Samuel's entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. The embarrassment and anger of being a father to a bearded thirty-year-old completely vanished, instantly replaced by a deep, terrifying pride.
He stood up, walking over to Chijen. He looked at the grown man holding the bunny satchel, then gently, almost affectionately, adjusted the collar of Chijen's robes.
"Son," Samuel said, his golden eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated malice. "When you go to school today, I want you to find the Prime Minister's youngest son. I want you to mathematically prove to him that his family is fundamentally useless. If he cries, I will double your monthly allowance."
Chijen looked at his new mother, who was nodding encouragingly, and then at his new father, who was actively instructing him to psychologically destroy a teenager.
"I understand, Father," Chijen sighed, slinging the bunny satchel over his broad shoulder and walking out the door to go terrorize the youth of the empire.
