Back at the Virellano residence—
Several maids and servants who welcomed Al assumed he had brought a lot of belongings and prepared to help carry them.
But Al was only carrying a single backpack—something he could easily handle on his own.
After giving their bows, the servants dispersed.
Almost all of them moved toward the right wing of the house, except for one who hurried off to the left, as if she had her own task to attend to.
Al almost laughed at the sight, but chose not to dwell on it.
He then turned toward the grand entrance, following Harun.
His footsteps echoed softly through the front hall of the massive house. Gleaming white marble floors reflected the warm light from a giant crystal chandelier overhead.
Tall walls adorned with golden carvings towered above him, and the soft scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, coming from porcelain vases arranged with perfect symmetry.
Al finally stood before the doorway of a house that was supposedly his home.
His heart pounded, unsure of what awaited him beyond the door.
Harun opened it, gesturing for Al to step inside.
Al stepped forward, and Harun remained outside, quietly closing the door behind him — the soft click marking the point of no return.
Now he stood on the threshold of a vast living room.
His eyes immediately caught sight of a middle-aged woman standing at the center of the room, just a few meters away.
Al's eyes widened slightly.
This woman… might be my mother, Sandra Virellano.
In the photo I received, her face was bright and cheerful. But now… she looks a little disheveled. Maybe she's been stressed thinking about me? Hmph… who knows, he thought.
Sandra Virellano stood gracefully in a pastel-colored dress that draped elegantly over her slender figure.
Despite her age, her face had hardly changed.
Her skin was smooth, her eyes glassy—not from overwhelming emotion, but from a sudden wave of memory and guilt rising to the surface.
"My child…" she whispered, barely audible. "You… came back."
Her hand rose to cover her mouth, but she remained rooted in place. There was no rush toward him. No hug. No tears. Just… composed stillness.
Her gaze slowly moved over Al—his plain white shirt, slightly wrinkled; his simple black shorts; his clean but ordinary sneakers.
A black jacket hung from his hand, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Everything about him looked… normal. Far too normal.
There were no luxury brands, no flashy labels, nothing that hinted he belonged to the Virellano family—one of the ten richest families in Indorosia, living in a world built on prestige.
His appearance wasn't bad—above average, but not nearly as striking as the polished look of elites or nobles. But in this world, simple meant inferior.
Sigh… maybe I was hoping for too much. He grew up outside, without this family's protection. It was only natural for him to look ordinary, she thought.
Still… he's my child. I shouldn't pressure him.
She muttered inwardly, trying to bring herself to reason.
She then offered Al a blossoming smile, though a little forced. Yet still, something heavy lingered in her heart.
Standing behind Sandra were three young women, their features carrying the unmistakable Virellano lineage—flawless skin, elegant posture, and beauty that radiated high-class socialite energy.
Al quietly studied them.
And those must be my sisters. But weren't there supposed to be six of them? Al wondered.
Hmph… anyway, I've seen their photos long before this. They're pretty famous—even kids at the orphanage knew who they were.
But I never realized they were my sisters. Seeing them in person now, their faces do share a faint resemblance to mine.
They looked at Al the way one might examine an art piece that didn't belong in their gallery.
The first girl stared directly and confidently, her face unreadable.
The second seemed calm but kept a clear emotional distance.
The third didn't bother hiding her feelings. Her lips curled into a sneer, openly displaying rejection without saying a word.
Not far from them stood a young man. He wore a stylish yet casual outfit that fit him perfectly. His dark brown hair was neatly styled, his eyes deep brown.
He was handsome, and his smile… a little too perfect. His posture was calm, his eyes imppasive as they glanced at Al—not hostile, but unreadable.
Al looked at him a little more sharply than at the others.
And that's the boy who was switched with me. Interesting, Al thought.
David Virellano—the boy the public believed was the family's sole male heir.
He stood there casually. No one could tell what was going on in his head.
Especially now, when the position he had comfortably held for seventeen years was suddenly being threatened by the young man standing before him.
Al already knew a thing or two about him. Despite still being a high schooler, the guy had a reputation packed with achievements.
After observing them for a while, he honestly didn't even know how he should react.
To him, this was already enough — because in the end, they were his family.
So… this is my home? My family? I guess it's not that bad, Al thought to himself.
He looked around at all of them. Not one moved. No greetings, no hugs. Just stares that dissected every detail of his appearance.
Hmph? funny… or maybe I'm just overthinking it. I thought I'd be bombarded with questions. Turns out—nothing.
Actually, that's good. No need for dramatic family scenes. Hehe… works for me, he thought, unfazed.
The room felt cold despite the warm lighting. The air grew dense with invisible social tension.
Al inhaled deeply—not from nerves, but as if preparing himself for a new kind of challenge.
"A-a… are you… my… mother?" he finally asked, his voice low and awkward, stuttering as if unsure what to say or how to act.
Sandra remained silent for a moment. Then she took a shallow breath, composed her expression, and offered a small smile—sweet, but not warm.
"Yes… I am your mother," she replied gently. "You finally came home… my son."
Al fell silent. Sandra's words ended there, and he didn't know how he was supposed to respond.
