it was like seeing a giant monster.
Hearing his brother still wanted him to drink it, he immediately turned and ran: "No, Fufu won't drink!"
"Come on, just one taste…" Hickson followed after him.
Fufu ran all over the room to escape that blood—jumping onto the sofa, jumping back down, crawling under the coffee table, and crawling back out.
Hickson was just as persistent, determined to make his little brother taste this delicacy of the vampire world.
"Fufu, just one taste. You'll definitely love it!"
Hearing the voice, Fufu only ran faster.
Fufu dashed to the table, knocked over a chair, which bumped into the table. The table wobbled slightly, and with a "bang," a drink bottle fell off.
The bottle seemed to have been opened before. Now it hit the ground, the cap popped right off, and a thick, bright red liquid spilled all over the floor.
Fufu froze for a moment.
He now instinctively disliked this kind of thick red liquid, but this bottle seemed a little different…
Fufu crept closer, crouched down, and found a fragrant aroma wafting toward him—a sour, sweet scent drifting from the liquid, constantly tempting him.
Fufu dipped a finger in and was about to shove it into his mouth when his little paw was caught by Hickson, who had arrived just in time.
"No, Fufu. It fell on the floor. You can't eat that."
Fufu knew eating things off the floor wasn't good, but the smell was too tempting—he just couldn't help himself.
Now that his brother had grabbed him, the juice that was about to reach his mouth was out of reach. He immediately grew upset, whining and grumbling in protest.
However, Hickson was extremely principled in this regard and completely ignored his tantrum. He forcibly wiped Fufu's hands clean, then grabbed him by the armpits and lifted the whole cub up, setting him on a nearby chair. He then called over the household robot to clean up the floor.
Fufu was thoroughly displeased. His stomach was still empty from lunch, and he'd been forced to swallow a big gulp of foul juice for no reason. Now that he'd finally found something delicious, his brother wouldn't let him drink it! Fufu decided to ignore his brother.
He pouted and sat on the chair, sulking.
After sulking for a moment, Fufu's gaze drifted across the table and landed on a few items placed at the other end. His eyes suddenly lit up.
Those were a few drink bottles, identical to the ones that had just fallen on the floor…
No wonder his brother wouldn't let him drink those—he'd prepared new ones for him!
His brother was still his good brother.
Hickson tossed the bottles on the floor away, then watched the robot vacuum clean up the mess. Suddenly, he felt the room was a bit too quiet.
The cub who had been bouncing around just moments ago—why was there suddenly no sound at all?
A sense of foreboding crept over him. He whipped his head around and jumped in surprise.
There was Fufu, having silently climbed up the chair onto the table without a sound, already nearly crawling to the other end.
Hickson was startled, afraid he might fall, and quickly circled around to block the cub.
But the little one was sitting perfectly steady on the dining table, hugging a bottle in his arms, with a few teeth marks pressed into the cap—clearly he'd been studying it with both hands and mouth for quite a while.
Realizing he really couldn't open the bottle on his own, Fufu lifted his head and flashed him a sweet smile.
"Brother, open it for Fufu!"
Hickson's expression was beyond words.
Of course he knew what was in the bottle. It was what Winster had shoved into his hands last week when he went to pick up his custom Nutrient Solution—their company's health supplement: vegan blood. Winster said it looked and tasted similar to real blood, but the ingredients were entirely plant-based. They planned to sell it to religious members and vegetarians within the Blood Clan, so they could uphold their beliefs while still being able to drink blood.
Hickson's expression back then had been exactly the same as it was now—beyond words.
Vampires who were vegetarians? Might as well say werewolves had vegetarians too.
But Winster told him it was precisely because their earlier vegan meat had been so popular among werewolf vegetarians that they'd developed this new product. He asked Hickson to take it home and try it, hoping it could also gain traction among their vampires.
Hickson couldn't talk his way out of it, so he brought the Angel Group's brain-dead invention back home.
That day, curiosity got the better of him, and he wanted to open it and taste it. But the moment he twisted the cap off, a pungent smell of sunlight rushed out of the bottle, making Hickson sneeze several times in a row.
He quickly screwed the cap back on and checked the ingredient list, discovering the main component of this vegan blood was tomato juice, with concentrated fruit and vegetable juices added—carrot, apple, strawberry, grape, and more—all to create that vivid red, thick texture.
As for the taste… Hickson really didn't want to try it. Just smelling that overwhelming scent of sunlight was already more than enough for him.
