Resurrecting the Genius Within

Chapter 445 Brat 

Flushent 

Before Isabelle could reply, the little boy sensed a shift and turned to find George’s solemn face. 

Fear and confusion instantly gripped the boy. 

George, usually gentle and refined, spoke with a touch of spite, “You’ll never be richer than me.” 

He articulated each word in Egnaric, his tone sharp. 

The boy remained silent, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. 

Glancing at Isabelle on the bed, she seemed on the verge of laughter but restrained. herself. 

In hindsight, George realized his pettiness was uncalled for. 

Despite this, the trio continued to live harmoniously in the small house, their possessions gradually increasing over time. 

The boy was naive and, thanks to that, bold. He expressed his love for Isabelle even though George was around. 

Each day, he made a lengthy trek to procure Isabelle’s favorite chocolate biscuits and fresh mineral water. Then, come bedtime, he entertained her with rambling tales. 

That night, George advised him to turn in early. 

Realizing he’d been chatty and likely annoyed George, the boy sat up, his view only the undersides of the beds. 

“Sorry,” he said. “As a kid, I’d gab away with my folks before bed, always sleeping between them.” 

Turning to Isabelle, he commented, “Things would be simpler if you were a bit older.” 

Isabelle quipped back, “You want to call me Mom or something?” 

Tha hou managed 

uumed smil. “I’m off ta had Pandnight to usu hath 

Firstrand 

Just as he was about to leave, his friend showed up, eager for another round of play. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” the boy bid his friends farewell. 

Unable to evade them, he quickly returned to whisper to Isabelle, “I need to get them some food, or they’ll start to wonder.” 

“And I’ll bring back chocolate cookies for you,” he added before darting off. 

As he left, the sky rapidly darkened. 

Having scoured the garbage dump all day with his friends, the boy swiftly bought chocolate cookies for Isabelle. 

Under the cloak of night, he hurried back, hiding the cookies in his clothes and carrying two mismatched shoes in his hands. 

Barefoot but determined, he looked forward to sharing the cookies with Isabelle later, a sense of satisfaction warming his heart. 

Lost in his reverie, he collided with someone, causing him to stagger backward. and plop onto the ground. 

Apologizing profusely, he quickly retrieved the dropped chocolate cookies, brushing off any dirt. 

When he looked up, he found himself face to face with an Ardon man dressed entirely in black. 

The man’s eyes zeroed in on the chocolate cookies in the boy’s hands. 

In the distance, there was affluence, but beneath him lay desolation. 

The slum was engulfed in the long night. Despite the crowded streets, only a few lights dotted the area, signaling that most had retired for the evening. 

The narrow, dilapidated alleys were littered with debris, and the fetid stench of urine and feces hung heavy in the air. 

Trudging along in his mismatched shoes, the boy made his way past each dwelling, clutching the two chocolate cookies he had bought from the market tightly in his clean hands. 

2/4 

* Finish & 

All of a sudden, one of his shoes slipped off, forcing him to come to a sudden stop, 

He wasn’t about to lose this pair of hard–earned shoes. 

So, he halted, reached back with his small foot, and retrieved the shoe, casting at nervous glance behind him. 

Upon noticing the weapon in the man’s hand, he squeezed his chocolate cookie tighter, feeling a wave of fear wash over him. 

Continuing on, he dragged his shoe along the path. 

Footfalls echoed behind him, the long shadow of the tall figure trailing alongside. 

The man’s looming silhouette cast the boy into darkness, enveloping him as he moved forward. Despite the occasional murmurs from nearby houses, the surroundings remained eerily quiet. 

Yet, throughout his journey, he didn’t run into a single soul. 

The shadow doggedly stayed to his right… 

Meanwhile, in the small house, George gently washed Isabelle’s feet, his gaze lingering on her now slender face, a pang of sadness tugging at his heart. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Tomorrow, I’ll get that little rascal to fetch some meat for soup. It’ll give you a boost,” George suggested. 

Isabelle didn’t even spare him a glance. Eh, save it. 

George caught her silence, his tone gentle like a child’s, his face lit up with a smile. “I bet it’ll be even better than that chicken soup we had the other day.” 

Isabelle glanced at him briefly. 

George pressed on, “Are you planning to keep that little troublemaker around?” 

“Does he have anywhere else to go?” Isabelle asked. 

“Yes, but it depends on your opinion,” said George. 

Giving him a half–smile, Isabelle asked, “What’s the conspiracy this time?” 

3/4 

George confessed, “This little troublemaker might be young, but he’s got big dreams. Give him another three or four years, and he’ll be raring to go.” 

The little troublemaker was already doing his best to win Isabelle over. 

I spend my money keeping him around, feeding him, clothing him, and giving him 

education. 

He takes everything I give him only to bide his time, waiting for Isabelle to break up with me so he can slither in.