A Letter from a Noble, Allen's Background

Maybe my build is closer to that of a school bully from my past life, which triggered Rudy's PTSD. That's going to make this affinity quest hard to complete. If only Rudy were a girl... No, wait, a girl in the mind of a thirty-four-year-old NEET pervert uncle. Hiss. That's horrifying.

Allen sighed quietly and moved toward the study door.

The study door was open. Inside, Paul was hunched over, pulling at his hair as if deep in thought.

Allen gently knocked on the door.

"Sir."

Paul looked up, several scattered letters on the desk.

"Oh, have a seat."

Allen glanced at the stool — it was extremely far from the desk where Paul was resting his chin. Paul then picked up a pen and looked at Allen.

"Since your origins are unknown, before you become a swordsman in our family, I need to conduct a simple investigation into you."

Allen's eyebrows shot up at this, and he stared intently at Paul's face.

Seeing his reaction, Paul quickly waved his hand, then scratched his head, looking at the ceiling with a somewhat troubled expression.

"Don't worry, I understand adventurer rules. After all, I used to be in that line of work. It's just a very rough investigation. It concerns my children's safety, so please understand."

Allen's expression shifted, as if he had suddenly become interested, a slight smile on his face as he relaxed back against the chair.

"Please, ask away."

"Um... your name?"

"Allen."

Paul's hand, holding the pen, paused for a moment, then he slowly nodded and continued to ask.

"Is your age convenient to share?"

Allen looked at the pen in Paul's hand and smiled indifferently.

"Nine years and four months."

Paul blinked.

"Your usual range of activity?"

"Around the Asura Royal Capital."

Paul seemed to feel his throat dry up and swallowed.

"Swordsman rank?"

"The title I've been granted, currently only Water God Style—Advanced."

Paul scratched his head with the pen, and it was a long time before he finally smiled.

"Your clothes look quite ragged. I imagine you haven't had any income for a while. When did you lose your money in a dungeon?"

Allen replied with a cheerful smile.

"Sir, last November."

Paul took a deep breath after hearing this, a look of relief on his face. He looked up at Allen, his expression softening, and his words inexplicably carried a hint of warmth.

"Alright, Allen... you can stay here for now. We'll eat together later. Zenith's cooking is quite good."

Allen squinted at him.

"Do you have any more questions, sir?"

Paul hesitated, then shook his head.

"You... um, no, that's all. You can go back to your room to rest for a bit, or go play with Rudy. Speaking of which, even though you're tall, you're only four years older than him..."

Allen stood up.

"Then I'll head out now?"

"Yes, go on."

After Paul finished speaking, his gaze was a little dazed. When he saw Allen's back reach out to steady himself on the doorframe, he lowered his head and pulled out a blank sheet of paper.

Click, the door closed.

Paul immediately began to write.

But before he had even finished half of the first character, a lazy voice drifted from in front of him.

"Uncle Paul... who are you writing to?"

Paul's pupils constricted. He looked up in astonishment.

Allen was leaning against the closed door, quietly watching him.

A few months ago, Allen's System notification suddenly popped up, reminding him that his participation in the Mushoku Tensei major event had increased by 2 points. Allen was very surprised at the time.

Because he had just started his journey to Buena Village. The people and events he had encountered in the Royal Capital before that were completely unrelated to the major event that occurred in his childhood. How could it increase his childhood score?

Now, the source of the problem had been found.

It seemed someone had 'known' him early on.

Allen stepped towards a somewhat flustered Paul. As he reached him, he looked at Paul's desk with interest.

On the desk was a letter filled with neat, formal script, the ornate style favored by nobles. However, the paper itself was old and worn, suggesting it wasn't written recently.

Allen narrowed his eyes and, quite rudely, reached out to pick up the letter and read it.

Paul's expression changed, and he instinctively shot up, reaching to grab Allen's hand.

Just as Paul was about to seize his wrist, Allen brought his index and middle fingers together, pressing the side of his fingers against Paul's palm, and lightly swiped.

His fingers, like a swimming fish, slipped free from Paul's attempted palm lock, sending Paul's hand to the side.

Paul clutched at empty air, his body swayed, and momentum sent him sprawling onto the desktop.

He watched helplessly as Allen, using two fingers, picked up the letter from in front of him, muttering to himself.

"Water God Style — Flowing Secret Technique."

Allen held the letter suspended before his eyes. His eyes moved, and he read the contents of the letter with a serious expression.

Paul, How have you been? I imagine life in the countryside with your wife is quite pleasant.

I am writing to you now because there is something I wish to ask of you.

It concerns my eldest son in the Royal Capital — Allen Boreas Greyrat. I wonder if you still remember him; I wrote to you when he was born.

He had barely opened his eyes before James took him to the Royal Capital to raise him as his own child. This is the price paid by the loser in the struggle for the next head of the family.

This is also a tradition of the Boreas family, to prevent excessive internal strife.

Yet, I couldn't help but secretly visit him, using the mayor's reporting duty as an excuse, behind Father's back.

After all, he is the first offspring I, Philip Boreas Greyrat, have left in this world.

The irony is, I don't even have the right to give him a name.

You can certainly use this opportunity to mock me; after all, it's usually me looking down on you and ridiculing you. That's fair.

But getting back to Allen, this child is different from me. He is exceptionally talented. Even at a young age, he showed extraordinary aptitude in swordsmanship.

When I saw him from afar, he was surrounded by people, praised by James, yet his expression showed no trace of pride or timidity; he was very composed.

That contradictory temperament of his — calm yet sharp — left me somewhat dazed. His expression was somewhat similar to Father's, but not entirely identical, and I couldn't help but wonder, "Is this truly my child, born of Philip?"

But one thing is undeniable.

He should grow up amidst such flowers and applause, not follow a failure like me, staying in the Fittoa Region as some damned mayor's son.

Yet, as I looked at him, I couldn't help but wonder if, back then, in the power struggle with James for the position of heir, if I had won, would it be my figure standing before him now?

I resent James, he shouldn't have—

I've unknowingly rambled on. I'll stop here and get back to the point.

A month ago, Allen disappeared on his way to study at the Magic University.

At least, that's the official story released to the public — that he's missing.

James seems to have no intention of searching for him, but I am very concerned for his safety.

Therefore, I asked my family's guard, your former teammate, the Sword King Ghislaine, to investigate the place where Allen disappeared — the Red Dragon's Upper Jaw.

But ten days have passed, and there's still no progress.

I smell a conspiracy.

I originally wanted to ask Ghislaine to use her connections from her adventurer days to inquire about it, but she apologetically told me that connections were beyond her capabilities and suggested I turn to you.

Therefore, I want to ask you to use your former adventurer connections to help me find out his whereabouts.

His features are very striking; his eyebrows are almost identical to Father's, and he inherited my brown hair and Hilda's grey eyes. He stands out in a crowd and is easily recognizable.

If you have any relevant information, please notify me. If anyone sees someone similar, please also send word to me, telling them to keep that person stable, then send word to me, and wait for me to confirm.

Please understand, I cannot openly hire people to search for him; it doesn't align with my position.

After all, his 'biological father' is James.

I apologize for showing you my weak side.

Seeing this letter is like seeing me in person.

Philip.

Allen looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar name on the last line and fell silent.

Meanwhile, Paul simply watched him, scratching his head, unsure what to say.