This... Maybe my build resembled the campus bullies from his past life, so I triggered Rudy's PTSD. That would make this favorability quest hard to push forward. If only Rudy were a girl. No, that wouldn't work either. A thirty-four-year-old eroge-playing NEET uncle with the heart of a girl... Yikes. That was explosive.
Allen silently sighed and walked over to the study door.
The study door was open. Inside, Paul had his head lowered, tugging at his hair as though deep in thought.
Allen raised a hand and knocked on the door.
"Master."
Paul looked up. Several sheets of letter paper were scattered across the desk.
"Oh, have a seat."
Allen glanced at the stool—it was far from the desk where Paul rested his chin. Paul then picked up a pen and looked at Allen.
"Since your origins are unknown, before you become our family's swordsman, I need to conduct a simple investigation."
Allen raised an eyebrow at that and stared directly at Paul's face.
Seeing this, Paul hurriedly waved his hands, then scratched his head and looked up at the ceiling, appearing somewhat troubled.
"Don't worry, I understand adventurers' rules. I used to be in that line of work myself. It'll only be a very cursory investigation. Since it concerns my children's safety, I hope you understand."
Allen's expression shifted. As if suddenly interested, he smiled faintly and relaxed against the back of his chair.
"Go ahead."
"Uh, your name?"
"Allen."
Paul's hand holding the pen paused. Then he slowly nodded and continued asking.
"Would it be convenient to tell me your age?"
Allen looked at the pen in Paul's hand and smiled indifferently.
"Nine years and four months."
Paul blinked.
"Your usual area of activity?"
"The vicinity of the Asura Royal Capital."
Paul seemed to feel that his throat was dry and swallowed.
"Swordsman rank?"
"The only title I've been granted so far is Water God Style—Advanced."
Paul scratched his head with the pen and only smiled after a long while.
"I see your clothes are already quite tattered. I imagine you haven't had any income for a long time. When did you lose your money in a labyrinth?"
Allen replied with a pleasant smile.
"Last November, Master."
Paul took a deep breath after hearing that, his expression one of relief. He looked up at Allen, his face softening, and his voice inexplicably took on a touch of warmth.
"All right, Allen. You can stay here for now. We'll eat together later. Zenith's cooking is quite good."
Allen looked at him with narrowed eyes.
"Do you have any other questions, Master?"
Paul hesitated, then shook his head.
"You... no, that's all. You can go back to your room and rest for a while, or go play with Rudy. Come to think of it, although you're tall, you're only four years older than him."
Allen stood up.
"Then I'll head out first?"
"Mm, go ahead."
After Paul said that, his gaze became somewhat unfocused. As he watched Allen's back reach out to the door, he lowered his head and pulled out a blank sheet of letter paper.
With a click, the door closed.
Paul immediately began to write.
But before he had even finished half of the first character, a lazy voice drifted over from in front of him.
"Uncle Paul. Who are you writing to?"
Paul's pupils constricted as he looked up in shock.
Allen was leaning against the tightly shut door, quietly watching him.
A few months ago, Allen's system prompt had suddenly appeared, informing him that his participation in a major Mushoku Tensei event had increased by two points. Allen had been greatly surprised at the time.
That was because he had only just begun heading toward Buena Village. The people and events he had encountered in the royal capital before then had been completely unrelated to the major events of the childhood arc. How could they have raised his childhood score?
Now, he had found the source of the problem.
It seemed someone had known of him long ago.
Allen walked toward the somewhat flustered Paul. Once he reached the desk, he looked at it with great interest.
There was a letter covered in writing on the desk. The handwriting was neat, in the ornate script commonly used by nobles, but the paper itself was somewhat old and did not seem to have been written recently.
Allen narrowed his eyes and, rather impolitely, reached out to pick up the letter.
Paul's expression changed. He instinctively sprang to his feet and reached for Allen's hand.
The instant Paul was about to catch his wrist, Allen pressed the sides of his index and middle fingers against Paul's palm and gave them a light sweep.
Like a swimming fish, his fingers slipped free of Paul's grasping hand lock and flicked Paul's hand aside.
Paul grabbed nothing. His body tilted, and inertia sent him sprawling onto the desk.
He watched helplessly as Allen pinched the letter between two fingers and lifted it from before his eyes, murmuring under his breath.
"Water God Style—Flow Arcana."
Allen held the letter suspended before his face. His eyes moved as he carefully read its contents.
Paul,
How have you been lately? I imagine your happy life in the countryside with your wife has been quite pleasant.
I am writing to ask you for a favor.
It concerns my eldest son in the royal capital—Allen Boreas Greyrat. I wonder if you still remember him. When that child was born, I wrote to you as well.
Not long after he first opened his eyes, James took him to the royal capital and raised him as his own biological child. That was the price the loser in the struggle for the next family head had to bear.
It is also a Boreas tradition, meant to prevent excessive internal strife within the family.
Yet I still could not resist using the opportunity of reporting to the mayor to secretly visit him behind Father's back.
After all, he was the first descendant I, Philip Boreas Greyrat, had left behind in this world.
Ironically, I did not even have the right to give him a name.
You may laugh at me for this. After all, I am usually the one looking down on you and mocking you. That would only be fair.
Back to Allen. Unlike me, he is exceptionally talented. At such a young age, he has already displayed extraordinary talent in Sword Dao.
When I saw him from afar, he was surrounded by admirers in the crowd, receiving James's praise. Yet there was neither pride nor timidity in his expression. He was remarkably steady.
That contradictory air of composure without losing his edge left me somewhat dazed. His expression resembled Father's somewhat, yet was not entirely the same. I could not help wondering—was this truly a child born to me, Philip?
But one thing is beyond doubt.
He should grow up amid such flowers and applause, rather than follow a failure like me and remain in the Fittoa Region as the son of some damned mayor.
Yet when I looked at him, I could not help thinking: if I had been the one to win the political struggle against James for the position of heir back then, would the person standing before him now have been me?
I envy James. He should not—
Without realizing it, I have said a great deal of nonsense. Let us stop there and return to the main point.
A month ago, Allen disappeared while on his way to Magic University.
At least, that is the conclusion given in the news released publicly.
James seems to have no intention of continuing the search for him, but I am deeply worried for his safety.
Therefore, I asked the family's guard—your former teammate, Sword King Ghislaine—to investigate the place where Allen disappeared: Red Dragon's Upper Jaw.
But ten days have now passed, and there has still been no result.
I smell a conspiracy.
I originally wanted to ask Ghislaine to use the connections she had from her adventurer days to make some inquiries, but she apologetically told me that connections were beyond her capabilities and told me to seek your help.
So, I would like to ask you to use the connections you once had as an adventurer to help me inquire about his whereabouts.
His features are very sharp, and his eyebrows are almost identical to Father's. He inherited my brown hair and Hilda's gray eyes, making him very conspicuous in a crowd and easy to recognize.
If you hear any relevant news, please notify me at once. If anyone sees someone similar, please help send word and tell them to make sure that person stays put, then inform me and wait for me to confirm it myself.
Please understand that I cannot openly hire people to search for him. That would not suit my position.
After all, his "biological father" is James.
Forgive me for letting you see my weak side.
Seeing this letter is like seeing me.
Philip.
Allen stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar name on the final line and fell silent.
Meanwhile, Paul merely watched him, scratching at his head and ears, not knowing what to say.
Before you continue