#on tcf

[lizmidfordsblog]

Some personal headcanons (Part 1?):

Whenever Cale gets a cold, he immediately starts bleeding like a faucet since the Vitality of the Heart is working to get rid of disease. Meanwhile, everyone thinks that this dude is so weak he sneezes and starts bleeding.

Lord Sherrit is literally a mythical/fairytale bedtime story for dragons in their world. A cool af dragon lord the likes of which has never been seen for 10,000 years? Baby Eruhaben definitely went around pretending to be the next Dragon Lord/daydreaming of meeting Lord Sherrit.

Choi Jung Soo is 100% the reason why Kim Rok Soo began working out and knows how to use different weapons. The two rookies would be seen in early mornings with Choi Jung Soo snapping at Kim Rok Soo like a drill sergeant.

On and Hong remain in their cat forms the majority of the time because they're light enough to be carried by their family members especially Cale. They like being close to their adults, after being rejected and neglected for so long.

Choi Jung Gun helped write some of the storybooks Lord Sherrit put in the Castle of Light for her children. Some of them were stories from the fantasy world, but majority of them were fairytales like Little Red Riding Hood and The Tale of Shim Chŏng.

After the Alberu PJs fiasco, his family keeps giving him fancy pajamas with increasingly absurd enchantments on them in case he has to head to battle again. Think baby pink pajamas with little cats on them charmed to protect against a literal Dragon's Rage.

After his mother's passing, Beacrox learns how to cook as a healthy coping mechanism for his anger and resentment. He is hesitant to tell Ron when he develops a genuine love for cooking, but Ron is supportive because he wants his son to not be tied down by revenge like he is.

As thanks for Choi Han's sacrifice during the Sealed God Test ("I can't even feed you properly here."), Cale quietly makes green onion pancakes for Choi Han. The swordsman tears up on his first bite because of the familiar taste but refuses to cry.

The first time Raon sleeps in Cale's bed is after a nightmare. It's before he gets his name and he is still guarded around humans. Cale notices him whimper, carries him in his arms and soothes the baby dragon each time. They never address it in the morning. After one point, Raon never leaves.

Choi Han has a diary he writes in so that he can never forget his beloved family members again, no matter how much time passes. He puts in every doodle or drawing the children make for him.

After meeting Raon, Eruhaben secretly begins preparing his lair for the baby dragon after his death as a gift. However, all his preparations get destroyed by the White Star.

The first thing Raon learned how to write was Cale's name, back when he was learning from Rosalyn.

The reason Cale's hair is so long is because he is too lazy (read: busy) to cut it. He has so many split ends that it gives Eruhaben a heart attack. Cale has a bigger heart attack when he finds out Ron is going to be the one give him a hair cut.

Alberu always, always carries a white handkerchief with cookies wrapped inside with him wherever he goes. His study and his bedroom are always stocked too: both for the children and for his dongsaeng who never eats enough.

Hong has a habit of rolling around in bed seeking warmth. At one point, he rolls on top of Cale's face, choking the man awake with a mouthful of fur.

Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo would talk about farming so often that at one point, Kim Rok Soo secretly went out and gathered a lot of farming/gardening books. He would record them all secretly.

Cale takes special care of recording each and every moment with his family. Raon's giggling when he wipes off the steak sauce on his face, On's quiet purring cuddled in his arms, the sunlight on Eruhaben's hair as he sits and reads etc.

The God of Death definitely giggled at being the first person to read Choi Jung Gun pen name Nelan Barrow's debut novel, The Birth of A Hero. He rated it five stars ofc, Choi Jung Gun held a broom to his head.

[records-of-a-slacker]

Throw money with mama

Watch two crazy punks with mama

Get praised by mama

Scam with mama

Pose with mama

Snuggle with mama

[reader-spoon]

It recently snowed near me so enjoy some tcf winter time drawings!! :D

[mytragedyperson]

Okay I know, every time I talk about TCF it's some small detail from the first few chapters, I promise at some point I will talk about stuff from later in this novel.

