Three Years in Seclusion
Five hundred years ago.
The founder, Ruin Alastor, brought an end to the era of endless war.
Six imperial royals who had sparked the chaos were judged by his sword, and the sole surviving fifth prince ascended to the throne as emperor. Thus, the continent emerged from forty years of darkness into a new age.
Blah blah blah.
Kyle, who had lived through those forty years of war—now called the Dark Age in the current era and just three years old—sat on Arian's lap, listening to her recount history with a bored expression.
Of course, it hadn't been boring from the start. The Dark Age was five hundred years ago.
In other words, five hundred years had passed since the death of the Sword Ghost. Even Kyle, who had lived madly for swords and battles in his past life, was human at heart. Naturally, he was curious about what had become of the world after his death.
So Arian's lessons, which began when he was three, had at first made his eyes sparkle with excitement.
To roughly summarize the vast events of those five hundred years:
The chaos of the Dark Age was more or less patched up, enduring upheavals until it settled into a peaceful mess.
The demonkin, once treated as humanity's enemies in the Sword Ghost's era, were now part of the world. The other races who had rebelled for sovereignty were also living decently enough.
Ruin Alastor was revered as humanity's hero who ended the Dark Age, the Empire's Sword. The house he founded received the northern territories as their domain, dutifully guarding against the demonkin across the northern sea per imperial decree.
The Sword Ghost.
In such a world, Kyle had been born as a descendant of Ruin Alastor.
"Our Alastor family is the continent's greatest martial house and the empire's most renowned lineage."
Arian whispered softly as she turned the pages of the open book for Kyle to see.
"Uh-huh..."
Kyle glared at the book before him. The large letters meant for babies to read.
The red-haired founder raising his sword high, the brilliant light from the blade driving back the darkness.
He'd seen this book more than ten times already...
The Sword Ghost's heart screamed that there was no need to read such a thing anymore, but three-year-old Kyle couldn't bring himself to say it.
He could feel how much Arian cherished, treasured, and enjoyed this time.
So Kyle couldn't bear to take away her happiness.
What sin had Arian committed, after all?
It wasn't because she'd done something horribly wrong that the hairy-legged Sword Ghost from five hundred years ago ended up in the body of her beloved son, whom she'd endured ten months of pregnancy to birth. It was just some damned twist of fate.
That's why Kyle didn't want to rob her of this maternal joy.
His heart felt all soft and warm inside, which felt pretty nice too.
'Besides, even if I wanted to hold a sword, this body couldn't handle it.'
Kyle was currently three years old. He yearned for a sword, but he was too young even to swing one properly.
Having retained his consciousness since infancy, he knew well the inconveniences of a child's body. At least at this age, willpower alone couldn't overcome the flesh's limits...
"There, all done! How was it, Kyle?"
"It was fun..."
What fun was there in a book he'd heard recited countless times? Still, not wanting to spoil Arian's fun, Kyle told a white lie.
"Really?"
Arian giggled merrily, spinning Kyle around before pulling him into a tight hug. Used to it from three years of this, Kyle let himself be held without resistance.
"How can you be so smart and cute? You're the smartest and cutest three-year-old in the world."
Of course he was. Kyle thought amid the warm embrace, his mind growing drowsy—but he had to acknowledge what was true.
"Really, he should have seen you too..."
Her whisper as she patted his back and stroked his hair snapped his fading consciousness awake.
"Mommy."
Kyle looked up at Arian.
...He'd first called her "Mother," but each time it made her look so downcast, tugging at his heart.
So Kyle had sacrificed a bit of his dignity to call her "Mommy."
"Di... did Daddy die?"
He knew how much Arian treasured this mother-son time.
He felt a twinge of guilt for asking such a disruptive question in the middle, but she'd opened the door first, so Kyle boldly pressed on.
Three years since his birth, and he'd never once seen his father.
He hadn't asked Arian about "Father" either.
It was his way of being considerate.
Arian had never once mentioned her husband. Since she didn't bring it up, neither did he.
In his past life, he'd been born to a mercenary father and a whore mother—no true love there.
But this life was different. His mother, Arian, was of the Alastor family.
'He's probably dead.'
That's what he'd assumed inwardly, but he hadn't heard it directly from her. The mansion's servants never spoke of his father in front of him either.
Better to take the hit head-on. Easier on the mind to hear it now than later, when he was older and the mood turned serious.
"Kyle! You're asking about Daddy for the first time?"
Arian blinked in surprise. Her cheerful reaction told Kyle his assumption about his father was way off.
"Your daddy didn't die. He's alive and well, far away. That rotten bastard."
Kyle blinked at the curse slipping from Arian's lips. Noticing, she tapped her mouth with an "oh no."
"Ahem, forget what Mommy just said, okay?"
"Uh-huh..."
"Anyway, Kyle, your daddy's doing fine. Too fine, that's the problem."
Arian furrowed her brows, caressing his chubby cheek.
"Curious what kind of man he is?"
"Uh-huh..."
"Your daddy—how should I put it? He's amazing. Already plenty amazing, but he wants to be even more so, so he went into secluded training... um, you know, holed up in a room. He doesn't even know I had you."
Son of a bitch.
Kyle held back the curse he couldn't voice aloud. It was less the Sword Ghost Raikal speaking and more Kyle, Arian's son.
