In My Daughter's Room
“The dormitory is in the education hall,” Eunha said, leading us forward.
The place she guided us to was the first floor. Contrary to my assumption that the expansive area known as the open courtyard would occupy the ground level, the actual first floor sat even lower, while the open courtyard itself was located on the third floor. Our destination was the first floor on the western side—the same wing that housed the library where we had been and Tilia’s office.
“There are accommodations near the parking area as well… but we can’t assign ordinary quarters to a distinguished guest. Sleep in my room tonight.”
This was where Eunha’s personal quarters and those of some of her disciples were located. Among them, her room was generously sized, befitting her position as the archmage’s chief pupil.
The walls were gray. There was almost no detectable scent, only the faintest trace of a soft, sweetly feminine fragrance that lent the space a pristine atmosphere. I had never imagined I would one day step into my own daughter’s bedroom, and the experience carried a profoundly strange weight.
A table stood before the perforated window overlooking the central corridor, stacked high with books. Some titles were familiar; others completely alien. Textbooks like The Essence of Mathematics and Physics I sat alongside study materials. Then there were the unfamiliar scripts whose meaning I could only grasp through the divinity of language. Advanced Magic Theory, Understanding Divinity, Historical Archmages, Rian Beawater’s Understanding of Lust, A Minor Treatise on Nelbasia’s Comedies, and more.
Books whose purposes ranged from the obscure to the blatantly obvious. And that wasn’t all. As expected of an archmage’s top disciple. Turning my head revealed a tall bookshelf packed with volumes, the majority of them magical treatises: The Divinity of Fire and Its Understanding, Historical Applications of Deception, The History of Magic, Understanding the Dead Gods Through Elpenor’s Chronicles.
Most of them offered clear insight into how this child usually spent her time. These books, along with a handful of other furnishings, constituted the room’s only decorations.
“Why? See anything interesting?”
The room was ascetic, almost unnervingly so for a young woman. No posters, no photographs—nothing adorned the walls. A high-performance laptop rested silently on the table. Beside the closed device sat a mug, a pen holder, sheets of parchment and scrap paper, and colorful sticky notes covered in scribbled phrases.
And then there was the bed—perfectly made, without a single wrinkle.
Eunha’s personality seemed slightly different from the affectionate, playful demeanor she had shown me.
“A perfectionist, I see.”
“Hm? Well, yeah. It feels better when everything’s clean.”
Eunha flashed a bright smile as she spoke, but the truth was more complex. There was a strange sense of familiarity here. After all, I had known one other person with a room like this.
“It’s a lot like Noona Seol-ah’s.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Remarkably similar.”
Seol-ah had been that kind of person—cheerful, articulate, wonderful with children, and kind-hearted. Yet separately, she had been meticulously neat, a perfectionist. In the few times I had visited her room, there was never any sign of disarray; only the visible traces of the relentless effort befitting a genius. Finding those same traces in my daughter’s room left me with an oddly poignant feeling. Was it because she was the child of both Seol-ah and me? Or perhaps…
“What was Mom like?”
My thoughts were interrupted by Eunha’s question.
“…She was lively, full of energy, brilliant, and an admirable woman.”
“Were you close with her?”
“Yes.”
“That’s nice.”
It seemed children did tend to long for their mothers. I had been about to say that Seol-ah would surely have taken a liking to Eunha, but—
“Mom must have seen plenty of Dad when he was young.”
“…Pardon?”
The unexpected direction of her words left me momentarily flustered.
“It makes sense. The lab showed me a lot of Dad’s data, but… they never showed me anything from before you became a super soldier.”
Eunha plopped down onto her bed and, with a casual wave of magic, pulled blankets and pillows from a drawer. They were clearly meant for us—three pillows and three blankets that piled up on the floor.
“The lab created me with you as the template. Strong like you. Good adaptability. Capable of maintaining reason.”
Eunha spoke with narrowed eyes, as though lost in recollection.
