Adult (4): The Daughter's Truth
It was a memory from his childhood. As the project’s only success, he had undergone all manner of training. One part of that training had been learning to read the emotions of others. Though he had been clumsy when he first mastered it, after using the ability for roughly one hundred and twenty years it had become second nature. Reading them, reading them without letting it show, and putting that information to practical use—he could do all three without conscious effort.
To him, the emotions displayed by the vampire claiming to be his daughter were strangely difficult to decipher. To the naked eye she appeared prickly. Irritated. There was a reason for it: he had killed one of her kind. It was only natural that she would struggle to speak politely and feel nothing but annoyance toward him. The real question was why she had brought him here instead of killing him on the spot. She had even permitted basic medical treatment for his wounds along the way. Vertea had performed the procedure, yet it had visibly accelerated his recovery.
Still, the questions remained. Exactly how did he have a daughter, why had she brought him here, and what did she want from him? Though he could not guess her precise intentions, he had no choice but to follow her lead. After all, she had saved him. Besides, he thought, holding a conversation while he was still in tatters would have been awkward.
He stepped inside the largest building in their territory. The space that served as a kind of office was a harmonious blend of medieval and modern aesthetics—expensive tumbler mugs sitting beside gothic furniture. There, he sat facing Maribella across a desk, as if father and daughter had come together for a meeting.
What he felt was not nostalgia, nor any blood-borne pull. Only bewilderment, a heavy languor, and—now that his micro-current was returning—the physical reality of this vampire’s body. The quality of her muscle tissue was fundamentally different. Her bones left no gaps for the micro-current to penetrate. He could even hear her heartbeat with his own ears. Just how powerful must a heart be to produce such a sound? It was qualitatively unlike anything he had sensed from the vampires outside, and the discrepancy intrigued him. Since she claimed to be the daughter of an avatar, perhaps it was a matter of bloodline. Blessings came to all beings, yet they always seemed to manifest more conveniently for him.
“Have you nothing to say?”
The curt voice that severed his deepening thoughts belonged to Maribella. Irritation narrowed her eyes; her arms were crossed, fingers drumming against her forearm. Every visible sign pointed to stress, yet her body told a different story. It was stable. Comfortable, even. Completely relaxed. The readings matched so perfectly that he wondered if his own mind had finally broken.
“…Well, I’ve never once considered the possibility of having a daughter.”
“So you don’t believe me.”
Yet the reaction he sensed immediately afterward proved otherwise. A disappointment she could not hide. The tiniest thread of stress woven into the emotion she allowed to surface. No, his mind had not broken. Still, it was unusual for someone to relax so completely while displaying such irritation. Even if she was his daughter, she was a strange child, he thought, and gave a small nod.
“I don’t know how much you know about me, but I am not the sort of wanderer who spends a single night and then disappears.”
In fact, the opposite was true. He had always been suited to putting down roots.
“Every woman I lived with as a lover died before me. So if someone suddenly appears claiming to be my daughter, is it any wonder I’m bewildered?”
He kept his tone as gentle as possible. Maribella nodded as though his words made sense, then settled back into that relaxed state once more. What exactly was this girl?
“An explanation will be necessary.”
“It will.”
“Let me state this in advance. I know that you, Father, were born inside this labyrinth.”
“I wasn’t born inside the labyrinth.”
“If you intend to interrupt, at least listen until I finish—”
“All right, all right. Don’t get irritated. Continue, dear.”
Maribella’s irritation flared. When he shrugged, she rubbed her brow and exhaled. The muttered “Let’s not speak” was loud enough for his ears—perhaps deliberately so.
“I also know that you, Father, are not a native of Karnevarin.”
Their eyes met. To him it had been obvious that they had all come from outside this Karnevarin labyrinth, yet few people knew he was a being from another world. Tea was labyrinth tea, carts were labyrinth carts, meals were labyrinth meals, and technology was labyrinth technology. Whatever it had once been, the world he had believed in was now called the labyrinth. Only an extremely small number of entities would know that the avatar of darkness was a labyrinth human—perhaps the few gods who had survived, the darkness itself that could not explain why it had chosen him, or the Church of Darkness.
He had not expected the vampire claiming to be his daughter to know. At this point, however, it was no longer surprising.
“I also know that you, Father, are a wanted man.”
That did surprise him. Maribella saw his expression and smiled.
“Rather grim, isn’t it?”
“How did you learn that?”
“A secret. But I can tell you this much—there were attempts to replicate you.”
That was news to him, yet entirely plausible. It had been after the leader’s death, when superhuman soldiers had all but vanished from the world. Eighty-three years of service, the victory ceremony. He had left South Korea because of what happened that day and become a wanted man. The mere fact that someone had tried to replicate him was not shocking. Yes, it was more than enough reason. He offered a bitter smile.
“And?”
“There used to be a research facility here. They requisitioned the grounds of a religious order that once existed. But the government meant to supply resources had lost its cohesion. The lab was forced to continue its work using whatever surplus materials remained.”
When he showed little reaction, Maribella seemed to lose interest and rested her chin on her hand. She spoke as if reciting words she had heard elsewhere.
“They used your genetic information and living subjects. The research concluded quickly and produced no successes. But the research materials were left behind.”
A roundabout way of saying it. The meaning was obvious. They must have collected samples during routine physical examinations and while he was unconscious.
“So.”
“I am a daughter of the Blood Clan, born and raised using your genetic material.”
Would it have felt different if she had been a clone rather than a daughter made from his… No. In the end the distinction was meaningless. There had been no physical act, yet the method was not so different from ordinary birth.
“There may be others.”
Maribella closed her mouth, visibly displeased. He studied her.
