Chapter 7: “Friends”

I decided to go outside.

Roxy had gone to such lengths to get me out of the house.
I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“Father. May I go play outside?”

One day, plant encyclopedia in hand,
I asked Paul that question.

Children around this age tend to wander off the moment you look away.
Even though it’s just the neighborhood,
I figured parents would worry if I left without a word—so I made sure to ask.

“Outside? To play? Not just the garden?”

“Yes.”

“O-Oh. Of course.”

Permission came surprisingly easily.

“Come to think of it, we’ve never really given you any free time.
We forced both magic and sword training on you because of our own selfishness,
but children need time to play too.”

“I’m grateful to have met such wonderful teachers.”

I had braced myself for the possibility of being told to train all day,
but he turned out to be surprisingly flexible.
I’d thought he was the strict “education papa” type,
but apparently he wasn’t the “grit and guts” sort.

“Still… you, going outside, huh.
I’d always thought you were frail.”

“You thought I was frail?”

That was news to me.
I’ve never even been sick…

“You never cried at all.”

“Is that so? Well, as long as I’m fine now, that’s what matters.
I’ve grown into a sturdy, charming son—biiirooon!”

I pulled my cheeks into a funny face.
Paul gave a wry smile.

“That part—how you’re not very childlike—is actually what worries me.”

“What’s wrong with the eldest son being reliable?”

“No, it’s not that I’m dissatisfied…”

“You can say it outright, you know.
‘Become someone more befitting the Greyrat family heir’ or whatever.”

“To be honest, when I was your age, I was a little brat obsessed with flipping girls’ skirts.”

“Skirt-flipping, huh.”

So that exists in this world too.
And he just called himself a brat.

“If you want to be someone worthy of the Greyrat name,
at least bring home a girlfriend or two.”

Wait—what?
Is our family that kind of household?
I thought we were just frontier knights and low-ranking nobility.
No prestige or anything?
Well, low-ranking, so I guess that tracks.

“Understood. Then I shall set out to find skirts worth flipping in the village.”

“Ah—be gentle with the girls, okay?
And don’t get cocky just because you’re stronger and can use magic.
A man’s strength isn’t for showing off.”

Oh, now that’s a good line.
I wish my brothers back in my previous life could hear it.
Yeah—strength isn’t just for swinging around.
Paul’s right.
I get it. I’m on your side.

“I understand, Father.
Strength exists so we can look cool in front of girls, right?”

“…No, that’s not what I meant.”

Huh?
Wasn’t that the direction this conversation was going?
Oops. My bad. Tehepero.

“Just kidding. It’s for protecting the weak, right?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

After that exchange,
I tucked the plant encyclopedia under my arm,
slid the staff Roxy gave me into my belt,
and was about to head out—
when I suddenly turned back.

“Ah, right—Father.
From now on I’ll probably go out quite often,
but whenever I do, I’ll always tell someone in the house first.
I’ll keep up sword and magic training every day without fail.
I’ll return before it gets dark,
and I won’t go near dangerous places.”

“…Ah… yeah.”

Just to be safe, I made sure to say it.
For some reason Paul looked stunned.
Normally you’re the one who should be saying that kind of thing, you know?

“Then I’m off.”

“…Have a good time.”

And so,
I left the house.

—

Several days passed.

Outside wasn’t scary at all. Things were going smoothly.
I’d even reached the point where I could exchange cheerful greetings with people I passed.
The villagers already knew who I was:
Paul and Zenith’s son, Roxy’s disciple.
First meetings got a greeting and self-introduction.
Second meetings got a simple “hello.”

Everyone returned my greetings with smiling faces.
It had been a long time since I felt this bright and refreshed.
More than half of it was thanks to Paul’s and Roxy’s reputations.
The rest—all of it—was thanks to Roxy.

I shall treasure the sacred panties forever.

—

Now then.

The main reason I started going outside
was to walk around on my own two feet and memorize the geography.
If I know the lay of the land,
even if I’m suddenly kicked out of the house,
I won’t get lost.

