Rex's visit was merely a minor interlude. After he left, Hickson quickly threw himself back into work.
During the morning, though busy, he wasn't completely swamped—he made a point to check on Fufu in the outer room every half hour. To be fair, Fufu was a remarkably patient little cub. He would occasionally wander into the inner office for a look around, but he never fussed or made noise, entertaining himself quietly without disrupting Hickson's work in the slightest.
The afternoon, however, proved more challenging. Hickson had to attend a remote meeting to hear reports from branch offices on other planets. Different planets had different time zones, making it difficult to coordinate schedules—this was an important meeting that would last at least an hour and a half.
During that time, Fufu would have to entertain himself. Hickson worried a little about the cub, but he figured Fufu wasn't an unreasonable child—as mentioned before, as long as he communicated properly with the little one, the cub could understand.
The key was to explain things well, not just brush him off.
So, he sat down on the sofa, pulled Fufu into his arms, and said in a gentle voice:
"Fufu, big brother has a meeting that will last an hour and a half. I won't be able to play with you during that time. You can watch your online lessons and play with your toys, but you mustn't come in and disturb me, okay?"
"Huh?" Fufu was indeed displeased, dragging out his words: "How long is that going to take—"
Hickson picked up the Star-pad and pointed at the digital clock in the upper left corner.
"Look here, it's 3:50 now. When it reaches 5:30, big brother will come out. Then I'll play with you, alright?"
With a set time and a promise to play together afterward, Fufu finally pouted and reluctantly agreed.
Hickson let out a sigh of relief, set Fufu down, turned and went back into the inner room, closing the glass door and pulling down the blinds.
Through the gaps in the blinds, he could still see roughly what was happening outside, so Hickson wasn't worried. He was only concerned that Fufu might get too bored and come running in to cling to him, disrupting the meeting.
So, during the early part of the meeting, he kept glancing at the activity outside. But to his surprise, the cub truly stayed quiet and well-behaved out there the whole time.
Through the door, he could vaguely make out the little one looking at the Star-pad, playing with toys, or running back and forth across the room. Fufu was clearly a bit bored, but he never made a fuss. For a cub who had just turned four, that was quite remarkable.
It seemed Fufu had truly learned this time how to play by himself without disturbing the adults.
At that thought, Hickson felt a warmth of pride—but perhaps also a faint trace of something bittersweet.
Though there wasn't really anything to feel bittersweet about. After all, he had always prioritized work; it was never possible for him to devote large amounts of time to Fufu. The cub would have to learn independence sooner or later.
Moreover, as a member of the Blood Clan—whose total population across the entire Fantasy Species Sector numbered less than ten thousand—solitude was simply the norm in their long, long lives.
Fufu would eventually have to learn how to face loneliness on his own.
Hickson let out a soft sigh.
He had one great strength: no matter the environment, once he started working, he could quickly focus and clear his mind of distractions. It didn't affect him much.
He had been on a business trip recently, followed by a day off, so quite a few matters had piled up, stretching the reporting session longer than usual.
But he wasn't anxious. He worked through the backlog with his subordinates, discussing and resolving each matter one by one.
By the time all the accumulated work was finished, Hickson let out a long breath, filled with a sense of accomplishment. He stood up and stretched his back. The office was utterly silent.
He paused, suddenly remembering something, and quickly looked down—the time on the screen read 7:26.
A chill ran down Hickson's spine. Had the meeting really gone on this long without him noticing?
It was already a full two hours past the 5:30 he had promised Fufu.
The area outside the office was quiet, without a single sound.
Hickson panicked.
Once he got absorbed in work, he lost track of time, forgetting that there was a little cub waiting outside to play with him.
It was already this late—why hadn't Fufu come in to find him?
Hickson quickly got up and walked to the door, barely daring to face the cub waiting outside.
He first pulled open a sliver of the blinds and peered out.
In the reception room, all kinds of cub toys were scattered across the floor, but Fufu showed no interest in playing at all. The little one sat alone on the small rug in front of the sofa, knees hugged to the chest, head lowered in a daze.