“So I trained until I was six, always trying to become like you… and I kept studying your data. I wanted to see the parts of Dad that weren’t in those files. In the end, I entered hibernation at seven.”
My daughter finished with another bright smile, but I could sense the deep loneliness woven into her expression. There was no need to confirm it with my micro-current.
“So here’s a question! How old do you think I am?”
I looked at her. If she took after me—a super soldier—then she did not age. We neither grew old nor died of old age. We suffered from no disease. Time itself had no means to kill us.
“I stopped aging after twenty as well, so physically I’d say I won’t exceed that.”
That had been my guess, but Eunha smiled sweetly and shook her head.
“Wrong! My actual age is also twenty.”
It was unexpected. Even Maribella’s eyes widened.
“It’s been about thirteen years since Master pulled me from the hibernation chamber. I’ve lived in the labyrinth for thirteen years as well!”
“…Shouldn’t we count the time spent inside the hibernation chamber toward your age?” Maribella asked, a note of unease in her voice.
As I wondered the same, Eunha beamed.
“I have no idea how long that was. But how old are you, sis?”
“…Why does my age matter?”
“I’m curious! Aren’t you curious too, Dad?”
Seeing my daughter stiffen her shoulders while sneaking glances at me made it difficult to admit it outright, but I was indeed curious. And I have never been good at leaving questions unanswered.
“Since Eunha calls her ‘sister,’ she must be older than you. How old are you?”
“…Father?”
Maribella wore an expression of betrayal. I added quickly to reassure her.
“In any case, Dad is well into three digits. Don’t worry about it.”
After a long internal struggle, Maribella finally spoke.
“…I have lived approximately one hundred and twenty-seven years.”
That was surprising. I had assumed she was barely twenty, yet she was a full century older than expected. I found myself at a loss for an immediate reply.
“This unit is twenty-six years old. Considering the average lifespan of halflings, this unit is still in her prime.”
Fortunately, Vertea’s deadpan declaration and the way she raised both thumbs snapped me out of it. I now understood why she had been reluctant to speak. A daughter only ten years younger than her father—and not a stepdaughter, but a biological one.
I opened my mouth to comfort her.
“It’s all right. Even with a ten-year gap, Dad is still Maribella’s father.”
“…Hmph. Who asked for comfort?”
She hadn’t said it aloud, but the sentiment was clear. Instead of embarrassing her further, I simply smiled quietly. Maribella turned her head away with her arms crossed. It might have looked like an exaggerated show of reluctance, but her mood seemed considerably lighter. That was my role—to maintain balance between my two daughters, to treat them both fairly, and to fulfill my duty as their father. They were my children. That made all the difference.
In that sense, Maribella was not honest, yet she was straightforward. She did not know how to seek affection and did not ask for it. Aside from that, she never lied, never deceived others. A good child, even if her tongue could be a little sharp. Even though I had not raised her myself, her upright nature made it easy to regard her fully as my daughter.
Eunha, by contrast, was the opposite. She knew how to lie. She employed deception with clever precision. She understood how to seek affection and sought it from everyone. Yet her true heart was different. She knew how to act cute, how to be loved. She read people well and possessed excellent sociability. But after even our brief interactions, I understood. This child’s fundamental nature was more cunning, more intelligent, and more sly.
Looking at her room, one might think it ascetic. The two of them were polar opposites.
I would have to carefully balance these two vastly different daughters and embrace them both. That was what it meant to be a father and an adult. It was a headache, to be sure.
I sighed and reached into my coat for a cigarette.
“Ah, Dad!”
“Yes?”
“No smoking in my room!”
“Uh… right. Then where’s the smoking area…?”
“There’s a lake called Mirror Pond over there. The smoking area is on the second floor in front of it!”
“That far?”
Tsk. Couldn’t be helped. I made a sour face and returned the cigarette to my pocket.
“All right. Then Dad will step out for a smoke. Don’t fight while I’m gone. Get along, both of you.”
“…Do you think I’m a child?”