At the same time,
I wanted to do some plant research.
I had the encyclopedia, after all.
Edible plants, inedible ones, medicinal ones, poisonous ones…
I wanted to be able to tell them apart.
That way, even if I’m suddenly kicked out of the house,
I won’t starve.

Roxy had only taught me the basics,
but apparently this village mainly grows wheat, vegetables,
and the raw material for perfume—Batirus flowers.
Batirus flowers look a lot like lavender
and are apparently edible too.
Starting with the most noticeable ones,
I began cross-referencing every plant I saw with the encyclopedia.

That said, the village isn’t very large
and there aren’t that many different plants.
Within just a few days my range expanded
and I naturally started heading toward the forest.
Forests have lots of plants, after all.

“I remember now—forests tend to accumulate mana, so they’re dangerous.”

Places where mana pools easily
have a higher rate of monster appearances.
Since monsters are born from mana-induced mutations.
I don’t know why forests accumulate mana so easily, though.

That said, monsters are already rare around here,
and regular monster hunts are conducted,
so it’s relatively safe.

Monster hunts are exactly what they sound like.
Once a month, the knights, hunters, and vigilante men
all head into the forest together to exterminate monsters.

That said, apparently ferocious monsters can still appear suddenly deep in the woods.

I’ve learned magic and gained some combat ability.
But at my core I’m still a shut-in who never even properly got into fights.
I can’t let myself get cocky.
I have zero real battle experience.
If I charge in full of myself and mess up,
it’ll be a disaster.
I’ve seen plenty of people die that way… in manga.

Besides, I’m not the hot-blooded type.
Avoiding fights as much as possible is best.

If I encounter a monster,
I’ll run back and report it to Paul.
That’s the plan.

With those thoughts in mind,
I climbed a small hill.
At the top stood a single large tree—
the biggest one around here.

A high vantage point is perfect for confirming the village geography I’ve walked myself.
While I was at it,
I also wanted to identify what kind of tree this biggest one was.

And then—

“Demons don’t belong in the village—!”

A voice rode the wind to my ears.
That tone instantly brought back unpleasant memories.

My high-school days—the root cause of my shut-in life.
The nightmare days when I was called “Hawk-eye.”
The exact same tone they used when calling my nickname.
The tone bullies use when ganging up on someone clearly weaker.

“Get lost—!”

“Take this—!”

“Bullseye—!”

Looking down,
I saw a field turned into a mud pit by the recent rain.
In the middle of it, three mud-caked children
were hurling mud balls at a single boy walking along the path.

“Headshot’s ten points!”

“Yesss!”

“I hit him! I hit him!”

Ugh.

No thanks.
A bullying scene.
Those kinds always think it’s fine to do anything to someone they see as beneath them.
They buy an airsoft gun and think it’s okay to shoot it at someone.
Even though it says “don’t aim at people.”
Because they don’t see the other person as human.
I can’t forgive that as a fellow human being.

As for the boy—
he could have just hurried away,
but for some reason he was moving slowly.
Looking closer,
he was clutching something like a basket to his chest
and hunching over it to protect it from the mud balls.
Because of that, he couldn’t escape the barrage.

“He’s holding something!”

“Demon treasure!”

“Where’d you steal that?!”

“Hit that and it’s 100 points!”

“Let’s take the treasure!”

I started running toward the boy.
While running, I formed mud balls with magic.
The moment I entered range,
I threw with full force.

“Gwah!”

“What the—?!”

Direct hit to the face of the biggest one—the apparent leader.

“Ow—my eyes!”

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Mind your own business!”

“You’re taking the demon’s side?!”

In an instant all three targets turned toward me.
Yeah, same in every world.

“I’m not taking the demon’s side.
I’m taking the side of the weak.”

I said it with a smug face.
But the boys looked at me like they were justice
and started condemning me.

“Don’t act all cool!”

“You’re that knight’s kid, right?!”

“Little lord brat!”

Oh dear. My identity’s been exposed.