With his back to Hickson, Fufu's expression was hidden, leaving only a small, lonely silhouette to be seen…
Hickson's heart clenched at the sight. He had wanted to cultivate Fufu's independence, but he hadn't intended to leave the cub alone for so long. After all, Fufu was just a four-year-old cub—exactly the age when a child needs adult companionship…
Fufu's back was to him, shoulders trembling slightly, and a faint whimpering sound could be heard—was the little one crying out there alone?
Hickson couldn't bear it. He felt utterly ashamed.
He quickly pushed open the door, rushed out, and forced a smile: "Fufu!"
Hearing his voice, Fufu immediately turned around, eyes bright: "Big brother!"
Thankfully, there were no tear tracks on the cub's face. His mood seemed fine, and he didn't blame Hickson at all. His eyes were full of surprise, just as they always were.
But Hickson's guilt only deepened.
He hurried over, scooped Fufu up, pressed the cub against his chest and rubbed him vigorously, nuzzling his face into the soft curls:
"Fufu, I'm sorry. I lost track of time and made you wait too long. If this ever happens again, you can come and get me, okay?"
"No, big brother is busy." Fufu shook his head seriously, then said obediently, "You're done now. Can we play?"
"Yes, of course we can!" Hickson answered quickly.
But when he glanced at the time, he immediately felt a pang of guilt. It was already this late. Even if they headed home right away, the cub still needed his Nutrient Solution, a bath, and getting ready for bed. By the time all that was done, it would almost be time to sleep—there was no chance to play at all.
Hickson said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Fufu. It's too late today. Tomorrow—tomorrow I'll play with you properly, okay?"
He had expected that after waiting so long, Fufu would surely be upset that the promise had fallen through. To his surprise, the cub agreed readily: "Okay, play tomorrow! I like big brother."
As he spoke, he even planted a loud kiss on Hickson's cheek.
Hickson didn't know what to say. Rex was right—Fufu really was an unbelievably well-behaved cub.
A two-hour no-show like this would irritate even an adult, let alone a cub. Yet his cub had accepted it so readily, even going so far as to comfort him in return… It was so well-behaved it made one's heart ache.
Hickson nuzzled Fufu again, then set him down, his heart still unable to settle.
Just then, he felt something ticklish on his face. He raised a hand to rub at it, and his knuckles came away sticky, as if something had adhered to them…
Hickson brought the back of his hand up to his eyes and caught a faint, sweet scent. He frowned, reaching up to touch the sticky spot on his face—it seemed to be exactly where Fufu had kissed him just moments ago.
He looked at Fufu and noticed the cub had already begun to avert his gaze, sidling away. He sensed this was not so simple.
But when he looked around the room, he found nothing out of the ordinary.
Hickson rubbed his face again, then crouched down, looking at the carpet where the cub had been sitting.
And there, hidden beneath the sofa, he discovered piles of jelly cups, candy wrappers, and all kinds of snack packaging…
Hickson reached in and pulled out the debris. Each transparent jelly cup had a pair of round little holes bitten into it, clearly punctured by vampire fangs. The dried fruit bags were chewed and crumpled at the openings—two large packs of dried mango and dried strawberry had vanished without a trace. The foil wrappers of the chocolates were spotless, not a smear of chocolate sauce left, and felt damp to the touch, clearly having been meticulously licked clean by the cub…
Hickson turned around. The little snack basket that had originally been placed on the high shelf of the bookcase had long since been knocked down and tossed onto the carpet. What had once been a full basket of treats now held only a few items.
Only then did it occur to him—Fufu could transform into a small bat, and those little wings were far more nimble than those of an average vampire. A couple of flaps and he was airborne. What good did putting the snacks up high do? He had been too careless.
Clearly, this afternoon, his Fufu had not huddled miserably in a corner crying. Instead, he had overturned the snack basket and happily thrown himself a feast.
A little cub who would never shortchange himself.
Seeing that the evidence of his crime had been discovered, Fufu was already slinking guiltily toward the inner room.
Hickson called out to him: "Fufu."
The little one froze mid-step, then cautiously turned his head back.
Hickson reached out to him as gently as he could: "Come here."
Only then did Fufu pout and, with reluctance, shuffle back in tiny steps.
Hickson waited patiently until the cub reached him, then scooped him up in one motion, set him on his lap, and looked down to ask: "Did you eat all of this?"
