"Daddy, where's my papa? He's always good at operating these things." The young boy hadn't just been let into Ambrose's suite.
He was now in front of the flat screen TV, struggling with the remote in a bid to turn it on.
Ambrose watched him with folded arms, never leaving the door where he stood. His eyes were squinted, his mind trying to process everything that happened over the past couple of minutes.
[Sorry to burst your spiralling bubble, honey... But you might need to speed up your "processing". You know—if you want to avoid permanent erasure at a soul level.]
With a frustrated grunt, Ambrose finally took a couple of steps away from the door. 'I'm convinced you're some trickster god out to kill me.'
[No offence, but no god would bother themselves with messing with your currently boring life—mission objective still incomplete.]
"Can you just shut up, let me think?!" Ambrose yelled at the top of his voice, arms raised. "Gosh, what did I do to deserve..."
He froze almost instantly when his gaze met the big golden eyes of the boy who claimed to be his son. The latter now had his full attention on him, shoulders slouched and features taut with guilt.
Guilt that Ambrose soon felt tenfold.
"I'm sorry for annoying you, Daddy." The little boy's head lowered. "I–I know this must be confusing for you. And I know you aren't the same daddy I grew up with."
Then, his voice became shaky. Scared. "I don't know how I got stripped away from my original daddy and papa. I just got swallowed by this... By this flash of light and—"
"Hey, hey." Ambrose rushed forward when the boy began stuttering. Reluctantly, he went on one knee, placing his hands on his little shoulders. "It's okay. Calm down. I wasn't yelling at you. I—daddy is just trying to think."
Acknowledging himself as the boy's father felt wrong and right in the weirdest way possible.
In his past life, he had told himself he would never have kids. He just didn't feel like he'd be a good father. Or be patient enough to cater for a child's needs... Especially the emotional ones.
Maybe that made him selfish.
Yet, here he was, transmigrated into a world that should only exist in ridiculous books and then slapped by the universe with a kid who genuinely felt like his.
So much for avoiding child support.
"Here," Ambrose gestured at the boy to give him the remote. When the latter did, he cracked open the back, pulling out the batteries. "They're probably bad. Hold on."
After scattering through every drawer in his suite, he finally found spare batteries suitable for the remote. He put them in, walking back to the young lad whose big eyes now glinted with excitement.
"Try it now," Ambrose whispered with a reassuring smile.
The young boy was about to rush back to the television when Ambrose grabbed his wrist. "Can I know your name?"
"O–Orion." The boy's cheeks flushed red. "My name is Orion Hale Ferguson."
As the boy went back to the TV, this time successfully turning it on, Ambrose got on his feet. His head swerved to an arched glass window beside him.
Where he saw his reflection—staring back at him. Or, more accurately, the reflection of Ambrose Hale.
"Wow..." He mumbled under his breath, stunned beyond words.
What he saw was a gorgeous man. Silky blonde hair. Unnatural silver eyes. And then the ashen-grey full body suit of his guild, with a phoenix symbol on his chest.
He hadn't gotten the chance to actually look at himself since he got to this world. And now? Fucking hell, this guy was one hot piece of candy!
[When you're done falling in love with your new body, would you like to see the DNA scans of the anomaly (child)?]
Ambrose regained his composure, giving nothing but a slow nod.
[GENETIC ANALYSIS INITIATED… GUIDE–ESPER LINEAGE DETECTED
RUNNING COMPATIBILITY VERIFICATION.]
[PATERNITY CONFIRMED: 99.9998%
MATERNAL LINEAGE: GUIDE — AMBROSE
PATERNAL LINEAGE: ESPER — DEVON
WARNING
OFFSPRING CLASSIFICATION: UNKNOWN
THREAT LEVEL: UNDETERMINED
POTENTIAL: S-RANK+]
That last reading glowed in Ambrose's eyes like a flare signal.
S-Rank+?
This little boy?
And he really was the parent. Or—one of them.
"How could Devon and I have a child in this world?" Ambrose muttered under his breath. "I thought that was some omegaverse craziness?"
For once, his knowledge of BL genres seemed to be a little helpful.
Does... Does this mean he's going to give birth sometime in the future?
'How do I even begin to explain this to Devon?' he rubbed his forehead. 'He hates me because of Han. I'm lucky they didn't frame me for beating up that smug bastard.'
Remembering his condition in the alley made him subconsciously touch his body. Every inch of it. There were no injuries or marks—only a few blood stains.
[I gave the healing factor of the host's body a temporary boost. When you transmigrated.]
[As for getting Devon's attention... I assumed the host had prior experience with seducing men in his previous life. Seeing as you had an ex-boyfriend, have read a plethora of BL books—]
'Are you the freaking FBI? What next? You'll pull out my internet search—'
[I can, yes. Should I—]
'No!' he panicked, cheeks burning. 'Just... Just please, help me with a plan. Any plan to get Devon's attention then get him to raise this child with me.'
[You want me to help you with the mission I gave you? Oh, honey, I didn't know your humour was this good too.]
Ambrose felt like he was seconds away from losing his mind.
But the madness was only just beginning.
"Daddy?" Little Orion called from the TV, already glued to a cartoon. "I'm... Hungry. Do you have anything to eat?"
Shit.
Forcing a smile, Ambrose nodded, already turning to the kitchen. "There should be something in the kitchen. One second, Orion."
The memories he got from the past Ambrose made him realise he had almost zero cooking skills. When he got to the kitchen, all he saw were take outs and a half-finished box of pizza.
Fortunately, Benji Foster was at least decent at cooking his own meals.
"I'll make him some..." He turned on the soft golden kitchen lights, scrambling through a cabinet for ingredients. "... Sandwiches? Pancakes? What do kids his age even—"
DING.
The sudden ring of his doorbell made him freeze.
"I'll get it!" Orion yelled, making Ambrose panic.
What if that was Guide Han here for more trouble? Or worse—someone who had no business knowing he had a child living with him.
"Orion?!" He darted out of the kitchen, eyes widening when he saw the lad opening the front door excitedly.
The boy leapt, clapping his hands. "Papa! It's you!"
Ambrose's breath stuttered out, arms stiffening beside him.
Slowly, Devon walked in, still as tall, imposing and calmly terrifying as the first time he saw him.
Except now, the man's golden eyes stared down at Orion's huge smile, dazed and confused. Then—those same eyes slid to Ambrose, squinting with a questioning glint.
[Looks like you don't need my help after all. Good luck, hon!]