A Father's Heart
After Jerold left, Marguerite acted as if nothing had changed, but she seemed to be feeling lonely.
Whenever she had a spare moment, she would come find me for no particular reason, linger by my side for a while, and then leave again.
It was as if she was seeking the warmth and affection of family from me.
She was only twenty now.
Back on Earth, she would still be the kind of age where she’d be studying in her parents’ embrace.
If she didn’t miss her parents, that would actually be strange.
Moreover, she had been torn from her family at a young age, framed for a crime, and driven all the way out to this remote place.
Maybe she was secretly crying alone where I couldn’t see.
Feeling sorry for her, I suggested we visit her family home before winter arrived.
Although the village was still unstable, the most important harvest was already finished, and thanks to the peddlers, we had some money now.
If we wanted to, we could spare a month or two.
But Marguerite firmly rejected the offer.
The village chief must not put his personal matters first, she said.
Besides, she overestimated me.
It seemed she believed that as long as I was there, I could repel any invader—whether human, beast, or monster—without exception.
She said we should go once the stone walls were high enough to properly protect the village.
Even though she was still so young, my wife was remarkably resolute.
I already found her adorable, lovable, and truly wonderful, but now I fell for her even harder.
When I told her that, Marguerite’s face turned bright red.
“...I-If you say it so openly, it’s embarrassing.”
She turned her face away as if angry.
Her neck was flushed.
Looking closely, not only her neck but even her exposed hands had turned red.
It was the middle of the night.
The softly glowing red skin looked as if it were begging to be touched.
So cute.
Really, really cute.
When I kissed the slightly exposed curve of her neck, Marguerite startled.
Her eyes, looking back at me with a hint of reproach, caught the light and sparkled like jewels.
“....”
“....”
The two of us stared at each other in silence, a sweet stillness flowing between us—until Popcorn suddenly crawled in.
“Pii?”
Standing right between our gazes, it flapped its wings and tilted its head.
It must have found our silent staring strange.
Honestly, with kids around, I can’t do anything.
When I let out a small sigh, Marguerite burst into bright laughter.
The house was filled with spirits.
Only the area around Popcorn remained in a neat circle, empty.
Thanks to that, even without lighting a lantern, the room was bright.
All the light illuminating Marguerite came from the spirits.
“Alright, you little ones, it’s time to go outside and sleep.”
When I grumbled, the spirits let out clear, bell-like cries and giggled among themselves.
They seemed to know exactly what was going on.
As if to say the fun was over, they began leaving one by one.
The only ones left tilting their heads in confusion were Popcorn, Pudding, and—strangely enough—Orange, who had come inside instead of staying in the chicken coop.
Come on, what day is it today?
Why is everyone here to watch?
“Go to sleep, kids.”
I waved my hand to shoo the ones still in the room, and the spirits poured outside with twinkling cries.
Orange seemed to have no idea why it was being chased out.
It chirped Ppi-kko-kki-o, flapping its wings and waddling around the house in circles to avoid me.
It used to imitate a hen with ppi-kko-kkok, but now it was ppi-kko-kki-o.
“Its cry has gotten even stranger,” Marguerite said, covering her mouth as she laughed.
Maybe Orange wasn’t a phoenix but a parrot.
Pudding cleverly clung to Marguerite.
When I tried to peel it off, it made kkur kkur sounds while wrapping around my arm, as if pleading.
It didn’t want to leave.
The way it pointed at Popcorn, it might have been saying to send Popcorn out first.
Anyway, I was sending everyone out, so it had to go first.
Pudding left with a resentful ppuru-ppuru cry, and Popcorn stood with hands on its hips, crying pi-pi as if to say serves you right.
You too. Out.
When I reached for it, Popcorn’s eyes widened in shock before it latched onto my nose.
“Pii....”
It seemed to have believed I wouldn’t send it away.
With an expression of utter disbelief, it flopped over my nose and began to cry.
“You’re being extra clingy today,” Marguerite said, stepping closer and looking up at me.
Her eyes sparkled.
