Chapter 394: Emotional bonds
As he spoke, Terry raised a trembling finger, pointing directly at Lian, who stood silently beside Yuel.
"Daddy wanted this fox to erase my inherited memories."
When beastmen first took human form, the primal awakening of their ancestral inheritance was automatic. It was a cruel quirk of nature; children who looked no older than two or three possessed a vast reservoir of knowledge far beyond their tender, fragile age.
Rory’s brow furrowed, a chill settling in her chest. "What kind of memories could possibly twist Terry’s personality like that?"
Her eyes shifted sharply to Yuel, demanding an answer.
Before he could speak, Terry’s small voice cut through the silence, fracturing it.
"They’re Daddy’s memories." His voice softened, dropping to a fragile whisper. "The ones from when he first entered the Command Division."
An unmistakable, heartbreaking maturity echoed in his childish tone.
"Mother... you don’t know." His tiny face drooped, heavy with a grief no toddler should comprehend. "Daddy had a really hard time back then. He loved the light so much... but every day he had to live in absolute darkness. There were schemes everywhere. Betrayal. People trying to use him. People trying to kill him. He was surrounded by nothing but bad people."
As the words spilled from Terry’s lips, a stark, terrible understanding washed over Rory. Her breath caught in her throat.
"So... that’s what happened."
She looked down at the small boy in her arms, and then up at Yuel. A crushing ache bloomed behind her ribs, squeezing her heart until the simple act of drawing breath became painful. How could this have happened? She mourned bitterly for the agony Yuel had endured in his past.
But even more than that... her heart shattered for the child she held.
Terry had only just taken human form. He was still a baby—a soul that should have been cradled, spoiled, and fiercely protected from the harshness of the world. Instead, his fragile mind had been flooded with ancestral memories steeped in darkness, bloodshed, and systemic betrayal.
They were horrors no child should ever have to witness, let alone carry. It was an unbearably cruel twist of fate.
Looking at the little boy who was now so earnestly trying to comfort her, Rory felt the fractures in her heart deepen.
Terry seemed to sense the heavy tide of her sadness. He reached up with a chubby, unblemished little hand, gently cupping her tear-stained cheek.
"Mother..." his voice was impossibly, devastatingly soft. "Don’t be sad. I’m okay." A tiny, brave smile flickered onto his face. "I want Daddy to erase those memories too."
His long eyelashes lowered, casting small shadows on his cheeks. "They make Terry feel very sad." He looked back up at her, his eyes shining with complete, innocent sincerity. "So don’t worry. I’ll just take a little nap... and when I wake up... I’ll be fine."
Yuel’s eyes widened, a sudden pang piercing his gaze. He knew immediately. Terry wasn’t telling the truth—not entirely.
The child wasn’t consenting because he truly wished to lose a part of himself; he was saying it because he couldn’t bear to see Rory worry. Because he didn’t want Yuel to carry the crushing weight of guilt.
Even now, trapped in a storm of adult trauma, the boy’s first instinct was to protect his parents.
Noticing the distress tightening Rory’s features, Lian stepped forward.
"Mistress," his tone was unusually gentle, stripping away his usual detached demeanor. "Erasing inherited memories won’t harm Terry in any other way." He held her gaze, offering a steady anchor. "You can trust me. I promise he’ll be alright."
Rory closed her eyes briefly, taking a slow, deep breath to force down the suffocating ache threatening to overwhelm her. When she opened them, she looked at Yuel.
He was staring back at her. His eyes were a turbulent sea of guilt, hesitation, and raw pain. Even so... he gave a tense, decisive nod. It was an agonizing choice, but it was still the decision he believed was best for their son’s future.
Rory inhaled once more, steadying her trembling frame. She walked over to him. Holding Terry as carefully as though he were crafted from the finest, most fragile glass, she gently transferred him into Yuel’s waiting arms.
She understood now. Erasing those unbearable memories... perhaps that truly was the ultimate act of mercy they could offer him.
Their son deserved to grow up like a blank sheet of paper—pure, happy, and inherently free. He should not have to carry burdens that had never belonged to him in the first place.
Yuel accepted Terry with practiced, trembling care. Without a word, he turned and laid the little boy back onto the soft, cushioned bed woven from his own protective vines. He adjusted the cloak around Terry’s tiny body with painstaking, meticulous care, ensuring every corner was tucked in perfectly to ward off the chill.
Only when everything was flawless did he step back, his shoulders rigid.
"Begin," his voice was low, strained.
Lian nodded. Walking to the bedside, he raised his hand, gathering a gentle, shimmering silver glow at his fingertips. The soft light drifted forward, pooling gently over Terry’s forehead.
The little boy seemed to sense the encroaching magic. His tiny brows knitted together briefly in a momentary resistance, but beneath the warm, soothing pulse of the silver light, they slowly relaxed. His shallow breathing grew even and deep. His eyes quietly closed, drifting into a profound slumber.
Rory remained rooted beside Yuel. Without a word, she reached over and slid her fingers into his hand.
Only then did she realize the truth. His palm was damp and slick with cold sweat. He had looked entirely composed, a stoic pillar throughout the ordeal. Yet underneath the facade... he had been absolutely terrified.
She squeezed his hand tightly, anchoring him, and looked up into his strained face.
"I know what you’re afraid of," her voice was quiet, but it carried an unwavering strength. "Yuel..." She tightened her fingers around his, refusing to let go. "Terry is your son. And he’s my son, too."
A small, emotional smile trembled across her lips, though her eyes softened with fierce devotion.
"No matter what kind of child he becomes... he will always be my child. I will always love him."
Every single word carried the weight of absolute certainty.
Rory had lived in this beastman world for years now, and she understood all too well that their views on parenthood differed vastly from her own.
Many beastwomen gave birth to large litters all at once. Because of that biological reality, they rarely formed deep, individual emotional bonds with every single cub; usually, only the exceptionally gifted or powerful offspring received special affection.
But Rory wasn’t born into this world. She was human. And she loved with the boundless, unconditional depth of a human heart.
To her, there was no such thing as a child who had to earn a mother’s affection. As a mother, she would love every one of her children without exception, unconditionally.
And if they ever lost their way in the dark... she would simply hold their hands, and teach them how to find the light again.