But there's something about Cale looking at an old man in a baker's uniform, thinking 'I like his fitting outfit' and then just giving him a coin. He really gave this man for having style and looking the part. For some reason it's so precious to me and kinda funny. Like this is why i love Kim Rok Soo Cale Henituse. He literally loves spending the money. I dare say the only reason he likes getting money (other than it being nice to have money, especially if he didn't have much before) is because it allows him to spend said money: whether that be on his people, things he needs or just because he feels like it. It wasn't even a matter of 'oh yeah, their bread looks good', which is fair considering he's not the one eating it. It's literally just 'wow, this man really looks like a Baker, here have a million gallons for looking like a Baker. Wonderful. Good work. If war wasn't about to break out, im pretty sure Cale would actually dedicate himself to trying to find ways to end poverty in Western City, because this man is a workaholic who hates seeing people in pain, dying or suffering (unless they attack him and his people and even then he might let them stay, depending on the situation) and there's no way he's actually slacking off. I'm also pretty sure that's what he'd do after rebuilding from the war and helping with that. Like I can so clearly see him just looking at the starving people in the slums, saying 'yeah, no, not on my watch', and somehow ending or at least improving poverty. No one will convince me otherwise.

Edit: I always forget how many people are watching him. Like to be fair, most of them probably watched Cale too but, he has Hans keeping an eye on him and reporting to his dad when at home, the drivers reporting to Deruth on where he goes when not home, Billos watching him both when he's in the tea shop and from windows, Ron always being around and keeping an eye on him as much as he can, Beacrox watching him buy bread and go to the slums, the citizens watching him to see if he'll do anything crazy. The only time thus man is not being watched is when he's in the bathroom and when he's sleeping and even then Ron comes in every morning and for all we know people are checking in on him to make sure he didn't sneak out, but that last one is admittedly and exaggeration. Like this man gets very little privacy. Can we stop stalking him? Probably not. They're all just so curious what he's doing and Cale is just there like man, I gotta get back to the tree. Even in the slums he has On and Hong spying on him from the shadows to make sure the tree doesn't eat him. I was wrong Billos doesn't spy from windows, he just gets his subordinates to watch him then report to him. Cale, Cale, seriously, so many people are watching you at all times and reporting back to others. The first like tabloid magazine is gonna be created exclusively for stories about Cale and to keep up to date with what he's doing, and literally his entire friends and family members are gonna be subscribed to that magazine and sending in stories. The first RPF fanfiction community in this fantasy world is for Cale and his friends and family. The first paparazzi in this world are created just to follow Cale. And you know who the creater of all these things are? Clopeh. This is how Caleism spreads.

[thegradus2]

This was gonna be a sexy choicale drawing but then the kids took over and now choi han is just barely there

[youngyoo-apologist]

The kids playing dress to impress for day 2 of OHR week :3

[s-crossed]

This is still pretty early on the novel, but !We! are rich he said. He is their dad, he is

[fandomscatscomics]

I need fanart or a fanfic of Cale purrito-ing his kids. It could be for any reason like tucking them into bed or something more chaotic like getting them out of the way so he can go do something he claims isn't dangerous or as like a time out when they are volatile and naughty

[maomaocopycat]

Checklist MV || 백작가의망나니가되었다 (Lout of Count's Family)

[skimberwood04]

[lizmidfordsblog]

Brainstorming ideas for some fluff oneshots and realized Cale's kids canonically have potty mouths. After getting flamed by Eruhaben for so long and giving Lord Sherritt a heart attack the first time Raon drops an f-bomb in front of her, Cale just dumps them on Violan and leaves them to their fates thinking he's smart.

Unbeknownst to him, Violan has even more of a dirty mouth given her time as a merchant. The woman can curse like a sailor with creative insults that leave grown men scratching their heads.

(Personal headcanon that that's why Deruth fell for her.)

She helps them come up for insults for the White Thing. Suddenly, On's shooting Nigerian mom level snipes at the White Star mid-battle like:

White Star: I will be God- On: You look like you were drawn with my left paw, you crumb. Hong: When it rained stupidity you went out with an umbrella but held it upside down, you filthy, snot-nosed ferret! Raon (at some point): #$@&%*@$#^&%$#@%&$!!

[records-of-a-slacker]

a hero who will never be seen in the world again.

Chapter 19: still.

Summary:

Even still, the world does not crumble for you. Even still, it does not yield for the mourning. Even still, nature does not remain still.

