Dio, a Born Master of Playing the Victim (Please Keep Reading)

Dio, a Born Master of Playing the Victim (Please Keep Reading)

With reddened eyes, Dio hid in Martha's arms, his little face scrunched up in grievance.

Clark stood helplessly beside them, still clutching the tattered book covered in pig slop.

"Uncle Locke!" Seeing his father leave, Clark rushed toward Locke like he had spotted a savior. His blue eyes were full of panic. "Listen to me, I wasn't trying to bully Dio!"

At that, Dio immediately buried his face deeper into Martha's apron, his shoulders trembling slightly as soft sobs escaped him.

Locke raised a brow, his gaze moving between the two children.

As the two children had grown older, scenes like this had played out far too many times in recent years.

Dio always managed to back Clark into a corner where he could not defend himself, all while looking completely innocent.

Locke did not know why Dio did this, but whenever he asked, Dio would hum and grumble before hiding his head beneath the blankets, unwilling to speak to him.

Locke felt a little weary.

Could a person's nature really be unchangeable from the moment they were born?

"Clark?" He deliberately drew out the name, crouching down until they were eye level. "Then tell me. What happened?"

Clark's face turned red with anxiety.

"I just wanted to see what book Dio was reading, and then maybe I... I guess my hand slipped by accident?" He lowered his head in frustration. "I'm sorry. I forgot to control my strength, and the book flew into the pig trough."

"So it was an accident?" Locke asked.

"Yes! It really was an accident!" Clark nodded hard, then added dejectedly, "But Dio said I did it on purpose."

"But..."

Only then did Dio lift his head from Martha's arms. Tears still clung to his lashes, and his voice was as soft as a mosquito's buzz. "Dad only bought that book for me last week..."

What a brilliant move, retreating to advance.

Locke sighed inwardly. The child could have simply complained, yet he had deliberately emphasized where the book came from. It practically screamed, "I'm such a sensible child, but I've been wronged."

Sure enough...

"Oh, poor Dio." Martha immediately hugged him tighter, her heart aching for him. "Clark really does need to learn to control his strength."

"I didn't!"

Clark stomped his feet anxiously, making the wooden floor beneath him creak under the strain.

Seeing the situation about to spiral out of control again, Locke cleared his throat.

"Clark, what should you do if you damage someone else's things?"

"A-apologize." Clark pursed his lips and turned to Dio. "I'm sorry, Dio. I'll help you wash the book later."

Blinking his red, watery eyes, Dio revealed an angelic smile.

"It's okay, Brother Clark. I know you didn't do it on purpose."

The speed of that expression change even left Locke amazed.

Was he really a seven-year-old child?

"Oh, looks like our little matter has been settled." Jonathan, who had returned from somewhere, clapped his hands in relief. "Now then, children, it's time for dinner."

"Martha made apple pie, and the slow-roasted brisket Locke started this morning should be ready too!"

"Then I'm sitting with Dad!"

Dio immediately jumped down from Martha's lap and trotted over to Locke's side. He obediently took his hand, then turned back to give Clark a sweet smile. "You come too, Brother."

"?"

Clark stood there blankly, his face filled with the confusion of What just happened?

Locke rubbed his temples.

He bent down near Dio's ear and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"That's enough, little devil."

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Dio's smile did not change in the slightest as he replied just as quietly. "Dad, I really just want to get along with Brother."

"..."

"Alright, dinner time. Clark, come with me and check on the brisket."

"Yeah! Brisket!"

Dio stood where he was, watching Locke lead Clark toward the door. His obedient smile gradually froze.

His fingers unconsciously gripped the hem of his clothes, and a trace of gloom flashed through his ruby-like eyes.

Damn Clark!

He gritted his teeth inwardly. All he knows is how to act pitiful and win Dad's sympathy.

He had carefully arranged the whole situation, yet that big idiot only needed to put on that bewildered expression for Dad's attention to immediately shift to him.

Staring at Clark's back, Dio's gaze settled on the plaid shirt speckled with bits of grass.

He remembered that shirt. Dad had bought it, but Dio had thought it was too tacky to wear.

And now Clark was wearing it!

The setting sun cast the grill's shadow long across the ground.

When Locke lifted the heavy iron lid, the rich scent of meat mixed with fruitwood smoke immediately rushed out.

Clark stood beside him, staring straight at the grill, though he still looked somewhat downcast.

"Still feeling wronged?"

Locke poked at the coals with an iron hook, and sparks crackled into the air.

"I really didn't do it on purpose." Clark kicked at a small stone on the ground, then, under Locke's helpless gaze, sent it flying into the clouds with one kick. "That book..."

"I know."

Locke cut him off and pulled a small knife from his pocket. "Bend down."

As Clark lowered his head in confusion, Locke used the tip of his knife to pry open a corner of the foil. Amber-colored meat juices immediately poured out, glistening enticingly in the firelight.

He quickly cut off a small piece of caramel-colored burnt end and stuffed it into Clark's mouth while it was still hot.

?!

Clark's eyes instantly went wide.

The crisp outer layer shattered between his teeth, while the tender meat melted on his tongue. The flavors of black pepper and maple sweetness exploded in his mouth!

He instinctively covered his mouth, afraid the delicious aroma would escape from the corners of his lips.

"Good?" Locke blinked.

Clark nodded wildly, his cheeks puffed up like a hamster's.

"This is called quietly making a fortune, Clark."

Locke wrapped the foil back up, lowering his voice. "Instead of arguing, it's better to wait and enjoy the real benefits."

Clark swallowed the meat with only half an understanding, a little sauce still at the corner of his mouth.

Locke reached out to wipe it away and continued, "Dio might have a somewhat unusual personality, but he's actually a good child."

"Try to be more understanding toward him."

The evening breeze brushed through Clark's curly black hair, carrying the fresh scent of the distant clover fields.

"I know. He is my little brother, after all." Looking down at his mud-covered work boots, Clark suddenly asked softly, "Uncle Locke... can I have another piece?"

Unable to keep from laughing, Locke secretly cut him an even bigger piece.

"Chew slowly."

"Mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm!"

Clark had learned his lesson this time. Like a little bear that had stolen honey, he crouched behind the grill and savored the exceptional brisket one small bite at a time.

His blue eyes sparkled in the twilight, and the gloom from earlier had long since vanished.

At that moment, Martha's call that dinner was ready came from inside the house.

"Let's go." Locke patted Clark on the shoulder. "You're a real man who can lift a hay bale."

Clark nodded hard. As he stood, he suddenly gave Locke a firm hug, then quickly reined in his strength, afraid he would accidentally make his uncle's ribs crack like last time.

When the two returned inside, Dio was sitting properly at the dining table, thoughtfully folding napkins for everyone.

His gaze paused for a second on the grease shining at the corner of Clark's mouth, and his red pupils narrowed slightly.

"Brother Clark, is there something stuck at the corner of your mouth?"

Dio sweetly reminded him.