Chapter 4: You Break It, You Fix It
836words
"I actually spanked Frederick... in front of everyone..." I mumbled into my knees, voice cracking between sobs. "He's the future villain! The final boss with a heart like a pinprick who never forgives an insult! He's already a nightmare at six—when he grows up and comes into his full power, he'll hold this grudge forever... I'm so dead!"
Terror mounted with each passing thought. I found myself touching my throat, already feeling the phantom chill of a blade. I could see him—Frederick a decade from now, transformed into the Demon King, fixing me with glacial eyes as his lips curled into a cruel smile: "Teacher, remember that day on the training grounds? When you humiliated me?"
The mental image sent ice through my veins, my tears forgotten as uncontrollable tremors took over. If I'd known the consequences, I would have let a hundred illusory spiders crawl over me before laying a finger on him! Damn my impulsiveness—the ancient wisdom was right!
While I wallowed in my imagined doom, the heavy oak door creaked open just enough to create a narrow gap.
A small figure in silk pajamas squeezed through, limping dramatically. Each step seemed to cause him pain, his tiny brows furrowed in exaggerated suffering. In his hands, he carefully cradled a small vial emitting a soft green glow.
【Item: Low-grade Healing Potion.】
【Description: Produced by the Academy Alchemy Lab. Treats minor physical injuries and provides a cooling, soothing sensation.】
Frederick.
He approached my bedside and tilted his delicate face upward. No tears or accusations—just the perfect picture of wounded innocence with reddened eyes. His sky-blue gaze, glazed with unshed tears, looked heartbreakingly vulnerable in the moonlight.
"Teacher," his voice came out slightly hoarse, soft and plaintive, "if you hit me, you have to heal me too. It hurts really bad."
His performance—and those carefully chosen words—struck my most vulnerable spot with surgical precision. My anger and fear evaporated instantly, replaced by crushing guilt and flustered panic.
Oh God, what had I done? He was just a six-year-old child! No matter how bratty or mischievous, how could I have struck him so hard?
"O-of course, I'll treat you right away, right away!" I practically leapt from the bed, stumbling over my words as I took his small cold hand and led him inside. With the guilty haste of a criminal, I quickly shut and locked the door behind us.
I mentally berated myself—of all places to hit him, why THERE? Now the situation had become infinitely more awkward and complicated.
Frederick seemed oblivious to my internal crisis. Seeing I'd agreed, his wounded expression lightened considerably. Without ceremony, he waddled on stubby legs to my bed, casually lifted the back of his elaborate silk nightgown—embroidered with the royal crest in gold thread—revealing pristine white undergarments beneath, and prepared to climb onto my mattress.
"Wait!" I blurted, whipping my face away as heat flooded my cheeks.
"He's only six with nothing developed to see, so it shouldn't matter... but why does this feel so wrong? Like I'm committing a crime!" I muttered, locked in fierce moral combat with myself.
"Teacher, hurry up!" He had already sprawled comfortably on his stomach and twisted around to urge me forward. Those innocent blue eyes registered only confusion as he beckoned me closer with an impatient wave.
Two voices warred in my head. The first urged: "Just do it! Appease him or kiss your future goodbye!" The second shrieked: "This violates every rule of propriety! You're his teacher—you can't be examining a prince's bottom! It's inappropriate! Child or not!"
As I stood frozen in indecision, Frederick delivered a chilling statement in a tone utterly incongruous with his age—calm, measured, and unmistakably threatening.
"If Teacher doesn't treat me herself, I'll remember it. Forever."
【System Alert: NPC 'Frederick' has issued a 'Grudge' warning. If demands are not met, Favorability will decrease by 50 points with high probability of triggering hidden revenge events.】
The blood-red warning text—like the sword of Damocles—sliced through my hesitation in an instant.
This child had me completely under his tiny thumb.
Did I care about my teaching credentials? Did I value my continued existence? Against these concerns, what did embarrassment or noble etiquette matter?
With a deep breath and the expression of a soldier facing execution, I accepted the healing potion from his hand. Unscrewing the cap released a fresh herbal scent. I approached the bed, squeezed my eyes shut, and with the grim determination of the condemned, began applying the medicine to his tender, slightly reddened posterior.
As the cool liquid touched his skin, Frederick released a contented sound like a purring kitten. Meanwhile, I prayed silently to any deity who might be listening.
Please don't let me get a sty for this. Seriously.
