Dragon's Awakening: The Duke's Son Is Changing The Plot-Chapter 125 - 124 - How to train a harem.

Crisaius stood up sharply, his coat flaring as if it was offended by gravity itself.

"This is bad. Very bad. If the demons have a direct line to the royal meeting room, we’re practically fighting naked in front of a mirror that insults us."

He paced like a mad poet. "I need to go. I need to personally snatch that rat by the wig and shove a squirrel in their—"

"Stop," Raven cut in, raising a hand.

Crisaius blinked. "...Stop? Boy, I know you’re tired, but this isn’t the time to play chess with fate."

"I’m serious," Raven said calmly. "Don’t go."

"Oh, so now we don’t investigate the literal demon spy who could be breathing into the ears of kings and ministers? Are we at that stage of insanity?"

Raven leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his voice low. "We can use them."

Crisaius froze. "Use... the demon?"

"No," Raven corrected. "Use the rat."

The old man stared at him like a squirrel had just handed him a tax form. "Explain."

"If there’s a leak," Raven began, his eyes narrowed, "it means we can send misinformation too. If we identify what kind of reports get leaked and in what form, we can start feeding them what we want the demons to believe."

There was a beat of silence before Crisaius slowly sat down, stroking his beard like a wizard trying to remember where he left his favorite hat.

"Holy smokes... we could reverse the flow."

Raven nodded. "Make them waste time, energy, maybe even troops, all based on false information. We only need to figure out the pattern."

Crisaius leaned back with a low whistle. "Kid... that’s evil."

"I prefer calling it strategy."

"Tomato, tomahto. Either way, I’m proud of you. That was cold-blooded."

"Thanks. I’m still learning."

"...I wonder what you will become in some years."

The atmosphere soon settled a little.

Crisaius leaned back on the bed and munched on the peach he had previously summoned like a stage prop.

He had probably taken it out of his loose robe, but Raven hadn’t seen him doing that, so it looked like summoning to him.

"So..." the old man said after a minute. "When are you going to gather some actual accomplishments?"

Raven glanced at him. "What?"

"For the patriarch position, genius. Your siblings—your ’Vaise’ competition—they’re all making moves. One has trade routes under their control, the other has merchants under their control, then there is one with assassins under their command, and the remaining also have something."

The old man turned toward Raven, his expression filled with disappointment. "You? Despite having the leader of one of the best information-gathering organizations in the kingdom, you are still only famous for squirrel telepathy and looking tired."

Raven crossed his arms. "And whose fault do you think that is?"

Crisaius raised his hand like a war veteran accepting an award. "Mine. You’re welcome. After all, without those two years of training, you’d be dead. Or worse."

"What’s worse than death?"

"Embarrassed. Just look at what happened five minutes ago." He grinned evilly.

"Shut up."

Crisaius took another bite. "Anyway. Your accomplishments. You’re two years behind. If you don’t make moves soon, your siblings will outclass you in every political metric."

There was a pause.

Raven leaned back in his chair, his dragon eyes catching the morning light. "I know. I’ll start soon."

He knew about the accomplishment problem.

He even had a plan drawn out to solve all this, but the problem was that his team was somewhat weak for now.

He needed to solve them before he could focus on anything else.

Crisaius, on the other hand, nodded sagely. "Well, that’s good. You would need some more training for the upcoming challenges."

"Aw, man. I thought I completed the course already."

"My training plan is lifelong."

"Hah..." Raven sighed, but then his eyes brightened as he thought of something. "I think it would be better if you trained my team members. They are weaker."

"Oh, you’re right," Crisaius clapped his hand in agreement.

’I’m sorry, guys. But I don’t want to go through this old man’s hellish training again.’

Raven apologized to his group inwardly, praying for their mental safety as he had sent a bull charging at him toward them.

Worse, the bull had sharp horns that could puncture their asses.

’Namo Amitabha.’

A bald Raven wearing an orange robe spoke inside Raven’s head.

But suddenly, Raven recalled something, his expression turning hesitant.

He glanced at Crisaius. Once, twice, and then thrice.

"Oh, for your balls’ sake, just say what you want to," Crisaius, who was about to go out and torture—cough—train Raven’s friends, groaned.

Raven, however, said nothing, staring at his feet before he finally spoke. "Hey... Master?"

"’Master’? You’re calling me master on your own? Do you want my money or what?"

Raven’s lips twitched at that question, but he still asked, "...How does one handle a harem?"

Crisaius opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Then, slowly, he sat back on the bed, taking a deep breath.

