Alastor

Alastor was a tall, strong man of thirty—with broad shoulders, a firm gait, and a gaze that, by its sheer weight, made people involuntarily sit up straight. His posture bespoke not only physical strength but also inner discipline. He believed in strict rules, in order, in the fact that every action has a consequence, and that education is built on respect and obedience. Faith was more than just a tradition for him—it set the rhythm of his life, guided his thoughts, and determined his decisions.

His son, Caillou, a sixteen-year-old teenager, was the complete opposite of his father. He was consumed by a thirst for self-expression, a desire to break free from constraints, to prove himself a distinct individual, not an extension of Alastor's strict lifestyle. Caillou understood that if his father learned of his actions, the consequences would be severe. Alastor wouldn't just be angry—he would perceive it as a challenge to his principles, a rebellion against everything he had tried to instill in his son.

One day, Caillou took the plunge. Secretly from his family, he went into town, found a discreet studio with darkened windows, and did what he'd long dreamed of: got his tongue and frenulum pierced. In the mirror, he saw himself differently—bold, free, finally his true self. But as soon as he stepped through the door, his heart sank.

He tried to act as usual: he said hello, answered his father's questions, and sat down to dinner. But Alastor's gaze slid over him like an X-ray, searching for something elusive. Kaiu clenched his fists under the table, trying not to touch the new jewelry with his tongue—the slightest movement could give him away.

Silence reigned at the table. Alastor slowly raised his eyes from his plate, peering into his son's face, catching a fleeting glance, a nervous gesture, the slightest hesitation in his speech. Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but his instincts, honed over the years, whispered: Kaiju was hiding something.