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Chapter 5
“Huff… huff….”
“Ledeia, even if it’s hard, just eat a little.”
I reflexively rubbed my cheek against the cool hand pressed against my face.
It felt like my fever was blazing. My father frowned again.
“F-Father… I’m fine…”
I forced a smile.
A healer like me doesn’t easily die. And I can’t use my ability at will.
It only triggers automatically if my body becomes critically weak.
No wonder my lifespan in my previous life dropped so fast even though I hardly used my power.
So if left alone, I’d recover. At least until my life force runs out.
“You’re not fine.”
In a low voice, he helped me sit up halfway.
Something spooned into my mouth touched my lips. I opened my mouth, and a bitter taste hit me hard.
“Ugh…”
Gross.
“It’s alright. Eat slowly, little by little.”
It’s so bitter!
It feels like I’m going to die from this!
I clenched my eyes tight to hold back tears and swallowed. One bite passed, then another was offered.
“Ugh…”
“That’s it. Good girl. Let’s try a little more.”
“Bitter…”
“I’ll make it sweet next time.”
My father patted my back, comforting me as I whimpered.
But seriously, it’s bitter.
The bitterest thing I’ve ever tasted. I opened my mouth again with blurry vision.
Swallowing, my father patted my back with a proud expression.
“You’re so good, little one.”
“…Huu…”
“That’s right. Just a little more. You’ll be fine soon. And next time, don’t play outside too long, alright?”
He hugged me gently and rubbed my back.
Was he always this kind?
I couldn’t remember clearly, since memories of being sick were always faint.
Crackle, crackle—the fire in the hearth roared back to life.
My father tucked me back under the blanket and added a few more logs.
I liked the gentle patting on my chest.
Smiling, I closed my eyes slowly. Sleep came over me in an instant.
Once the child had fallen asleep, Klein Tigreto slowly rose from his seat.
I definitely kept some seeds in the old room…
He hadn’t wanted to enter the main building much, but he was out of seeds he could use immediately.
“Can’t be helped.”
Tsk. He clicked his tongue, added a few more logs to the fire, pulled the blanket tighter, then left the annex.
He had been startled when his daughter, cheeks flushed from playing outside yesterday, began to fall ill that night.
Klein had learned medicine for the sake of his child and had read nearly every medical text.
It was fortunate that he could personally care for her rather than leaving her to strangers.
He also made the medicine himself.
Should I add a little honey to sweeten it?
Would honey be alright for a child?
She’s not a baby, so it should be fine…
He slowly brushed his black hair back.
Beneath the jet-black hair, her pink eyes—exactly like his—glimmered coldly.
It had been a long time since he had come to the main building. Ignoring the soldiers greeting him, he stepped inside.
Upon entering the room upstairs, he found it still clean and well-kept.
They keep cleaning it, I see.
After searching around, he found the box of seeds stored inside a desk drawer.
It contained a variety of plant seeds he had once collected as a hobby.
His ability to accelerate plant growth—a trivial ability for someone from the prestigious Tigreto family.
Unlike his siblings, his eyes weren’t red.
From childhood, he had always been somewhat of an outlier in the family.
A shame for a family of heroes.
He had no particular talent, little motivation, and a distant personality, which drew criticism.
But such petty matters mattered little to him.
The only things that mattered were his already-deceased wife, whose wedding he couldn’t hold, and the daughter he brought with him.
Though his standing in the family had shrunk, he only cared that he had a safe place to raise his child.
Unlike his brothers, who sought glory, he wandered outside as he pleased.
Clack—
He opened the tightly shut box. Despite being over ten years old, the seeds were still fine.
He closed the worn box again, tucked it under his arm, and left the room.
At the same time, he encountered an unwelcome figure nearby.
The head of the Tigreto family. His father.
Magnus Tigreto—acknowledged as a hero by all.
Recalling his brothers, who struggled for recognition, Klein ignored him.
“…Seems like you’ve grown so cold you don’t even greet your parent. Who gave you permission to come here?”
“Long time no see. You look healthy, thank goodness. I only came briefly for something I needed. Don’t worry—it’s something I gathered myself, not purchased with the family’s wealth.”
Klein added the words calmly, bowed slightly, then turned sharply toward the stairs.
Magnus laughed dryly. After all these years, what kind of man was this?
“Klein Tigreto.”
“What is it? I’m busy.”
Magnus called out as Klein paused, turning.
His youngest son—thin, weary, independent since childhood, never compliant, rarely expressive.
For some unknown reason, he began wandering outside at age, and years later returned with a child no one knew, secluded in the annex.
Magnus had been prepared to forgive, but Klein had acted harshly, leaving only a few maids to tend to the child.
That was mercy for this rebellious son.
Yet, even though warned never to enter the main building, Klein had now arrived.
“Just how do you care for your daughter to dare bring her here?”
Even his father’s words were harsh.
For the first time, subtle emotion showed on Klein’s otherwise indifferent, uninterested expression.
“…What do you mean?”
“I clearly told you not to come to the main building. Your daughter came here yesterday to ask for the newspaper with her meal.”
Magnus sneered at his son’s expressionless, doll-like face, showing emotion only now.
How poorly must you have raised her to make her beg for something like this?
Raising a child with no foundation in such a way…!
He thought of sending her away, or letting her enter properly to live her life.
But looking at his son’s twisted face, he was momentarily speechless.
This was unlike his child, who rarely showed emotion.
“…My apologies. I will speak firmly to the child.”
The man’s sharp gaze bored into Magnus as he spoke, almost as if tearing the words out.
He looked both hurt and furious, frustrated and unsure.
“Never, ever, set foot here again.”
His words, snarled like they might devour themselves, left Magnus stunned.
“Klein, what on earth are you saying to your father…!”
“Who? You? Father? Duke Magnus?”
“……”
“Count the number of times you’ve told me I’m not your child.”
Magnus faltered at his youngest son’s cutting tone, usually calm and indifferent.
“If your daughter ever comes again, tell her firmly—just as you always have with me.”
“……”
“You are no relation to my granddaughter. Do not appear before me again.”