Fufu finally couldn't hold it in anymore. Pouting, he said in a pitiful voice: "Brother, I'm sorry."
He looked so pitiful and adorable that Hickson couldn't muster any anger at all.
Besides, this wasn't really the cub's fault. It was already well past mealtime—he had gotten so absorbed in his work that he'd lost track of time, failing to feed the cub on schedule, not even providing Nutrient Solution, which had driven the cub to sneak snacks on his own. How could he blame Fufu for that?
Hickson felt even more self-reproachful. Raising a cub on Nutrient Solution was already the easiest possible approach, and he still managed to forget even that, leaving the cub to eat junk food instead. What kind of caretaker was he?
For the cub to eat so many snacks in one go must be very harmful to his health… But what was done was done. All he could do now was try to make up for it.
Hickson pulled out all the wrapping paper hidden under the sofa, counted it carefully, sorted it by category, took photos and sent them to Winster, then photographed the ingredient lists of each food item and sent those over too.
H: Fufu ate all this this afternoon. What should we do now?
H: Can your hospital still schedule a stomach pump at this hour? Would the ER work?
At the same time, Dr. Winster, who was also just about to leave work, received the messages and felt a jolt in his chest.
Oh no. He knew it—his childhood friend couldn't handle raising a kid! He must not have been paying attention and let the cub eat some medication or cleaning product or something! Damn, he should have reminded him earlier to lock those things away…
He quickly tapped on the images and saw a pile of chewed-up, mangled packaging that was impossible to identify. His heart sank even further.
Oh no, and he ate a lot too… He wondered if the cub could even hold on, or if they'd need to dispatch an ambulance.
Winster quickly pressed the buzzer to alert the ER doctors and nurses on duty, telling them to prepare to receive the cub.
However, when he opened the long list of ingredient labels…
Cookies, jelly, little walnuts; french fries, milk candy, hawthorn slices.
"…"
Winster silently messaged the ER saying it was all clear, then dialed Hickson's number.
"Seriously, do you have a problem? Scaring me like that late at night, is that fun for you? I've told you, I've told you a hundred times! This isn't pica! It's completely normal for cubs to eat these things. You can't just want to pump his stomach just because his taste is different from the rest of you vampires!"
Hickson, having been scolded roundly, seemed a bit ashamed. He paused, then still said: "But he ate a lot, and now he won't eat dinner…"
"If you ate that many snacks, you wouldn't want dinner either!" Winster was so angry his halo hurt. He squeezed the angelic halo on top of his head hard, fuming: "Seriously, are you an alien? Do you have no common sense? Didn't you eat snacks when you were a kid?"
Hickson's voice grew quieter and quieter: "…I didn't."
Winster was taken aback. True enough. He'd known this guy since elementary school, and he'd indeed never eaten snacks. Even the yogurt the school cafeteria handed out—Hickson thought it tasted weird and always gave it to him to drink.
Remembering the friendship of drinking this guy's yogurt for years, Winster took a deep breath, then another, telling himself that his childhood friend sometimes really didn't seem human, and he wasn't trying to annoy him on purpose.
After working hard for a while, Winster finally calmed his anger and softened his tone to explain:
"Technically speaking, a cub eating this much high-fat, high-sugar food in a short period isn't great for their health.
"But as long as it's not every day, the occasional one-off won't have much impact. No need for a stomach pump or anything. Just go back, pour some warm water, and have him drink it…
"No need! Don't come to the hospital. Go home and rest. Just looking at you is annoying!"
Hearing Winster's explanation, Hickson finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Good—as long as there was no harm… He cleaned up the trash on the floor, wiped Fufu's mouth and little greasy paws, then drove Fufu home.
After getting home, he followed Winster's advice and poured warm water into Fufu's little milk bottle.
Fufu was clearly parched. He took the bottle, hugged it, and sucked away, downing two full bottles in one go until his little belly puffed out.
Hickson made him clean his teeth and wash up again. By the time everything was tidied, it was already very late. Fufu was also exhausted from all the fussing, so sleepy that his eyes could barely stay open.
But even so, he still refused to sleep on his own, insisting on being held. Clutching the blanket, he burrowed into his brother's arms.