Had her mood improved a little?
I hope seeing this little guy cheered her up.
With that thought, I lowered my head and brought Popcorn right in front of her nose.
Marguerite kissed Popcorn.
Since Popcorn was so small, her lips brushed lightly against my nose.
Marguerite’s face turned rosy.
Ah. So from the beginning, the kiss wasn’t for Popcorn—it was meant for me.
A sweet and sour feeling rose in my chest. With Popcorn still perched on my nose, I returned the gesture by lightly kissing the tip of her nose.
At that moment, Pudding came wriggling back in and stretched out a long tentacle.
It grabbed Popcorn in one swift motion.
“Pit!”
Popcorn tried to shout something, but Pudding’s tentacle wrapped around its entire face, muffling it.
“...Mmph... mmph....”
Unable to make a sound, Popcorn flailed its arms and legs helplessly as Pudding dragged it away.
So it was unfair that I got to stay while it didn’t?
I smiled at Marguerite, then firmly closed the door.
Soft moonlight flowed into the now-dark house.
The room that had been bright and somewhat noisy just moments ago fell into a silence so deep it felt almost solemn.
“Jin-woo.”
When the door was fully shut, Marguerite’s voice came from behind me.
I turned around to find her standing with her arms spread toward me.
Somehow she looked childlike, yet adorable, lovable, and incredibly alluring.
Something surged up from deep within my chest.
She said she became happy and grateful after meeting me, but it was the opposite.
I was the one who had become far happier.
When I stepped closer, Marguerite silently wrapped her arms around my waist.
After holding me like that for a moment, she whispered softly.
“I hope we have a child soon.”
“...Yeah.”
I also thought it would be nice to have a child.
But more than that, I strongly felt we should first create an environment where a child could thrive.
In my heart, the priority was building conditions so that even after a child was born, they would never go hungry, would grow up healthy, and would always be safe.
I needed to hurry. Before our child was born, I had to make sure they could grow up safely.
Suddenly, something my father once said came to mind.
When a man has a family, he becomes stronger.
Father.
Was this how my father felt when I was born?
Today, of all days, I missed my family more than usual.
I held Marguerite tightly.
My wife. My child. My family.
I would protect them from anything this world might throw at them.
As long as I was alive—and even after I eventually died.
I would make them happy. Truly, deeply happy.
I made that vow to myself, strong and unwavering.
The situation in the territory was worsening day by day.
So was his health.
Baron Kono closed his eyes.
Lately, the pain made it difficult to sleep.
He could feel that his time was drawing near.
At first, his family had thought his weight loss was due to mental stress and brushed it off, but now they seemed to sense something was truly wrong.
A few days ago, his wife and son had even joined forces to pressure him into visiting a doctor in a nearby large city.
There was no doctor in this barony.
There used to be one person who mainly used medicinal herbs to treat illnesses, but he had died several years ago.
Since then, there was no one to fill that role, and anyone needing medical care had to travel far to a major city.
One could summon a doctor, but that would cost far too much money.
In any case, Baron Kono had no intention of receiving treatment.
If it were something that could be cured with a short treatment, that would be one thing, but treating a long-term illness required an enormous amount of money.
He felt sorry for his family, but he knew this illness had no hope. There was simply no money in the household to waste on it.
Rather, dying quickly instead of lingering would be better for those he left behind.
His mind was already made up.
Baron Kono took shallow breaths to endure the pain.
That helped somewhat ease the agony showing on his face.
At that moment, his eldest son entered the study.
“Father, are you really going out?”
His son asked with clear worry in his voice.
The baron smiled, hiding his pain.
“Yes. I truly want to see with my own eyes whether the spirits have returned.”
For the past several days, farmers had been running from afar one after another to report the news.
The offerings left out were slowly disappearing, and when they dug into the dry ground nearby, the soil was moist.
Just like when Marguerite had been there.
Judging by the spread of farmers rushing to report, a far wider range of land had become moist compared to before.
It seemed the rain was falling not only around the mansion but across the entire barony.