“Is that okay?!
The knight’s kid doing something like this!”

“Let’s tell everyone the knight’s kid is buddies with a demon!”

“Hey—let’s call our big brothers!”

“Big brooo—there’s a weirdo here—!”

The children called for reinforcements!
But no one came.
Yet my legs still froze!

Guh—even though there are only three kids,
my legs are shaking just because they yelled…
How pathetic.
Is this the lingering trauma of someone who was bullied and became a shut-in…?

“Sh-Shut up!
Ganging up three-on-one against someone who isn’t fighting back—you guys are the worst!”

They gave me a “huh?” look.
That pissed me off.

“Don’t yell at us, you idiot!”

Angered, I threw another mud ball.
I missed.

“You little—!”

“Where’s he even getting mud from?!”

“Just hit him back!”

Three times the retaliation came.
I evaded elegantly using the footwork Paul taught me
combined with magic.

“Dammit—he’s dodging!”

“Stop dodging!”

Fuhaha—as long as it doesn’t hit, who cares!

After a while the three kept throwing mud balls,
but once they realized they couldn’t hit me,
they suddenly lost interest
and stopped as if to say “this is boring now.”

“Ahh—this sucks!”

“Let’s go!”

“Let’s spread it around that the knight’s kid is hanging out with a demon!”

We didn’t lose or anything.
We just got bored and stopped.
With that attitude they left those parting words
and disappeared toward the other side of the field.

Yes! For the first time in my life,
I defeated bullies!
N-Not something to brag about.

Phew.
Still—not good at fighting after all.
Good thing it didn’t turn into a fistfight.

“You okay? Is your stuff safe?”

For now, I turned back to the boy who’d been pelted with mud…

Whoa…

Wow.
What a surprise.
An astonishingly beautiful boy.
Hard to believe we’re the same age.

Damn—if Paul had been more of a bishounen type,
maybe I would have…

No—Paul’s fine. Zenith’s excellent too.
So this face is okay.
Compared to the acne- and subcutaneous-fat-covered face of my previous life,
this is perfectly fine.
Totally viable. Yeah.

“U-Um… y-yeah… I-I’m fine…”

The boy looked up at me with a frightened expression.
He had the kind of small-animal charm that awakens protective instincts.
If there were a shotacon onee-san around,
she’d be hooked in one shot.

But right now that charm was ruined by all the caked-on mud.
His clothes were filthy.
Half his face was covered in mud,
and his head was basically one solid color of dirt.
The fact that the basket was safe was practically a miracle.
Can’t be helped.

“Hey—put your stuff down over there
and kneel in front of that irrigation ditch.”

“Eh…? Eh…?”

The boy blinked in confusion
but for some reason obeyed anyway.
Apparently he’s not the type to disobey.
Well—if he were, he probably would’ve fought back against the earlier bullying.

He ended up on all fours,
peering into the ditch like that.
If there were a shotacon onii-san around,
he’d be hooked in one shot.

“Close your eyes.”

I roughly adjusted fire magic to heat some water.
Not too hot, not too cold—about forty degrees.
I poured it over the boy’s head.

“Waaah!”

He tried to scramble away in panic,
but I grabbed the back of his neck
and thoroughly washed off the mud.
At first he struggled,
but once he got used to the temperature he quieted down.
His clothes… probably need to be washed at home.

“All right—that should do it.”

With the mud gone,
I used wind magic mixed with a bit of fire to send warm air like a hairdryer
while carefully wiping his face with a handkerchief.

Then—
pointed ears like an elf’s appeared,
and beautiful emerald-green hair that sparkled in the sunlight.

The moment I saw that color,
Roxy’s words came back to me.

‘Never approach a race with emerald-green hair under any circumstances.’

Hm?
Wait—no, that wasn’t quite it.

‘If you ever see someone with emerald-green hair
and a red jewel-like stone on their forehead,
never approach them—no matter what.’

Right. That was it.
A race with a red jewel-like stone on their forehead.
The boy’s forehead was just a smooth, pretty white one.
Okay—safe.
He’s not one of those dangerous Superd.