Hickson's heart was still full of guilt over breaking his promise that afternoon. Seeing the cub still clinging to him like this, tenderness welled up in his chest. He didn't mind spoiling Fufu at all—he wrapped his arms tighter around him, tucked the little blanket in around Fufu, and gently patted his back.
Before long, the cub in his arms was breathing evenly, fast asleep.
Hickson watched Fufu's peaceful sleeping face, watched his long lashes droop and his mouth part slightly, like a defenseless little lamb. His heart softened beyond words.
Watching Fufu, he replayed the day's events in his mind, reviewing them carefully.
For a four-year-old cub, Fufu was really quite sensible. Even though he'd secretly eaten a whole pile of snacks, he really hadn't disturbed him all afternoon.
Of course, he had originally wanted to cultivate Fufu's independence, but that was supposed to be on the premise of providing basic care. This time, he'd outright forgotten about Fufu—that really wasn't right.
Actually, even if it was for work… did he really have that much important work?
At that thought, Hickson's heart grew heavy. He had always worked very hard, handling every matter in the conglomerate personally, big or small. He knew that his subordinates praised him as diligent to his face but secretly called him a workaholic behind his back.
In truth, Hickson was well aware that much of what kept him busy could easily have been delegated. He had many capable people under him; he didn't have to work this hard.
He just didn't want to stop. He couldn't stop.
Vampires had endless lives. When the time one lived had no end, it was no different from death. Only when he worked hard and created more wealth could he feel that his existence had a shred of value.
And the moment all of that stopped, a vast emptiness would engulf him instantly. He would think of the past, of his childhood, of his mother, of so many things he regretted…
The past could no longer be chased, but now, everything seemed to be changing.
Hickson suddenly realized that in the two days since Fufu had arrived, although he'd been thoroughly stirred up and had run into troubles big and small, as long as he was with Fufu, his heart was always at peace. He no longer sank into emptiness from time to time.
Perhaps this was what it felt like to be needed.
Fufu had invisibly brought him many changes.
So, he should take responsibility and devote more thought to him. He needed to learn to care for the cub—to know what he liked to do, what he was thinking, what would make him happy… He needed to learn to be a good brother.
Yes, that shouldn't be hard. After all, his Fufu was really well-behaved—he could play with his Star-pad and toys by himself, dress himself, express his needs, and even knew to sneak snacks when he felt hungry. He really was an easy cub to raise.
Just as Hickson thought this, the cub in his arms seemed startled by something. His little brows furrowed, and his feet kicked gently, looking very uneasy.
Was he having a nightmare?
Hickson thought for a moment, then rubbed the back of Fufu's head, mimicking what his mother used to do when he was little, and whispered softly by the cub's ear, "It's okay, Fufu, big brother's here… it's fine."
Hearing his voice, the little cub's brow indeed slowly relaxed.
Hickson couldn't help but curl the corners of his mouth upward.
However, a few seconds later, he suddenly felt a warmth beneath him—a strange, damp heat spreading from under the cub toward him.
Hickson frowned, seemingly realizing something. He reached his hand into Fufu's blanket and felt…
The bedsheet was damp and warm. His heart turned cold.
Damn it. That earlier… probably wasn't just an ordinary nightmare.
Late at night, Dr. Angel, who had just finished a busy day and was lying in bed scrolling through his phone, heard a ding as a thunderous message popped up.
H: What should be done about a cub's urinary incontinence during sleep?
"…"
Winster closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He couldn't even be bothered to make a call, sending a voice message directly to scold the other party.
Dr. Win: What do you mean "urinary incontinence"? What do you mean "urinary incontinence"? Can you speak properly? That's called wetting the bed—wetting the bed, got it?
Dr. Win: Haven't you ever wet the bed as a kid? Even med students writing papers couldn't make up terms like you do! Stop inventing these new words to scare me, alright?!
Hickson typed back.
H: But he peed a lot, it feels off. I'll send you a photo.
"Don't take it. Don't take it. I don't want to see—" Before Winster could finish, several photos had already been sent over.
He silently covered his face and took a deep breath. After a long moment, he sent a message.
Dr. Win: Screenshotted. I'll show it to your little brother when he grows up, so he'll hate you for it.
H: ?