Chapter 108
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: The Merchant's Son (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Just to say it one more time, I'm not here to announce a marriage."
The moment I stepped into the inner courtyard, I said this to my mother.
I could easily guess why she'd called me aside like this.
This had to be the umpteenth time I'd had to explain.
But Miriam looked at me instead with a puzzled expression.
"Yes, yes. The three of them already told me it was because of your duties and the king's orders that you're living together. So stop denying it."
"Uh..."
I hadn't expected her to accept it so straightforwardly.
"That's not what's important right now."
"It's not?"
She'd made such a fuss just a little while ago.
She'd even used those high-and-mighty guests to help in the kitchen.
And now it wasn't?
"Then why did you call me out here?"
I'd figured she'd ask something like, 'When's the wedding?'
Miriam read my expression, then turned her head toward the back and called out.
"Come on out, dear."
And soon enough, the one who appeared through the open door was...
"...Father."
It was Tillian Kell.
"Ahem."
My father cleared his throat awkwardly and took up a position at a distance.
Miriam clapped her hands.
"Even though Nathan's come home after so long, there's still bad blood between you two, isn't there?"
"..."
"I can't believe you two don't even exchange a word over meals. It's so frustrating."
"Dear, that's just..."
"Be quiet."
My father's words were cut off cold.
She held up one finger.
"You have one hour. Whether you duke it out, share a drink, or cry and hug it out, just resolve it. Neither of you is coming back inside until you do."
"Pardon?"
"I'm not hearing any excuses. Have a good talk."
And that was that.
My mother, who'd summoned me to the inner courtyard like she had some earth-shattering announcement, left us behind like the wind.
- Kiiiek, thud.
With the door closing, an oppressively awkward silence settled around us.
"..."
"..."
Silence.
What should I say?
This sudden forced meeting.
With the most awkward person of all—the man who'd opposed my dreams four years ago—no less. Alone.
My mind went blank.
Still, I had to say something, so I opened my mouth first.
"Um..."
"Um..."
Father spoke at the exact same moment.
We must've had the same thought.
"You first."
"No, you go ahead."
"..."
"..."
Silence again.
The two men of the Kell family found even looking at each other too much, so they just stared blankly at the statue in the middle of the courtyard.
- Caw, caw.
It was so quiet that the cries of crows flying high overhead rang out vividly.
This is driving me mad.
'What was Mother thinking?'
I was just here to rest a bit, not unpack old grudges.
Now that I was home, couldn't we just let it slide?
The discomfort was twisting my guts.
Hell, I'd feel more at ease talking about those three women.
That was when it happened.
"The world... it's not easy, is it?"
Tillian spoke very slowly.
"..."
I couldn't respond right away.
It was such an out-of-left-field question.
What did he mean?
Why say that?
But a question had been asked, and this silence was getting unbearable, so I replied slowly too.
"No, it's not. Miserable as hell."
My old childhood speech slipping out naturally.
Work at the Immigration Control Office is anything but easy.
Every single person—you have to suspect their true intentions, what they're hiding, every moment.
Plus, with five of us handling one border, there's never a break.
"I can barely clock out. Overtime every day. Forget after-work drinks; I get home late."
I tossed out a casual complaint.
Father's expression softened as the conversation flowed.
"If you're that busy, I wonder if you enjoyed the Frost Dragon wine I sent."
"Oh, that. I had other plans, so I traded it to a friend."
"That expensive stuff, for a trade? You didn't drink it?"
"Yeah, to one of my subordinates. In exchange for 24-hour extended shifts and lodging until the pilgrimage group arrives."
Merchant's Secret Technique.
Don't use high-value goods on yourself—invest them.
Father gave a slight smile.
"You haven't forgotten. Merchant's Secret Technique."
"How could I? You drilled it into me for nineteen years—my ears were callused."
I grumbled without thinking.
Throughout my academy days, I'd been force-fed every secret technique passed down in our family.
How to persuade, calm anger, make them unable to oppose your opinion, and so on.
"Still, it wasn't useless. Turns out screening is a lot like customer service."
Troublesome entrants are troublesome customers, and you handle complaints on the spot.
'If I hadn't learned those skills, I'd have suffered big time.'
Dealing with people always needs smooth talk and a bit of savvy—like lubricant.
The merchant techniques had helped a ton there.
Even now.
Merchant's Secret Technique.
Agreeing with awkward opponents.
Putting it to excellent use.
"I see... not wasted, then..."
For the first time, relief colored Father's voice.
And just as silence threatened to return,
"I knew what your dream was."
He said something completely unexpected.
"Pardon?"
I whipped my head around in shock.
"You... knew?"
I'd never breathed a word of it before leaving home.
The seasoned merchant, now with flecks of white in his hair, continued quietly.
"My father—your grandfather—always had adventure tales on his lips. How could I not know?"
"..."
"I suspected even before the Immigration Control Director showed up. That you wanted to see and feel the world like him."
The sunset was beginning to fade.
Just like right before I'd left home for good.
As if recalling that time too, Father murmured softly.
"The day you left, Noah and Miriam cried a lot."
"..."
I didn't reply.
I still remembered it.
Father coldly refusing any support. Noah wailing like the world was ending. Mother, the only one who'd supported me, wiping away tears.
How could I forget?
"Only after you left did I see so many things. Like how badly Noah wanted to be head of the merchant group—I learned that then."
Only then did I ask in a trembling voice.
"...Do you still want me to get a noble title?"
Father's dream.
Or our family's long-cherished wish.
That stale pressure that had weighed on me for so long—did he still want it?