“Th-Thank you…”

When he thanked me, I snapped back to myself.
Whoa—you scared me there.
To get back at him a little,
I started giving advice in an overly self-important tone.

“Hey—you’ve got to fight back properly against guys like that,
or they’ll just get worse.”

“I can’t win…”

“It’s the will to resist that matters.”

“But… usually there are even bigger kids too…
I don’t like getting hurt…”

I see.
If he resists, they call in more friends and beat him thoroughly.
Same in every world.
Thanks to Roxy’s efforts the adults seem to have accepted demons,
but kids are another story.
Children can be cruel.
They exclude anyone even slightly different.

“You’ve got it rough—being bullied just because your hair color looks like the Superd tribe’s.”

“Y-You’re… okay with it…?”

“My teacher was a demon.
What race are you?”

Roxy had said the Migurd tribe is close to the Superd.
Maybe he’s from a similar race.
That’s what I thought when I asked,
but the boy shook his head.

“…I don’t know.”

At this age, maybe that’s normal?

“What about your father’s race?”

“…Half long-ear tribe. The other half human, he says.”

“Your mother?”

“Human… but a little bit beast race mixed in, she says…”

Half-elf and quarter-beastman?
And that makes hair like this…?
While I was thinking,
tears welled up in the boy’s eyes.

“…So I’m not a demon, Father says…
…But my hair color… isn’t like Father’s… or Mother’s…”

I gently patted the head of the sobbing boy.

But hair color being different is a big problem.
The possibility that Mother had an affair just came up.

“Is it just the hair color that’s different?”

“…My ears are longer than Father’s too…”

“I see…”

Long ears and green hair… sounds like a demon somewhere.
Hmm—I don’t really want to pry too deeply into someone else’s family matters.
But I used to be a bullied kid too.
I want to help somehow.
Being bullied just for having slightly green hair is too sad.
The bullying I suffered had some karma involved.
If time rewound to that moment,
I’m confident I could handle it better now.
But this boy is different.
He can’t change how he was born through effort.
Born with hair just a little green,
and mud balls get thrown at him on the roadside…
Ugh… just thinking about it makes me want to pee.

“Does your father treat you kindly?”

“…Yeah. He’s scary when he’s mad,
but if I behave he doesn’t get angry.”

“I see. Your mother?”

“She’s kind.”

Hmm.
From his tone, it sounds like both parents genuinely love him.
Not an affair—he really is their child…
Well, I’d have to see for myself to be sure.

“All right—let’s go.”

“…W-Where?”

“I’ll go with you.”

If I follow the child, the parent will appear.
It’s the natural order of things.

“…W-Why… are you coming with me?”

“Well… those guys from earlier might come back.
I’ll walk you home.
Are you heading home?
Or delivering that somewhere?”

“Bento… for Father…”

Father is half-elf, huh.

In stories, elves are long-lived, live in closed-off societies,
are arrogant and look down on other races,
are skilled with bows and magic (especially water and wind),
and of course have long ears.
That kind of race.

According to Roxy,
“That’s mostly correct, but they’re not really closed-off.”

So elves in this world are probably full of beautiful men and women too?
No—the idea that elves are all bishounen and bishoujo
is just Japanese otaku wishful thinking.
In Western games, elves often have overly sharp features
and don’t look particularly beautiful to me.
There’s no way Japanese otaku standards
match those of average foreigners.

That said—this boy’s parents are probably confirmed to be a beautiful couple.

“Um… why… did you protect me?”

The boy asked timidly,
in a way that stirred protective instincts.

“Father told me to take the side of the weak.”

“But… the other kids might exclude you too…”

Yeah, probably.
Helping the bullied kid often gets you bullied instead.
That’s a common story.

“If that happens, then you play with me.
Starting today—we’re friends.”

“Eh!?”

That’s why we form a duo.
The chain of bullying happens when the helped person betrays the helper.
The helped person has to take responsibility
and repay the kindness.
In this boy’s case, though,
the root of the bullying is deeper,
so I don’t think he’ll switch sides to join the bullies.

