Chapter 52
Chapter 52
Click.
The office door opened as Patrick offered a quiet greeting.
"It's been a while, Logan."
Between strands of slightly longer red hair, his intense gaze carried more weight than before.
'He's grown stronger.'
I had expected it, but I hadn't thought he would truly break through to a higher realm.
The genius knight of twenty years ago had finally overcome a decade-long stagnation and ascended to the rank of High Knight.
'This increases our chances even more.'
A faint smile tugged at Logan's lips.
The sharpest blade of House MacLaine had been honed even finer.
Until he himself grew stronger—until Ronian and Victor, future Aura Users, matured—this would serve as a sturdy shield.
He couldn't help but smile in satisfaction.
"You've achieved something remarkable. Congratulations."
"Yes. All thanks to you. I'm grateful, son."
"Huh? My lord, surely not—?!"
Dwain, who hadn't sensed Patrick's breakthrough at all, jolted in surprise. Patrick smiled warmly at him.
"I think I can be a slightly more reliable lord now. You've worked hard, Dwain."
His voice and smile carried a newfound ease.
Dwain gazed at his lord with moved eyes.
"Congratulations, my lord! You kept abandoning your duties to train, but you finally achieved results! After all the suffering I've endured over the past decade, it's a relief to see it wasn't in vain. Truly, congratulations!"
It was unclear whether that was praise or an insult, but Dwain's genuinely happy expression made it hard to complain.
Patrick awkwardly smiled and nodded before swiftly changing the subject.
"Nothing major happened in the last three months, right? If there's anything I should know, just hand me the documents—"
Thud.
Before he could finish speaking, a towering stack of papers landed on the desk.
As Patrick stared blankly at the mountain of documents—
"There's been quite a lot done by Lord Logan. Please review and judge for yourself."
—Dwain welcomed the true lord's return with a bright smile.
And three hours later...
"Distributing food to the territory's people, mobilizing them for that dam construction, developing the gold mine, and reclaiming wasteland—enough to cover an area of... Hahahaha."
Patrick stared at Logan with disbelief before letting out a hollow laugh.
"You're telling me all of this is real?"
His expression clearly showed he couldn't quite believe it. Logan's reply was simple.
"Yes."
"...Let's go see for ourselves. I'll judge after seeing it."
From Patrick's perspective, the world had flipped upside down in just three months. It was only natural that documents alone wouldn't convince him.
Logan silently smiled and followed his father.
In Patrick's memory, beyond the western gate of MacLaine Castle lay only sparse, barren wasteland where even a single blade of grass was a rare sight.
But now, after just three months—not even three years—an entirely different landscape stretched before them.
"An irrigation system... Hah. Water flowing through this wasteland... Truly, truly..."
A dreamlike sight unfolded—a vast plain crisscrossed with irrigation channels every three hundred meters, already sprouting patches of green grass.
At the center of what was no longer wasteland stood a small wooden structure and towering earthen walls, built by eleven mages and thousands of territory laborers.
"We're constructing a large village for the settlers reclaiming the plains. It'll be dozens of times larger than existing small villages. We plan to call it MacLaine Town."
"Hahaha..."
Patrick could only laugh in awe at the miraculous transformation.
"Once the town is complete, we'll clear the weeds and begin cultivation before next spring. I expect yields surpassing even the lost MacLaine Plains of our ancestors."
"...To that extent? But will the people willingly relocate?"
"Yes. Those who live in the town will have priority in land allocation. Plus, the new houses will be better than the shacks most live in now."
"...I see. That makes sense."
Though he had asked the question, Patrick wasn't really listening to the answer.
Forgetting all decorum, he kept turning his head, taking in the sights.
"Let's see that dam you mentioned. How is this miracle even...?"
His voice trembled slightly.
Logan stopped explaining further plans and silently guided his father where he wanted to go.
Upon seeing the dam and floodgates, Patrick couldn't hide his astonishment, marveling at how such an idea had even occurred to Logan.
Seizing the moment, they also visited the mine, where Patrick confirmed the gold deposits with his own eyes. He kept patting Logan's shoulder in admiration.
'At this rate, recruiting soldiers will be easy...'
Logan watched his father with a pleased smile, sensing things were progressing smoothly—until:
"You're clearly better than me."
"That's true."
"..."
"Ah, well, based on recent achievements, at least."
"Hahaha. No, no. You're right. What you've done in three months surpasses what I've done in thirty years. I've been blessed with a talented son. Thank you. Truly, thank you."
Words Logan could never have imagined hearing from his father flowed effortlessly.
He couldn't help but feel gratified—until an unexpected remark followed.
"Now I can entrust all lordly duties to you. I'll focus entirely on rigorously training the knight order."
"...Excuse me?"
What did I do to deserve this?!
"Let's have breakfast together tomorrow. We have much to discuss."
Before Logan could react, Patrick turned away with a bright smile.
'I also have much to discuss...!'
His father's retreating figure looked so carefree that Logan couldn't bring himself to stop him.
And the next morning...
At the breakfast table, where the entire MacLaine family had gathered for the first time in ages, Patrick dropped a bombshell.
"I'm designating Logan as my successor and entrusting him with most lordly duties starting today."
"Ghk! What?!"
Had he hoped his father would change his mind overnight? Clearly, that was too much to ask.
Logan, who had assumed it was just empty talk, nearly choked on his food.
"So I trust you'll assist him in carrying out his role smoothly."
"...Yes."
Even Marian—whom Logan had expected to oppose the decision—nodded with a somewhat pale face.
