Chapter 27
Chapter 27
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Growth-3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
[...You're on the verge of death, aren't you?]
There was no need to agonize over it.
That look in his eyes said it all. It wasn't the gaze one gave to another human. At best, it was like staring at a fly in the outhouse or a summer mosquito.
[Why is he acting like that? Last time, this guy's father stayed quiet.]
[He can't hear us anyway, so speak freely.]
[As expected.]
He'd always dismissed the Sage as a boomer, but Mr. Marken was on a whole other level— the kind who'd lose to the Sage by decision if they matched up.
Even that was the best defeat a human could hope for.
[Somehow feels like he'll keep bitching about 'no mixing of boys and girls after age seven.']
[What do you mean by that?]
No need to explain. They already got each other.
"...What are you just standing there for?"
"...Pardon?"
"Aren't you putting down my granddaughter already?"
Leo obediently tried to set Ariasfil down from his back. Complying verbally might buy him a bit more lifespan.
Crunch...
For some reason, the grip of Ariasfil's hand on his shoulder felt firmer. Pain radiated through his trapezius muscle over his shoulder.
"Hurry."
But life mattered more than his trapezius. Overcoming her iron grip, Leo set Ariasfil down.
"..."
Once off his back, Ariasfil showed a sullen pout, head hung low. Well, with no choice but to walk barefoot or in uncomfortable shoes, her mood wouldn't be great.
"Ariasfil, get on Grandpa's back. That'll be better."
The moment Marken offered his back for a piggyback, Ariasfil's eyes dulled again.
"No. I'm fine."
Her cold, curt refusal cracked the doting grandfather's heart just a bit. Proving it, the old veteran's gaze coldly pierced Leo.
"Your mother is looking for you. You haven't given your gift yet, so hurry."
Come to think of it, he hadn't given the gift and had left the social hall. It was highly improper.
"Can't the so-called exclusive knight manage even this situation?"
The issue was this twisted boomer assuming he was the cause.
[But it is true, right?]
Ignore the other boomer. One was overwhelming enough right now.
The social hall was relatively lively. Ariasfil's intrusion and flight caused chaos, but luckily, it was treated as a fun mishap that boosted the social vibe.
The problem was...
"Oh, long time no see. Father."
Marken Reinhardt's appearance.
The haughty old man's aura was far too icy for gossip or chatter about the earlier scene.
"Sorry for the unannounced visit. Circumstances piled up."
"Ah...! No need! Father!"
Seeing the family head so flustered was rare, in past life or this one.
The culprit making such rarities commonplace? Undoubtedly Grandpa Marken.
"Only brought this as a gift. Sorry. Nothing suitable caught my eye."
Marken offered a plainly wrapped box. Party star Sirica accepted it somewhat warily.
"...This is a tooth...?"
Precisely, a beast's canine fang.
A hole drilled in the blunt end, strung with a chain into a necklace.
"Necklace from the fang of a wolf pack leader caught mid-execution. Fine as an amulet."
"Thank you so much. I'll wear it."
Others eyed the fang necklace in surprise, but recipient Sirica calmly donned it.
Not just wolf fangs—she'd gotten alligator, shark, bear, wyvern, enough to slap a museum in the face.
[Lacking creativity.]
[Then what am I?]
With Marken leading, others started presenting gifts a tad early.
Precious gems, artisan ornaments, precious metals sequentially passed through Sirica's hands to fill the table.
"Mother, here's mine!!"
Eldest son Rios offered his gift box, eyes squinted and lips curled up.
[Any guess what it is? Feels ominous.]
Opening revealed something cushioned with a small handle.
"This is...?"
Zing!
Suddenly, a blade sprang from the handle.
Not just any blade.
Why a bizarre zing instead of click or shank?
Visuals cleared it up.
[...Lightsaber?]
A dagger spewing light beam instead of steel—and red.
Sirica swung the lightsaber a few times in bewilderment. House Reinhardt's Black Rock eyed it keenly, but as a shadow, she didn't covet another's gift rudely.
"...What... is this? Rios...?"
"Yes! Bread knife!"
But ultimately, a bread knife.
"...What...?"