“Ah—are you busy helping at home or anything?”

“N-No.”

I realized I hadn’t asked about his schedule,
but he shook his head vigorously.
Nice. That expression.
If there were a shotacon onee-san around,
she’d reel him in with one try.

Hmm.
This could be good.

With a face like that,
he’ll probably be super popular with girls in the future.
And if I hang around him,
some of the benefits might come my way.
My own face isn’t anything special,
but when two guys stand side by side
and one is extremely good-looking,
the other starts looking decent by comparison.
Girls who lack a bit of confidence
will probably aim for me instead.
I prefer girls who aren’t overly aggressive
and seem a little unsure of themselves.

This could work.
Beautiful girls sometimes keep an ugly friend around as a foil.
I’m just doing the reverse.
This could work.

“By the way—I never asked your name.
I’m Rudeus.”

“Sylph…”

He muttered it so softly the second half was hard to catch,
but—Sylph, huh.

“That’s a nice name.
Like a wind spirit.”

When I said that,
Sylph blushed and nodded with a small “Mm.”

—

Sylph’s father, Rowin, was handsome.
Pointed ears, shining golden hair,
a slender but not unmuscular build.
He was the perfect blend of elf and human—
a man worthy of the half-elf name.
He was standing watch in a lookout tower beside the forest,
bow in hand.

“Father—here’s your bento…”

“Oh—thanks as always, Luffy.
No bullying today?”

“It’s okay. Someone helped me.”

With a glance he introduced me.
I gave a light bow.
Luffy must be a nickname.
Feels like his arms could stretch or something.
If Sylph were that carefree and selfish,
he probably wouldn’t have been bullied.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Rudeus Greyrat.”

“Greyrat… Paul-san’s son?”

“Yes. Paul is my father.”

“Oh—I’ve heard about you.
Very polite.
Oh—sorry, I’m Rowin.
I usually hunt in the forest.”

From what I heard,
this tower is for watching the forest to keep monsters from coming out.
The village men take turns standing guard—24 hours a day.
Of course Paul has shifts too.
Rowin met Paul here
and they’ve talked a lot about their children.

“My kid looks like this,
but it’s just a bit of atavism.
Please be friends with him.”

“Of course.
Even if Sylph were Superd,
I wouldn’t change how I treat him.
I swear on my father’s honor.”

When I said that,
Rowin let out an admiring sound.

“At your age talking about honor…
Paul-san must be jealous of such an excellent son.”

“Being excellent as a child
doesn’t guarantee excellence as an adult.
It’s not too late to feel envious after Sylph grows up.”

I threw in a follow-up for Sylph.

“I see… just like Paul-san said.”

“…What did Father say?”

“That talking to you makes him lose confidence as a parent.”

“I see. Then from now on
I’ll misbehave a little more often
so he has opportunities to scold me.”

While we were talking,
my sleeve was tugged.
Looking down—Sylph was pulling it
while looking down shyly.
Adult conversation must be boring for kids.

“Rowin-san—may we go play for a bit?”

“Of course.
Just don’t go near the forest.”

I didn’t need to be told that…
Isn’t that a bit lacking?

“We’ll probably play around the hill with the big tree on the way here.
I’ll take full responsibility for bringing Sylph home before dark.
If you look toward the hill on my way back
and we’re not there,
assume something happened and please start searching.”

“Ah… yeah.”

No cell phones in this world, after all.
Proper reporting and communication is essential.
You can’t avoid every problem,
but quick recovery is what matters.
This country seems fairly safe,
but danger can lurk anywhere.

Leaving the stunned Rowin behind,
we headed back toward the hill tree.

—

“So—what should we play?”

“I don’t know…
I-I’ve never… played with a friend before…”

He hesitated a little on the word “friend.”
He probably hasn’t had any until now.
Poor kid…
Well—I didn’t either.

“Yeah.
That said, I was pretty much shut in until recently too.
So—what kind of play is okay?”