The farmers believed the spirit rain had returned.
They said even more spirits than before had gathered.
It was strange.
There was no longer anyone who could call down rain to summon the spirits.
So how could more spirits than ever have gathered enough to moisten the entire barony?
If it was true, they might not need to seek out moneylenders.
If they tightened their belts for a while and worked hard, they might even be able to call back all the farmers who had fled.
He had no direct contact with the person who had left in tears, but there were still connections through which news could be sent.
The farmers who had left had not let go of those ties.
Even knowing there was a chance to chase after and catch those threads, the people who had lived on this land had never completely severed their bond with the baron.
They had fled because they had no way to survive, but they too hoped that someday, when things improved, they could return.
When he thought that before he died he might see all the old faces gathered once more, cultivating the land together, he could not stay still.
He wanted to see this land with his own eyes. He wanted to see the farmers’ joyful faces.
His eldest son still looked worried, but he eventually nodded.
As they left the study side by side, the baron asked his son.
“From what you saw, does it seem their words were true?”
His son had personally traveled across the entire territory just days ago to check the land himself.
“It’s hard to believe, but the villagers’ words were true.”
His son’s voice trembled with excitement.
“The land is in even better condition than when we first heard the news. Everywhere I went, I touched it with my own hands to confirm....”
His mind felt hazy.
His son’s voice seemed to grow a little distant.
Baron Kono suddenly lifted his head.
A blue sky filled his vision.
He had only just stepped out of the mansion.
The sound of horses’ hooves came from nearby; the steward must have prepared the horses.
“Father!”
His son cried out desperately.
Ah, I see.
Baron Kono realized that he hadn’t lifted his head himself—his body had collapsed, and that was why the sky had come into view.
It seemed his son had caught him in his arms.
Amid the sky that had filled his vision, he now saw his son’s hair.
His wife’s voice calling him rang out sharply, like shattering glass.
His wife’s sobs echoed in his ears as his body was lifted.
Was his son carrying him?
The body of a powerless, limp person is heavy.
For his son to carry it so easily—only yesterday it seemed he was still toddling around, yet he had grown so much.
Suddenly, an old memory surfaced.
When he had first held his eldest son, his wife—drenched in sweat—had looked so beautiful as she cradled the child in her arms.
When she gave birth to their second, and then the next child after that, his wife had only grown more beautiful with each one.
His wife’s heartbroken sobs rang right beside him.
Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.
“...My love....”
I cannot bear to see you, whom I love, crying.
He tried to say it, but though his lips moved, no sound came out.
His wife’s wailing voice drew closer.
I only ever wanted to make you smile, yet in the end I made you cry.
Strength slowly drained from his body.
His arm fell limply.
...Marguerite.
His adorable youngest, who so closely resembled her mother.
He wanted to see that child.
Just once before he died. If only he could see her one last time.
His heart was in a hurry.
Jerold walked briskly.
After receiving the medicine from Marguerite, he immediately asked Kenson for leave.
He felt truly sorry for requesting time off right after starting work, but to his surprise, Kenson readily granted it.
[Next time, it will be my turn.]
Kenson’s smile as he said those words had been slightly frightening.
Jerold touched the bamboo tube he carried in his chest.
He knew it was there, yet he kept checking it over and over.
Jerold recalled the scene he had witnessed a few days earlier.
That night, he had seen Marguerite’s husband surrounded by light.
Countless lights had encircled him, sparkling joyfully.
He had also clearly seen the lights soar high into the sky when the man asked them to look after his wife’s family.
Jerold’s hand unconsciously touched the bamboo tube again.
He didn’t even know what kind of medicine was inside.
It might have no effect on his father at all.
But.
Jerold’s steps quickened even more.
An inexplicable certainty pushed him forward.
When the gentle, smiling face of his sister’s husband came to mind, Jerold felt an unknown impulse surge within him and began to run.
Faster. Faster. He had to reach his father even one minute, one second sooner.
For some reason, it felt as if his sister’s husband’s voice was ringing inside his head.