Chapter 29
When the Caretaker’s Handbook appeared in the bedroom, A-Yan was already awake.
He had gone to bed early, so he woke earlier than the day before. However, he remained quietly nestled under the covers. He carefully retrieved the communicator Su Ci had left on the bedside table and powered it off after fumbling to find the button.
Su Ci didn’t like being disturbed from his sleep.
A-Yan didn’t want a repeat of yesterday morning’s incident. Although the caretaker, with his cold, golden eyes, hadn’t harmed him, the memory still left A-Yan uneasy.
More importantly, he wanted Su Ci to have a good rest.
The previous intern caretakers who had left the nursery had all cited the early wake-up requirements as their reason for resigning. A-Yan didn’t want Su Ci to leave, so he was determined to protect his sleep.
Placing the communicator back where it belonged, A-Yan stayed under the covers, quietly sharing the pillow with Su Ci and savoring the rare intimacy of this moment.
He loved this experience. The caretaker’s scent enveloped him completely, filling him with a deep sense of security and joy.
As he lay there, his bright eyes curiously counted Su Ci’s long, thick eyelashes. Suddenly, a disturbance in the air caught his attention.
He raised his head to see a book appear out of thin air.
It was Su Ci’s book—A-Yan remembered it clearly. Yesterday, Su Ci had used it to shield himself from the rain.
When Su Ci flipped through it the previous evening, it had floated in midair and even turned its own pages. Was it…
A-Yan glanced at Su Ci, only to find the young man’s eyes shut, his breathing steady. He was sound asleep, completely unaware.
It wasn’t Su Ci…
So what was happening with this book?
A-Yan furrowed his small brows and turned his gaze back to the Caretaker’s Handbook, noticing the strange ripples emanating from it. Something about the sensation felt oddly familiar.
Then, the book opened on its own, and glowing words appeared on its white pages.
Before A-Yan could make out the text, the book emitted a soft red glow, so bright it made him instinctively shut his eyes.
What was this?
After his eyes adjusted to the light, A-Yan cautiously peeked. The faint red glow had settled over Su Ci, completely enveloping him.
On Prison Star, the color red was often associated with the ominous red mist.
As A-Yan watched the crimson light encase Su Ci, an inexplicable unease gripped him.
The caretaker was in danger!
Realizing this, A-Yan scrambled to his feet, frantically inspecting Su Ci. Sure enough, the young man’s peaceful expression had shifted—his brows were furrowed, and his sleep no longer seemed restful.
What was this book trying to do to the caretaker?
A-Yan knew Su Ci would be unhappy if woken, but after hesitating for a moment, he reached out and gently pushed Su Ci’s shoulder.
However, Su Ci didn’t respond.
He remained unresponsive, and under A-Yan’s repeated nudges, his brows only knitted tighter, as if in discomfort.
Seeing this, A-Yan angrily glared at the book.
Although the crimson glow wasn’t directed at him, the longer he stared at it, the more he felt something deep within him beginning to stir, like a seed breaking through the soil.
Flashes of fragmented images flooded his mind.
Monsters…
So many monsters…
The child’s black-red eyes, once clearing of their crimson threads, became laced again with bloodshot lines. Around him, a rising aura swirled faintly, and even his hair floated slightly in the invisible current.
A-Yan’s expression sharpened, anger mingling with a dangerous edge.
Kill!
Kill them all!
He struggled to open his mouth, but even that tiny action seemed to sap every ounce of his strength. The red lines in his eyes stretched toward the corners, merging with the protruding crimson veins on his forehead, giving him a fierce and eerie appearance.
The Caretaker’s Handbook seemed to sense something. Instead of dimming, the crimson glow on the book intensified, becoming almost blinding.
“Caretaker must wake at 5 a.m.”
These ten words lifted from the pages one by one, streaking toward A-Yan as if to attack him. Yet midway, they abruptly veered off course and redirected toward Su Ci.
A-Yan’s bloodshot eyes widened at the sight, almost as if they were ready to shed tears of blood.
Finally, after intense effort, a faint syllable began to form in his throat. Just as he was about to utter it…
A slender, pale hand rose.
In the next instant, the terrifying words, which had been barreling toward Su Ci like a storm, froze mid-air. From furious motion to utter stillness, it took no more than a single breath.
