Chapter 29
He quietly organized his thoughts before finally speaking.
“Hmm… Dad doesn’t like being around people…”
“Mhm.”
Of course, I knew that very well.
“And if that keeps happening… won’t it mean that even Mia, who’s beside me, will end up with no one around her?”
I stayed silent.
“Of course, people aren’t always good… Even siblings aren’t always kind, right?”
Coming from my father, who had an elder brother and a younger sister, those words carried weight.
“But… your eldest aunt once said something to me. Meeting people is like learning poison.”
“Poison?”
“Yes. After all, every medicine… is also poison, isn’t it?”
“That’s true.”
Even the best medicine becomes deadly if misused or taken in the wrong dose.
“Meeting both good and bad people… is like building resistance to poison. Through that, you learn to distinguish what’s truly a ‘medicine.’”
That was just like my eldest aunt—the one conscience of this family (though she’d long since married into another house and was no longer a Hallroren).
“But as for me… I prefer poison over medicine. I don’t really care much for people… so I just gave up.”
I stared at him. He sounded utterly resolute, as if he’d rather swallow another vial of venom than waste time on human relationships.
My aunt had meant her words as heartfelt advice tailored for him, yet with this man… it was meaningless.
I imagined her now, happily living with her husband in the North, and bowed my head in silent mourning.
Then my father added softly:
“But… I was lucky enough to meet Mia.”
I held my breath.
“Just as I was glad to meet you… there must be more good encounters out there in the world.”
“…”
“I hope Mia, too… will have such good encounters someday.”
He wasn’t speaking as my father. He was speaking as someone who had unexpectedly found value in human connection.
Hearing that, a lump rose in my throat.
It wasn’t the shallow joy of “Oh, my family grew bigger.” No—it went deeper.
He was a man who had never needed others. Yet to Silvan Hallroren, I was precious. Not just as his daughter, but as something he’d lacked all along—a meaningful human bond.
He wished that I, too, could have such encounters someday.
And this was a man who hated others with all his being.
The quiet honesty of that confession reverberated in my heart.
I knew the truth. He only felt this way because he believed I was his biological daughter.
But I couldn’t bring myself to ask: “Would it be the same if I weren’t really your daughter?”
No… I didn’t want to know.
I swallowed the thought and forced a smile.
“……Thank you.”
“No… it’s nothing.”
I teased him, trying to lighten the mood:
“So then, did you push Emil into my life just to help me build poison resistance?”
He glanced upward as if weighing his words, then answered.
“Emil is… medicine.”
“…Really?”
“The children back at the main estate… they’re all kind-hearted, you know.”
I blinked.
Wait. Dad? How can you even be sure of that?
He wasn’t exactly the type to spend time with his nephews. Yet he spoke as though he knew them well.
Did he secretly interact with them?
I made a mental note to observe carefully next time we visited the main estate.
Just then, his expression abruptly shifted.
“…Mia, wait.”
With a sudden rush of wind, he swept me into his arms and leapt from the carriage.
“Kyaa!”
“Stop!”
A pitch-black barrier expanded around us as he landed lightly on the ground, barking quick orders to the coachmen.
From his shadow, a great bird burst forth—its vast wings tainted with a sinister, corrupt aura, its feathers dark crimson as though steeped in poison. It was large enough to carry several people upon its back.
One of Father’s most powerful summons: the Simurgh.
“Uncle, what’s going on all of a sudden…?” Emil asked, stepping down from the halted carriage, his face pale with shock.
Before he could finish—
BOOM!
A black mass exploded toward us.
Father clicked his tongue as if annoyed, swept his hand, and the monstrous projectile dissolved into nothing against the barrier.
“We’ll need to… eliminate the source.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Simurgh.”
The bird screeched, beating its wings eagerly.
“Leave just one or two alive for interrogation. The rest… kill them.”
The Simurgh soared upward, scattering feathers like poisoned shrapnel. Wherever they landed, earth and trees blackened and rotted.
…This isn’t going to go over well with the local lord, I thought. But not my problem.
Emil darted closer, grimacing.
“Could it be that someone sent an assassination squad to stop Calmia from reaching the main estate? That’s ridiculous!”
“Hmm… I doubt it. Too sloppy for that…”
He held me tighter, shaking his head.
“They’re far too weak for a true assassination attempt.”
Emil grudgingly agreed.
Meanwhile, assassins—already risking their lives—would have cried blood if they’d heard this conversation.
The carriage door creaked open, revealing Lila’s ashen face.
“I-It must be because of me…”
“Ah, right. Weren’t you in danger? Still… enough to warrant a full assassination squad?”
“I knew I was being pursued, but… I didn’t realize it was on this scale…” she murmured in shame.
Of course, who would expect this many killers to show up all at once?
Father frowned.
“If they commit suicide, that’ll be troublesome. We need at least one survivor for questioning.”
He recalled the Simurgh back, then turned to Emil.
“Stay here.”
“No way! How many times do I get to see you fight in person? I’m not missing this!”
“…Suit yourself.”
With a sigh, he told Lila:
“Stay inside the barrier. You’ll be safe.”
“Y-Yes, understood!”
Then he shifted me securely in his arms and climbed atop the Simurgh once more. Protective wards shimmered, keeping its corrupt feathers from touching us.
The bird ascended sharply.
“Five in the east… nine in the west… Quite a crowd.”
“Whole squads, then. Must be some troublesome information they’re hiding.” Emil mused.
“Likely…”
“Dad, is it okay to drag me along? Won’t I just slow you down?”
Honestly, I would’ve been fine waiting with Lila. The escorts could protect us.
But he shook his head firmly.
“I can’t feel at ease… without Mia by my side.”
My chest swelled, and I clung tightly to his arm.
Several insect-like summons scouted ahead, marking enemy positions. Then, without hesitation, Father dove.
As we neared the ground—
“Gahhh!”
With one swift motion, he knocked a man unconscious. Father hated moving unnecessarily, so he always sought maximum efficiency with minimum effort.
“W-What the hell is he?!”
“Wait, that face—he’s a Hallroren direct heir—!”
But they had no time to react.
With a flick of his hand, a black vortex—like a miniature black hole—manifested in the air.
“Aaaaagh—!”
The assassins were sucked in before they could resist. The vortex vanished, leaving only silence.
Father exhaled wearily.
His expression was that of an office worker dragged into overtime—utterly done with life.
No one would guess he’d just unleashed a terrifying spell.
“Nine left. Let’s go.”
There wasn’t even a real fight.
To call this a “battle” was absurd—it was more like watching ants swept away in a flood.
This was the power of a 7th-Core Mage, one of the rarest in the current era.
The realm of true chantless casting.
Though known as a Poison Sorcerer by preference, Father’s true specialty was Darkness magic.
He never liked it—it was too aggressive for his tastes.
But in Grandfather’s eyes, it must have felt like watching a prodigy throw away medicine school to pursue art instead.
No wonder Grandfather still held a grudge against him.