A/N: whew! exam season is killing but heres 8.2k words sorry for the delay TwT

“...” On chewed on the seaweed some more. She liked the texture. The sesame seeds were a bit weird, but the beef was nice. “I don’t really get it,” she said, with food in her mouth. “I was fine yesterday. I was fine all morning,” Even though he was gone. Even though the thought hurt her every time it came to her, it was the truth. When they’d gone out and explored all the different properties and estates Cale had bought and built for them, all around the continent, it was fun. They’d looked around, tried out the different unique rooms— she was just, alright, in general. It didn’t feel sad, sometimes it just felt like nothing. “Sometimes it’s like that,” “Does it ever stop being like this?” “Maybe not,” Beacrox said. “Maybe, sometimes, you’ll get inexplicably sad, and you won’t know why. Maybe you’ll know exactly why, but not understand why it’s suddenly hurting you so much. Maybe it’ll be like that even when you’re an adult.” “...was it like that for you?” Beacrox thought about his late mother. “It was,” he replied. “And right now, it’s like that for me again, too.”

my poor babies TwT

[sweetsncandies]

quick doodle of cale and the kids (this man NEEDS that sleep)

[mytragedyperson]

So I've been thinking and I'm pretty sure, if cale does become a god and there's not already a god of hope (I'm still far behind so idk if there is one) Cale will become the god of hope. Because what does Cale represent if not hope?

First, in the first book, the god he's against is the god of Despair and Cale (hope) wins, not easily but he does win in the end.

And then there's Kim Rok Soo, the man he was before coming to this world. If he became the leader and after that, whenever he was at a battle none of his team members die, would that not give the team members hope? Kim Rok Soo's here, we might actually survive it. Its not enough to make them arrogant but it is enough that they don't simply give up

Then there's Choi Han. He's lost everything, and then he meets Cale. He's lost his family, his home, everyone he knew and cared about, and then there's Cale, offering him a safe place to stay, a family, friends, and helping him get revenge for those he lost. He inspires hope in him

Ron gets infected by dead mana, he's dying, he and Beacrox both believe he will due, but he doesn't, because Cale finds a way to save him, restores their hope that they too can get back what they lost.

Originally, all of Lock's family were killed, or at least believed to be killed, but this time Cale sent Choi Han so it can be assumed, everything happened just that little bit quicker, so Choi Han and Rosalyn got there a little bit earlier and we're able to help them, save them, and then Cale helped him through his first time turning berserk and gave them a new home.

This is just a few of the people he's given hope, there's many more, Raon, On, Hong, Alberu. He's given all of them some kind of hope

He was Original Cale Henituse's last hope.

Ugh, just Cale inspiring hope in so many people and defeating the god of despair only to become the god, the embodiment, of hope.

[beautiful-illusions25]

illusion

Part 2

The days passed like a faded shadow of a time that was once alive, spinning rapidly without form, while he stood still — a stranger on the margins of life. No one noticed the dimming light creeping into his eyes, nor did anyone sense the heavy silence that had settled over his soul.

The absence of his aunt, who had always possessed the ability to read him like an open book without a word, made everything harsher. She was the only one who truly saw him, but now she rests in the city of the dead, after things had finally calmed. She deserved peace, and so he didn’t burden her with what he considered his trivial troubles.

As for Cale… the one who used to intrude into his world without permission, disturbing his false calm — he had vanished too. His visits ceased, his voice faded from the hallways, as if they had never met at all.

Cale — despite everything he had done — was still someone Alberu appreciated and understood the value of his lazy life, the one he had always wanted… and finally obtained.

And so… Alberu was left alone, consumed by emptiness, swallowed by silence, in a room that had become too small for his soul, despite the vastness of its walls.

To him, all days became the same — dragging themselves heavily before him, passing without color or taste, as if time itself had lost its desire to change.

He no longer cared about what was happening around him; indifference had become his only cloak, and emptiness lived in his heart like a permanent guest.

For someone who had spent his life hiding behind a mask of lies, it wasn’t hard to keep pretending to care about things that meant nothing.

Once, there was a child who dreamed of the throne — who dreamed of becoming a king that would lead the kingdom to glory.

What he had once dreamed of—what he had spent his life longing to attain—the throne of the kingdom, no longer stirred anything in him except a crushing weight.

