Mischief Managed!

Riser stood outside the grand mansion, gazing at the familiar structure that once served as his home. The sight filled him with a mix of nostalgia and mild annoyance. It had been a while since he left, and now, the towering mansion loomed before him like a reminder of his responsibilities. The front door creaked open, revealing the head butler, Watari. Behind him stood a row of maids, all lined up and bowing in perfect synchrony.

Watari, an elderly man with a kind face and an air of quiet authority, spoke warmly, "Welcome back home, young master."

Riser offered a small, relaxed smile. "Watari, you don't need to be so formal," he said, glancing over the maids .

Watari, always sharp with his wit, raised an eyebrow slightly. "Then, young master, perhaps you shouldn't have entered through the front gate like a guest. A teleportation spell directly into the estate would have been... more fitting."

Riser chuckled lightly as the two began walking through the grand halls, the polished marble floors echoing their footsteps. As they made their way toward the Phoenix family library, Riser's tone shifted, half-serious. "So... I assume Mother and Father are upset?"

Watari glanced at him sideways, his voice gentle but amused. "Well, young master, you did leave in quite a hurry. Without even a proper goodbye. This lowly servant, who has been in your service for so many years, felt rather forgotten."

Riser waved off the sentiment with a grin. "Oh, come on, Watari. Don't try to be melodramatic. If I hadn't left so quickly, Mother and Ravel would've come up with a thousand ways to keep me here."

Watari chuckled, a knowing gleam in his eye. "And that, young master, would have been delightful, wouldn't it? Right, Miwa?"

Miwa, who had been walking silently behind them, flinched slightly at the mention of her name. Her posture stiffened as she realized Watari was testing her, waiting to see whether she would support her master or speak in favor of keeping him home, as her training in management and loyalty might suggest. She paused for a moment, then met Watari's gaze with newfound confidence.

"I follow whichever road Riser-sama takes," Miwa said firmly, standing straight.

Watari, ever the sly mentor, raised a brow at her. "A rather flustered answer, Miwa. It seems the young master decision has made your training insufficient . I would have liked to teach you a bit more."

Miwa's confidence faltered, her expression falling as Watari's words sank in. Her head drooped slightly, feeling the weight of her mentor's criticism.

But then Watari continued, his tone softening. "However, I can see growth in you. And that, Miwa, is a blessing."

Her face brightened immediately at the unexpected praise, and she straightened her posture, a small, proud smile forming on her lips. She walked beside them now with renewed determination, following in their footsteps with a straight back.

Riser glanced at Watari, a smile tugging at his lips. "You really know how to play both sides, don't you?"

Watari chuckled. "I've had years of practice, young master."

Finally, they reached the massive double doors of the Phoenix family library, the wood engraved with ancient runes and family crests. The air around it felt heavy with history, with knowledge passed down through generations.

Watari stopped before the doors, his usual calm smile in place. "Both Lord and Lady Phoenix are waiting for you inside."

Riser took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation that lay ahead. He gave Watari a nod, and with a steady hand, he pushed the doors open, stepping into the familiar space where his family awaited him.

Stepping inside to the sight of his parents seated side by side. His father, Robert Phoenix, sat tall and serious, his posture firm, exuding the authority expected of the head of the Phoenix family. But next to him, Rachel Phoenix, Riser's mother, was struggling to maintain the same stoic composure. Her lips were pursed in what was clearly an attempt to look stern, but Riser could see right through it. She was pouting.

Riser greeted them with a casual, "Hello, Father. Mother."

Robert, ever composed, nodded. "Hello, son."

Rachel, on the other hand, didn't respond. She simply huffed, her pout deepening. Riser raised an eyebrow, noting the tension in the room. Robert, seeing Riser's questioning look, gave a slight, exasperated sigh. It was a silent exchange between father and son, one that spoke volumes. She's upset. It's out of my hands—you'll have to deal with her.

Riser chuckled internally and gave his father an OK sign with his hand. He understood. Time to charm his way through.

He turned toward his mother, making his way to her side. As he approached, Rachel deliberately turned her head away from him, her pout now bordering on childish. Riser stifled a laugh. Mother or not, she can be as dramatic as anyone.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Riser leaned down and gently kissed his mother on the cheek. "Mother, please forgive me," he said in a soft, teasing voice, lowering himself to one knee beside her chair.

Rachel's pout began to waver, her stern exterior cracking. Her motherly instincts were flaring up at the sight of Riser acting so sweetly. Her hardened expression softened as she stood up from her chair, and Riser followed, still keeping that boyish grin on his face.