A-Yan was stunned, the half-formed syllable caught in his throat. He blinked in confusion, looking toward Su Ci.
The caretaker’s eyes remained closed, but his previously serene expression had given way to one of profound irritation. A cold and commanding presence radiated from him, intimidating enough to make even a glance daunting.
Under A-Yan’s stiff gaze, the young man’s raised hand moved with a casual flick.
The hand, slender and pale like jade, appeared so fragile it seemed it might hurt itself with a mere slap. But with that effortless motion, the suspended crimson words reversed course in an instant.
Whoosh!
The words hurtled back into the book, slamming it shut. The force sent the Caretaker’s Handbook flying, where it struck the metal wall with a heavy thud, embedding itself deep into the surface without leaving so much as a bulge.
The crimson glow from the book flickered a few more times, as though struggling to escape from the wall. But ultimately, the light dimmed and faded entirely.
The book now rested silently within the wall, devoid of movement.
The bedroom fell back into complete calm.
*
“Gulp.”
Sitting nearby, A-Yan, who had witnessed the entire scene, alternated his gaze between the embedded book and the caretaker. Unable to suppress it, he swallowed nervously.
Su Ci ignored his reaction, his eyelids never even fluttering throughout the ordeal.
After dispatching the book, Su Ci retracted his hand, and the irritation on his face gradually dissipated. His expression returned to one of peace, and he even shifted his head slightly, rubbing his cheek against the pillow as if to find a more comfortable position. Then he sank back into an even deeper sleep.
The young man’s sleeping face appeared soft and harmless, with no trace of the earlier danger.
A-Yan glanced again at the embedded book. Somehow, a new realization dawned on him: perhaps the overwhelming sense of peril he’d felt moments ago hadn’t come from the strange book at all but rather from…
His eyes drifted to the sleeping Su Ci, and he scratched his head in confusion.
At this point, the red veins at the corners of A-Yan’s eyes had fully receded. The bloodshot hue and the rising aura around him had also vanished.
Once again, he looked like a frail, undernourished child.
A-Yan touched the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure what might have happened had he continued, but instinctively, he knew it would’ve been to protect Su Ci.
Now that he had calmed down, however…
A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and A-Yan rubbed his eyes with his small fists, stifling a silent yawn.
He glanced toward Su Ci, who was still soundly asleep. Seeing how peacefully he slumbered, A-Yan couldn’t help but feel a strong urge to sleep as well. Surely, if he stayed quiet and didn’t cause trouble, he wouldn’t end up like that book, right?
With that thought, he snuggled back into the bed, pulling the blanket over himself. Soon, he, too, drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Yesterday morning, the caretaker hadn’t abandoned him either…
Eventually, A-Yan was too tired to keep thinking. He carefully moved closer and lay down beside Su Ci again.
As soon as his heavy eyelids closed, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him, pulling him into a warm and familiar embrace.
Struggling to open his eyes, he could only see the soft folds of the caretaker’s sleepwear moving gently with his breaths.
Unable to resist the overwhelming sleepiness, A-Yan rested his small head against Su Ci’s chest and drifted into a deep slumber.
The room returned to complete tranquility.
As time passed, the light outside grew brighter. When A-Yan woke again, the caretaker was already sitting at the edge of the bed.
The young man was staring intently at the book embedded in the wall.
Remembering what had happened just before he fell asleep, A-Yan’s grogginess evaporated. He sat up quickly, wide-eyed with concern.
Noticing his movements, Su Ci turned his head. Seeing the child’s pale face and the faint resurgence of red threads in his eyes, Su Ci frowned slightly.
He reached out to ruffle A-Yan’s fluffy, soft hair and asked softly, “What did you do?”
A-Yan, delighted by the affectionate gesture, froze mid-smile. A large question mark seemed to hover above his head.
Did?
I didn’t do anything… right? Or rather, he hadn’t had the chance to do anything.
Unable to clearly express himself, A-Yan watched as Su Ci withdrew his hand and turned his gaze back to the book embedded in the wall. Rising to his feet, Su Ci walked over to it.
A-Yan remained silent, watching nervously.
Su Ci examined the book. Of course, he remembered this Caretaker’s Handbook—but how had it ended up in the wall?