The dream had become a burden, pressing down on his weary soul, reminding him with every passing moment that this was what he had wanted so desperately… and yet now, it was something far beyond what his exhausted spirit could endure.

And now… he was crumbling, slowly, unseen by anyone.

The nobles’ problems no longer concerned him. He no longer sought to please them, nor even to understand them. Their daily whims were no longer worth a glance.

He now saw value in the simplest things — his people sleeping in peace, their bellies full, their homes safe — and to him, that alone was proof enough that things were still okay. And that, now, was enough for him.

But inside, he was not okay. Exhaustion consumed him from all sides, and emptiness stretched within him like an endless desert.

He lived each day as if fulfilling a duty, nothing more — smiling when asked to, speaking when required — while in truth… he was fading, slowly, into nothingness.

He had stopped dreaming long ago.

He learned to live each day as nothing more than a duty, hiding his disappointment in silence, breathing with the heaviness of a man who realized too late that what he had fought for wasn’t what he truly needed.

It wasn’t the thing that could fill the void in his heart.

All he wanted now — all he had come to understand he truly needed —

was not a crown, nor power, nor answers to his old questions.

But a warm, sincere embrace — one that held him without question, without the need for explanations or justifications.

A place where he could cry without shame, collapse without being told to stay strong,

where he could pour out all his pain — all at once — onto a chest that wouldn’t turn away,

onto someone who would understand him even without words.

He was exhausted from pretending, worn down by the weight he carried on his shoulders.

And now… he was no longer searching for solutions.

All he longed for was warmth — just a hand gently resting on his head, whispering, "It’s been hard, hasn’t it?"

And yet, he walked on like a drowning man who had grown so used to pain that he mistook it for normal, while his mind screamed in a silence no one could hear.

The exhaustion within him wasn’t something a good night’s sleep or a cup of hot coffee could cure.

It was the kind of fatigue that settled deep in the bones, crept into the chest, and pressed down on the heart like a heavy stone.

His weariness was too deep to put into words, too heavy to bear.

And for the first time, he no longer trusted his own ability to endure…

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before he completely broke.

He could no longer stop.

Tasks piled up and drowned him, kept him busy, pulling him further and further away from that room.

And the farther he got, the more his fear and panic grew.

It wasn’t the fear of breaking down, or of being unable to give anymore—

but something else entirely… something in that room.

He was terrified of the thought that it might disappear.

That room — the one that showed him an illusion he didn’t truly possess —

his mother’s face, the warmth of her presence —

had become his only refuge, the only place that could, even temporarily, quiet the pain in his chest,

even if it was a lie.

He knew deep down she wasn’t really there,

that what he saw was nothing more than an image conjured by his weary mind.

But it was the only lie that gave him something close to peace.

And every time he was forced to stay away from it,

his fear grew — that he would return and find it gone,

that reality would swallow it up,

just as it always swallowed everything he loved.

He stuffed his mind with lists, correspondences, and reports, yet his thoughts always returned to her…

back to that room,

where the one person he truly missed still waited for him.

That thought gave him a false sense of comfort, a fleeting warmth he clung to in the midst of a storm of cold.

It wasn’t real warmth—

but it was enough to keep him standing.

He knew—deep down—

that his attachment to it was like trying to hold sand in his hands:

the tighter he gripped, the faster it slipped through his fingers.

He understood that the illusion would eventually collapse,

that the room wouldn’t last forever.

Life had taught him that in the cruelest of ways.

And that face — smiling at him from the depths of memory —

would, one day, fade into nothing.

And yet, he kept pushing—

as if some part of him wanted to hasten the loss,

to lose her quickly rather than live on the edge of a loss merely postponed.

Clinging to her wasn’t born of hope,

but of despair itself—

of that mad urge to hold onto what he knew was fading,

just because it gave him one fleeting moment of feeling alive.

He still clung to a fragile belief…

that when things became too dangerous, he would pull back.

But he was a fool.

A fool who thought death hadn’t come for him yet,

who believed he’d be able to walk away at just the right moment.

But deep down, he knew—

these were nothing but illusions,

flimsy justifications his mind created to bring logic to the inexplicable.

He felt it clearly,

after spending just a few days inside that room.