Was that why he'd been so thrilled when I showed up with those three women, even praising me as 'splendid'?
"Yes. Desperately. Maybe even now."
He answered flatly, without lies.
"I believed it was the only way to protect our powerless family."
I couldn't condemn those words now.
I understood.
It was the best he could do as family head.
We'd just never shared what was in our hearts.
I hadn't said what I wanted to do. Not until Haillin.
He'd never asked what I wanted. Fearing it'd interfere with the family business and wish.
Staring at the weathered statue, he said bitterly.
"When you said you wanted to see the world, I thought that's exactly why you had to become a merchant and a noble."
"..."
"Only with great power, wealth, and status can this world have no limits. Unlike me."
Haillin's words flashed through my mind.
- To protect family in this harsh world, he'd chosen the weapon he wielded best.
For Father, that was noble status and money.
He gripped the courtyard railing so hard his knuckles whitened, continuing.
"But I didn't know. How important that dream was to you. How my expectations felt like such a burden."
A small confession echoed in the silence.
"I regretted it. That day, instead of closing the door in your face, I should have shaken your hand."
His trembling voice barely finished.
"In the end, my dream was just mine. It never should've been yours. I realized too late."
I looked at him in astonishment.
There wasn't the resolute, cold merchant I'd known—just a man reflecting on the past.
And then I noticed the small fountain pen pinned to his chest.
The New Year's gift I'd grudgingly sent last year.
Family's family, so even without letters, I'd tossed it over.
Despite being retired with no need for it, Father carried it on his chest.
Feeling my gaze, he glanced down and hastily tucked the pen into his pocket.
"...Ahem."
Clumsy.
This man, my father, was so clumsy.
It hit me deeply.
Decades in a people-facing job, yet utterly awkward with family.
His eyes rimmed faintly red.
He never looked at me. Just the fading sunset and the statue below.
But still, he said it.
"...Welcome home. Son."
That had to be his true heart.
Not as a merchant, but as a father to one son.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.
No matter how many people I meet or how long I stay anywhere.
Can anything be as longed-for as family, as home?
Or as overwhelming as when they finally welcome you back?
So I replied as casually as possible.
"...Yeah. I'm home."
My true heart.
Not as an immigration officer, but as a father's son.
No reply came.
It wasn't needed.
Four years of severance.
Four years since reconnection.
One exchange of words was enough.
And so the two black-haired, black-eyed men stood silently for a long time, gazing at the setting sun and the courtyard statue.
"So that Kirbavan kid really isn't yours? I'm not a dragon's grandpa?"
"Ugh, come on. You're getting all sentimental in your old age."
Of course, it ended less than a minute later with me snapping at him.
In that clumsy, awkward way, we'd cleared the air. Night fell.
Thankfully, Miriam wasn't the type to mischievously cram us all into one bed.
"Whew."
I lay down on the bed in my assigned room with a relaxed mind.
Home sweet home, after all.
I could let my guard down a bit.
I hadn't slept at my place due to work thoughts, but this was different.
Things were good with Father now, too.
Just sleep without a care.
'Plus, I explained it wasn't a marriage announcement, so no issues. Just rest easy.'
With that thought, I closed my eyes.
For exactly 3 hours, 23 minutes, and 49 seconds.
Then I opened them again.
"Damn it..."
I couldn't sleep.
No, I couldn't fall asleep.
Even at home, work is work.
How's the office faring right now?
Is Senior Asqurin, filling in for me, handling it okay?
What if the beastkin make a fuss demanding the Dragon Word Herald?
My mind raced with worries, keeping sleep at bay.
Workaholism.
The disease only those who've sold their souls to the job get.
I shot up in bed, muttering.
"Damn, no communication orb here to check..."
That was when it happened.
"Lay your weary body to rest, rest your head on my lap and sleep..."
A familiar voice drifted from afar.
"This is..."
And a song I'd heard somewhere before.
'Who'd be singing at this hour?'
Not Noah, who sings worse than a crow, and no one wanders the house at night.
Who could it be?
Drawn like a moth, I followed the sound.
I ended up in the living room.
In the dim room, a single candle lit the center. Someone sat on the sofa, humming softly.
Sky-blue hair, wrapped in a very faint golden glow.
"Don't open your sleeping eyes. I don't want you catching me watching you..."
Not wanting to ruin the song, I approached her very quietly.
When I was one step away, I said.
"It's been a while since I heard you sing."
"So in my arms—kyaa! Mmph!"
She startled, nearly screaming, but clamped her mouth shut.
"Didn't mean to scare you."
"No footsteps—you nearly gave me a heart attack! What if you woke Elaine!?"
Below her, Elaine slept soundly, head pillowed on Erzena's lap.
"...What's Elaine doing here?"
"She shares with Hannah, but she got scared sleeping alone. I was just staying till she fell asleep."
Ah.
Right, Elaine hates being alone.
That's why Hannah was always with her at bedtime.
I plopped into the opposite chair.
"Perfect timing. I can't sleep either."
Erzena flinched, cheeks flushing.
"D-Don't tell me you want a lap pillow too!?"
"Never said that."
Why are you starting to sound like my mother?
I leaned back, relaxing.
"Just... drawn by your singing."
"...Smooth talker."
"How about insomniacs chat a bit?"
"Chat...?"
"Yeah. Haven't talked properly lately with all the chaos."
Erzena looked at me silently.
In the deepening night, like that time alone at my place.
"Nathan..."
She spoke slowly.
Cheeks a bit red, voice trembling.
"I'm... scared."