Chapter 4

Sebastian sighed heavily. He wanted to say more, but in the end, propriety held him back. All he could do was back out of the room quietly.

At dinner that night, I sat at the table, chewing the vegetables on my plate robotically, my movements stiff and unnatural.

Dad suddenly commanded, "Get up early tomorrow and accompany Ryland to piano practice. Understood?"

"Understood," I replied, nodding stiffly and continuing to chew the greens. No one noticed that my fingernails had already turned blue.

…

Early the next morning, before sunrise had fully broken, I followed Dad's command and stood outside Ryland's bedroom, waiting for him to wake up.

Ryland slowly got out of bed and finished washing up. Seeing me standing there, he shot me an impatient glance. "Let's go, wooden dummy. Time for piano practice."

I said nothing and silently followed behind him toward the piano room upstairs. Just as we reached the staircase, he suddenly let out a scream.

His body jerked backward violently. Just like that, he tumbled down the stairs, rolling down several steps before collapsing motionless at the bottom.

I stood at the top of the stairs, not even having enough time to react before Dad rushed over. He had darted over in panic the moment he heard Ryland's scream.

What he saw was Ryland lying at the corner of the stairs, bleeding, while I stood frozen several steps above him. He exploded instantly.

"You vicious little monster! I thought the mods had finally made you obedient, but you still went and hurt Ryland! Did you or did you not push him down the stairs?"

My voice came out as robotic as it could. "I did not push Ryland."

"Look at you, still denying it!"

Dad was trembling with rage, but his concern for Ryland outweighed everything else. He hurried downstairs and scooped Ryland into his arms, his voice full of panic.

"Ryland, darling, are you okay? Does it hurt? I'll take you to the hospital right away!"

"Dad, Cal pushed me," Ryland cried out weakly in his arms. "My head hurts so much…"

Dad's expression twisted with even greater fury. He glared at me cruelly. "You wait until I get back! If anything happens to Ryland, I'll make you pay!"

With that, he carried Ryland out of the house as quickly as he could. I remained standing there stiffly, my empty gaze unfocused, as though everything that had just happened had left no impact on my life.

At the hospital, the doctors immediately examined Ryland. One of them frowned deeply as he reviewed the injury. "The patient has a severe scalp laceration and significant blood loss. He needs an emergency transfusion!"

The doctor added, "His blood type is rare. Our blood bank doesn't have enough reserves right now. Does anyone in the family have Rh-negative blood? Bring them here immediately."

Without hesitation, Dad answered, "My eldest son does! I'll have someone bring him over right away!"

And so, the chauffeur brought me to the hospital shortly afterward.

The moment Dad saw me, he grabbed my arm tightly. His eyes were fierce as he issued another command. "Donate blood for Ryland right now, or I'll beat you to death!"

"Okay, Dad."

I allowed him to drag me toward the transfusion room. A nurse guided me into a chair and rolled up my sleeve to prepare the needle. The moment the fabric was pulled back, she froze.

Dark purple blotches spread across my skin like corrupted tissue decay. Confused, she reached for my wrist to check my pulse. Then, she touched my forehead and neck. Her expression paled with panic.

"Doc, come look at this child!" she shouted urgently. "Something's wrong. He has no body temperature or… pulse."

At that, Dad snapped back in anger, "What the hell are you talking about? How could he not have a pulse or body temperature? Stop wasting time and draw the blood already!"

The doctor hurried over. When he saw the mottled discoloration on my arm, shock spread across his professional face. He placed a stethoscope against my chest and listened for several long seconds.

Then, he ran additional scans with a portable diagnostic device. With every result, his face became whiter. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at Dad, horrified.

"Sir, your child has no signs of vitality. And judging from the lividity and tissue condition on the body, he's been dead for at least a week."

Dad froze in place. Disbelief filled his eyes as he stared at me.

I sat there quietly with my arm extended for the transfusion, maintaining the exact posture I had been instructed to hold as I abided by my command. "Dad, I will give Ryland my blood as instructed."