Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

Marcus and the other two were left utterly confused by the starkly contrasting responses. Were these two siblings or not?

They leaned towards believing Dionysius.

Especially Marcus, who secretly dubbed Dionysius the "Sister-Doting Maniac." After all, a brother should pamper his sister. If their roles were reversed, it would feel a bit odd.

Marcus suspected the siblings were engaged in some sort of elaborate play. Perhaps this was a testament to their close relationship?

Leon and Miguel, on the other hand, judged based on appearances. Dionysius exuded confidence, had a strong presence, and was tall and robust—completely at odds with the notion of being "frail."

Xanthia, in contrast, epitomized the "delicate and petite" archetype, with a gentle demeanor and a soft-spoken nature. Her "fragile young lady" persona seemed more fitting for a younger sister.

The atmosphere grew silent.

Marcus, ever the one to break the ice, cheerfully addressed Xanthia, "Being the little sister isn't so bad. Let me tell you, Brother Dionysius here really cares about you..."

He sang praises of Dionysius, with Leon and Miguel chiming in. Their glowing comments brought a smile to Dionysius's handsome face.

Feeling quite pleased, he watched Xanthia eat the meat he had personally grilled.

Xanthia’s dining etiquette remained elegant, befitting her image as a refined young lady.

Noticing Dionysius's smug expression, Xanthia dabbed her mouth with a napkin and nonchalantly stated, "Dionysius and I were born in the same year. My birthday is August 8th, his is November 11th. You guys should know by now who’s older."

Dropping their birthdates was a masterstroke!

Dionysius’s previously high spirits plummeted at this sudden, unassailable fact, providing Xanthia with yet another increment of "pain points."

Marcus and the others felt their assumptions crumbling. They had all but decided Xanthia was the younger sibling.

They didn’t doubt her claim—birthdates were hard to argue with, and Dionysius would have corrected her if she were lying.

Seemingly gentle and weak, Xanthia had managed to suppress the three boys with ease. She teased Dionysius further, "You don't usually call me 'Sister,' but you still want to be the older brother? You're quite the disobedient little brother."

Xanthia’s system chimed in her mind: more "pain points" from Dionysius.

She knew this would happen—the self-styled older brother would yield instant results when hit with the "truth blade."

Seizing the moment, Xanthia addressed Marcus and the others, "Since you all call him 'Brother Dionysius,' shouldn’t you also call me 'Big Sister Xanthia'? Don’t worry, just call me 'Sister Xanthia,' and I’ll have your backs from now on."

“Sister Xanthia!” Marcus, Leon, and Miguel chorused in unison, their awareness keen.

After all, Xanthia was indeed Dionysius’s genuine elder sister. The mighty King Dionysius, who was so imposing and unyielding outside, was nothing more than a cheeky younger brother at home. Those who understood the dynamics of "familia hierarchy" would get it.

At this point, Dionysius couldn’t remain silent. He stubbornly argued, “I think using birth dates to determine seniority is unfair. Birthdays are not something we can control. As an old saying goes, ‘The order of learning does not necessarily reflect skill, and each has their own strengths.’ You should understand the principle of ‘a teacher by virtue of excellence,’ right?”

Xanthia pointed at him and laughed to Marcus and the others, “Look, he’s getting anxious.”

“I am not anxious!” Dionysius retorted, wearing a mask of frustration, his voice lacking conviction.

“I know you’re anxious, but there’s no need to be. Just answer this: whose birthday is earlier?” Xanthia, hardly the considerate sister, knew precisely how to hit Dionysius’s weak spot.

Marcus and the others were on the verge of laughter but dared not laugh outright. Who could have imagined that the always composed and intelligent Dionysius could be reduced to such a state by Xanthia? It was truly a case of one thing overcoming another.

Luckily, Leon thought of something to deflect the topic and ease Dionysius’s embarrassment. He turned to Xanthia and said, “Sister Xanthia, since you’re Dionysius’s elder sister, your father must be Mr. Demetrios El Papadopoulos, right? He’s the owner of WE Esports, a team I admire. Can you ask him to improve the team’s situation? We need better recruitment efforts; relying on youth training and luck isn’t yielding any top players, and the future looks bleak.”

Xanthia replied calmly, “Demetrios is indeed my father, but I don’t care about his work. You should talk to Dionysius about this. He’s the cherished one in the familia, whereas I’m just a marginal figure.”