Something was being torn from his soul each time—

piece by piece—

as if his very being was quietly unraveling.

Each day spent there emptied him more,

leaving him nothing but a fragile shell.

He pretended to stand strong,

mastering the role of the unshaken,

but inside, he was collapsing.

And yet, he didn’t care.

He didn’t pull back. He pushed forward,

as if pain itself had become a means of getting closer.

Only to see her…

only to catch a glimpse of his mother,

even if it was just the ghost of an illusion.

If the price was his life,

he was ready to pay it,

just to remain with her.

Willing to lose everything within him,

just to stay near her for one moment longer.

And still, his mind screamed at him,

warning him before they both fell into the abyss:

Wake up.

You are deluding yourself.

Alberu, you no longer know the difference between reality and illusion.

You’re living in a world of fantasies now, where everything is distorted and wrapped in lies.

But even with those screams echoing in his mind, he refused to listen.

Deep down, he knew what he was seeing wasn’t real, but he was a greedy being.

There was something deep inside him,

something that made the illusions a refuge,

better than the endless emptiness that stretched before him.

And the truth...

the truth was too harsh for him to face.

Losing her, losing everything else he thought he possessed.

So he had no choice but to live in this fantasy,

even knowing, with each passing moment,

that he was sinking deeper into it.

Because, until the end, he was greedy.

But everything collapsed in seconds… the moment he entered the room.

That was when they arrived suddenly: Raon, On, and Hong.

They were Cale’s three children, who had missed seeing him, and he had missed them too.

They were still young, having suffered and been forced to grow up too quickly.

He wanted to tell them that everything was fine, but he couldn’t even convince himself of that.

So, he watched them grow, becoming more amazing with each passing day.

They deserved all the love in the world.

They had missed him so much — and they had missed the cookies he used to give them with a warm smile.

They surprised him with their sudden entrance, demanding that he join them for a walk.

Raon spoke excitedly as he landed on his head.

"I’ve missed you so much, crown prince !"

As Hong quickly walked towards Alberu to hug him, he said excitedly, "I’ve missed you too, Your Highness!"

Meanwhile, On simply sighed, a quiet smile tugging at her lips as she said softly, yet with a clear tone of joy, "The Crown Prince is no longer... he is now the Emperor."

In that moment, Alberu felt something strange stir in his heart, a mix of astonishment and longing. The change was so great, as if those childish faces reminded him of everything he had lost in his pursuit of power.

At that moment, Alberu stared around the room with confused eyes, instinctively searching for the one who had always been there with the children... but Cale wasn’t there.

He whispered in a barely audible voice, "Where’s Cale?"

The children answered in unison, as if they had agreed beforehand:

"He’s still asleep, lazing around as usual."

Alberu could only sigh, a sigh that carried a hint of nostalgia and a touch of surrender.

He knew that resisting their wish was futile, especially when their laughter and pure voices surrounded his solitude, softening its grip on him.

So he smiled, despite the weight of exhaustion pressing on his heart, and gave in to their request.

It was as if, without realizing it, they had pulled him out of the shadows of the room that had begun to suffocate him.

In that moment, the children eagerly dragged him along with their irresistible childlike enthusiasm.

Their hands clung to his robe as if afraid he might pull away,

and they pulled him with them, out of the room, out of the palace,

away from everything he had come to know—

the monotony and the loneliness.

They ran and laughed, while he simply watched them in silence. His steps were heavy at first, but then lightened without him even realizing.

They moved away from the high walls of the palace, walls that suddenly felt like cages.

Eventually, they reached a small garden outside the capital, hidden among the trees, a place no one visited except those who truly knew it.

There, beneath the shade of an old cherry tree, they finally stopped.

On sat on the grass, pulling out some sketches she had been working on, while Hong and Raon began racing to pick wildflowers.

As for Alberu, he stood in the middle, watching them...

feeling something strange creeping into his chest.

Perhaps it was warmth.

Perhaps it was something like life.

They sat there on the grass, enjoying the meal that Beacrox had specially prepared at the children's request.

The scent of fresh bread and seasoned meat filled the air, blending with their pure, childlike laughter.

They chattered enthusiastically about everything that had happened while he was gone, as if they were trying to fill the void with words.

