Tonight was dinner at the Kent household.
Under the warm yellow lights, the long wooden table was covered with a feast.
Martha's apple pie filled the air with the sweet scent of cinnamon, Jonathan's creamy corn chowder was steaming hot.
But what drew everyone's eyes was Locke's carefully roasted brisket.
The skin was crisp and golden, the inside tender and juicy, its aroma filling the entire table.
Seated at the table, Dio carried himself with the poise of a young noble. There wasn't the slightest trace of a farmer's son in him.
He cut into his meat with calm precision, every slice perfectly following the grain, and lifted each small piece with his fork to savor slowly.
In stark contrast—
At the other end of the table, Clark had his head down, wolfing food like a starving wolf.
He stabbed a huge piece of brisket, stuffed it into his mouth, cheeks puffing like a hamster, sauce smeared all over his lips.
Jonathan glanced at Clark, then at Dio, and couldn't help but chuckle:
"Clark, slow down, no one's stealing it from you."
"Mmmph mmph mmph—!"
Clark mumbled an answer through his mouthful, but his pace didn't slow a bit. In the blink of an eye, he was already reaching for a second piece.
Dio's knife and fork paused.
He stared at Clark devouring the meat, a vein throbbing faintly at his temple.
That brisket…
He wanted it too!
But to maintain his polite, well-mannered image, he could only nibble delicately in tiny bites.
And now this idiot was about to eat the entire platter by himself!
Luckily, Aunt Martha's next words gave Dio a moment of relief.
"Clark!" Martha chided. "Look at Dio! We should learn from others' strengths and make up for our shortcomings."
Clark froze mid-bite.
He looked at Dio, who was elegantly cutting into a small piece of meat, ruby-like eyes curving in a sweet smile as if to say: See?
—If it were before, Clark would have grumbled in protest:
He's just eating too slow!
But today, after Uncle Locke's advice, Clark swallowed his words.
"Yes, Mom!"
He mumbled, slowing his chewing, though still much faster than Dio.
Seeing Clark's effort, both Martha and Jonathan smiled in satisfaction.
They didn't expect Clark to be as polite as Locke's Dio—just a little resemblance was enough.
Dio: "?"
His fingers whitened around the knife handle, knuckles turning pale from the pressure.
Damn Clark!
Why aren't you arguing today?!
Damn it!
I want to eat Dad's brisket in big bites too!
Slow down, you bastard!!!
The dinner knife squeaked faintly in Dio's grip, as though it would snap at any moment.
But outwardly, he kept his flawless smile, even pushing his plate toward Clark considerately:
"Brother Clark, you eat more. I'm not hungry."
Martha's eyes welled up with emotion: "Dio, you're so thoughtful."
Jonathan nodded in approval: "Yes, Clark, you should learn from your brother."
Clark: "Thanks, Dio."
He glanced at Dio's friendly smile, then at the extra meat on his plate.
So Uncle Locke was right!
Keeping quiet really does bring you more!
"Alright, alright, let's not get too hung up on manners. It's a family dinner."
Locke, holding back laughter, sliced off a huge chunk of beef and dropped it into Dio's plate.
"Brat, eat up. Don't complain you're hungry later."
"Thank you, Dad!"
Dio nearly burst into tears of relief. He knew it—his old man still loved him most.
...
Night had fallen, stars spread wide above Kent Farm, the evening breeze carrying the fragrance of wheat as it brushed past the porch.
Standing beside the tractor, Locke scooped Dio up with his rough, strong hands and plopped him easily onto the passenger seat.
"Alright, kid, time to head home."
Locke ruffled Dio's golden hair, then buckled his seatbelt for him.
"But Dad…" Dio blinked those ruby-like eyes and tilted his head up at Locke. "I still want to play with Clark a little longer."
Play more?
I'm afraid Clark won't be able to resist giving you a punch, you brat!
"It's late. Still thinking about playing?"
Locke arched a brow and deliberately put on a stern face. "You've got school tomorrow."
"And don't think I don't know about you and Clark sneaking that book 'Demon Slayer—Vampire Hunter D' into class last time."
"?!"
Clark…
Dio ground his teeth, glaring at his clueless brother. With Clark's blank look, Dio wanted to swallow him whole.
That guy actually tattled!
Seeing Dio's reaction, Locke chuckled, then turned to wave at Jonathan's family standing on the porch:
"Heading out. Need to be up early for the wheat harvest tomorrow."
Martha, cradling a drowsy Clark in her arms, smiled warmly. "Be careful on the road."
"Hey, Locke!"
"Hold up." Jonathan came striding out after clearing the table, patting the tractor's hood. "It's so dark—why not stay over tonight? We've always got a room ready for you. Dio can bunk with Clark!"
Just as Locke was about to refuse, Dio tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Dad, I feel a little cold."
This little rascal is acting again…
He's probably scheming to pull something when he and Clark share a bed.
What did Clark ever do to you?!
Locke shot him a glare, and Dio instantly hunched his neck, putting on an act with a fake sneeze.
Martha's heart ached at once. "Oh dear, the night air's chilly—what if he catches cold?"
Jonathan chimed in: "Exactly! That beat-up tractor of yours doesn't even have a windshield. How could a kid take that wind?"
Locke: "…"
"Jonathan, are you even listening to yourself? My place is barely three hundred meters away—"
"—right next door!"
"?"
"Oh, huh, guess it is." Jonathan scratched his head awkwardly, then laughed and waved. "Well then, get going."
The tractor's rumble tore through the night's silence, its headlights casting shaky beams along the country road.
From the porch, the Kent family stood bathed in warm light, watching them leave. Martha pulled her shawl tighter and sighed:
"Who would've thought Locke could raise Dio to be so well-mannered."
Jonathan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, smiling as he watched the tractor's taillights fade.
"Yeah. When Locke first came to the farm, his eyes were so gloomy it made people uneasy. Now…" He paused, glancing at the sleeping Clark in Martha's arms. "Maybe becoming a father made him grow up."
"By the way, didn't you notice?"
"Notice what?"
"That Dio only ever shows his childish side in front of Clark."
Martha chuckled suddenly. "Just like how you used to always tease Locke back in the day."
"I never—!"
Jonathan's face flushed red, though his voice dropped unconsciously.
...
Moonlight spilled over the bumpy dirt road.
Curled up in the passenger seat, Dio flipped through his novel "Vampire Hunter D" by the dim glow of the dashboard.
The rustle of turning pages whispered beneath his fingers, golden hair hanging low to shadow his face.
Locke steered with one hand, and when he saw Dio had turned to the chapter on "The Weaknesses of Vampires", he finally couldn't hold back.
"Dio."
"Mm?"
The boy didn't lift his head, his tone unnaturally light.
"Why are you always targeting Clark?"
"I knew you'd say that, Dad."