"Haha! Allow me to explain!"
Rios sliced pastry with the light-bread-knife. Sizzle—the crust crisped and parted.
"Now, just cutting bread makes toast."
Onlookers clapped wildly at the revolution. Staying silent amid such wasted genius was impossible.
[...Genius or moron?]
[Moron, mine.]
Tie—compromise: genius moron.
"...Leo..."
Ariasfil tugged Leo's sleeve. Lost in thought, he'd missed their turn.
"Mother, this is..."
Ariasfil positioned Leo beside her and presented the prepared gift—unboxed, tied with fine cloth and ribbon befitting a present.
"This... is beautiful."
A flower gleaming in rainbow hues, each petal softly enchanted like a tiny rainbow.
"...Where'd you find this flower? Never seen its like..."
"Didn't find it. Made it. Leo taught me."
She clutched Leonardo's sleeve. Eyes darted between Leo and the rainbow flower.
"Leonardo."
Sirica smiled warmly at him, holding the iridescent bouquet.
"Yes. Happy birthday, Lady Sirica."
Leonardo knelt on one knee, offering house felicitations. Pleased by the etiquette, she beamed kindly.
"Thank you, Leonardo."
"Not at all. Meager compared to the house's grace."
Compared to the house's gifts, the flower was simple courtesy.
Leo bowed halfway, thanking once more.
"Hehe, now I see why Ariasfil favors you so. Thanks for staying by her side."
Exuding hostess grace, Sirica inhaled the bouquet's scent. Reassured by her reaction, Leo turned back to Ariasfil.
"...Favors, ugh... why say that..."
Her face flushed oddly. But partygoers swarmed Sirica regardless, blush unnoticed.
Gifts done, now to imprint themselves on the house even once more.
Leo and Ariasfil mingled in the crowd too, of course.
"Leonardo, right?"
Amid the throng, Marken approached Leo again. Chilling air cleaved the festive hall, tacitly carving space for just them.
"Yes, Mr. Marken."
"Heard your meeting with Ariasfil was an unofficial duel. True?"
Emphasis on "unofficial" boded no good.
"Yes, correct."
But he couldn't deny a fact even Leo acknowledged.
"Just a brash mercenary's bravado."
"Good you realize."
Marken's eyes were icy. Their focused sharpness evoked thin lake ice.
"So, who won?"
"Draw. Unofficial and unfair duel."
His brow furrowed faintly.
Not a pleasing answer.
Unsmoothed, he pressed on.
"Heard there was a second duel too. How'd that end?"
"...Halted midway. Balrog hit the village—no settling it then."
Despite the tidy reply, his brow stayed knit, wrinkles deepening.
"So you've never once beaten Ariasfil."
The chill froze the air solid. One breath would frost.
"Father, such talk out of nowhere..."
"This needs settling. Don't interfere."
Marken led daily scores now. Heartbreaking to witness this generational upset solo.
"Ultimately, true you've never won?"
"Father! You didn't rush here just to say that!"
Watching from afar, even Chris couldn't stay idle, trying to defuse.
"Necessary even for that."
"But...!"
"Christina Reinhardt, don't make me repeat."
The command stirred whispers amid the chill. Culprit: "Christina."
[Her name's Christina? Not Chris?]
Marken's blunt dentures exposed it all, but privacy deserved some grace like this.
"Then what would you have?"
"Simple. Rematch with Ariasfil."
"Rematch?"
"To verify exclusive knight qualifications. Objections?"
Leonardo glanced at Ariasfil's expression.
"I'm fine, but Lady Ariasfil's view matters."
"Okay!"
Instant. Glance wasted.
"...I want a proper finish too."
Understandable, given thought.
The duel held special meaning for Ariasfil too.
"..."
Leo hesitated briefly. Use magic? Hold back further?
"...I'll..."
As he leaned toward consent, Marken spoke first.
"If too tough, here's a deal: beat Ariasfil, and you can have any weapon from my armory..."
"I'll do it."
Sounded materialistic, but no guilt.
He'd planned to fight anyway.
Again: armory wasn't the draw.
No greed for flame-aura sword or thunder-spewing spear.
Pure motive for the bout.