A vampire's aversion to the smell of sunlight was etched into their genes. To him, this thing was essentially a piece of chocolate-shaped shit—agonizing just to look at, let alone drink.
So he'd only taken that one sniff before hastily screwing the cap back on and putting it away, planning to toss it out the next morning on his way out.
But he'd been too busy those days, then went on a business trip, and when he came back with Fufu in tow, it was pure chaos—he completely forgot about those bottles.
Now, of all things, Fufu had taken an interest in this drink.
Hickson knew his cub had a sweet tooth—when drinking Nutrient Solution, he always picked the fruit-flavored ones. But Nutrient Solution was only fruit-flavored; this vegan blood was genuinely pressed fruit and vegetable juice… If Fufu dared to drink even this, then—well, that would just be too insane.
At the thought of that image, Hickson's expression grew increasingly complicated. He felt utterly numb and quickly reached for the bottle of juice:
"Fufu, this doesn't taste good. Vampires don't drink this." He picked up the small goblet that still had a bit left at the bottom. "Here, drink blood…"
Before he could finish, Fufu pouted again, looking at Hickson with a pitiful, aggrieved expression, his voice tinged with tears: "Brother…"
Hickson quickly unscrewed the cap.
Fufu immediately broke into a smile and planted a kiss on his cheek: "Thank you, brother!"
Hickson: …Why does it feel like I've been played again.
He let out a sigh. Fine… the little one was growing up day by day; sooner or later, he'd come into contact with fruits and vegetables. He couldn't keep him from them forever.
Besides, Hickson had a vague feeling—maybe Fufu was just like Lord Ye who claimed to love dragons but was terrified when one actually appeared. Liking fruit-flavored Nutrient Solution didn't necessarily mean he'd actually like real fruit.
Maybe the moment he tasted this vegetable-fruit juice, Fufu would realize how disgusting fruit tasted, and finally see the error of his ways, returning to the righteous path.
The more Hickson thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. That way, helping the cub unscrew the cap was him helping the other pull back from the brink and set things right—exactly what a big brother should do. It definitely wasn't just because he'd gone soft from the cub's adorable pleading.
With that thought in mind, Hickson handed the vegetable-fruit juice to Fufu.
Two minutes later, Hickson watched the cub chugging down the bottle with loud gulps, then slumped weakly against the back of his chair and slapped his own forehead hard.
"Brother, what's wrong?" Fufu set down the bottle and looked at him.
The cub wasn't drinking very neatly—red liquid trickled down past his little fangs and stained his chin, yet he was completely unaware, smiling with pure contentment like a little vampire who'd just had his fill of blood.
So cute… but also so stinky.
Little bro, you're a vampire. How can you possibly love something like that…
Seeing that he wasn't responding, Fufu generously offered the drink over: "Brother, you try it too!"
Hickson quickly dodged: "N-no, that's alright."
"Just try it, just one little sip! It's really good, brother!"
This time, it turned into the cub chasing his brother all around the room.
By the time he finally managed to persuade the cub to stop kindly sharing the delicious drink, Hickson could finally sit down and catch his breath.
He still found it hard to believe. How could Fufu love this stuff?
He thought again—maybe Fufu only liked the juice, not actual fruit? Or perhaps he only favored the distinctive taste of certain fruits, not that he'd eat just anything?
With that in mind, he opened the delivery app and ordered the largest, most varied fresh-cut fruit platter to be delivered to the house.
Half an hour later, Hickson watched the little cub sitting in front of the fruit platter, clutching his little fork and stuffing his cheeks full.
"Brother, Fufu is so happy…"
The cub even used his fork to point at the mango chunks in the platter, speaking with a full mouth: "Fufu's first favorite is this, second is this, third is this, fourth is…"
Hickson watched as he pointed at every single fruit in the platter, then finally raised his fork toward the bottle of tomato vegetable-fruit juice that was more than half gone: "And then that one," before pointing his fork at the can of artificial blood that had only been sipped a little, saying with disgust: "Hate that one the most!"
Hickson closed his eyes, hoping this was all just his imagination.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a while, then finally accepted reality and called Winster.
At this time, Eden Medical Center was in its lunch break. Doctor Winster had just finished his meal, groomed his wings, and was about to take a short nap. He had barely lain down when he received a call from his childhood friend.
He heard his usually calm and indifferent vampire friend speaking with a heavy tone, as if desperately trying to conceal his confusion and panic.
"Winster, take another look at Fufu's examination results…"
Winster's heart sank. Could something have gone wrong with Fufu's health after returning?