Sylph fidgeted with his hands together
and looked up at me.
We’re about the same height,
but because he hunches his back,
he ends up looking up.

“Hey—why do you switch between ‘boku’ and ‘ore’?”

“Hm? Oh.
You have to change depending on who you’re talking to,
or it’s rude.
Polite speech for people above you.”

“Keigo?”

“The way I was talking earlier.”

“Hmm?”

He didn’t really get it.
He’ll understand eventually.
That’s what growing up means.

“More importantly—teach me that thing from earlier.”

“That thing from earlier?”

Sylph explained with sparkling eyes and exaggerated gestures.

“Warm water went whoosh from your hand,
and warm wind went fwoom!”

“Oh—that.”

The magic I used to wash off the mud.

“Can I do it too?”

“It’s hard, but with practice anyone can… probably.”

Lately my mana pool has grown so much
I can’t even tell how much I’m using anymore,
and I don’t know the baseline mana capacity for people here anyway.
Still—it’s just heating water with fire.
Not instant hot water chantless,
but as mixed magic it should be reproducible by anyone.
Probably fine. Probably.

“All right—special training starts today!”

And so,
I played with Sylph until the sun went down.

—

When I got home,
Paul was angry.
Hands on hips, standing imposingly at the entrance—
clearly furious.

Now—what did I do?
The only thing that comes to mind
is that he might have found the sacred panties I was carefully storing…

“Father. I’m home.”

“Do you know why I’m angry?”

“No idea.”

First—play dumb.
If he hasn’t found the pan… sacred item,
admitting anything would be shooting myself in the foot.

“Earlier, Eto’s wife came storming in.
Apparently you punched their son, Somar.”

Eto, Somar.
Who?

An unfamiliar name.
I think.
Basically all I do in the village is greet people.
They introduce themselves when I do,
but was there an Eto…?
Maybe? Maybe not…
Wait—

“Today?”

“Yes.”

Today I only met Sylph, Rowin, and those three brats.
So Somar must be one of the three brats.

“I didn’t punch him.
I just threw mud at him.”

“Do you remember what I told you the other day?”

“A man’s strength isn’t for showing off?”

“That’s right.”

Hmmm.
I see.
Come to think of it,
they did say they’d spread around that I was hanging out with a demon.
That must be it.
No idea what lie they told to turn “mud” into “punch,”
but they clearly badmouthed me.

“I don’t know exactly what story you heard, Father, but—”

“No! When you do something wrong,
the first thing you say is ‘I’m sorry’!”

He cut me off sharply.
No idea what story he heard,
but he swallowed it whole.
This is bad.
If I say I helped someone being bullied,
it’ll sound like an excuse right now.
Still—gotta explain from the beginning.

“Actually, while walking along the path—”

“No excuses!”

Now I was starting to get irritated.
Not only is he not listening,
he won’t even hear me out before yelling.
I could just apologize for now,
but that feels like it would be bad for Paul in the long run.

I don’t want any future younger siblings
to suffer unreasonable treatment.
This way of scolding is wrong.

“…”

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Because if I open my mouth you’ll yell that it’s an excuse.”

“What?!”

Paul’s eyes widened in anger.

“You yell at a child before they can speak
and force them to apologize.
Adults sure have it easy and quick. Must be nice.”

“Rudy!”

A hot impact across my cheek.
He slapped me.
But—I expected it.
If I provoked him, he’d hit me. Obviously.
So I braced myself.

First slap in about twenty years…?
No—when I got thrown out of the house I got beaten up,
so maybe five years.

“Father.
Until now I’ve done my best to be a good child.
I’ve never once disobeyed you or Mother,
and I’ve put full effort into everything you told me to do.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

Paul apparently hadn’t intended to hit me.
He looked visibly shaken.
Good—convenient.

“No—it does.
I’ve worked hard to put you at ease,
to earn your trust.
And yet you wouldn’t listen to a single word from that son—
you swallowed the words of someone you don’t even know,
yelled at me,
and even raised your hand.”

