Too Much Money to Refuse

Back in my previous life, I used to watch anime.

"Kyahahaha! Take this! Fireball! Blizzard! Anyway, some stupidly overpowered magic!"

"Kh...! I'll never give up!"

The final boss and the hero had been going at it for a while. KABOOOOM—! After about three minutes of trading blows, the hero won.

So far, so good. Right up until the final boss, beaten into the dirt, suddenly burst into tears.

"Hic... waaah...!!"

A quiet piano drifted in, the screen dimmed, and just like that the most shameless tragic-backstory dump I had ever seen kicked off. Abandoned by his parents. Betrayed by his comrades. Lost the person he loved. They had taken every misery in the book and piled the entire stack onto one guy, like they were dead set on wringing every last tear out of the audience.

"Hic... the truth is, I never wanted to become this kind of person from the start..."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

This was the same bastard who, until about thirty seconds ago, had been slaughtering people by the thousands, burning cities to the ground, and snatching random passersby off the street to use as lab rats. And now that he'd gotten his ass kicked, he wanted to talk about his childhood.

Yeah, yeah. I get that something happened to you in the past. What the hell does that have to do with right now?

"Don't tell me they actually expect me to feel sorry for this guy..."

The scarier part was the hero. By the time the final boss had finished his story, there were already tears welling in the hero's eyes too.

"I see... so you were carrying that kind of pain as well..."

Come again?

"I hated you without knowing any of it..."

"No, you're allowed to hate him. He killed all ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your friends."

Not that my voice was going to reach the screen. The hero laid down his weapon, and the final boss crumpled into his arms, weeping. Then the subtitles started scrolling across the bottom of the screen.

"...Don't tell me..."

Click.

I turned off the TV.

"This is some real bullshit."

I chucked the remote at the couch and pulled the blanket straight over my head.

"Not watching. I said I'm not watching. I am not watching this!"

I'd already seen the whole thing, but still.

Look. Villains can have their reasons. It's not like a perfectly normal person just wakes up one morning and decides, Kyahaha, I think I'll start murdering people today! But that's an explanation of how they got there. It is not some magic incantation that retroactively erases everything they've done.

That's what I thought back then.

And even after reincarnating, I still thought the same damn thing.

"Look, Father-in-law."

I let out a long breath and dragged a hand down my face.

"This conversation is drifting somewhere it really shouldn't, don't you think?"

"...The point?"

The Patriarch blinked.

"Why are you suddenly trying to wring sympathy-juice out of my sister-in-law's tragic past?"

"...Juice?"

"It's a thing."

I glanced toward the sofa. A little while ago Zenith had still had her eyes half-open, but she'd clearly hit her limit — they were fully shut now. Looking at the bruises coming up across her face and arms, I couldn't exactly blame her for passing out.

"I get that my sister-in-law had a hard childhood. That you were hard on her from the time she was little, that you taught her she could never show weakness, and that that's how she ended up like this. I understood all of that."

If you asked me whether I felt sorry for her — well, yeah. I did. Telling a six-year-old not to play and to spend every waking hour practicing magic? No kid on earth would have a good time with that.

"So what?"

The Patriarch's mouth closed.

"You said she's twenty-four. She's not a six-year-old. She's more than old enough to know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly what she's doing."

Slapping Iris was her choice. Dropping that crack about Celia's parents was her choice. And me losing my mind and beating the hell out of her was the result. Sure, I'd dressed it up as a little tough-love education, but still.

"I understand how she got this way. That doesn't make what she just did magically unhappen."

"...If you could just try to understand a little..."

"Understand? I already do."

I leaned a little toward the Patriarch.

"..."

"You know that, right? If you'd reached out to her with even a shred of warmth, just once, she never would have ended up like this."

The Patriarch couldn't say a word. He couldn't even lift his head. His eyes were glued to the floor.

I figured we'd just keep looping the same conversation if I pushed any further, so I waved it off.

"Anyway. We're done with that topic."

"...?"

"I apologize if this comes off a little forward, Father-in-law, but I'll be taking Iris with me."

This time the Patriarch's eyes narrowed, just slightly. Iris, who had been sitting quietly in the back this whole time, lifted her head.

"Young man."

"Yes."

"Do you truly love my daughter?"

Why was he asking that all of a sudden?

I didn't even need to think about it. I nodded.

"Yes. If this turns into some kind of NTR plot, I'll wipe a whole city off the map."

"...En-tee-are?"

"It's a thing. A really fucked-up thing."

I had absolutely no desire to explain it in detail. Spreading a concept that horrific all the way to another world was not what a civilized person did.

"Anyway, I mean it when I say I'll make her happy."

The Patriarch stared at me for a while. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but I supposed it did look a little inconsistent — the same guy who'd just been beating his eldest daughter with a stick was now promising to make his second daughter happy.

I looked back at Iris, still sitting behind us.

"You hear that? Father-in-law already gave his blessing."

"I don't recall giving any such thing."

"I gave it to myself."