'Wait, why is she yielding so easily this time?!'
Logan stared at Marian in disbelief.
"I believe my elder brother will excel in the role."
His younger brother, who had grown slightly more dependable, poured oil on the fire.
'...Hey, punk, that's supposed to be your position!'
Logan gripped his trembling eyebrows, screaming internally.
Since most lordly tasks were already completed, it would have been better to remain free to act as needed.
"I'll take charge of the knight order's training and focus on maximizing our combat strength."
"Father, perhaps we should reconsider—"
"Logan. It's up to your generation to restore MacLaine's former glory."
Before Logan could finish stammering his protest, Patrick solemnly concluded the matter.
"I know it's a burden."
"If you know, then reconsider—"
"But it's inevitable."
"Why now of all times—"
"And I believe you'll excel in the role."
After breakfast, during a private meeting, Logan tried once more to dissuade his father—only to confirm his resolve was unshakable.
'This... this stubborn old man...!'
Logan sighed deeply as a headache throbbed behind his temples.
"I know you have no attachment to this position."
Patrick's unexpected words made Logan look up.
"Thinking back, it seems you've always seen the family as a burden to bear."
"It's not a burden—"
"Until now, the family has benefited greatly from you. Now, I want you to enjoy the fruits of the family's growth—no, the family that will grow because of you. I'd like to think I'm granting you rights, not burdens."
The unexpected sincerity and warmth in his eyes shook Logan's heart.
"During my training, I realized one thing clearly."
'Yes, that's why you reached the High Knight rank.'
Logan nodded silently.
"I've grown old."
"...What?"
"I managed to adapt to the Sword Duke's swordsmanship you taught me, but those secret techniques—I simply couldn't master them."
The following words took Logan entirely by surprise.
"Perhaps if I'd learned them as a child, when I first awakened my Force, it might have been possible. But after decades of honing my own path, my Force can't even form the core required. Even if I forced it, the strain on my heart would be too great. I had no choice but to give up."
"Ah..."
"Giving up made me realize: This is no longer my era, but yours—yours and Ronian's. Though it did help me break through a long-standing barrier. Now, I'd like to step back and serve as a guide, paving the way for you."
Seeing his father's vulnerable side—something Logan had never witnessed in either of his lives—left him unable to argue further.
Though a trace of unease remained, he decided to accept it.
'Fine. When I need to act separately, I'll just dump the work on Dwain.'
Of course, he wouldn't be able to train during work hours, so he'd have to carve out personal training time by force.
'Or just dump everything on Dwain regularly...'
Unaware that his large-framed vassal was shuddering inexplicably somewhere nearby, Logan consoled himself.
'Sigh...'
With a long exhale, Logan finally relented.
"Understood."
Creak.
Seeing his father's satisfied smile, Logan stepped out—only to immediately run into someone who seemed to have been waiting for him.
"...Mother?"
"Your Grace. Might we talk?"
The unfamiliar, awkward honorific made it impossible for Logan to refuse.
He, too, had questions.
"Earlier... why did you stay silent?"
"What else could I do? Does the matriarch of a traitorous family still have the right to speak on household matters?"
Her self-deprecating tone was harsher than expected, leaving Logan momentarily speechless.
Though she looked slightly more at ease than right after the war, her pale complexion revealed her mental state was still fragile.
"Your achievements are more than enough to qualify as heir. Now, I only wish for Ronian's well-being. No—I suppose that's how it's always been. That's why I clashed with you before."
"...I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be the one apologizing."
"Huh?"
"You apologized to me before. Foolishly, I couldn't accept it. My pettiness is to blame, so I hope you'll forgive me."
The unexpected words left Logan at a loss.
"I hear you've been teaching Ronian swordsmanship lately?"
"...Yes."
Fortunately, unlike their father, Ronian had formed a Force Core within a week and was already practicing the First Form: Wave Splitter.
Perhaps because he was a natural genius, he didn't experience the extreme sensory amplification or physical changes Logan had. But judging by his enthusiasm, he must have been sensing something extraordinary.
Amid the awkwardness, the topic provided an easy opening.
"Ronian's talent makes his progress—"
"It's been years since I've seen him this bright-eyed..."
Ah. That wasn't the direction she wanted to take.
Logan stiffened slightly.
"Please continue looking after Ronian—your younger brother."
Her bittersweet smile as she turned away evoked a long-forgotten memory.
A baby who would stop crying the moment Logan held him.
A newborn squirming his tiny limbs, grinning brightly—the image still vivid in his mind.
And the black-haired beauty, younger and brighter than now, watching them with a hint of wistfulness before smiling and saying:
—"My baby must love his brother more than me."
—"Hehe. Mother, I'll protect my little brother forever! I swear to the gods!"
—"Yes, Logan. Take good care of him."
Memories of peaceful days.
Days he had ruined with his ugly jealousy.
Clench.
Shame made his fists tighten unconsciously.
'I can rebuild it now.'
But this time, he could undo everything.
In this moment, gratitude for his second life welled up anew.
Without realizing it, Logan called out loudly to Marian's retreating figure.
"Parents shouldn't use honorifics with their children!"
The noblewoman's back seemed to pause.
"From now on—like before! Please speak comfortably, Mother!"
It wasn't a flowery apology, but that made it all the more heartfelt.
The lady quietly shed tears as she bowed her head.
In the room behind them, the middle-aged lord smiled softly upon hearing his son's voice.
And the one who had spoken?
With a reddened face, he turned and hurried away.