Chapter Text
You are having the absolute blast of your life.
After successfully sneaking into the Henituse territory, you did not march up to the Count right away like some responsible, reasonable human being.
No, that would be far too straightforward.Too suspicious.
You are on a mission, but you are also an artist with priorities—most of which involve staring at beautiful people for prolonged periods of time. (And not getting caught)
So, naturally, the first thing you did was find an inn.
The innkeeper nearly choked on her own spit when you casually placed a few gold coins onto the counter. (You’re rich, baby! Might as well flex a little just like Cale.) She tried to tell you it was too much, but you waved it off with a tragic sigh and said something vague about not knowing how long you would stay.
You also told her to “keep the change,” which made her look like she just got proposed to.
In the end, she gave you the best room in the entire inn—fluffy bed, huge windows, the kind of place that must be reverse for important figure. You simply smiled with noble-level politeness and said thank you before flopping onto the bed like a spoiled cat.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
The next day, you didn’t hold back. At all.
You grabbed your spatial bag, clutched your sketchbook like it was holy scripture, stuffed your art supplies into your arms—and then marched out into the streets with the determination of someone about to commit several aesthetic-based crimes.
The goal?
Collect. More. Beauties.
Even though they are not improtant characters, Anyone remotely fancy, pretty, handsome, or aesthetically interesting was now a potential candidate to enter your sacred ✨gorgeous✨ people (or species) sketchbook.
A merchant with flowing blond hair? Sketch.
A young lady with eyes like sapphires? Sketch.
A random Smith with cool markings on their face? Absolutely sketch.
A confused adventurer with muscles sculpted by trauma and bad decisions? SKETCH!
(And get their authographs too of course)
You worked at lightning speed—sometimes sitting on a bench, sometimes crouching in a corner, sometimes standing completely still in the middle of the street like a cryptid with a pencil. Or maybe staring your target a lil'bit intense and make them uncomfortable.
Some people were flustered.
Some were confused.
Some were deeply honored.
A few asked if you were some kind of young prodigy noble.
(Which, to be fair, you kinda are.)
Kids pointed at you and whispered. Adults gave you that “aw, rich runaway noble child” look. Others thought you were a traveling portrait artist and they are not wrong either since you did accept commission too.
Perfect.
Everything was going according to plan.
And every time someone gasped in awe at the drawings, you added them to your mental list of “people to ask for gossip later.”
By lunchtime, half the street knew of the mysterious, beautiful little brown-haired “noble artist” who drew people like they were divine beings.
By sunset?
You had filled nearly five pages with various unique and good looking faces.
Your mission to find the Count could wait, Your mission to find handsome people absolutely could not.
Besides, you still not sure either about going to the Forest of Darkness. Sure it's your first plan to go there for training, since you really need to grow fast to become strong. And since you are quite exceptional for a child Rock let it slide, because you refused to hurt people.
Usually With your talent right now that it's already on basic knight can be take as a soldier for captain to make some experience, but you don't want or refuses to hurt or even kill people. Not to mention with this young body.
Yes you have adult mind, but you didn't wanted to fuck up this child body that might effect you mentally, so you find another way to do.
And that's when the Forest of Darkness come to mind, sure it's still fuck up in your opinion but it's still more better killing monsters rather than humans and having a morally dellima later.
“Hey, you!”
You snap out of your deep artistic thoughts—something between pondering your next target model and debating if elves really sparkle in real life—and turn toward the source of the childish voice calling you.
“You’re that boy, right? The one who draws handsome people?”
And that’s when you see him.
A small boy stands there, hands on his hips like he owns the territory… which, technically, he kind of does. His dark red hair glints under the sunlight—like fresh blood on polished metal—messy yet somehow beautiful.
His round brown eyes blink up at you, still soft and childish, but you know those same eyes will one day sharpen into something cold and terrifyingly competent. His cheeks are still adorably chubby, the kind that make aunties squeal, and he’s dressed in fancy clothes that scream young master privilege.
It’s Cale.
Cale Henituse.
The original one.
The real deal.
Before Kim Rok Soo ever transmigrates into that body.
“…..”