'Abandoning such a beautiful, loving woman for secluded training? What a fucking asshole.'
And he hadn't even known his wife was pregnant.
"Mommy didn't want to bother him. With his personality, stopping him would've been pointless anyway. Hmm, hope he chokes on it... no, no. Or gets a good spanking? Yeah, something like that."
"Good... job."
"Huh? What? Did... did good?"
"Uh-huh, good job. Daddy bad."
Damn it, three years in and his tongue still wouldn't obey. Kyle chewed his lip, frowning.
"Daddy made Mommy sad. So he deserves to choke."
It wasn't just his tongue. His thoughts wouldn't translate properly into words either... This immature body was a huge reason Kyle didn't insist on swinging a sword yet.
"Cho... choke, ahaha! Yeah, he does. But Kyle, you can't use bad words like that!"
Arian giggled, tapping his lips.
"If you use naughty words, Mommy'll spank you, got it?"
"Ughhh..."
A harsh demand for someone born in a mercenary band, raised amid roughnecks and foul sights to become the Sword Ghost. Kyle swallowed a sigh and nodded.
"Anyway, your father's alive and kicking. He's stuck in that room right now, so he can't come see you yet, but someday you will meet. Do you miss Daddy, Kyle?"
"No..."
"No? Really? Why?"
"Mommy enough..."
"Aaaah! Really?!"
Arian made a huge fuss, hugging him tight again.
"Right, Mommy's here! I only need you, Kyle. No need for that damn bastard... I mean, that bad man!"
"Mom...my..."
Seizing the moment, Kyle decided to ask all the things he'd tactfully avoided until now.
"Why Mommy live here alone?"
He phrased it to suit a three-year-old's mind.
The place where Kyle and Arian stayed was called the Rose Mansion. Everyone he'd met so far were the mansion's maids.
All women, and he'd only ever gone as far as the garden—never truly outside the mansion.
Being so young, he hadn't thrown a fit to go out. The mansion was plenty big for this little body.
Still, it was all kinds of strange.
As far as Kyle knew, Arian was direct lineage of the Alastor family.
According to the family tree she'd told him several times, she was the second daughter among the family head's six sons and three daughters.
He didn't know the exact hierarchy, but a direct child had borne a son, and yet three years later, no relatives had shown their faces.
'Is she under house arrest?'
Kyle hadn't been born to nobility in his past life, but he knew prestigious houses weren't as shiny as they seemed.
The war era had started with imperial succession struggles, after all.
'Arian's isolated from the family. That's why no relatives came to bless her childbirth.'
His thoughts reached that point, and the three-year-old body stirred with emotion on its own. Kyle felt a pure urge to cry for Arian—for Mommy.
"Ah... well, you see..."
Arian looked up at the ceiling with a troubled expression. Of course she was troubled—having to explain the family's messy intrigues to a three-year-old...
"Mommy's, um, hiding?"
Just as he'd thought. Kyle desperately held back tears, pressing his lips tight. Poor woman. In that moment, he resolved: once this body grew strong enough to wield a sword, he'd flip the family upside down if needed to restore Arian's dignity.
"If they find out I... came back on my own... they'll all make a huge fuss. Tease me endlessly too. Even Fathe... the family head might get mad. So, um, I'm hiding."
"Huh?"
Wait a minute.
The reason was different from what he'd imagined? The sorrow that had overwhelmed him moments ago receded far away. Kyle's eyes widened as he grabbed Arian's collar.
"Hiding like that?"
"Yeah, exactly. I... kinda missed the right time to say something..."
Was she serious? The reason no relatives had visited in three years was simply because Arian had snuck back and given birth in secret?
Kyle gaped at her in disbelief. This ridiculous situation made his damn kid body tear up for no reason again.
"Ky-Kyle?! Why are you crying?!"
"Uh... waaah..."
I don't even know why I'm crying. Feeling his dignity erode once more, Kyle bawled. Arian paled, scooping him up and jumping to her feet.
"M-Mommy's sorry! Mommy only thought of herself. You must want to see your relatives too!"
That wasn't the reason. Swept up in the child's emotions, the body wouldn't obey Kyle's will.
"Le... let's go."
Arian hugged her suddenly sobbing son and resolved to face what she'd been avoiding all this time.
"I'll show you your relatives. Let's go see them!"
And so, the Sword Ghost left the Rose Mansion for the first time in three years—to meet his relatives.
The descendants of Ruin Alastor, who had killed him five hundred years ago.
"Aaaah..."
Kyle twisted desperately in Arian's arms. Ruin Alastor's descendants? Of course he wanted to meet them. According to Arian's stories, the Alastors were the continent's top martial house, so their descendants must be renowned warriors of the era.
"N-not... yet..."
He'd sacrificed much dignity reincarnating as a baby.
But that didn't mean he had no pride left. Fine in front of his mother Arian, but before Ruin Alastor's descendants...
He didn't want to stand there lisping, eyes drooping at the slightest movement, limbs flailing uncontrollably—in a three-year-old's body.
"Not yet? What do you mean, not yet?"
"J-just... a little later..."
Clinging to Arian, who seemed ready to carry him off to the relatives right then, Kyle pleaded desperately.
"At five... wanna go then..."
At five, he'd speak more properly than now.
No, he had to.