"..."

The Patriarch's lips moved, just barely.

"...Is this guy actually insane?"

I can hear you, you know. That's a bit much, Father-in-law.

"...Iris."

This time he looked at his daughter.

"What do you think of this man?"

"..."

Iris didn't answer right away. She ducked her head, fidgeting with the fingers she'd folded over her knees for no particular reason. I just watched, and her face flushed by degrees until even her ears had gone red.

"...Could I tell you later...?"

Her voice kept getting smaller. The Patriarch looked at his daughter for a long moment, then huffed a quiet laugh.

"I don't think I need to hear the answer."

Then he looked back at me.

"I don't know if leaving my daughter with a mage as far outside the norm as you is actually the right thing to do. Just looking at today, it's been one thing after another that no reasonable person could make sense of."

I glanced at Iris once more before I answered.

"...Don't worry. I really will make her happy."

At that, Iris ducked her head even further. By now even the back of her neck had gone red. The Patriarch watched her for a while, then let out a bitter smile.

"...Louise. I find myself missing you today, of all days."

Who was he talking to? I had no idea, but it didn't feel like the kind of moment where I should ask, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Iris. Step outside for a moment."

"...Yes, Father."

Iris rose from her seat and quietly left the room.

"Now then. This is where we get to the real matter."

The Patriarch stared at me blankly for a while before he spoke.

"I want you to reform Zenith. Steer her so she doesn't go any further down the wrong path."

"No thanks."

"..."

The Patriarch's mouth shut.

"I mean, you just called me '...is this guy actually insane?' and now you're asking me for a favor?"

"...If you heard that, I apologize."

He cleared his throat once.

"I genuinely thought you were a madman."

That's really too much, Father-in-law.

"...That child has grown too strong. There's nothing I can do with her anymore."

From the way he put it, it sounded like he had tried to fix her somehow. The problem was that by then Zenith had already surpassed him, and now that she'd become a Grand Magus, getting a hand on her was even harder. So the old saying really was true — no parent can beat their own kid. The ancestors never miss, do they?

"And..."

The Patriarch turned his gaze toward the door Iris had left through.

"If you can say those kinds of things to Iris so casually, I figured I could leave this to you."

He even had the expression to match. The face of a man who'd just made a very wise decision, if you asked him.

Except...

"I said... no."

Why would I take on something that annoying? I could just take Iris by the hand, go back to the White Magic Tower, and spend the rest of my time being disgustingly lovey-dovey. I had no interest in kicking that kind of happiness aside over some minor sideshow. On top of that, Celia was waiting for me at the Tower right now.

Wait a second.

Later on, stacking Iris on top of Celia...?

Yeehaw — just imagining it is a blast!

"Leon. I'm begging you."

I shoved the happy future to the back of my mind for a moment and opened my mouth in earnest.

"Father-in-law. In my homeland of South Korea, we have a saying."

"South Korea...?"

"The habits you pick up at three last until you're eighty."

"...Ah."

He nodded, looking like he'd gotten the gist. In other words: she was not a creature you could just decide to change. You spent her entire life running gifted-kid boot camp on her from the moment she could babble, and now you were tossing her at me? What exactly was I supposed to do with that?

"...Still, after the beating you gave her earlier, perhaps she'll settle down a little."

"That? She'll behave while I'm standing right in front of her. The second ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I leave, she'll go right back to it. You think you can fix a habit she's spent her entire life building?"

The Patriarch seemed to chew on that for a while. And then—

"I'll give you five thousand gold coins."

"...?!"

Was he trying to buy me with money?! Was this an insult, Father-in-law?! This was genuinely disgusting. You made your own child like that, and now you wanted to solve it with a handful of coins. Father-in-law or not, this old man was getting a taste of the stick later—

"When would you like me to start?"

It was too much money to scold him over.

Five thousand gold coins. That was a full seven and a half years of my salary...?!

Yeah. I could do this.

I'd even caught a few episodes of a show on YouTube called My Precious Little Shit. Featured the most tyrannical, impossible kid you've ever seen, and an expert spends a few days using various methods to turn them into an actual human being. I wasn't exactly an expert myself, but I'd absorbed a fair amount of Dr. Oh's philosophy over dinner, so the mental training was there.

Yeah. I'll do it.

I stood up and walked over to the Patriarch. Then I grabbed both of his hands in mine.

"Father-in-law. I will turn her into a proper human being."

"...I'm suddenly a little worried."

"Now, now, don't say that."

He's sharp, I'll give him that.

By the time everything was settled, it was already late at night.

"I'm actually dying..."

"I was gonna anyway."

Thinking back on the last time I'd actually slept properly, it felt like I hadn't had a real night's sleep in close to a hundred hours. In the end, I decided to stay the night at the mansion.

Iris would head back to the White Magic Tower first thing in the morning. I would stick around a few more days for the five-thousand-gold sister-in-law rehabilitation project. And the Patriarch had asked me to keep my identity hidden from the people in the mansion if at all possible. After everything that had happened today, I was apparently something close to a walking natural disaster in the eyes of House Meyrud's knights and servants...