I ignored Maribella’s protest and left the room. What could possibly happen?
“Even if Father told us not to fight, do you really think I don’t see the dark intentions hidden in that heart of yours?”
After Ha Jinwoo left and the sound of his footsteps had faded beyond even her enhanced hearing, those were the first words out of Maribella’s mouth.
Eunha smiled at the accusation.
“Don’t you think I know Father better than you do? I’m sure he already knows everything and has decided it’s fine.”
“You—”
“Wouldn’t a fellow human understand better than a blood-sucking pest?”
Maribella closed her mouth. She crossed her arms and wore a dissatisfied expression, but she wasn’t foolish enough to deny the truth. She belonged to the Blood Clan. Father was essentially human. He did not age. He was stronger than ordinary humans, but still human. He did not need to drink blood. He did not suffer from vampiric urges. He was not an object of terror. While she herself did not burn beneath the sun.
And that wasn’t all. She could not honestly rejoice at being treated like a child. She was a house head with responsibilities.
“You always grumble at Dad, never express any affection, and act so prickly. Somehow, I think Dad likes me more than you.”
Eunha sat on the bed with a smile. Maribella ground her teeth. If she didn’t restrain herself, she felt she might rush forward and kick that detestable face.
“Isn’t that exactly why you keep acting that way toward me?”
It struck true. Maribella frowned and turned her head away.
“How sly.”
Eunha simply smiled sweetly. The sisters regarded each other with clear discomfort. A heavy silence descended, thick with suffocating tension.
Vertea thought to herself, This unit hopes for Master’s swift return. If you can hear this, please come back quickly.
She offered a prayer that would never reach and quietly closed her eyes.
Despite the sisters’ fierce psychological battle and Ha Jinwoo’s apparent indifference, the sun rose the next day.
Ha Jinwoo returned to Tilia’s office. Everything he had ordered was completed overnight.
“Oh.”
The forearm-length blade of his superalloy greatsword now bore intricate geometric patterns. The gambeson wrapped around his body was lightweight armor crafted from black ballistic fiber and superalloy chain, clinging perfectly to his frame. The submachine gun and shotgun at his waist and side had been restored to pristine condition.
With all preparations complete, Ha Jinwoo accepted the smartphone offered to him.
“Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it. I received proper compensation, and it was enjoyable.”
The weight in his hand felt familiar. Ha Jinwoo gazed at the device. It contained every memory he held dear—delicious meals, breathtaking scenery, photographs of his wife, images of Captain Gu Sihyeok, and pictures of everyone who had become precious friends.
Steeped in emotion, he smiled softly and ran his fingers over the machine.
“Shall I give you the charger as well?”
“…No need. I don’t require one.”
Around the age of forty-one, he had spent twenty years practicing precise control of his electrical discharge. He had finally mastered the technique of channeling just enough current to charge a device without destroying it. Since then, he had never once needed to plug anything into a charger. Countless batteries and machines had been ruined during his training, but looking at the result now, it had all been worthwhile.
He began charging the smartphone by sending current through the terminal at its base.
“Oh, it’s turning on.”
Just as Tilia uttered her emotionless exclamation, the smartphone immediately began to glow and boot up upon receiving his current.
First, the photos…
His finger paused as it swept across the screen.
Yongsan District Status: 0/64 Conquered
A blank look crossed his face. Unable to comprehend the situation, he stared at the unfamiliar text floating on the screen. He had no memory of writing anything like this. It had appeared directly on the home screen.
He moved his thumb and tapped the region management icon. As Tilia frowned and leaned closer, he discovered a familiar location under the Conquered Territories tab.
At first, Ha Jinwoo wondered whether Tilia had arbitrarily added some function to his smartphone. The phenomenon was so alien it might as well be called magical; if it wasn’t magic, he had no other way to explain it.
Yet contrary to his expectations, when Tilia approached and peered at the screen, she too wore a stunned expression—exactly as he had moments before.
His black eyes met her dark blue ones. She spoke without thinking.
“What is this?”