"Ah… yeah. I-I'm back. Aha… ha… haha."
He could only let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his head.
The atmosphere grew even more awkward for Sandra as well. She was almost at a loss for what to say next.
Thankfully, the corner of her eye caught sight of someone else nearby.
She turned slightly, gesturing behind her. "Yes, Al. Ehm... and these are your sisters," she said, pointing toward the three young women.
Then she motioned to the young man,
"This is David. He's the one who grew up with us… the boy who was switched with you. But don't worry, you're both still… my children."
Al looked at them intently. No one reacted yet.
He assumed that they felt awkward around him as well. And he didn't know how to handle the strange tension either.
Of course it feels this awkward. This is our first meeting. Even though we share the same blood, right now we're no different from complete strangers, he muttered inwardly.
David, seeing the awkward silence stretch on, stepped forward confidently, as if to break the ice.
He extended his hand and clasped Al's in what seemed like a warm handshake.
But his grip slowly tightened—whether he was trying to show dominance or simply had a naturally firm hold, Al couldn't tell.
He swung their joined hands for a little longer than necessary before speaking, as if analyzing Al down to his very essence.
I thought this kid had something in him, considering how difficult it was to dig up his personal information… but it turns out he's nothing special, David thought.
And then he smiled gently.
Meanwhile, Al's eyes narrowed slightly the moment David's hand touched him.
This kid? He was...? he muttered inwardly.
But before he could observe any further, David's voice snapped him back to reality.
"Your name is Al, right? I'm David," he said calmly with a warm smile. "I'm… the one who took your place."
Al was slightly taken aback, but he still gave a short nod.
"Ah… yeah. Nice to meet you," he said casually.
David let out a small chuckle, as if that was an acceptable response.
He didn't push the interaction further and simply stepped back, giving space for the others to take over.
Sandra and her three daughters quietly observed the boys' first encounter.
The contrast was obvious—appearance, disposition, even the atmosphere around them. One looked cool and dignified, while the other seemed plain and just a little awkward.
Understanding David's gesture, Sandra smoothly stepped forward again.
"Oh, right. Let me introduce your sisters—the ones who happen to be home right now," she said with a graceful wave.
First, she pointed to the tall and graceful woman who gave a polite nod.
Aurielle Virellano, 25, wore a high-end, neutral-toned business suit.
Her makeup was light but flawless. Long black hair fell in elegant waves down her back. Her sharp eyes and composed expression gave off a professional, commanding presence.
Beauty Level: A. Her elegance dominated the space—every feature meticulously sculpted.
"This is Aurielle, your eldest sister. She's the CEO of our family's company and your dad's top business diplomat."
Aurielle gave a small wave, offering him a light, professional smile.
So this is my actual youngest brother? Yup, His face does resemble ours, though he looks a bit tacky. His appearance is far too plain, huff.
I just hope he fixes himself soon and doesn't drag the family name down with him, Aurielle thought, quietly assessing Al.
Next, Sandra pointed to the second girl, who stood slightly behind, exuding a softer vibe while keeping her distance.
Sarah Virellano, 24, a well-known singer and actress from the capital.
She wore a pastel flowy dress that moved gracefully with each step. Her wavy hair framed her face, her bangs enhancing her cute and delicate image.
Beauty Level: A, bordering on A+. Her beauty was soft and artistic—like a living painting.
"This is Sarah, your second sister. She's a famous singer and actress—her voice is known internationally. You've probably seen her on TV or in magazines, right?"
Beneath the gentle aura she presented, Sarah's expression carried a faint hint of cynicism, as if she were bracing for conflict.
She didn't react much and only gave him a small nod.
This boy is supposed to be my brother? Really? Are you kidding me? Has the world gone insane? she thought, irritated for reasons she couldn't even explain.
Then Sandra gestured toward the third girl, who had a stylish oversized glasses perched on her face.
She was absorbed in the notifications flashing across her advanced gadget.
Clarista Virellano, 22, a young medical researcher and biochemist.
Beauty Level: A. Cold, intelligent, eccentric. Her beauty resembled a luxury lab—sterile but undeniably high-value.
"And this is Clarista, your fourth sister. A genius medical researcher who just patented a rapid-healing serum."
Sandra nodded gently, looking at Al with a subtle hint of sympathy.
"Unfortunately, three of your sisters couldn't make it today," she added.
"Vianna, your third sister, is competing in an international martial arts tournament in Nipponia..."
"...Elena, your fifth sister, is in Zuriaska attending an international fashion festival..."
"...And Lysha, your sixth sister, is busy with her college life. She's attending the University of Indorosia."
After finishing the introductions, Sandra looked at Al a little more deeply, her gaze softening.
"I'm glad you're finally here," she said quietly. "Though… yeah, I'm sure it'll take some time for you to adjust."
Al simply nodded and bowed slightly to them.
"I'm Al. Your younger brother. Please take good care of me," he said.
Sandra watched him, feeling a faint warmth in her chest. At last, this was Al's first interaction with his real siblings.
But that brief warmth was quickly disrupted—
Suddenly, Sarah finally spoke up.