Birthday Gift -1-

The Imperial Knight Commander, Rowen Histania. In the novel, he appeared as Mikhail's mentor—a character brimming with affection for Mikhail, far beyond what you'd expect from a father who couldn't even remember his own daughter's birthday. He doted on the heroine like his own child, treating her with gentle care. Quiet and not one for many words, but a steadfast pillar of support for her—that's how I remembered him.

The novel explained his fondness for her as her resemblance to his late youngest daughter. I quite liked him too. The tragic backstory of the strongest knight losing his beloved daughter made his affection for the heroine all the more understandable and poignant.

Hanna wasn't mentioned in the story at all. He only vaguely alluded to her in scenes where he lamented to the heroine, "It was my fault...," seeking her comfort. I'd thought he was a kind father, but in hindsight, he was just a man belatedly drowning in regret.

Like an alcoholic. He acts like a dog when drunk, then wakes up to the trashed room and begs forgiveness, claiming it was all his fault. Regret is something anyone can feel, but since he directly contributed to Hanna's death, I couldn't look kindly on it.

Honestly, it's pointless griping. Whatever judgment I pass on him changes nothing. I can't march in and kick the Knight Commander's ass, nor can I warn him, "Treat her like that, and your youngest daughter dies."

But something still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gnawed at me. A father ignoring his daughter's birthday. His daughter braving a storm to reach the villainess's home. Her bawling her eyes out over a single plate of tteokbokki. Those images overlapping made it impossible to see Rowen in a good light.

How could I stick it to that guy? What would be the biggest gift for Hanna—something she'd love most? As I pondered, one idea struck me.

"From now on, until the semester starts, Miss Hanna will train here at our estate."

"Pardon?"

"You have to beat Mikhail."

Growth that would shock the Knight Commander. And brazenly rejecting her father with a "I don't need your help," committing utter filial impiety like a total delinquent—that had to be the ultimate way to twist the knife in his heart.

Hanna had been the dutiful daughter so far, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so a brief rebellion should slide. If she got kicked out, I could hire her as a maid here. Pay would be saltier than seawater, of course.

Extreme, sure, but I was convinced nothing topped it as a gift.

A week flew by. Spending it at the estate, she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bickered endlessly with the young miss but grew close enough to call each other friends.

"Beggar!"

"Who're you calling a beggar!"

"If you're not a beggar, what are you? Not even going home!"

"I-I have a h-h-home!"

"Then go home!"

"...Hing."

The young miss resisted fiercely, but it was still meaningful time. What would've been a solitary week honing her swordsmanship alone became a period of mental and technical growth with us.

"A birthday gift?"

"I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I brought something that came to mind."

"This priceless thing... to me? You can't even buy it with money. Not even on the black market."

"Think of it as an investment."

"No. It's too much for me. I have some pride. How am I supposed to repay this favor? I absolutely can't accept it."

"Take it."

It was a potion I'd mass-produced countless times using original story knowledge. I'd given it to the young miss and taken it myself—a sort of tonic. Easy to make, but I hadn't sold it on the black market for fear of my life. This was a chance to run human trials and knock out a birthday gift cheaply. Win-win.

Of course, Hanna had grabbed my hand and sobbed buckets back then.

"Why are you so good to me? I've been nothing but harsh to you, even cursing you in my head as worthless."

"You cursed me in your head?"

"...No."

"That's fair. I'm notoriously unlucky."

"Butler, you really know how to ruin the moment."

"One of my talents."

Unlike the pitiful smile she'd shown at the estate, this one mixed joy—it was a nice sight. Hanna had grown stronger. The potion helped, but her efforts and time here had paved the way.

A week later, today, Hanna and I prepared for the finale.

'Quest.'

The quest was nearly complete. I'd boosted her self-esteem with praise and built favorability over the week. 51 wasn't chump change—it meant she'd silently spot a fresh grad 3 million won from her wallet. 60 was bestie level, maybe good for 10 million. I'd only hit that with a few, so not sure. 70+? Uncharted territory.

But 51 with Hanna was impressively high. Seeing that, I bowed to the young miss, who pouted at me.

"We'll be off."

"See you."

Hanna and I bowed politely. The young miss nodded regally from her bed-throne, chin high.

"Don't come back. Play with me."

Her seductive lure to join her in unemployment nearly had me unbuckling my sword and embracing the NEET life, but the weight of family responsibility held me back. Was this the power of a pro slacker? That voice was dangerously tempting.

Watching, Hanna sighed deeply.

"Butler, stop indulging her pranks. That's why she babies you."

"It's fine for me."

