Dylan – Knowledge is Power, Right?

Mom gave me a look, that kind of I-know-where-this-is-going look, when she first lectured me about sex during my teen years. Thinking back . . . maybe she already knew . . . that I had thought of . . . porn.

"Oh! I think this is where I leave you two alone with your talk about the—"

"Please, don't say it—"

"—bees and flowers!"

I palmed my burning face. She really had to say it.

"We'll get there, Clarisse," Dad said, chuckling.

"Just call me when you need me," Mom said, flashing a lovely smile. She brought her empty plate and drinking glass inside the kitchen while talking in a sing-song manner. "I'll be here baking lemon squares!"

". . . Going back." I sighed, and drew a question mark on another page of my notebook and wrote: Lust Primordial Skills and Abilities, then I took another bite of my pancake. "If attracting women is an active skill, I can turn it off anytime. If it's a passive skill, does it only affect the opposite gender? How about supernatural creatures? Or just . . . humans?"

Dad smirked. "Why don't we test your intelligence? I'll give you another fact about the Seven Rulers of the Underworld and see if you can connect the dots." He straightened his posture and made eye contact with me. "My brothers and I have these titles next to our names:

Lucifer the Pride Primordial, Mammon the Greed Primordial, Leviathan the Envy Primordial, Satan the Wrath Primordial, Asmodeus the Lust Primoridal, Beelzebub the Gluttony Primordial, and Belphegor the Sloth Primordial."

"The Seven Deadly Sins?"

"Correct."

I finished writing their names, including their sins. This could be the reason why the Underworld was divided into seven kingdoms. Were demons sorted according to their deadly sin? Or . . . I should ask about that next time. It's a complicated topic.

"Have you thought of an answer?" Dad's voice penetrated through my thoughts, and I nodded.

I thought he was going to give me a hard quiz, but he was teaching me the basics. It was like I'd been sucked into the beginning of an RPG, but this was reality.

I spun my pen around my fingers while analyzing my notes. If a Lust Primordial's true nature orbits around the sin of lust, then it is commonly tied to sexual desires—the sin of the flesh—which means . . .

"A Lust Primordial's ability to charm the opposite gender is natural, therefore, it's a passive skill due to the sin of lust," I said, confidently. "I'm assuming we can draw out our victim's inner desires? Or see through their inner desires. Like you." I pointed the tip of my pen at him. "When you looked into my eyes, you saw my desire to build my own kingdom."

"Impressive." He smiled, proudly. "Primordials in general are known to be youthful and aesthetically pleasing to look at, but Lust Primordials are top tier. Humans, however, are more vulnerable to our extreme beauty than supernatural creatures, which means you don't need to worry about every jealous male wishing for your death and every horny female sleeping in your bed."

"Horny females? I'm not deflowering anyone but my wife!" I think the veins on my neck were popping out when I said that out loud.

Dad smirked, somewhere in between playful and naughty. I didn't like that. "Son . . . Did you honestly think that you could survive with one woman?"

"C-Could you elaborate?" My fingers were trembling that I couldn't write anything.

"A Lust Primordial feeds on sexual energy. Sex is our fuel—our life force. It is our natural instinct to pleasure or be pleasured by women in order to live a long life! We're polygamous!"

I broke the tip of my pen. The blank ink bled through the pages as I gawked at my dad, waiting for him to say it was a terrible joke, but he wasn't taking it back.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"With multiple women?"

"Yes."

"H-How many half-siblings do I have?"

"Hundreds."

My soul left my body.

It was my dream to meet the perfect wife and give her two or three babies. Was this the end of my dream? Who would accept a Lust Primordial as her husband?

My jumbled thoughts rewinded to the seven kingdoms. Now I fully understood why he had offered to build my own kingdom. If half of my siblings were the kind to thirst for power, they would be fighting over the throne. Was it possible that my other siblings were . . . slained? Died in wars?

I swallowed.

Being a prince is closer to death.

"What happens if I don't want to . . . do it?"

"You'll die."

"I'll die?"

He looked dead serious. Mom, who was conveniently done with baking lemon squares, walked up behind him and smacked his head with a tray.

"Ow! Clarisse!" He put his hand to his head and faked his tears. "You didn't have to choose violence!"

My jaw dropped. She hit a primordial! I would have died on the spot for my insolence, but Dad didn't seem like the cruel type of king.

"Oh, please, Asmo. Your head is as hard as a boulder." Mom glared softly at him, then she smiled lovingly towards me. "Dylan, dear. You won't die. Your father is joking! What he meant to say was you'd only feel weak for a couple of days or weeks until your thirst for sex becomes unbearable.

