Bernadette puffed out her cheeks, staring at her father.
"…"
"Alright, alright," Rosselle relented, leaning back in his chair. "Let's just say someone Daddy really couldn't stand finally kicked the bucket last night. Now that's worth throwing a banquet over."
"Kicked the bucket? Was it a woman?"
"Uh…it just means he died."
"Oh."
She understood.
"How did he die?"
"Assassinated."
Rosselle leaned back further, humming as he spoke. "I've come to realise that these nobles are truly foolish. They clearly have better chances than commoners to obtain extraordinary power, yet they're always too timid, too cautious.
"And the result? All their wealth and power are meaningless. A single assassin can wipe out a lifetime's efforts. This kind of tragedy happens every year, yet they never learn."
He smirked. "Hmph. When I ascend to a high Sequence, let's see who dares assassinate me then!"
Bernadette raised her hand eagerly. "Daddy, I want to become a Beyonder with extraordinary powers too!"
"Huh?"
Rosselle froze.
"You…you're still too young. When you're older, Daddy will help you become a Beyonder. How about that?"
Though he often mocked nobles for refusing to advance, he had to admit the truth: taking a potion was risky, and children whose minds weren't yet mature were especially vulnerable to its influence.
"…Oh. Alright."
Bernadette's shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Rosselle softened his tone. "Next time I'll ask Zaratul to check which pathway suits you best. Then I'll prepare all the formulas and materials you'll need, so when the time comes, you can advance all the way to high Sequence under Daddy's protection."
At that, his mind wandered back to that night—when Zaratul had been frightened off by that mysterious figure. He still didn't know what had become of him afterwards, or if he would ever dare to return.
Tsk. To think even Zaratul—a dignified Sequence 2—was scared off like that…the waters of this world really are unfathomably deep.
Knock, knock, knock.
Grimm tapped on the dining room door. "Sir, the men from the Intelligence and Homeland Security Committee's Special Services Bureau indeed went to Klein Sparrow's residence. But…they didn't take him away."
"Heh. Seems my influence is getting more effective by the day."
Rosselle stroked his moustache, a trace of smugness on his face.
When he first learned that one of Count Clair's assassins was Klein Sparrow's housekeeper, he had been dumbfounded. Just that morning, Klein had been dragged off because of Clair's fury over his grandson—and by nightfall, Clair himself was dead?
Though secretly delighted, Roselle had forced himself to stay clear-headed. Perhaps this was all part of Klein Sparrow's plan.
So he first contacted the Church, confirming that Klein had already been provisionally cleared of suspicion. Only then did he send Grimm to put in a word with the Intelligence and Homeland Security Committee: if Sparrow truly was guilty, deal with him as the law demanded—but if no evidence existed, then please, for Roselle's sake, spare him torture or forced confessions.
"With that, I've now saved you twice in a row," Roselle thought smugly. "That should more than repay Bernadette's life debt."
"Daddy."
The moment Bernadette overheard Mr. Sparrow's name, she perked her ears up. But having caught nothing useful, she couldn't help asking aloud, "What about Mr. Sparrow?"
"Oh? My little darling seems awfully concerned about him."
"Of course I am! He risked his life to save me. That's the kind of kindness one should remember for a lifetime. Isn't that what you taught me?"
"…Cough." Roselle covered his mouth, suddenly awkward. "That was…a figure of speech. You don't have to literally remember it forever. Besides, in the past two days, Daddy also saved him—twice."
"What? You saved Mr. Sparrow? Wasn't that dangerous? You didn't get hurt, did you?"
"Eh, not dangerous at all. For me, just a small inconvenience."
"A…small inconvenience?"
Her sea-blue eyes blinked with doubt.
Roselle thought a moment, then explained patiently: "You see, darling, the same matter can carry very different meanings for different people.
"What might be a mere inconvenience to me could be a life-or-death matter to someone else. It all depends on your position and the power you possess. Do you understand?"
Bernadette rested her chin on her hands, pondering.
"Oh…I think I get it."
Mr. Sparrow is very strong. Taking me out to play or telling me stories may seem simple, but when he does them, they aren't simple at all. So I can't just cancel out what he did with something equally trivial…
Daddy said people shouldn't only take—they should also know gratitude!
But I'm only six years old. I can't do anything…
Hmm!
She clenched her tiny fists, determination flashing in her eyes.
I've decided. Since Mr. Sparrow is interested in Daddy's invented scripts, I'll sneak…borrow Daddy's notebook and let him read it!
———
Backlund Central Train Station.
As the steam train from Pritz Harbour slowly ground to a halt, a young man in his twenties with golden hair leapt down from the carriage. His black trench coat fluttered slightly as he spread his arms wide, stretching lazily.
"Backlund. At last, I've returned. Hah, the air still smells the same."
Two voices called out in quick succession:
"Alfred! Alfred!"