Olivia crossed her arms smugly. At the true villainess's provocative smile, Hanna clenched her fist.

"Why's it fine? Is the butler yours?"

"Yup. Ricardo's mine."

"Huh?"

Hanna glanced at me. I nodded faintly in response.

"Truth is, 13 years ago, I signed a slave contract that trampled my human rights. Haven't been paid in 12 months, though."

Bullshit. Never seen a slave contract, let alone a salary agreement. Ours was a verbal pact built on trust. But it stung the young miss's thick pride.

"Eek...!"

Sure enough, her weird squeal followed.

"Pfft."

Hanna smirked victoriously, mocking her.

"Employer who can't even pay~"

"Homeless beggar!"

They clashed oddly but synced in weird ways. You'd never peg them for friends, yet suddenly they'd be thick as thieves. Same favorite person, maybe? I hoped they'd bond more. Academy ties and all...

Truth was, I had a small favor to ask Hanna. If the heroine graduated and Hanna took student council president, could she pull strings for our reenrollment? That's why I was extra nice. Felt bad asking, but after she beat the Elite Orc Swordsman and Mikhail, I'd broach it gently. Rejection? No biggie—find another way.

They were still at it, trading barbs without crossing lines—a neat trick. Olivia especially.

"You don't know how amazing the butler is!"

"I do! He makes tteokbokki! And chicken!"

"Besides that!"

"What else is amazing?!"

"Arrrgh...!"

Hanna shot me a glance.

"He's kind, strong, just... amazing!"

"I know!"

The young miss, who'd normally curse a blue streak, had cleaned up her act fast. Impressive—she'd have yanked Hanna's hair otherwise. Hanna had mellowed too.

The estate felt brighter lately. Late rains ended; just the final hurdle left. Enjoying their chatter, I bid farewell.

"We'll be off."

In the vast Histania estate, a middle-aged man sat in the dining hall lined with decorative swords on the walls. He smiled leisurely.

"How much longer until the eldest reaches aura?"

"About three months, and he'll handle Beginner Aura."

"Hmm..."

The satisfied middle-aged man was the Empire's Sword, proud head of House Histania—Rowen Histania.

Bright brown hair framed Rowen. Even at dinner, his sword at his hip screamed his obsession.

Rowen eyed his children one by one with jet-black eyes. Well-raised offspring. Gorgeous like him and his wife, talented late-bloomers among peers—nothing to be ashamed of calling his own.

Far from successors yet, but not hopelessly outpaced. His son would surely follow as Imperial Knight Commander, Empire's Sword. His daughter would lead the house knights, elevating the name.

One thorn: his absent youngest. Least talented of three. She'd begged to quit the sword for her lack of gift—the family's sole stain. Rowen constantly griped about her blade.

A week ago's final sight haunted him.

"Father, it's my birthday today. If it's not too much, could we spar?"

"I'm busy."

"Just a moment."

"Didn't I say I'm busy?"

Rowen wished she'd quit. Not warm paternal love fearing sword dangers, but pushing her to face reality as the untalented youngest.

Rebuked her before friends. Scorned her among family. Others might call it cruel, but Rowen knew he was right. His siblings had endured the same from their father, faced reality, found paths to success. Father's harsh lessons forged him; same for Hanna.

Wounds toughen people, right?

Yet her last look lingered oddly.

"Why! Why only me? Am I inheriting the house? Did I beg for family sword arts? It's not a big ask... Please, just once—like with sis or bro—do it for me too?"

Her fury echoed.

'Should check on her.'

Runaway per servants; send people? A week's the longest yet.

'Scold her sternly when she returns.'

Then.

"Father. Here for Hanna's birthday?"

His eldest son broke the silence cautiously. Arrogant genius, worrisome pride—but bolder than timid youngest.

Rowen shook his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head.

"No."

"Then why?"

"Reports of missing persons in Hamel Mountains. Palace ordered investigation."

"Hamel Mountains?"

A crack in the eldest's stoic face. Rowen disliked it. Knights hide emotions. Scared of missings? Poor basics.

'Still green.'

Rowen tsked inwardly, continuing.

"A-rank adventurers vanishing one after another. Emperor said investigate on 'vacation,' so here I am."

"I see."

"Yeah, corpses near orc horde especially gruesome... What?"

Eldest winced at "corpses"; Rowen set down his fork. Brow furrowed. Second slip. Basics lacking—irritating.

But his son's words stunned Rowen.

"Actually, reports say the youngest's been adventuring lately... mainly in Hamel Mountains..."

Rowen's blood ran cold.

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