"You idiot son of mine!" Rachel exclaimed, smacking Riser lightly on the chest. "Why did you leave without a word?! Do you know how worried I was?"

"Mother," Riser said, holding back laughter at her flurry of light smacks, "it was something I had to do. You know how I am."

Robert, watching the exchange with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, felt a warm sense of relief seeing the moment between his wife and son. That is, until he noticed the sudden shift in Rachel's demeanor. Her expression darkened, and Robert's smile faltered. Oh no, he thought, sensing that Riser might've said something wrong.

In a flash, Rachel stepped forward, clenched her fist, and with a swift movement, delivered an uppercut punch right to Riser's solar plexus. The blow landed with such precision and power that Riser was lifted off his feet, his breath escaping him in a sudden gasp. His body seemed to hang in the air for a brief moment before he crashed to the ground at his mother's feet, desperately trying to regain his breath.

"Mother!" Riser wheezed, gasping as his lungs fought to draw in air.

Rachel, not done yet, leaned down and pinched his earlobe between her fingers. "That's for leaving with so much drama" she scolded, pulling at his ear as though he were still a child in need of discipline. "Do you have any idea how worried I was, Riser?"

Riser, still struggling to breathe, managed to croak out, "I... I really didn't think it would... go this far..."

Rachel continued berating him, not letting up for several minutes as Riser lay on the ground in defeat, his pride wounded just as much as his body. Eventually, though, the scolding turned into a lighthearted lecture, and Rachel's tone softened once more. She released his ear and sighed, running a hand through his hair as though to comfort him.

"I just... don't want you running off creating distance between us, alright?" she said, her voice now full of motherly concern.

Riser, still lying flat on the ground, nodded, finally catching his breath. "Noted, Mother... Noted."

Robert, who had been observing the entire scene with mild amusement, cleared his throat. "Well, now that you've survived your mother's wrath, Riser, perhaps we can get down to business."

Riser slowly stood up, rubbing his stomach with a wince. "I guess I deserved that," he muttered under his breath before turning to his father. "Yes, let's... before she decides to punch me again."

Rachel smiled sweetly, crossing her arms. "Only if you deserve it, my dear."

Robert : so hows the weather son?

Riser, still feeling the sting from his mother's earlier uppercut, sighed and glanced at Robert, noticing the faint glimmer of sweat on his father's forehead. Clearly, Robert had been hoping to ease into the conversation before Rachel's fiery outburst but really the weather line. Now, with the tension diffused, it was time to dive into more pressing matters.

His mother, however, was far from upset now. She sipped her tea like a proper lady, a serene smile on her lips. Riser couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. She's enjoying this.

"I figured it is better to start talking business before I get punched again," Riser said with a mischievous grin, shifting the tone as he prepared to drop something heavier. "I just returned from meeting with the Dragon King, Tiamat, and... I've got some troubling news."

Both his parents' expressions shifted—Rachel's smile faltered slightly, and Robert's curiosity turned to serious attention. "Go on," Robert urged, leaning forward.

Riser took a breath, choosing his words carefully. "It seems someone is manufacturing counterfeit Phoenix Tears—getting close to a 70% accuracy. In a few months, they could be producing them at 100% quality, and these fakes are already being sold on the black market with some genuine one."

The weight of his words fell over the room like a stone. Robert's calm demeanor vanished, his face darkening with concern. Rachel, too, sat up straighter, setting her tea down with a soft clink.

"That's impossible," Rachel scoffed, though there was a sharp edge of doubt in her voice. "No one can replicate Phoenix Tears. She must've been lying to you."

Robert sighed deeply, his voice low. "It's not just from Tiamat, Rachel. I've received similar intel—rumors of Phoenix Tears being sold on the black market. I thought it was a scam, but now... it seems more than that."

Rachel shook her head, disbelief still written on her face. "But you know what's required to make Phoenix Tears! Only a member of our family can produce them, no one else."

Riser nodded. "Exactly. Which makes it all the more concerning. I have an idea, though."

Rachel's eyes flickered with curiosity and a hint of anxiety. "What idea, Riser?"

Riser paused, knowing he was about to take a gamble by revealing his plan, but it was time to trust his family—and his meta-knowledge of how things worked. "I want you to leave the matter of counterfeit Phoenix Tears to me," he said, meeting his father's gaze. "As for the products already appearing on the black market, they can be traced back to the Phenex Clan's distributors. Father, you should focus on handling that."