Raon told how Choi Han had burned the kitchen three times, and how Beacrox had punished him by denying him sweets for a week.

Then On spoke about their recent training sessions with Ron.

Raon boasted about learning some of the secrets of ancient magic from Eruhaben, waving a small wand in his hands in his human form.

As for Alberu, he smiled sometimes, murmured in agreement at times, but his eyes weren’t really there.

He listened, his body present, but his mind fragmented, lost in the fog of his thoughts.

It was as if only half of him was sitting with them under the sun, while the other half remained stuck there... in that room, at the doorways of illusion.

The cheers, the laughter, the breeze, the food... all of it felt like it was happening from a great distance, far, far away.

Yet, despite his absence, he didn’t push them away.

Their presence sparked something still in his heart, as if it tethered him to life by a thin thread, one he hadn’t severed yet.

He struggled to focus and pay attention to what they were trying to say.

It was as if the words floated in the air around him, never settling in his mind.

Each sentence reached him late, broken, as if it were being translated from a strange language into a half-asleep consciousness.

And yet, he managed to grasp some meanings... He caught the name Choi Han, something about the kitchen, and the sound of Raon shouting the word "Magic!"

He didn’t understand the details, but the joy on their faces was clearer than anything else.

He didn’t need to understand everything they were saying; just their presence was enough to keep him clinging to a simple thread of feeling—neither sadness nor joy, but something closer to temporary comfort.

A blurry comfort, yet real enough to make him stay there, amidst their laughter.

On finally noticed something she could no longer ignore.

The dark circles under his eyes were undeniable, and his eyes—despite his physical presence among the children—swam in a distant place, as if they were gazing at something unseen.

He seemed to be listening, but in truth, he wasn’t really there.

His mind was muddled, absent... as if his body had decided to join them, while his soul remained somewhere else.

She hesitated for a moment, then whispered softly,

"Are you alright, Your Emperor?"

He didn’t answer.

It wasn’t out of disregard, but because he didn’t even hear the question.

She asked again, this time with a firmer tone, but still, no response came.

So she stepped closer, placed her hand gently on his shoulder, then shook him softly, her eyes filled with concern:

"Are you alright?"

It was as if, in that moment, she pulled him out of the whirlwind of his silence.

Alberu blinked several times, then finally spoke in a hoarse voice, mixed with a sense of detachment:

"Yes... I’m fine. Sorry."

But On didn’t believe him.

She looked at him with small but sharp eyes, betraying what he didn’t want to say.

At that moment, Raon and Hong also noticed something wasn’t quite right.

They saw the dark circles, the exhaustion in his features, and the untouched plate in front of him.

Even his laughter, which came intermittently, sounded hollow, as if it didn’t belong to him.

The children were sharp—after all, they were cale's kids.

Despite their young ages, they knew how to read what wasn’t said and feel what the adults hid beneath their masks of silence and pretense.

They saw the exhaustion in his eyes, felt the tremor in his voice, and sensed his absence despite his presence among them.

But they didn’t press him.

They didn’t ask again, nor did they insist on answers.

Instead, they just exchanged a silent glance, one that spoke volumes without words.

"When we get back, we’ll tell Cale."

Only cale could reach him because, despite all his titles, Alberu was their father’s hyung.

And they knew he loved them, that he wouldn’t hurt them, but perhaps he was hurting himself in silence.

So they decided to pretend that everything was fine.

They laughed, played, continued their conversation as if nothing had changed, as if they hadn’t seen anything.

But they had seen.

And they saw it clearly.

They carried within them the sharp observation they had inherited from their father, and a tender heart nurtured by Alberu’s kindness.

So, they continued to pretend... Pretended they hadn’t noticed the weariness in his voice, the emptiness in his gaze, or the pain that lingered behind his smile.

They laughed and played until the end, giving him a false sense of calm, as if they wanted to protect him in their own way.

And he, too, kept up with them, as if the collective game had begun, and none of them had the courage to break it.

When the outing ended, everything returned to how it had started... gently.

They bid him farewell with hugs and smiles, then headed back to the Super Rock Villa, while behind them, Alberu’s steps led him back to the palace.

To the long corridors, the piled-up papers, and the endless orders.

He returned to his duties, as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn’t been the only threads momentarily tying him to life.