"…"
Inside the Soma Familia, Soma rubbed his temples as he flipped through the secret ledger the Guild had sent him.
"This is absolute garbage."
Every single profitable entry was falsified—obviously cooked up to fool both him and the Guild. The gap between the real and fake accounts wasn't small either; it was off by tens of billions of valis.
Aside from the ingredients required for brewing Soma, Zanis had squeezed every bit of profit the Familia could produce. Anyone capable of making money was treated like a disposable tool, all for the sake of feeding his parasitic control.
"The leeches inside my Familia are worse than I imagined."
"All because of the addiction to Soma."
Behind the curtain of his bangs, Soma's expression darkened with something complicated. This—this was the result of his own negligence, his refusal to guide or discipline his children when he should have.
He'd let a bloodsucker grow unchecked until it drained every drop of value from everyone around it.
Soma picked up another document the Guild had delivered—a dossier of complaints against the Soma Familia.
Many reports described robberies and killings of other Adventurers inside the Dungeon. Officially, they were blamed on monsters, but he knew better. Most of these deaths had his Familia's fingerprints all over them.
"I never even heard about this."
The cold, naked accounts of human lives lost lay open before him, and even Soma's calm eyes flickered with anger.
He'd never seen or heard of these Guild reports before.
"Zanis… you've outdone yourself."
He shut the ledger with a quiet snap. Every page of this mess would have to be sorted, line by line.
Soma could feel his blood pressure climbing.
Thankfully, the stolen funds Zanis had siphoned away were already recovered. If not, Soma might have been tempted to check himself back into the hospital.
Still, reparations for the damages caused by his Familia would have to begin immediately.
He mentally listed out the upcoming tasks. At this rate, he wouldn't have a moment of free time for at least half a year.
"The parasites inside need to be cleaned out."
Those who had taken lives would be handed directly to the Guild. Soma had no intention of covering for their sins.
You make a mistake, you pay for it—that was his rule.
"Once the pests are gone, the Familia's rules will need a complete overhaul," he muttered. "The kids who haven't fallen too far can still be reformed."
"And I'll have to find a way to control Soma's addictive pull on them…"
"Addiction is too great a flaw. Maybe I can… brew a version that doesn't enslave their minds?"
The very thought intrigued him.
He had no interest in the "addictive" charm of Soma—it wasn't the kind of craft that defined him. What he sought wasn't wine that captured hearts, but skill that surpassed his own limits.
A new challenge, then: to create a divine wine that wouldn't addict the children of the lower world.
He picked up his pen and jotted the idea down. From now on, his brewing research would take a different path.
"...!"
"Lord Soma, it's Liliruca."
The voice outside made him set down his pen.
"Come in."
After a pause, the door creaked open.
Soma looked up to see Liliruca step in. She was the first child he'd raised in the Familia—the first he'd ever seen succumb to Soma's addiction.
He noticed how she kept her hood low, her head bowed, her eyes avoiding his.
Her small Pallum frame trembled, looking even smaller under his gaze.
"Lili… you don't even know what to say, do you?"
Her whole body shook harder.
"Ever since you got hooked on Soma, you've stayed away from my room. Because you know I can't stand children like that, right?"
The tremors became violent.
She'd been only six when someone tricked her into drinking Soma. From that moment, she'd been lost to it. Once, she'd been saved—lifted out of despair—but as her addiction deepened, she stopped visiting Soma's chambers altogether.
Not because she didn't want to. The last time she'd gone, she'd seen the cold disappointment in his eyes. That look had branded itself into her heart.
From then on, she couldn't bring herself to face him. She couldn't bear to see that same distant, disheartened stare again.
After all, her addiction made her just like her parents—weak, helpless, and shameful. Now she understood why Soma had looked at her that way.
"She was six when she first tasted Soma… it's been five years already?"
For a God, five years was nothing. But for a child of the lower world, it was half a lifetime.
He'd never given time much thought before, but after learning everything Zanis had done behind his back—the embezzlement, the deceit, the Guild complaints—Soma finally felt the weight of it.
"I was deeply disappointed to see the children of the lower world enslaved by Soma," he said quietly. "Especially you. When I saw you on that platform, clawing for Soma like a puppet with its strings cut… I lost all affection for this Familia."
"…"
"Even the ones I raised with my own hands weren't exceptions."
Lili's tears spilled over. She hadn't known. She hadn't realized that her own weakness had been the last straw for him.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Lord Soma. It's all my fault…"
Watching her sob, Soma closed his eyes, recalling the words of the goddess Loki.
Not guiding them, not correcting them, just watching and hoping they'd wake up on their own… that had been his failure too.
But now, as he looked at the trembling girl he'd once cared for, a thought formed.
"My judgment was that you're 'worthless,' because none of you could stay clear-headed under Soma's influence."
"If you want me to take that back, then prove me wrong."
"If you think this was your fault, then show me with your actions."
Lili's head shot up. For the first time in years, she looked him straight in the eye. They were still cold—but the disappointment was gone.
In that moment, she understood why he said what he did. She wiped her tears away with trembling hands.
"Lord Soma… I'll prove it to you!"
She didn't want to earn his approval for glory, or for forgiveness.
She just didn't want to see that look of disappointment in his eyes ever again.
Because Lord Soma was the only person who had ever been kind to her since the day she was born.