Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Surviving the family room for as long as he did felt like a small miracle.

Park tried to act normal through most of it.

He sat there beside the Chancellor and kept his face reasonably calm, answered whenever somebody spoke directly to him and did his best to let everything else wash over him before disappearing somewhere harmless in the back of his head.

The old Park had apparently learned how to do that years ago:

Sit quietly, don’t react too much, don’t give Alexander another reason to focus on you and, most importantly, don’t become too invested whenever the family started tearing into each other because eventually the storm would pass and everyone would return to pretending the mansion wasn’t one badly timed sentence away from another civil war.

The problem was that Park wasn’t the old Park.

His memories might have known these arguments but his nerves absolutely fucking did not.

He had never seen a family fight like this.

It was heated without always being loud and somehow freezing even when everybody was talking.

Half the arguments came wrapped in perfectly normal sentences, but Park could feel the unsettled old resentment underneath them because everyone else in the room clearly could too.

Alexander would say something simple and the Chancellor would answer with a sentence that sounded innocent until Aveline suddenly became very interested in her drink. The Chancellor would mention some old decision and Alexander’s entire expression would tighten without either of them needing to explain why.

Even the pauses had history in them.

Alexander, more than anything, kept making it painfully clear that this was his house, although not in some ceremonial father sits at the head of the table way either but the man carried himself like the whole place existed inside the reach of one hand.

Staff moved differently around him, his daughters watched their wording more carefully when his voice changed.

Even Park, who had technically only known the man personally for a handful of days, kept feeling the borrowed instincts of sixteen years trying to straighten his back whenever Alexander looked directly at him.

The Prime Minister didn’t need to shout constantly to establish control.

He questioned, corrected, he’d interrupt when somebody pushed too far or ended subjects when he decided they’d gone on long enough and made it very clear whenever he believed a matter belonged to him.

Unfortunately for Alexander, he’d married a woman who appeared completely unimpressed by the concept.

The Chancellor gave him exactly as much ground as she wanted and no more.

Every time Alexander tried to close something, she reopened it. Whenever he reminded everyone that a decision was his, she had a disturbingly effortless way of reminding him that there were entire branches of government where his position didn’t place him above her at all.

She rarely raised her voice.

She didn’t need to.

Sometimes the calmer she became, the more Park wanted to quietly leave the room before somebody accidentally declared martial law over dessert.

Aveline supported her mother without ever announcing that she was doing it.

She would ask some perfectly reasonable question, add one small correction or mention a detail Alexander would’ve clearly preferred left alone, then sit back as if she hadn’t just slid another knife across the table.

Evangeline mostly stayed out of it, watching when something actually interested her and otherwise refusing to volunteer herself for the firing squad while Emmie lasted longer while things were funny, but once the argument became serious, even she got quieter.

And Park gradually realized that he was sitting right in the fucking middle of all of it.

Whenever the argument wandered too far from him, somebody found a road back at him:

His acting, Alexander’s treatment of him, the Chancellor defending him when the PM said something to demean him, or she’d use Park to point out how her husband wasnt as spotless as he believed to be, sometimes Aveline would mention something Alexander had done, or the secrecy around Park’s existence.

The Chancellor asking Alexander what would happen if the public found out, why Alexander cared so much about Park becoming visible now.

They’d been doing this for years and yet somehow they did it every dinner every fucking day to to put Alexander in his place.

It was almost impressive how easily Park stopped being a person and became a convenient object everyone could pick up and throw at his father whenever they needed something heavy to hit the man.

Park did not care if they attacked him or not, but why use him?

’And I’d naively thought she’d been defending me!’

The Chancellor was particularly dangerous with it because she never made an outright threat.

She was far too experienced for something that stupid.

Sometimes she simply mentioned how difficult secrecy would become once Nathaniel Park began appearing on screens... she wondered aloud how long people would remain satisfied with vague answers if his career grew.

Once, she very casually asked whether Alexander truly believed restricting Park would make him less interesting to the public if anyone ever discovered who he was.

