Birthday Gift -4-

When I came to my senses, the Histania family knights had the insect in human skin pinned down.

"Let me go────! I'm gonna kill that bastard! What the hell does my face look like? A mantis? Don't mock art!"

"Oh... the bug can even curse."

"Uwaaaaaah!!"

The villain who'd slain hundreds in the novel departed so pathetically. Not a good person by any means, but this adventurer hunter went out doing one good deed. Was it payback for making him realize his "white lie" of good intentions? He left behind the 300,000 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gold bounty on his own head as a gift.

That was the moment I learned why a swordsman wielding the Threefold Stream style had turned to bounty hunting.

Unlike me, who waved goodbye to the adventurer hunter with a beaming smile, Hanna's expression was frozen stiff.

"..."

There was no time to savor the thrill of felling an elite orc alone—the protagonists who'd driven her here stood right before her eyes.

Hanna stared at the ground, her face tense.

"Hanna Histania."

A middle-aged voice rumbled into my ears. Lion-like, heavy and resonant. I'd thought it impossible to judge ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strength by voice alone.

But the man before me made it real.

Rowen Histania. The empire's sword, and at this point in the novel, the strongest person alive.

I looked him straight in the eye. Unwavering gaze. Light brown hair and the empire's national treasure sword at his waist. Just as described in the novel.

"Your father's calling you. No answer?"

A woman's irritated voice cut in. Standing beside Rowen with arms crossed, she eyed Hanna and me alternately with sharp, cat-like eyes framed by heavy makeup. Not with good feelings, that's for sure. And she didn't look good to me either—one of the reasons Hanna died in the original story.

"Hey. Answer him."

Hanna couldn't respond to the woman's demand. Or rather, she wouldn't—her shoulders flinched at the sharp bark, and she inched toward me.

The woman stood with arms crossed, waiting. She looked ready to stare us down till sunset, so I kindly answered for Hanna.

"Yes."

"Not you."

"Didn't you call me? I figured you'd need my account number."

"Are you joking?"

"No. I'm dead serious."

"Is he insane?"

"Perfectly sane."

Our sharp exchange flew back and forth. Rude woman versus money-minded man. Tough to call a winner, but I—trained for 13 years by a villainess—started gaining the edge.

"Who the hell are you to pick a fight?"

"Then who the hell are you?"

"Hey... Hanna Histania. No friends, so you hang with trash like this? Birds of a feather, huh."

"Ah~ You're the sister. Thought you weren't noble with how flighty you are. Sorry."

"This fucking dog."

"Woof."

As the mood heated up, Hanna hurriedly spoke.

"Both of you, stop it."

A shame. A bit more, and I could've squeezed out some juice.

I glared at Hanna's sister, biding my time for next round.

The father-daughter talk began with Hanna's reply.

"What brings you here?"

"...Business."

"Then handle your business and go. I'll do mine and leave too."

Hanna spoke coldly to her father. Normally, she wouldn't dare—twisting in anticipation of praise for soloing an elite orc. But today, Dad wasn't welcome. He was a nuisance.

Rowen faltered at this unfamiliar defiance but didn't take it seriously. He knew his daughter well. The obedient youngest who feared her father and followed orders. Just venting about her last birthday. One word from him, and she'd fold.

Rowen thought: Time to break her sword for good. No more indulging her wandering since that hallucination. Her opinions don't factor into my plans.

"I find nothing more pathetic than a talentless fool wielding a blade."

His concern-laden words stabbed Hanna's heart. Blunt, born from his belief his way was best—no way it'd land well.

"You have no talent."

"..."

"Wielding a sword is pointless. I know why you climbed this mountain, why you picked up the blade. But deep down, you know you can't reach their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠level. You're not Mikhail, the academy star, or your brother or sister."

"..."

"My child or not, you're inadequate."

Hanna's mouth stayed shut. Disappointment? Or late-blooming rebellion ignoring Dad? Personally, I'd prefer the latter, but her clenched fists and bowed head screamed the former.

Rowen seized her sword.

"Want my approval? Quit the sword. No matter how you swing it, you won't measure up in my eyes."

Was it okay to say that to your daughter? My favorability for the knight commander plummeted. Not that his for me was any higher.

Hating each other seemed to click. Good thing—we didn't overlap.

Rowen's selfish mouth wouldn't stop.

"I've ignored and favored others over you for good reason. I thought your smart head would get it."

"But the sword...!"

"Quiet."

Clang.

Hanna's sword hit the dirt—the one her father gifted her. Her eyes reddened.

Talent. What the fuck is talent anyway? The butler said I had it—why won't you? Hanna wanted to scream. She knew she lacked it; Dad said so, siblings drilled it in. But what had they done for her? No guidance, no warmth.

Who gave them the right? Her clenched fists were her only rebellion.

"When we get home, first step: drop out of the academy."

"Father!"

"I'll ban you from training grounds forever—no more sword thoughts. Every blade in your name? Smashed."

Rowen steeled himself. No more leeway.

"If you still won't quit, I'll arrange a political marriage."

"I absolutely won't."

"Master aura, and I'll acknowledge you. But you can't."

"Ridiculous..."

"That's how I feel. You're doing the impossible, and it disgusts me."

"Did I ever ask much of you? Every damn time! You just say no—did I beg for the world?"

Tears streamed down Hanna's face now. Why was she such a crybaby? More tears than smiles.

"I won't ask you to teach me anymore."

"..."

"Won't overstep with the family name on my blade. Fine... just disown me! You never saw me as a daughter anyway."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Thud.

Hanna dropped to her knees, clasping hands in desperate plea to her father.

"Please... please... just leave me alone. Let me keep doing what I do."

If it were me, I'd call it dirty, low, and run away. But as an orphan, this family didn't spark envy. Even my lady and I seemed warmer.

I wanted to butt in. Family issues for family. But I was too pissed to stay quiet.

"Sorry to interrupt, but what makes you think Hanna lacks talent?"

I swept a piercing glare over them all. Speak your gripes now—or brace yourself. Polite words, deadly intent.

"Blind, are we? If you had eyes, you couldn't say that. Right, Hanna?"

"Y-Yes...?"

"Right?"

Kneeling Hanna looked up at me. Dirtied knees fueled my rage. I tried pulling her up, but her legs buckled.

She eyed me like she shouldn't, but my anger was long past soothing. Image already in the gutter—more mud wouldn't hurt. No loss.

"Histania head—ever felled an elite orc at her age?"

"...Who are you?"

"Hanna's friend."

"Name your house and title."

"Pass."

I cut off Rowen. Know me, and you'd just dismiss more. No interest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chatting with a lunatic judging kids by talent.

"No answer? Guess you've never. Of course. At her age, challenging an elite orc means..."

I eyed Rowen steadily.

"You're dead set on dying."

Stuffing malice from your near-death down his throat.

"Takes a suicidal maniac who knows they'll die to pull this off."

Rowen glared. His kids too. His knights too.

So what? You're the assholes. No hospitality for my lady's bully crew. Be grateful I held my curses.

I lifted Hanna up. No one else would.

I had to. For all her wasted effort.

"Hanna made it happen. Impressive, no? Why no applause? I think it's amazing."

Irritation laced my words.

"Ever tried this yourselves?"

To Hanna: "She has talent in learning. Some fleeing 'teacher' without teaching gift held her back."

Huddled Hanna gazed up, like beholding a prince on white steed. Someone fighting in her corner, as longed for.

I smiled faintly at Hanna.

"Told you—you've got talent."

In that instant, golden aura bloomed from Hanna's hand, and she threw herself into my arms.

"Happy birthday."

The belated gift finally reached her.