Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 1.5

Yup, definitely a seven-year-old.

That ruled out reincarnation or time travel.

Carefully, I explained, “You know, like if we were fighting over the same omega or something.”

“Why would I fight you over an omega? My nanny says I’m so pretty that I might manifest as an omega myself.”

“…Oh, really?” I responded awkwardly, trying to suppress a grimace.

No, Callisto. You’re gorgeous, but you’re going to be a dominant alpha—a dangerously obsessive and beautiful one at that. When that time comes, please remember this moment and spare my life. I vaguely recalled that Etienne had pretended to be a dominant alpha to secure his position as heir, though the truth eventually came out.

“He must’ve been a recessive alpha or a beta.” Etienne had concealed his true secondary gender out of fear that Callisto, if he manifested as an alpha, would surpass him. In noble families, it was customary for the alpha sibling to inherit the family title.

The Count had known the truth but had supported Etienne’s decision to maintain the lie for political convenience. At least Callisto didn’t seem to have full knowledge of the future.

He didn’t even know his own secondary gender yet, as he wasn’t set to manifest until around age thirteen. For now, it seemed he could only see fragments of the near future.

“Well, at least he hasn’t seen the part where Etienne dies.” I felt a small wave of relief.

But the more I thought about it, the less reassuring it became.

My plan had been to nurture Callisto with kindness and earn his trust. However, he already knew about Etienne’s future abuses. “How am I supposed to win him over now?”

Despair began to set in, but I shook it off. First things first, I had to clean him up. He looked like he’d crawled into the fireplace. “Come on,” I said, lifting him into my arms.

“What are you doing?  Where are you taking me?”

Callisto squirmed, his eyes wide with panic.

“Relax. I’m just taking you to get cleaned up.” I called to a kitchen maid.

“Lisa, could you draw a hot bath in my room, please?”

“Yes, my lord.” When I turned back, Callisto was glaring at me as if I’d just announced his execution.

“What are you going to do? Torture me in the bathtub? Boil me alive?”

“…Why would I boil you? To eat you? You’re so scrawny you’d barely be a snack.”

“What? You’re going to eat me?”

“Why do you always twist my words?” Callisto struggled, refusing to stay still in my arms.

Unfortunately for him, his malnourished frame made him easy to carry, even for a twelve-year-old like me.

As I held him, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

A child this young shouldn’t have suffered so much losing his family, starving, and struggling to survive. In a way, I could relate. I’d lost my parents at a young age, too.

Callisto’s misfortunes hit closer to home than I cared to admit, though his father was still alive and oblivious to his son’s suffering.

But Callisto wasn’t about to let me wallow in my emotions.

“Let me go! I said, let go, you demon!”

“Will you stop squirming? All I want is for us to get along!”

“Liar! I saw everything in my dreams!”

So, he did see the future through dreams.

That was a small comfort—it wasn’t as bad as reincarnation or time travel. At least he hadn’t experienced the abuse firsthand. I sighed, wondering how I was supposed to win over a child who was already convinced I was a villain. “H, your story keeps getting messier,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you see? What kind of dream are you accusing me based on?”

“It wasn’t a dream! I told you, it all really happened!” Callisto, pale as a sheet and trembling, still shouted back at me without missing a beat. After much bickering and struggling, I finally managed to carry him to my bedroom. Elsie greeted us with a startled expression.

“Why are you carrying Callisto, my lord? Isn’t it too much for you?”

“This little rascal refused to come willingly. Is the warm water ready? He really needs a bath—just look at him.” “Yes, my lord. But are you going to bathe him yourself? I can do it for you.”

“No, I brought him here, so I’ll do it. I’ll scrub him thoroughly myself.” “Oh no, my lord, let me handle it. It’ll be tiring for you…”

“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” Waving off Elsie’s protests, I clicked my tongue and headed toward the bathroom. Callisto, now limp in my arms from exhaustion, still managed to glare at me.

At this point, I was starting to feel a bit stubborn myself. I didn’t know exactly how much of the original story Callisto was aware of, but I knew one thing for sure—I hadn’t done anything wrong to him, nor did I plan to. Being judged for something I hadn’t done was frustrating. Would a child even understand that nuance? Probably not.

Ignoring Callisto’s dagger-like stares, I stepped into the bathroom.

The large marble bathtub, ornately decorated, was filled with steaming hot water. I began to remove his clothes but hesitated.

The “Imperial Mark” from the original story popped into my head. In the novel, Callisto proves his royal lineage by exposing the mark on his body. It was described as a birthmark that only appeared under sunlight and was located on his waist.

“It shouldn’t be visible now since there’s no sunlight and the Count might have already covered it with a tattoo.”

Still, out of caution, I lifted the hem of his shirt slightly to check his waist.

As expected, his skin was clean and unmarked. “What are you doing? Why are you looking there?”

Callisto’s face turned pale with shock, and I immediately regretted my actions.

“It’s nothing! I just need to undress you for the bath.”

“Liar! You were staring at my waist!”

I tried to calm him down, but it only seemed to make things worse.

His voice was sharp, but his trembling eyes betrayed his fear.

“Fine! If you don’t want to take your clothes off, then don’t!” Hoping to distract him, I playfully pretended to be exasperated and dropped him into the tub, fully clothed. Callisto let out a piercing scream.

“Elsie, save me! Etienne is waterboarding me!”

“What waterboarding? The water isn’t even that deep. Get a grip and sit properly!”

“…Huh?” Flailing wildly, Callisto froze mid-motion. The water had only been filled to a safe level appropriate for his height, making any kind of torture impossible.

He blinked up at me, his face sheepish. The suspicion in his eyes softened, replaced with embarrassment.

Then, without warning, he slid under the water. Startled, I grabbed his arms and pulled him back up.

“Did you crawl into the fireplace or something? How did you manage to get this dirty? Come on, let me see your face.” “No! Get away! Stop pretending to be nice!”

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