“Your mother?”
“She has passed away. Those of us who received the blessing of death are not permitted to bear children. The result of forcing the issue, you might say.”
Her tone held not the slightest trace of emotional connection. It was the complete opposite of the relaxed demeanor she had shown him earlier. He glanced at the sunlight pouring through the window. Beneath it Maribella wore a white dress and basked in the rays—unlike the vampires outside who kept their helmets pressed low or hid their bodies beneath heavy robes.
“Someone told you, then.”
He voiced the realization aloud. The story was easy enough to guess. Obsessed with honor, willing to accept even unsavory requests. She had borne the child of a being known across the land as the avatar of darkness, the harbinger of ruin, despite the risk of death. They were in decline. A place in decline needed a strong leader. Just as South Korea once had. He could not guess the exact details, but they had used him knowing what he was and whose genetic material they possessed.
Somewhat unjust. Somewhat angry. Mostly languid. And, strangely, a little pitiful. No life chooses to be born, yet he had learned that was preferable. Those born because they are wanted are treated as tools. He had been. Most superhuman soldiers had been. A created superhuman soldier, avatar of darkness, and vampire. Having lived his whole life that way, it was only natural that warmth should enter his gaze when he looked at this child.
“…What is it?”
Her voice was icy. She frowned, displeased by his expression. Still, some things needed to be said.
“You must have gone through a lot as well.”
Maribella’s eyes widened. She closed her slightly parted lips and touched her own face, as if trying to measure how shaken her expression had become. Looking at her reminded him of his own past—the time when he had been forced to become an adult because he could not remain a child, when excessive responsibility had been thrust upon him and he had no choice but to carry it. There was no need for her to resemble him in that regard. He felt a complicated ache in his chest even as he thought: If I were that child, wouldn’t I want to act spoiled toward my father and be allowed to seem like a child? It might be nothing more than his own projection. But at least he had felt that way.
“I’ll call you Mari from now on.”
Insisting on the formal “Father” title was one thing; the way she remained prickly yet subtly softened in his presence was another. Perhaps she had been hoping for it—that a father existed somewhere in this labyrinth and that she might meet him. It might be an overreach. Still, he spoke with that quiet hope in mind. Because of the nature that drew his eyes to people nearby whether he wished it or not, he addressed the strange child claiming to be his daughter with affection.
“…Doing as you please…”
She pulled her hand from her cheek and forcibly pressed down the corners of her mouth that had begun to rise.
“How unpleasant.”
She said the words, yet her heart was clearly pleased. It was beating faster, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Yes, she kept calling him “Father” so properly. He could at least do this much.
“Mari, while we’re speaking of it—”
“Do not call me Mari. At the very least, address me respectfully as Matriarch Maribella—”
“The Oracle. It’s here, isn’t it?”
That was one matter, but there were things that truly needed to be said. Maribella’s tightly closed eyes flew open.
Oracle. Its official designation was the Great Resonance Observation Apparatus. It was a highly advanced AI capable of predicting the future.
Oracle — Great Resonance Observation Apparatus
Highly advanced predictive AI
“Rest well for now. We can speak after you have recovered. Your trial is also scheduled.”
“…Trial?”
“Yes. You did kill one of our members.”
“It was a fair duel.”
“You may testify to that effect.”
Ha Jinwoo blinked expressionlessly at the statement.
“What do you plan to do with me?”
“That will be decided after consultation with the Blood Clan elders. In the worst case, execution.”
A sigh escaped him, ancient and weary. Maribella unconsciously glared at her father’s sigh; it made him seem far too old.
“Was that what you meant by handling matters wisely…? I will hope it does not come to that.”
“We shall see.”
“Surely you will not heal me only to kill me immediately. That would be a waste of resources.”
“…Enough. Leave. Go rest that inferior body of yours.”
Somewhat forcefully, she drove her father from the room. It was not that she was genuinely irritated or unable to tolerate his presence. She did feel a measure of annoyance, that much was true. Maribella was aware that she had unconsciously become curt with Ha Jinwoo.
Why is that?
Left alone in the office, the matriarch of the Blood Clan basked in the sunlight and gazed at Ha Jinwoo’s nameplate.
A novice adventurer capable of facing a knight of the Blood Clan. The fact was so absurd it drew a hollow laugh, yet it was true.
Maribella ran her fingers lightly over the nameplate. The engraved letters “Ha Jinwoo” felt unfamiliar. They were written neither in the Eastern tongue nor in the language of the labyrinth, yet they belonged to a man who bore the labyrinth’s name. It was an exceedingly awkward name to call “Father,” yet for some reason Maribella felt her chest flutter.
She had been raised as matriarch from the moment of her birth. To save a declining Blood Clan, a strong center of gravity and a powerful symbol were required. The daughter of an avatar had been a fitting title. Unlike ordinary members of the Blood Clan, she could walk beneath sunlight and possessed greater strength. She carried natural dignity and grace, and the godmother who had borne her had boasted of the child who would become their savior even as she lay dying. Ever since, Maribella had existed only as matriarch. The family revered her, admired her, bowed before her. Even the other races holding seats in the autonomous district could not meet her eyes, wrapped as she was in innate dignity. That was how she had lived until now.
She had never acted spoiled. The word “affection” had been nothing more than a dictionary entry. The proper object of her affection was the family—the Malefis Blood Clan. It was supposed to be that way.
Even if she had lived her entire life inside a cave, apart from the darkness. Just as humans naturally yearn for the sky and light, she longed for something she had never received. She would deny it, refuse to acknowledge it, but as she gazed at the sun, Maribella let out a quiet sigh.