He turned his head and saw his elder brother Hibbert and younger sister Audrey waiting for him on the platform. Compared to their last meeting, Hibbert's demeanour had grown more serious, increasingly resembling a true statesman. Audrey, meanwhile, had matured into even greater beauty and grace—deservedly known as Backlund's most dazzling gem.
Yet this gem of his family had apparently been stolen by someone else. Alfred narrowed his eyes. I'd like to see which man has the audacity.
He strode forward, embracing Hibbert firmly, noting how his brother's physique seemed stronger than before. Then he ruffled Audrey's hair, smiling.
"It's been too long."
"It really has," Hibbert replied with a smile.
Ever since Alfred's transfer to the Southern Continent years ago, the siblings hadn't all been reunited. There had been a moment of awkwardness at first, but now the warmth of familiarity returned instantly.
Alfred suddenly began circling Audrey, inspecting her back, then lifting her arm as though searching for something.
Puzzled, Audrey asked, "What are you looking for, Alfred?"
"That rascal who chased after you, of course! My return from the Southern Continent is a huge event, yet he didn't even come greet me? Doesn't he take me seriously at all, hmm?"
He folded his arms and huffed. "Your taste in men is lacking, Audrey."
The mention of Edward caused Audrey's face to dim. Nearly three weeks had passed without any news of him. No matter how much faith she had in Edward, or in Mr. Fool, sometimes dreadful thoughts still crept into her heart.
Seeing this, Hibbert quickly interjected, "Edward…got entangled in some troublesome matters. He won't be able to come back anytime soon. Audrey has been worried enough already, so don't pour salt in the wound."
"What kind of trouble?" Alfred's teasing vanished, replaced by seriousness. "Do you need my help? Over the years, I've made plenty of contacts across the Southern Continent and at sea."
Audrey forced a small smile. "No need. It's just a minor issue. I believe…he'll resolve it soon."
"That boy's name is Edward, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"What's his family background?"
Audrey shook her head.
"Nothing special. He's…just an ordinary person."
Alfred burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! The most dazzling gem of Backlund falling for a so-called 'ordinary person'? Impossible. Besides, with Father and us two brothers here, even if he truly were ordinary, we could easily make him extraordinary."
Hibbert coughed, his tone slightly awkward. "Edward is anything but ordinary. He…Well, you'll understand when you meet him yourself."
Though he had only recently become a Beyonder, Hibbert had done his homework. Extraordinary abilities were countless and diverse, but someone who could literally pull their father back from the brink of death—that, Hibbert had never heard of until Edward.
Alfred crossed his arms with interest. "Oh? Now I want to meet him even more. From the way you two describe him, I can't picture him at all."
Audrey hesitated, then said, "Actually, you might have heard of one of his former identities."
"Oh? Another identity? Tell me."
Lowering her voice, Audrey whispered, "When he went to sea, he used the name Gehrman Sparrow."
Alfred's smile froze on his face.
"…Who did you just say?"
"Gehrman Sparrow. The 'moody' Gehrman Sparrow."
"…"
A rush of memories flashed through Alfred's mind. His expression darkened, and the first words out of his mouth were a curse.
"*****!"
Hibbert and Audrey both stared, bewildered.
"???"
Alfred jabbed a finger in the air, face contorting.
"This marriage...I do not approve!!!"
"??????"
———
Past, Year 1160.
Two days later, Intis' Intelligence and Homeland Security Committee's Bureau 7 lifted its investigation and blockade on Rose Street No. 7. Both the overt and covert surveillance teams withdrew, and the suffocating tension that had hung over the villa eased at last.
Dubois was the first to rush out. He headed straight for Emerald Street No. 28. He remembered Mr. Sparrow saying the villa on Rose Street was unsafe, and considering all that had happened recently, it truly felt cursed!
They had to move out immediately.
Fortunately, Akasha's situation hadn't affected that property. Madam Marcia had already taken away her personal belongings, so Edward's side could relocate at any time.
"Let's move tomorrow," Edward decided flatly. "We don't have much to carry. One carriage trip will do."
"I'll arrange it right away."
Dubois hesitated, then asked in a low voice, "Mr. Sparrow…about Miss Akasha…"
"She's doing just fine."
"That's good."
He said no more and departed.
Edward had barely settled down on the sofa when a low hum of prayer suddenly echoed in his ears:
"The Eternal Sovereign Above Dimensions;
The Deconstructor of Endless Stories;
The Transcender of Past and Future."
Though faint, the voice was clearly that of a little girl. Without doubt—it was Bernadette.
Edward reversed four steps and ascended into the Palace of Above the Grey Fog. His spirituality spread toward her star, and soon the little girl's figure appeared within the depths of mist.
"Mr. Sparrow!" Bernadette piped up, her eyes bright. "I've got something really good to give you. Do you want it?"
She waved a little black-covered notebook in her hands, swaying side to side like she was offering a treasure.
"What is it?"
The surge of grey mist and the looming figure seated upon the bronze chair startled her at first, but then she answered crisply, "Daddy's notebook!"
———
[Note]: Don't forget to VOTE. It keeps me motivated.