With a thought, the book detached itself from the wall and floated before him.
Its cover was pristine, as if freshly printed. The dents and scrapes left by the rain the previous day were completely gone, and even the blood Su Ci had spilled on it had vanished.
In fact, it looked newer than when he had first received it, though the binding of its pages was slightly loose, as if it had taken a significant impact.
Su Ci flipped through the first few pages. The text was unchanged from before.
However, when he opened to the first page of the dietary section, following a hunch, he noticed something peculiar: part of the first rule was missing. Only the phrase “Prepare breakfast for the cubs” remained.
After some inspection, Su Ci understood what had happened. He now knew where the strand of spider silk he had lost track of yesterday had gone.
The book, having absorbed a drop of his divine blood along with rainwater containing pollutants and the spider silk, had undergone an unusual transformation.
It had birthed the nascent form of a book spirit imbued with the power of rules.
While it hadn’t yet developed full consciousness, it had begun to display weak instinctual responses. However, it still had a long way to go before becoming a true spirit.
The development was surprising but not entirely unexpected.
After all, the handbook had absorbed a drop of his divine blood, which made the emergence of intelligence a stroke of fortune for it.
Still…
The book spirit’s characteristics were quite unique.
Su Ci stroked his chin thoughtfully but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he closed the book and placed it back into the wall.
The previously dormant handbook began emitting a faint red glow as soon as it touched the wall. It trembled slightly, struggling as if trying to escape.
No matter how hard it struggled, it couldn’t break free, only radiating a mix of anger and fear in its futile attempts.
In Su Ci’s experience, most book spirits were gentle, steady, and benevolent. This volatile and aggressive behavior, even for an unformed spirit, was a first for him.
Given that it was born under the influence of the polluted blood rain, Su Ci wasn’t entirely surprised.
By comparison, A-Yan’s ability to retain his innocent and sweet demeanor despite being surrounded by the red mist’s pervasive negativity was remarkable.
Though the power of rules made this book spirit particularly special, Su Ci already had A-Yan to care for. He had little capacity to raise another potentially unruly spirit.
With this in mind, Su Ci lightly tapped the book’s cover with his fingertip. The struggling handbook shook violently before finally falling still.
Its ultimate fate would depend on its own development. Of course, if it were unfortunate enough to become a malevolent spirit, Su Ci would have no choice but to take action against it.
The earth was already too fragile to endure further disruption. What he needed now were allies to aid in its recovery—not destructive forces.
Turning around, Su Ci saw that A-Yan had come up beside him, gazing at him with a bewildered expression.
“Don’t bother with it,” Su Ci said seriously. “Your priority is to take care of your health. Don’t waste energy unnecessarily.”
With that, he reached out again and ruffled the boy’s soft hair.
Initially, Su Ci had thought A-Yan was merely a fragile spirit, but now it seemed that, in addition to his exceptional talent, he also possessed some degree of self-preservation.
Su Ci couldn’t help but look forward to A-Yan’s growth. If nothing went wrong, the boy would undoubtedly become a significant ally in the future.
As for the exact nature of A-Yan’s power… Su Ci chose not to investigate. Such abilities were an innate and personal part of a spirit’s existence. A-Yan didn’t need to disclose everything to him.
A-Yan: “…”
So the caretaker genuinely believed it was he who had slammed the book into the wall?
A-Yan couldn’t argue back with words.
Of course, he could explain by writing. However… seeing the caretaker’s firm yet satisfied expression, he opened his mouth but eventually decided to remain silent.
Fine! Whatever the caretaker says goes.
He resolved to work hard in the future to acquire the strength to match this misunderstanding. His gaze fell on the book embedded in the wall, and a blazing determination lit up in his eyes.
Su Ci noticed the child’s sudden surge of fighting spirit and couldn’t help but feel puzzled.
Wasn’t he just telling him to focus on rest and recovery? How was he supposed to build up strength if he kept recklessly using his powers, given his current state of lingering injuries?
Still… with Su Ci keeping an eye on him, there wouldn’t be many chances for the little guy to get out of control.
Su Ci studied A-Yan and, finding no major issues, chose not to intervene further.
Compared to the lifeless, hollow boy he had met during their first encounter, Su Ci much preferred this lively and spirited version. It was far more pleasing to the eye.