He turned his head, staring at Raven as he’d just asked how to resurrect a phoenix using spaghetti and a violin string. "...I beg your pardon?"

Raven scratched his cheek, refusing to meet his gaze. "You know. A harem. Multiple women. Emotions. Situations. Accidental boob grabs. Strategic cuddling."

"Boy. You’ve barely mastered sleeping through the night without being used as a plush toy. And now you want a strategy for a harem?"

Raven waved his hand. "Forget it. If it’s too weird, I’ll figure it out myself."

He turned away, but Crisaius grabbed a nearby pillow and hurled it at Raven’s head with unexpected precision.

Thwack!

"What the hell?!"

"You little cabbage," Crisaius growled, sitting upright again like an old god resurrected by gossip. "You finally open up about love, and you want to sweep it under the rug like a fallen booger?! No. I’ve waited two years for this moment."

Raven rubbed his head, wincing. "...You make it sound like a coming-of-age ceremony."

"It is!" Crisaius barked, throwing the peach pit at the wall for dramatic effect. "You’ve asked the question of questions! The golden mystery! The sacred trial of men stronger than gods: How do you handle a harem?"

"Okay, okay, don’t scare the squirrels..." Raven said while gesturing at the two small squirrels who were sitting on the tree next to his window.

Crisaius, however, ignored them and stood up, pacing around with his hands behind his back like he was preparing a war strategy. "Boy. Listen closely. The only way to handle a harem... is to love them all equally."

Raven gave him a deadpan stare. "That’s it?"

"Of course. Love them. Feed them. Validate them. Equally."

Raven squinted. "That sounds like a system that’ll implode faster than your last stew experiment."

Crisaius blinked. "...Which one?"

"The one that walked out of the pot."

"Oh. That one was sentient. But back to the topic!" He cleared his throat. "Equal love, my boy."

"But that’s the problem," Raven muttered, leaning forward again. "That might work now while they’re busy or distracted. But later—when they’re alone, or vulnerable, or drunk on emotions—they’ll ask. ’Who do you love the most?’"

His voice dropped to a mimicry. "’Is it her? Is it me? Is it that one who wears her shirt inside out but still gets cuddles?!’"

Crisaius slowly sat down again, rubbing his temples. "Hoo boy."

"I can’t rank them. If I start building a hierarchy, it’ll turn into ’The Hunger Games: Pillow Fight Edition.’"

"You have a point..." Crisaius murmured, stroking his beard.

"So what do I do?" Raven asked, exasperated. "Just throw smoke bombs and run every time it gets emotional?"

"That’s what I used to do," Crisaius nodded sagely. "But you’re different. You don’t have my handsomeness or flute skills."

"I’m the best genius in the Vaise family." ƒrēenovelkiss.com

"Still less handsome."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night."

There was a moment of silence before Crisaius snapped his fingers. "You’re approaching this wrong. You want a logical solution to an emotional bomb. That’s like trying to put out a fire with tax documents."

Raven raised a brow. "Then what? You want me to confess my love by slapping everyone with a heart-shaped frying pan?"

"No!" Crisaius pointed dramatically. "You just need to overwhelm them."

Raven blinked. "...Huh?"

"Love them so thoroughly, so completely, that their brains short-circuit. Be bold. Be assertive. Hug them like you own their spine. Look them in the eyes like you’re about to rewrite their fate. Touch their hands like you’re reading the script of destiny from their palms."

Raven looked physically uncomfortable. "That sounds...intense."

"That is the point!" Crisaius shouted, standing on the bed now. "If you do that, they’ll never want to ask whom you love more. They’ll be too busy recovering from the emotional rollercoaster you shoved them on. Be physical! Be present! Be the man who makes them forget jealousy even exists!"

"Are you sure this isn’t just your excuse to grope people in your youth?"

"Irrelevant!" Crisaius bellowed, raising a finger to the sky. "Love is war, boy! And in this war, you win not with peace treaties, but with kisses that end arguments and cuddles that cause amnesia!"

Raven groaned and buried his face in his hands. "This advice is insane."

"It works."

There was silence, broken only by a squirrel peeking through the window and slowly backing away in horror.

Raven sighed. "Fine. I’ll... try being more assertive."

"That’s the spirit!" Crisaius beamed. "And if that fails, just fake an existential crisis. Women love a brooding man."

"I already do that naturally."

"See? You’re halfway there already."

Raven laid back in the chair, staring at the ceiling as if begging the gods for guidance.

He forgot that he was an atheist, and above all, the only gods he knew were either divinity-hungry merchants or crackhead codgers.

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