"Is he telling me to wear a mask or something..."

Whatever. Complicated stuff could wait until tomorrow.

I threw myself onto the bed without even changing properly. It felt like I could pass out the second I closed my eyes.

Knock, knock.

"..."

I figured I might have imagined it and stayed still, but a moment later the knock came again.

Knock, knock.

I answered with my face still buried in the pillow.

"Whooo is it..."

"...Leon. It's me, Iris. Can I come in?"

"Yeah... come in."

The door opened, and Iris stepped carefully inside.

"...Leon. Is this a bad time?"

What she was wearing was a little too much to call pajamas, and it definitely wasn't her usual clothes either. She herself seemed more concerned with whatever she had to say, lips pressed tight, watching my face for a reaction.

"Whoa... those puppies are just..."

"...Puppies?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

Ahem. I coughed once for no reason and looked away.

"More importantly... what's up at this hour?"

"...I had something I wanted to say."

Iris hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the bed. I managed to push myself upright somehow, but my brain was already half-asleep, and even getting her face into focus was a struggle.

"What is it?"

"Earlier, you were the only one who apologized. I never got to."

"...Ah."

That.

Iris fidgeted with the hands she'd folded over her knees, then went on in a small voice.

"I'm really sorry... for hitting you back then."

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. No matter how shaken I was, slapping you out of nowhere was my fault."

There had been something similar in the letter, but she'd apparently wanted to say it in person. I understood. That was why I'd come all the way here too.

"Okay. Apology accepted, so don't worry about it anymore."

"...Okay."

I thought that was the end of it. But Iris didn't leave. She just sat there.

"Leon."

"Mm..."

"I, um, I did some thinking after coming back to the main house."

"Yeah..."

God, I was so tired. I was one second from passing out...

"...And what you said back then, too..."

"...What... was... yaaaawn..."

Iris's voice kept getting smaller.

"So, um..."

The next words didn't come right away. She looked away, then looked back at me, fidgeting with her fingers on her knees, her lips moving several times without a sound.

"L-Leon..."

"Mm..."

"I..."

She clammed up again. Her face was already red all the way to her ears. After a long hesitation, she finally drew in a big breath.

"W-would you... do it... with m...?"

"Hnnnngh—"

"..."

Iris carefully lifted her head.

"...Leon?"

The Leon who had been barely holding himself upright was already collapsed on the bed. His eyes were fully closed, and a steady, even breath was already slipping out of him.

Iris sat frozen for a while, then let out a weak little laugh.

"...What. I was so nervous."

Even so, she didn't wake him. She leaned a little toward the sleeping Leon. Up close, the dark circles under his eyes were far worse than she'd thought. She looked at them for a moment, then carefully reached out and brushed the skin around his eyes. He didn't so much as twitch. He must have been incredibly tired.

This time she took Leon's hand, lying limp across the bed. She laced her fingers through his, looked down at his sleeping face for a long time, and then let out the words she hadn't been able to say — very, very quietly.

There was no answer. Iris hesitated for a moment, then carefully leaned her face toward his lips.

A soft peck. Their lips met, just for a moment.

"..."

Iris sat up at once, covering her mouth with her hand. Her face flushed crimson in an instant, but what she noticed first was the strange sweetness left on her lips.

"...It's sweet."

Quite a lot, actually. And mixed in with it, a faint scent of cinnamon.

"...So this is what a kiss feels like."

People always said your first kiss with someone you liked was incredibly sweet. So it wasn't just a figure of speech. It actually tasted sweet.

While Iris was seriously contemplating this, Leon frowned in his sleep.

"Nngh... stay right there..."

"...?"

"You..."

Iris blinked once, then laughed softly.

"Hehe. Cute."

Meanwhile, inside Leon's dream, a life-or-death chase was underway.

"GYAAAAAAAH!!! I SAID STAY RIGHT THEEEEERE!!!!!"

Tiny cinnamon rolls were fleeing for their lives across an endless meadow. Cinnamon rolls. With legs.

"R-run!!!!"

"Damn it! Be satisfied with what you already ate in the real world!!!"

Leon chased them like a madman, both arms flailing.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING!!!"

For the record, there was no profound reason Iris had tasted sweet cinnamon on that kiss. Leon had happened to find the kitchen on his way down the hall and shoved a few freshly baked cinnamon rolls into his mouth. He'd been so tired that everything was a hassle, so he'd crawled into his room without even noticing the sugar and cinnamon powder stuck to his lips. That was the whole story.

"GOT YOOOOOU—!!!!!"

"Eep— EEEEEEEK!!!!!"

Without a shred of hesitation, Leon brought his mouth to one corner.

"GYAAAAAAH!!!!!!"

CHOMP!

The cinnamon roll was incredibly delicious.

"AAAAAH—!!! IT'S SO GOOOOD!!!!"

Delicious enough to show up in his dreams.