“But Somar-kun really was injured—”

Injured?
News to me.
Did he fake it?
Like one of those professional victims…

But too bad.
I have justice on my side.
Not some petty lie about injury.

“Even if that injury really was my fault,
I still wouldn’t apologize.
I haven’t disobeyed you, Father.
I’ll proudly say I did it.”

“…Wait—what happened?”

Oh—he’s curious now?
But you decided you didn’t want to hear excuses.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want excuses?”

Paul’s face twisted bitterly.
One more push.

“Don’t worry, Father.
Next time I see three people ganging up on one defenseless person,
I’ll just ignore it.
In fact, I’ll even join in to make it four-on-one.
I’ll spread the word far and wide
that ganging up to bully the weak
is the pride and family precept of the Greyrat house.
Then when I grow up I’ll leave the house
and never call myself Greyrat again.
I’m ashamed to call myself part of a trash family
that ignores real violence
and permits verbal abuse.”

Paul was speechless.
His face flushed red, then pale—
inner conflict visible.

Angry?
Need one more push?
Better not, Paul.
I’ve spent over twenty years
talking my way out of unwinnable arguments.
As long as there’s even one opening,
I can at least force a draw.
And this time I have perfect justice.
You have no chance.

“…I’m sorry. I was wrong.
Tell me what happened.”

Paul bowed his head.
Yeah—stubborn pride would just make both of us miserable.
If you’re wrong, apologize. That’s best.

I swallowed my anger
and explained the events as objectively as possible.

I was climbing the hill when I heard voices.
Three children in a muddy fallow field
were throwing mud at one child walking along the path.
After throwing one or two mud balls at them to stop them,
they cursed and left.
I used magic to wash the mud off the targeted child
and we played together afterward.

Something like that.

“So if anyone should apologize,
it should be Somar-kun to Sylph first.
Physical wounds heal quickly,
but mental ones take longer.”

“…You’re right. I misunderstood. Sorry.”

Paul slumped dejectedly.
Seeing that, I remembered what Rowin told me earlier.

‘Talking to you makes him lose confidence as a parent.’

Maybe Paul wanted to show his “fatherly” side
by scolding me.
Well—this time it backfired.

“You don’t need to apologize.
From now on if you think I’m wrong,
please scold me without hesitation.
But it would help if you’d listen to my side too.
Sometimes I might be short on words
or it might sound like an excuse,
but I do have things I want to say—
so please try to understand my intent.”

“Yeah… I’ll be careful.
Though it doesn’t seem like you’ll do much wrong…”

“Then please use it as a lesson
when scolding my future younger brother or sister.”

“…I will.”

He said it with a self-deprecating smile.
Maybe I went too far.

Getting talked down to by his five-year-old son.
Yeah—if it were me I’d be depressed.
Paul looked clearly down,
and seeing it made me feel a little sorry for him.
He’s still young as a father.

“By the way, Father—how old are you now?”

“Hm? Twenty-four, why?”

“I see.”

Married at nineteen and had me.
I don’t know the average marriage age in this world,
but it probably isn’t around thirty like modern Japan.
With monsters and wars being everyday things,
nineteen is probably reasonable.
A man one generation younger is already married, raising kids, and worrying about parenting.
Just that fact alone
means he has parts of life my thirty-four-year-old jobless, homeless, resume-less self could never beat…

Oh well.

“Father—may I bring Sylph over to the house sometime?”

“Hm? Oh—of course.”

Satisfied with that answer,
I entered the house together with my father.
I’m glad Paul doesn’t have prejudice against demons.

—

—Paul’s Perspective—

My son was angry.

He—who had hardly ever shown much emotion before—
was quietly, deeply furious.
How did it come to this?

It started in the afternoon.
Eto’s wife stormed into the house in a rage.
She had brought along Somar—the neighborhood brat notorious for being a little terror—
and he had a blue bruise at the corner of his eye.
As someone who’s seen his share of battlefields as a swordsman,
I could tell at a glance it was from a punch.

