Chapter 275: What about you?

"This is Zlatan, and this is his caretaker, Nikolay. Say hi, Myles."

The little child looked at the other boy for several seconds.

Zlatan was considerably older than him. Perhaps approaching middle school, judging by his appearance and the way he carried himself. The child studied his face briefly before recalling what was expected of him.

He smiled.

"Hi."

The boy looked at him and returned the smile, rather cutely.

"Hi! Wanna play with me?"

The little child stared at him.

Playing? At his age?

Coming from someone who was nearly old enough to attend middle school was definitely not an everyday occurance... not that it mattered.

The child could hear his heartbeat, and there was no particular excitement or anticipation in it. He didn’t seem to care whether they actually did anything together, rather he was simply following a familiar social pattern.

Nonetheless, the child nodded.

"Let’s do that."

Zlatan immediately took his hand and led him into another room.

It was spacious, with shelves full of books and cupboards containing toys. There were colourful cushions scattered across the floor, along with a small table and two chairs. Everything seemed to have been arranged specifically for children.

The little child looked around briefly.

"Let’s read together!" Zlatan announced, walking towards one of the shelves. "Do you know how to read yet?"

"I do know how to read."

The child answered calmly before sitting down beside him.

"Oh, really?"

Zlatan picked him up without warning and placed him on his lap.

"Then let this older brother read for you!"

The little child looked back at him.

He remained expressionless for a moment before nodding.

There was little point in objecting. Zlatan had already decided what they were going to do, and the child couldn’t identify any meaningful benefit in correcting him.

They were both second generations.

Their abilities, their physical constitutions, and whatever other differences separated them from ordinary humans were presumably understood by their caretakers.

So what was the point of behaving like this? Why pretend to be ordinary children, playing together and reading books on someone’s lap?

He didn’t understand it.

But the boy didn’t seem to have any ill intentions, either.

So he let him continue.

Zlatan opened the book and placed it in front of them. He used his finger to guide the little child’s eyes along each sentence, moving it slowly beneath the words.

The book was rather boring.

It was a childish overview of human emotions, explaining their functions, their physiological manifestations, and how they influenced social interactions.

The information was elementary, and the illustrations were unnecessarily colourful. The little child had already encountered most of it in other books.

Still, he read along.

Zlatan seemed to enjoy the activity. Every now and then, he would point at an illustration or pause to explain something that was already written on the page. The little child listened without interrupting.

Eventually, they reached the final page.

Zlatan closed the book.

"Reading with you was quite boring."

The child looked at him.

The last thing he wanted was to engage in an unnecessary discussion, but he understood that this was a standard conversational pattern. An observation was made, and the other person was expected to ask for an explanation.

"Why?"

"I prefer expressive, emotional people." Zlatan leaned back slightly. "But you’re not that. And, even worse, you’re such a goody two shoes."

The little child remained silent.

Zlatan turned towards him and poked his puffy cheeks.

"Are you angry?"

"No, I’m not angry."

The boy burst into laughter.

"Of course! I could sense that."

He continued laughing for a few seconds, apparently amused by his own question.

"But let me ask you something. Aren’t you supposed to destroy the world one day?"

The little child looked at him.

"The whole reason we met is so that I can become your teammate in it."

He raised an eyebrow.

Well, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t expected that.

The meeting had been arranged by their caretakers, and the little child had already been informed that the boy was similar to him. It was reasonable to assume that there was some purpose behind introducing them.

"From the looks of it, you don’t seem to have any drive in you." Zlatan tilted his head. "Are you actually willing to do it?"

"It’s not a matter of will, if the choices bring the same result."

Zlatan chuckled.

"Is that so? Is there another reason why you might want to do it?"

The little child hummed.

Should he tell him?

It wasn’t that he was particularly concerned about being judged. However, he could imagine several ways in which Zlatan might use the information for his own benefit. The boy seemed like the sort of person who would find something to gain from almost anything he was told.

He was difficult to read.

Not because his expressions were particularly subtle, but because they were so readily available. He smiled, laughed, and spoke with an ease that the little child could only imitate when instructed. His heartbeat remained calm, almost disinterested, even when his behaviour suggested otherwise.

His acting skills were considerably better.

The little child found that observation mildly inconvenient.

"You don’t want to?" Zlatan asked. "You’re still a child!"

He reached over and pulled one of the child’s cheeks.

"Then I’ll tell you why I want to do it."

He finally released him.

"It’s for my own curiosity."

The little child glanced at his smiling face, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"I know everything there is to know about human emotions. I’ve read about them, studied them, and learned how people behave under any circumstance. I know why they cry, why they laugh, why they become attached to one another."

He paused.

"But what I want to see is how they’ll feel while taking their last breath."

The little child stared at him.

Then he got up.

He wasn’t particularly interested in continuing the conversation. He stepped away from Zlatan and crossed the room, settling down on the opposite side.

The boy watched him.

"Now tell me your reason. I told you something you might use against me."

"You don’t seem to actually think of that."

"Is that right? I’ll have you know, from you, I sense that you’re quite innocent. So I’m sure you won’t do that."

The little child sighed lightly.

Whatever.

Something like that wouldn’t offend him. If the boy wanted to believe he was innocent, he could. There was no particular advantage in correcting him.

Besides, the little child had no intention of using the information.

Not because he had promised anything, but because he couldn’t see what he would gain from it.

Knock, knock.

The door opened.

"Myles, Zlatan, come out."

His uncle stood at the entrance.

The two boys got up and followed him into the adjoining room. Nikolay was already seated at a large table, with several documents spread out before him. The man gestured for them to take their seats.

"Everything here has been renovated for the two of you to use," he explained. "You’ll have your own space, training facilities, and equipment. We’ve also prepared suits that will help you conceal your identities when necessary."

The little child hummed.

So, he would be doing much the same thing as his uncle.

On the table lay a large sheet of paper.

The little child leaned forward.

It was a blueprint of an underground facility, with several sections marked out in different colours. There were rooms for training, accommodation, storage... he recognised the mountain depicted in the surrounding geographical markings, although he had never visited it himself.

Nikolay began explaining.

"Listen carefully. We estimate that the process will begin in ten years, or eleven at the latest. The preparations have already been underway for quite some time. They’ve been building the hosts for eight years now. What you’ll have to do throughout all that time is cultivate your abilities. Both of you, but especially Myles."

His uncle leaned closer to the table, smiling.

"Your strength is essential to the entire operation. You must continue developing it until you’re capable of doing what we’ve discussed. There can be no uncertainty about whether you’ll succeed."

The little child nodded.

"Understood."

"Throughout that time, make sure you recruit other people. You’ll have assistance with that, so don’t worry. We don’t expect the two of you to manage everything alone."

The child considered this.

Having the help of three people would be useful, although it seemed rather insufficient for something of this scale. He looked at the blueprint again, examining the different sections and their apparent functions.

"Of course, there are quite a few options," Nikolay continued. "But make sure you search for anyone with a brain-enchanting ability, and as for the others..."

Everything appeared to have been considered.

The (rough) timeline, the people they would need, the abilities required... even their clothing and the means by which they would conceal their identities.

It was an extensive arrangement.

The little child tilted his head.

However, something about the way it was being explained by these two men, especially his uncle, it bothered him.