Become A Character Who Dies Within Three Chapters

Louis's judgment shifted—this might not be Young Master Alex's mansion, but simply some kind of "luxury daycare," because Alex wasn't the only child here.

Looking into the room, he saw a group of children around six to ten years old. At the center stood a boy holding a bright red toy car decorated with lightning bolts on both sides, his face full of arrogant defiance.

On the floor lay a slightly chubby boy who immediately scrambled up upon seeing the door open. His body wobbled like a giant roly-poly toy as he cried out at the top of his lungs:

"Mr. A! Alex took my toy, waaaah sob sob sob!"

The standing boy had bright blond hair and gray eyes. He was thin, hands on his hips, lips curled in a smirk. "Your toy? All the toys here are mine. You are my servants, so you'd better learn your place."

Though he looked to be the youngest in the room, his words came out with zero hesitation. Clearly, he was well aware of the difference in their statuses—and precisely that awareness made him so arrogantly defiant.

Suddenly, his gaze darted to the doorway, landing directly on Louis. His eyes immediately lit up. Without a second thought, he hurled the toy car at the chubby boy's head, then ran straight toward the door.

The poor boy clutched his head and cried even louder, but no one paid him any attention.

"Is this my new toy? Such a big, beautiful doll!" Alex exclaimed loudly, flailing his arms as he skipped about.

Mr. A smiled. "Young Master, everyone here is your friend. Playmates are not toys, sir."

Surprisingly, Alex nodded obediently, his wide eyes blinking innocently as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Mr. A's words were righteous enough, but he didn't spare a single glance for the still-crying chubby boy. After several more instructions to Alex, he quickly excused himself, leaving the children their private space.

Bang!

The moment the door closed, Louis caught sight of the sly grin spreading across Alex's face.

His own expression darkened, lips pressed tightly shut.

But in Alex's eyes, the figure before him looked like the most exquisite toy imaginable. Thin, yes, but with plump, bun-like cheeks, large blue eyes that sparkled brilliantly, soft pursed lips, and black curls pressed down slightly beneath a beret. His face was calm and emotionless—he really did look like a porcelain doll.

Absolutely beautiful!

Even if they were all "young masters and ladies," at the end of the day, they were still children—and children were always drawn to beautiful things. The other kids in the room stole glances, sneaking toward the doorway.

Alex flung his hand up. "From now on, you'll be my toy. Got it?"

At once, the faces of the children in the room turned ashen.

But the "toy" said nothing. It seemed this toy didn't even know how to speak. He shoved Alex aside, walked straight into the room, and sat on the sofa in one fluid, decisive motion.

"Whoa!" the children gasped in unison.

"You!" Alex's face turned green with fury.

He almost immediately charged forward, glaring at Louis with rage. "What kind of attitude is that?! Do you even know who I am? All of you are my toys! Just my servants!"

Over and over, it was the same few lines.

Louis sat coldly in place, treating Alex's words like nothing more than a dog barking in his ear.

Alex clearly realized his words had no effect. Could it be… this new toy really was just a doll?

He thought this to himself, but his anger flared hotter. He raised both hands and directly squeezed Louis's neck. "You won't listen to me? Then go die!"

Louis felt his throat tightening under the boy's grip. The strength was that of a child—but the problem was that he was also just a child right now!

And Alex wasn't just bluffing. His eyes were wide and innocent-looking, yet within them was a very real desire to kill, as if taking a life wasn't anything shocking at all!

Louis lifted his leg and kicked straight at Alex's groin!

Alex's eyes flew wide, his whole body stiffened, then he staggered backward before collapsing onto the floor, clutching his lower body.

"You bastard! You—you're shameless, you—you"

Before Alex could even finish cursing, Louis lunged forward. The two of them tumbled together in a scuffle. Of course, Alex was still feeling pain, so most of it was Louis pinning him down and landing blows!

"Waaaah!"

The other children around them exclaimed in awe, mouths hanging open, eyes sparkling excitedly.

When Louis's nails raked across Alex's face, leaving behind a bloody scratch, the gasps grew even louder.

At last, a little girl shrieked: "No, they're fighting! Mr. A! They're fighting! Mr. A!"

Only then did the other children snap out of their daze. Some kids who usually boasted about being Alex's loyal followers had been watching too intently, but now they scrambled to intervene, rushing to pull them apart!

"Bwaaah—wahhh—boohoo—you dared hit me, it hurts! Sob… wahhh!"

Alex burst into tears. Two neat scratches now marked his face, perfectly symmetrical, and that wasn't even counting the rest of the pain all over his body. But Louis was sure none of it would leave bruises—it was only meant to make Alex hurt.

Two other kids held back Louis. Narrowing his eyes at Alex, he suddenly lifted his leg as if about to break free from his "chains and shackles."

"Bwaaah!" Alex immediately cried even louder, but he didn't dare say another word this time. Even his snot was dripping. Louis almost wanted to snap a picture of him, but at the moment, he was just a gloomy, unreadable little boy.

Ultimately, everything wrapped up with Mr. A arriving. Louis was taken away, and the entire scene was noisy and chaotic.

That evening, Louis stood off in the Adonis family's mansion while Mrs. Adonis sat in a chair.

She was covering her face and sobbing: "Sob sob sob… what should I do, Louis… sob sob sob… why did you hit your friend…"

Louis's face remained cold and silent. From the moment he had been brought back, Mrs. Adonis had been like this. He had already answered her, but she still hadn't stopped, and the servants dared not approach.

Louis felt that if she kept crying like this, Mrs. Adonis might weep her eyes away.

Just then, footsteps suddenly rang out—one pair of leather shoes, the other high heels, eerily in sync.

Louis turned around. He could feel Mrs. Adonis's sobs grow even heavier.

Two figures quickly appeared.

The man had a short build, only around one meter sixty-five, with a bulging belly and a round and plump body. The corners of his lips naturally drooped, giving his face a perpetually stern look.

Walking beside him was a young girl who, despite her age, was already as tall as Mr. Adonis. With her heels, she even overtopped him.

The girl's long, sleek, glossy hair reminded Louis of Mrs. Adonis's. But her eyes—cold, sharp, and merciless—were identical to Mr. Adonis's.