Nothing explicit Alexander could point at and call blackmail without sounding paranoid.

But Park wasn’t an idiot.

Neither was Alexander.

The Chancellor was reminding him that Park’s existence could become one hell of a problem if Alexander kept pushing too hard onto her, and she wasn’t being subtle enough for anybody in this family to misunderstand.

Alexander hated it.

Worse, he seemed to hate Park even more now that he was the only weapon she she could use on him and he had to fold... had been folding for years.

That was the truly fucked-up part.

The Chancellor attacked Alexander through Park.

Alexander’s answer simply hit on Park and stopped there:

Every Cabinet annoyance, every argument with his wife, every reminder of that affair nineteen years ago, every time somebody used Park’s existence to tell Alexander he’d fucked something up, somehow the anger eventually came back toward the same person who hadn’t been old enough to pronounce Prime Minister when the whole mess began.

The old Park had lived with this for years.

The poor guy had apparently become good enough at it that most of these memories carried more exhaustion than fear.

Park hadn’t.

He checked the time at one point and almost laughed when he realized they’d been sitting there for close to two hours.

He’d probably spent an hour and a half of that internally shivering while maintaining the expression of somebody who absolutely belonged in this household and definitely didn’t want to escape upstairs, lock his door and pretend his family had been replaced by a nice group of ordinary accountants.

If Park had walked into this house as a stranger, he wasn’t sure he would’ve believed these people were actually family.

There was too much resentment.

’How did things change so fast from the Utopia I had arrived into with her welcoming me with such affection.’ He thought looking at her.

The Chancellor hated Alexander in ways that had clearly been collecting interest for years.

Alexander hated that the people living under his roof could stand together against him whenever they felt he’d gone too far, and judging by the way he looked at Park several times that evening, he especially hated that the bastard son at the center of half those old wounds had suddenly developed enough confidence to stop lowering his head.

Instead of trying to rebuild anything, Alexander kept asserting himself harder.

And everyone pushed back harder.

Park rubbed a hand across his face and stared down at the untouched food in front of him.

’It’s like we have some fucking superpower that destroys this family just by breathing, don’t we Park?’

Normally he would’ve found that funny.

Tonight he was too tired.

Dinner didn’t improve things.

If anything, moving from the gathering room to the dining room simply gave the Bennetts better food to ignore while they continued arguing. Park barely finished his first plate before Alexander started asking why NX Arc had not signed him right away, asking as if he cared.

’Well, he does... the more he knows about my career the better he gets at planning at ruining it.’

The Chancellor immediately wanted to know why Alexander suddenly cared about the details of Park’s agency schedule when he’d spent years showing practically no interest in any of his auditions. Alexander told her not to twist his words. Aveline quietly said nobody had twisted anything, which earned her one look from her father and another approving one from her mother.

Park stared between them for several seconds.

Then he placed his fork down.

’This is it... I am done.’

He couldn’t do another hour of this, he pushed his chair back and stood.

Alexander’s attention snapped toward him immediately. "Where are you going?"

"My room."

"Sit down."

Park nearly did.

That annoyed him more than the command itself.

Alexander hadn’t shouted. He hadn’t moved. Yet sixteen years of the old Park’s habits responded before Park’s own mind properly caught up, his body hesitating beside the chair as if obedience had been written somewhere deeper than memory.

Park looked at the seat.

Then at Alexander.

"No. I’m tired."

Alexander’s expression hardened. "Sit down, Park."

Park swallowed. His heart had started thumping unpleasantly hard now, but the longer he stood there, the more stupid sitting back down began to feel. He looked around the table instead, at the Chancellor, Aveline, Evangeline and finally Emmie, whose expression had already shifted from mild surprise into concern.

"You can tear each other apart all you want," Park said. His voice wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he would’ve liked, but at least it remained steady. "Just stop using me to do it."

Alexander’s stare sharpened. "Watch your tone."

"I’m used to your threats... whats the worst you can do father, huh?"

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!