Robert, after a moment of contemplation, nodded. "Alright. I'll take care of the supply chain and deal with any internal leaks. But why do you want to handle the counterfeit case alone? and do you know who is behind this? "

Riser's eyes sharpened. "You're aware of the ongoing negotiations behind the scenes for the tri-faction peace treaty, correct?"

Robert nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Yes. It's a delicate situation, but I've been keeping up."

"Good. Today, that peace treaty was signed in Kuoh territory," Riser revealed, his voice dropping. "And during the signing, a terrorist attack took place."

Rachel's eyes widened in shock. "Who would be foolish enough to attack a gathering where at least Satans from the underworld, Archangels from Heaven, and a Fallen Archangel were present?"

Riser's gaze flickered between his parents. "To be specific, Sirzechs Lucifer, Serafall Leviathan, Michael, and Azazel were there. And yet, the attackers didn't hesitate."

Robert's brow furrowed deeply. "Who led such an attack?"

Riser's voice was cold as he answered, "Katerea Leviathan—one of the True Leviathans. She was allied with the White Dragon Emperor, a member of a group called the Khaos Brigade. And at the head of this group... is Ophis, the Dragon of Infinity."

The shock hit his parents like a tidal wave. Both Rachel and Robert paled visibly, goosebumps rising on their skin.

"Oh my God," they both whispered simultaneously, their voices filled with disbelief and fear.

Riser raised a hand, trying to calming them down. "Don't worry."

Robert stared at him, incredulous. "Don't worry? You just told us that a faction led by Ophis, the Dragon of Infinity, is targeting us!"

Riser shook his head. "Their goal isn't our family specifically. They're focused on causing chaos. Ophis only cares about defeating the Great Red. They're making counterfeit Phoenix Tears because it's the fastest way to make money—and they need funds to support their operations. The product also helps them recover quickly when they're injured."

Robert's concern deepened. "How do you plan on stopping something like this, Riser?"

Riser's expression hardened, his voice resolute. "By force and violence."

Rachel's eyes widened in horror. "Riser! Are you out of your mind? You'd would be facing Ultimate-level or maybe Satan-level opponents! and ophis is beyond strength You'll get yourself killed!"

Riser stood firmin his stance, his gaze unwavering. "Mother, our family has always been viewed as business-oriented, but we earned our rank as Marquis through war. People think we're pushovers. They're blatantly creating counterfeit versions of our most prized product—the one we've monopolized for centuries.they are crossing line without fear ."

Robert ran a hand through his hair, clearly conflicted. "We could involve Falbium Asmodeus. He's head of the military affairs council."

Riser shook his head. "Father, I believe there are people within the Devil Council who are working with the Khaos Brigade. If Falbium gets involved, by the time he tracks them down, they'll have been tipped off and fled. We'll gain nothing."

Robert's fists clenched, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "But you're planning to handle this alone? Let me help, Riser."

Rachel's voice trembled. "Riser, we're a family. We face this together. Don't shoulder this burden by yourself."

Riser met their gazes, his voice steady. "Father, Mother, trust me. I won't throw myself into a fight I can't win. But we need to make a statement. If we don't, others will think they can cross us without consequence."

Robert and Rachel exchanged glances, their expressions conflicted. They knew Riser was stubborn, and once he made up his mind, there was no turning back. Experience had taught them that pushing too hard would only make him rush in recklessly.

Finally, Robert sighed. "Alright. Call me if you need anything."

Rachel's face softened, though concern still lingered in her eyes. "You have our trust and full support, Riser. But be careful."

"Thank you, Mother, Father," Riser said, bowing his head slightly in gratitude.

As he stood there, his eyes drifted toward a letter on the center of the table, sealed with a deep red wax crest. The crest bore a shield divided into four sections—each with symbols of a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a serpent. Surrounding it was a banner that read, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.

Riser's eyes widened in shock. "This letter...?"

Robert, noticing his son's expression, chuckled softly. "Ah, yes. A bit of family history we never told you about. Our ancestors helped financially support the founding of a certain magical school for children. They send us invitations whenever there's something important, like a Triwizard Tournament or a new Headmaster appointment. We stopped attending centuries ago, but the tradition persists."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Oh, out with it, Riser. It's just a magical school."

Riser's voice trembled slightly as he stared at the emblem. "H-Hogwarts?"

Rachel looked perplexed. "Yes? And...?"

Riser stood there, shell-shocked. Hogwarts? Of all things, Hogwarts?!