“You are not insignificant; you are very important.” Dionysius couldn’t help but emphasize, even if the rest of the familia didn’t value Xanthia, he did.

Leon dared not say more, suddenly realizing why Xanthia lacked the typical airs of a young lady from a wealthy familia—she wasn’t favored in the Papadopoulos household.

Marcus, in a sudden lapse of judgment, curiously asked, “If you’re true siblings, why are your birthdays only three months apart?”

Marcus’s innocent question earned him a deadly glare from Dionysius, and he immediately regretted it. He must have touched a sensitive topic, one that might upset Xanthia. Why else would Dionysius look at him like that?

Xanthia smiled nonchalantly, casting a sidelong glance at Dionysius as she continued to amass "pain points." “The answer is simple. Dionysius and I are half-siblings, sharing the same father but different mothers. My mother passed away long ago.”

She stated the fact plainly, with no trace of sorrow or regret in her tone.

Dionysius’s "pain points" surged because he felt she spoke from a place of deep resignation and heartbreak, which pained him greatly.

Marcus felt like a fool. Could his pig brain not think before asking such a stupid question?

Dionysius couldn’t help but direct his anger towards Marcus, his glare growing more terrifying.

Holy crap, I really messed up… Marcus broke into a sweat. To defuse the situation, he quickly pulled Leon and Miguel along. “We feel quite full, and we’ve got an afternoon gaming session to get to. We’ll leave you siblings… uh, I mean, sister and brother, to enjoy your meal.”

Leon and Miguel cooperated eagerly, eager to escape the tension-filled atmosphere. They hurried off, looking eager to jump into their gaming session.

Before leaving, Marcus made sure to settle the bill.

Xanthia was quite pleased. A free meal and a hefty amount of "pain points" from Dionysius—what a win!

“Xanthia, I’m sorry… you’re not upset, are you?” Dionysius asked cautiously.

“Whether I’m happy or not, does it matter?”

“If you’re not happy, I’ll do anything to make you happy,” Dionysius replied earnestly.

“Well, I’m not happy now. Call me ‘sister,’ and I’ll be happy. Will you?” Xanthia teased, though she was already delighted inside.

Dionysius flushed with frustration. Calling her “sister” would be a blow to his pride.

“Oh my, such grand promises, but no sincerity at all,” Xanthia continued to provoke, clearly enjoying herself.

“Sister… Sister!” Dionysius spat through gritted teeth.

“Hahaha!” Xanthia burst into laughter. What King Dionysius? Clearly, he was just her little brother Dionysius!

Seeing his "sister's" radiant smile, Dionysius suddenly felt at ease. As long as she was happy, what did his dignity matter?

"Well, I'm still not happy! Calling me 'sister' isn't enough. How about you call me 'Mommy'? I want to take you in as my adopted son!" Xanthia pushed further, her tone mischievous.

"Xanthia, this is too much!" Dionysius protested indignantly. "Are you just toying with me?"

"I'm not toying with you. If you call me 'Mommy,' I'll brag about you to everyone. I'll start every introduction with—'My son Dionysius, destined for greatness as the younger brother!'" Xanthia laughed.

Dionysius finally realized she was playing with him. However, he had to admit, this playful "sister" was quite amusing.

It was her previous aloof attitude that had given him headaches.

While he was silent, Xanthia leaned closer, perfectly leveraging her charm as a beautiful young lady, and whispered softly in his ear, "Dionysius, I want to play Dance of Imperials this afternoon. Will you join me?"

Yes, she was manipulating him again, using him as a task accomplice.

Dionysius's emotions were entirely at Xanthia’s mercy. Without hesitation, he responded, "I'll join you! Whatever you want to play, I'll join you!"

"Good, good, my son Dionysius. You have potential. If you behave well, I'll reward you by calling you 'brother,' how does that sound?" Xanthia beamed.

Xanthia was shameless. Calling him "brother" wouldn't cost her anything, but gaining an obedient helper was a big win for her!

As she saw it, she was simply reclaiming what was owed to her original self—honorably and justifiably!

Dionysius took a deep breath. He felt like he was being manipulated, yet the thought of Xanthia calling him "brother" in her sweet, endearing voice...

Hiss... even if it meant being manipulated, he was willing!

He had no choice. As the youngest grandson in the powerful familia, he had only ever had older brothers and sisters, never a younger sister.