Her story was incoherent,
but the gist was that my son had punched Somar-kun.

When I heard that,
I actually felt relieved inside.

Probably while playing outside,
he saw Somar and the others playing
and wanted to join in.
But my son is different from other kids.
He’s a Water Saint-rank magician at his age.
He probably said something arrogant.
They pushed back, and it turned into a fight.
My son may be unusually mature and clever,
but he still has childish parts.

Eto’s wife was turning red and pale,
making a big fuss,
but it’s just a kids’ fight.
From what I saw, the injury wouldn’t even leave a mark.
I’d just scold him and be done.

Kids get into fistfights sometimes.
But Rudeus has more power than other children.
He’s Roxy’s disciple—a Water Saint-rank magician at age three—
and he’s been training under me since then.
The fight was probably one-sided.
He got lucky this time,
but if his blood rushes to his head and he goes too far,
he might seriously hurt someone.

I had to scold him firmly.
A smart kid like Rudeus
should have found a way to resolve it without punching.
I needed to teach him that hitting is shortsighted—
he has to think more.

And yet… how did it come to this…?

My son had no intention of apologizing.
Worse—he looked at me like I was an insect.
Sure—from his perspective maybe he thought it was a fair fight,
but the strong must be aware of their strength.
Especially since he injured someone.
I had to make him apologize no matter what.
He’s a clever boy—he might not accept it now,
but eventually he’ll figure it out himself.
That’s what I thought,
so I tried to speak sternly—
and got hit with sarcastic barbs.

I lost my temper and slapped him.

I—who was trying to lecture him that
the strong must be aware of their power
and never use violence lightly against the weak—
had used violence myself.

I knew right away I was wrong.
But I couldn’t admit it while lecturing.
And once you’ve done the very thing you’re preaching against,
you lose all credibility.
While I was fumbling,
my son indirectly declared he hadn’t done anything wrong—
and if that wasn’t acceptable,
he’d leave the house.

I almost told him to get out in the heat of the moment,
but I held back.
That was the moment I had to hold back.

After all—I myself
grew fed up with my strict father’s one-sided scolding in a rigid household,
had a huge fight, and stormed out.
I carry my father’s blood.
Stubborn, inflexible blood.
And so does Rudeus.
Look at that stubbornness.
He’s my son.
Back then I was told “get out right now,”
and in the heat of the moment I left.
Rudeus would leave too.
He said he’d leave when he grew up,
but if I told him to get out now,
he’d go immediately.

I heard my father fell ill not long after I left on my journey
and died.
Rumor has it he regretted that fight until his dying breath.
So I carry guilt too.
No—honestly, I regret it.
Thinking about that,
if I told Rudeus to leave now and he actually did,
I would definitely regret it.
And so would he.
I had to hold back.
I learned from experience, didn’t I?
And when my child was born,
didn’t I swear I wouldn’t be like my father?

“…I’m sorry. I was wrong.
Tell me what happened.”

The apology came naturally.
Then Rudeus’s expression softened
and he explained calmly.
Apparently he was passing by
when he saw Rowin’s child being bullied,
and stepped in to help.
Far from punching,
they only threw mud at each other—
it didn’t even become a real fight.

If that story is true,
Rudeus did something he can be proud of.
And yet instead of praise,
he was yelled at without being heard
and even slapped.
Ah—I remember.
The same thing happened to me many times when I was young.
My father never listened—just blamed my shortcomings.
Every time I felt helpless and frustrated.

I failed.
What do you mean “I have to scold him”?

Sigh…

Rudeus didn’t blame me for it—
he even comforted me at the end.
What an incredible son. Too incredible.
Is he really mine…?
No—there’s no way Zenith would cheat
with someone who could produce such an excellent child.

Ugh—to think my own seed turned out this outstanding…
Rather than pride, my stomach hurts.

“Father—may I bring Sylph to the house sometime?”

“Hm? Oh—of course.”

But for now,
I’ll rejoice that my son has made his first friend.