Although the little one's origins were somewhat peculiar, he genuinely liked this adorable and well-behaved little cub.
He quickly asked, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
Hickson's tone on the other end grew even heavier: "I suspect… he has pica."
"Pica?! What did he eat?"
"He drank the fruit and vegetable juice you gave him, and said it was delicious."
Winster: "…"
Okay, that's a pretty nasty insult.
The angel doctor closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally managed to suppress the urge to hang up the phone outright.
Though annoyed, he felt that his childhood friend was usually a serious person and wouldn't joke around to mock him about something like this.
"So what?"
Hickson continued: "He also likes eating fruit—any kind of fruit. His favorite is mango. Take a look."
Winster felt his phone vibrate. He looked down and saw a photo sent over: the little cub sitting in front of a fruit platter, cheeks puffed out, staring with wide, innocent eyes.
Wow, so adorable… but why are you sending me this?!
What does this have to do with his condition?! This is just showing off!
"So what does this have to do with pica?" Winster said irritably.
"He eats fruit," Hickson said seriously. "What vampire eats fruit?"
"…" Winster didn't want to speak.
How would he know? He wasn't a vampire!
Honestly, you seem like the one with the problem.
The angel doctor was truly exhausted. He patiently asked back:
"Do you know what the definition of pica is?"
Hickson was silent.
Winster continued: "In medicine, pica refers to the persistent consumption of non-nutritive, non-food substances."
"…" The other end remained silent.
"You should know that although vampires like to drink blood, their nutritional needs are no different from other races. The nutrient solution you drink every time also contains vitamins and fiber."
"…"
"So even for vampires, fruit is food—and very nutritious at that. Fufu's love of fruit actually shows he's healthy and has a good appetite."
Winster paused, then couldn't help but add,
"Strictly speaking, it's not the cub who has pica—it's the rest of you vampires who are too picky eaters…"
"…" Hickson was momentarily speechless. He never expected that after priding himself on his discipline for so many years, he'd now be labeled a picky eater.
But what the other said did seem to make some sense. He was half-convinced: "So, Fufu liking fruit is not a problem?"
"Absolutely no problem." Winster answered without a second thought, but then, recalling how his good friend handled raising kids, he added uneasily, "But you can't just feed him fruit, you know. You need a balanced diet—fruits and vegetables, meat, eggs, dairy, and staples. You have to prepare all of that for him. Here, let me send you a dietary guideline… Ugh, actually, why don't you just give him Nutrient Solution for now? At least it won't cause any problems. Once you hire a nanny in a few days, she can cook for him."
"Understood, I've got it." Hickson replied steadily.
Winster had no idea where his friend's inexplicable confidence came from, so he could only keep reminding him, "But you can't just drink Nutrient Solution carelessly either—follow the instructions on the label. And if you run into any problems, call me anytime…"
Hickson thanked him and quickly hung up.
What problems could he possibly have? It was such a trivial matter, and the other guy still thought he hadn't understood.
He couldn't speak for other things, but when it came to drinking Nutrient Solution, he had more experience than anyone.
Still… Hickson rubbed his chin thoughtfully: Winster did have a point about the fruit thing.
Vampires also needed to consume vitamins—he knew that much.
So maybe Fufu didn't have some kind of condition; perhaps he just had a peculiar taste?
He looked across at the little vampire, who had just popped the last small strawberry into his mouth with a blissful expression, and couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth.
As long as he wasn't sick, his taste didn't matter.
Fufu was his biological little brother—if he wanted to eat some fruit, what was the big deal?
It was just that the smell was too unpleasant, a bit of an ordeal for him, a big vampire.
No big problem. He could get through it.
Once he'd come to terms with it, Hickson grew intensely curious about Fufu's eating habits. He had the shopping robot buy every kind of toddler snack from the supermarket and tested them one by one to see if Fufu liked them.
The results left him silent once again. Just as Winster had said, Fufu was a healthy, strong cub with an excellent appetite. He was ravenous and accepted everything—candy, jerky, little cookies—without refusal, especially favoring fruit-flavored snacks like dried fruit and jelly.
However, when it came to things that ordinary vampire cubs loved—like blood-flavored cookies, plasma ice cream, and blood-clot-filled gummy candies—Fufu showed nothing but disgust and refused to take even a single bite.
In the end, Hickson could only accept reality—it seemed he really had ended up raising a very unusual cub.
A vampire cub who couldn't drink blood but loved eating fruit.