Your brain short-circuits.
‘OH MY GOSH CALEEEEEE!! He looks even better in person?! I’m in heaven! It’s him, it’s HIM! The OG! He's such baby girl code! My baby boy! I am going to absolutely disintegrate—’
Cale frowns, eyebrows scrunching together.
“Hey. Are you even listening to me?” he demands, voice slightly bratty, slightly offended, and entirely adorable.
Your internal fangirling only intensifies.
But outside you still look put together and only staring at him.
Cale small brows knit together, the exact same unimpressed expression you remembered from the novel… except now it’s on a round baby face that makes it look more like a pout.
A very adorable, noble, expensive pout.
He stomps closer, little boots tapping against the stones with the confidence of a future trash actor.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!”
You snap out of your internal screaming long enough to blink rapidly.
“Oh! Uh— yes? Yes, I hear, I hear! Loud and clear! Very clear!”
Cale squints at you, tilting his head like a suspicious cat.
“Good. Then answer me. You’re the boy drawing handsome people everywhere, right? Everyone talking about you. Even the maids.”
'Buddy you're a child too' you tease mind.
But, Oh.
Oh no.
You’re famous already.
‘Well… that escalated quickly. The author definitely needs to nerf my charisma stat. This is ridiculous,’ you think, both proud and embarrassed.
You force yourself to smile in the most normal-child-who-totally-does-not-think-this-boy-is-the-love-of-their-fandom-life way possible.
“Um… yes? I guess? I draw handsome people. And pretty people. And cool people. And—”
Cale eyes widen slightly. “So you can draw.”
You nod eagerly, trying to ignore the fact that he’s even cuter up close with his tiny button nose and dark brownish eyes(?).
Dangerously cute.
Life-ruining cute.
Cale crosses his arms.
“Then come with me.”
Your brain short-circuits.
“…..huh?”
“come. With. Me.”
He repeats it slowly, as if talking to someone very stupid. “I need a portrait done. Come on.”
He grabs your sleeve and starts tugging like a tiny, angry noble who has never heard the word ‘no’ in his life.
Your soul leaves your body.
‘THE OG CALE HENITUSE IS ASKING ME TO DRAW HIM??? HELLO??? AUTHOR??? AM I DREAMING???’
Outwardly, you manage to squeak, “W-Wait— why me?? There are real artists—”
“They’re all boring,” Cale says bluntly. “And adults. You draw fast. And people say your drawings make them look cool."
He looks away with a huff. “I want that.”
Oh.
Oh he wants to look cool.
He wants to look cool.
Baby Cale wants a hype portrait.
Your heart explodes into glitter.
“Alright!” you chirp, eyes sparkling dangerously. “I can do that!”
Cale nods firmly, as if he expected nothing less from you.“Good. Follow me.”
And with that, the Original Cale Henituse drags you a road toward his mansion, while you float behind him like a lovestruck ghost, clutching your sketchbook like it’s a holy relic.
'Wait..... ' you then remember something.
"Young master C— young master, how old are you right now? " You ask him.
"EIGHT! And i want for you to draw portrait for my family! " Cale tell puffing up his chest, didn't stop dragging you.
'Shit. '
Cale is eight and that's means Jour Thames is still alive and the Countess right now, you remember that she have ancient power to see someone plate and she would definitely clock you in as someone that definitely didn't belong in this world.
Though you can't do nothing as Cale already demand you to draw, and that you can't refuse him.
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
'Oh I am so dead. '
Is the only word you could think right now.
"Young master what you got there? " The butler ask him.
Adult and a very hot one in your opinion.
" A painter! " Cale proudly tell Ron.
"Ho?"
Yes, it's him.
It's Ron, that asassin Butler and his cute gentleman son Beacrox.
Surprisingly both of them greet you and Cale rather than just Ron, since you remember that Beacrox usually like to stay at kitchen cooking as the Henituse chef.
'If Jour doesn’t catch me, Ron DEFINITELY will' you think, staring at him with the expression of someone seeing a celebrity they absolutely should not approach.
You feel so blessed and so doomed at the same time.
The best kind of contradiction.