"If you ignored your sexual desires for a long period of time, you'll become feral and desperate to find someone to make babies with. That's how your father met me!" She cupped her cheek and blushed in different shades of red color. "You're the product of our lust. I still remember the night when he found me and—"

"Mom! Please, stop!" I covered my whole face and laid my whole body across two chairs. I could hear my dad laughing his ass out, including my mom.

It would have been nicer to hear if I was the product of their love, but lust? Lewd images of me deflowering multiple women and raising our children together flashed before my eyes. I wanted to dig my own grave or get abducted by aliens.

I refuse to be that kind of Lust Primordial!

Suddenly, my phone rang inside my pocket. I took it out and read the name of the person calling: Ms. Yul. It was my manager. What could she be calling for? I sat back up on my chair and answered the call. My parents zipped their mouths and listened in to the conversation, so I put her on loud speaker and placed my phone on the table.

"LE-ON! Good news! We got another product endorsement deal and it's that popular beer brand, Grizzly Beer! They were asking if you could become their next brand ambassador! I've forwarded the proposal and two-year contract to your e-mail!"

I looked at my smiling mom, then at my dad holding up seven fingers. Seven days? Was he giving me one week to say goodbye to everyone? I cleared my throat and replied to my manager, in a formal tone:

"I will think about it first, Ms. Yul. Please tell them I am busy working at the studio."

"Huh? What's wrong, LE-ON? You're usually game with endorsement deals! Are you really busy writing songs right now? It's a Saturday! Think about the huge sum of money and ex-deals if you say yes!"

"You know that doesn't concern me at all."

"Ugh . . . you're right. I'm talking to a billionaire. Who needs money? LE-ON Studio doesn't need more! You don't need more! Donate them all to children's charity! Disasters! Calamities! Don't leave some for me!"

I buried my face into my palm as she whined about my recent donations . . . as if that would change my mind. Ms. Yul had always been greedy towards money. Every time an opportunity struck, she would grab it without a second thought. This was my first time to think about it so she was clearly in shock.

"Ms. Yul, please calm down. I'll explain everything to you on Monday, alright? My . . . dad came home."

"Your dead daddy?" Ms. Yul screamed over the line. "Oh, oh! Okay! I understand now! That's more important than this stupid contract and money! Go on! Shoo! Goodbye! Why are you talking to me?"

"You were the one who called me. . . ."  I chuckled, awkwardly.

"Oh, you're right! I'll see you on Monday then! Say hi to your daddykins for me! Bye, LE-ON!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The call ended.

"Ms. Yul is quite the character. Is she always that loud?" Dad rubbed his chin in thought. "I should visit her bedroom next time."

I gave him a disgusted look. "Don't even think about it!"

"Why? Don't you want another—"

"So!" Mom clapped her hands once, stopping us from making further comments. "Dylan, have you decided? Asmo gave you seven days to prepare for your departure."

My mouth formed an O-shape. I was right. I gained enough time to prepare a letter for my fans but I was unsure of Ms. Yul's reaction. She was older than me by two years. I'm sure she could find another wealthy artist to work with at her age.

"I'll come with you," I told my dad. "But could you give me more time to think about whether or not I'll accept my royal title? I want to have a good reason before I decide."

"Of course. Take all the time you need," he said, and got up from his seat. "Before we leave, you may pack anything you want."

Anything? I'd bring my music with me, my albums, and my merchandises. There's no telling when I could return to Terra, but I'd definitely return before Mom passes away.

"You won't be sleeping in a hotel, inn, or apartment," he continued. "I will have your own private cottage prepared for you and it will become your home as you build your new life in Zemoria."

I love my dad. Cheesy, I know, but I could see him doing his best for me. Did he do the same with my other siblings?

"I have one last question before you go," I said, pushing my chair back as I stood up. "How are we going to tell my co-workers and fans? I need to prepare my—"

"Relax. Just focus on packing your things. I have an easy solution to that." Dad plastered a smug look on his face. "We just need three days to create a fake news about you."

"Why three days?" I got curious.

"Are you going to hire vampires for this, Asmo?" Mom's face lit up.

"V-Vampires?" I blinked twice. "Vampires are real?"

Stupid question, I know, but I couldn't believe what I just heard.

"Correct!" Dad grinned from ear to ear. "I'll ask a favor from my vampire servants to create the news coverage. They will do most of the heavy lifting and bloody work."

My brain processed the information, but it crashed. I couldn't figure out what he was thinking so I directly asked for his solution. This time, he looked at me dead serious in the eyes and said:

"You died."