Father

"...Father." My voice was a little hoarse.

My knees went weak, and I pitched forward. I reached out and caught the doorframe just before I fell.

"...Rudeus?"

He called my name again. His voice was soft, as if he didn't dare speak too loudly, afraid I would disappear if he did.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't say a thing.

We hadn't seen each other since the Teleportation Incident. It had been three whole years.

He rushed over.

He was fast. In three strides, he was in front of me, pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Thank goodness! Thank goodness! You're alive..."

His arms trembled as he held me.

I could feel his ribs, even through his clothes. He used to be sturdy, with broad shoulders. Holding him had been like hugging a wall.

"Someone who used to be so strong... You must have had a hard time these past few years... Paul."

His tears fell onto my shoulder.

"You're alive... You're alive..."

He kept repeating it, his muffled voice coming from above my shoulder.

I cried too.

I didn't remember when I'd started. Maybe it was the moment he hugged me, or when he said, "You're alive," or the instant I walked into the camp and saw him stand up. I wasn't sure. By the time I realized it, the tears were already streaming down my face.

"I don't really want to talk about my past life. It doesn't matter anymore. In this life, I have Paul. I've never admitted he was a good father, but now he's holding me, and he's crying."

It was a long time before Paul finally let go of me, stood up, and took a step back. He looked me up and down. His eyes were red, and there were tearstains on his face, but he smiled, laughing and crying at the same time.

"You've grown taller." He reached out and measured the height of my head against himself. "You're almost up to here."

"Father, I'm thirteen now," I said, a little happy, though my voice was still hoarse.

"Thirteen..." he murmured, repeating it once. He took a breath and wiped his face with his sleeve. "It's been three years."

He turned and took a couple of steps, then stopped. He probably didn't know where to go or what to say. Paul was usually an easygoing, talkative person who could find something to say about anything. But now he stood there, unable to get a word out, not knowing what to do with his hands.

"You... had a hard journey, didn't you?"

He didn't look at me as he said it. He stared at the ground and rubbed one hand against his trouser leg, unsure what to do.

"It wasn't too bad," I said.

"How could it not have been?" he muttered, wiping his face again. "Coming all the way back from the Demon Continent... you two kids..."

He didn't finish. He took a breath and swallowed the rest of his words.

That was when he saw Eris.

Eris stood at the entrance to the tent. She hadn't come in, and her right hand rested on the hilt of her sword. Her expression was calm. But I'd known her too long; I could tell she was pretending. The corners of her mouth were held tight. That was what she looked like when she was keeping her emotions in check.

Paul froze for three seconds.

He looked at Eris, then at me.

"And this is...?"

"Eris Boreas Greyrat," I said. "The young lady of House Boreas."

I paused.

"She's my fiancée now. She's been with me the whole way back from the Demon Continent."

Paul opened his mouth. He looked at Eris, a complicated expression in his eyes. Surprise, confusion, and then something I couldn't read.

He stared at Eris for quite a while, his gaze moving from her red hair to the sword at her waist, then back to her face. Then he suddenly let out a laugh, a complicated note in his voice.

"The young lady of House Boreas..." He shook his head. "You've got some skill, kid."

Eris took a step forward. She let go of her sword hilt, placed her right hand on her chest, and bowed her head slightly. Her movements weren't quite proper, but she was earnest.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her voice much softer than usual.

Paul looked at her for several seconds. Then he smiled. It wasn't a bitter smile.

"Thank you for taking care of him." He reached out and ruffled Eris's hair. "Taking care of this little brat all by yourself, coming all the way back from the Demon Continent... It couldn't have been easy."

Eris's eyes reddened.

She didn't cry. She wouldn't cry in front of other people, but her eyes had definitely reddened. She pressed her lips together and nodded.

"It wasn't hard."

Just three words. Three years of traveling across the Demon Continent, nearly being beaten to death by the Dragon God, nearly dying of thirst in the desert, and nearly being eaten by monsters in the forest. She brushed all of it aside in three words.

Paul looked at her, and the corners of his mouth softened.

"Welcome back," he said.

Eris nodded again, more firmly this time.

Paul turned and walked farther into the tent, glancing back at us as he went.

"Come in. There's someone inside you should meet."

It was much darker inside the tent than outside. A large table was covered with maps and various documents, with several quills and ink bottles beside them. In one corner stood a simple wooden bed covered with blankets, with luggage and weapons piled at its foot. An iron pot sat beside the fire, steam still rising from the stew inside. The smell of cooking beans and salted meat hung in the air.

A girl sat on the bed.

She had blond hair, with a single stray lock sticking up on top of her head.

She huddled behind a blanket, only half her face showing as she looked timidly at us. Her eyes were exactly like Paul's. They watched us quietly, as if she were trying to make sure the people before her were real.

"Do you remember her, Rudeus? This is your little sister, Norn," Paul said.

I didn't answer. I just looked at the child who was both familiar and unfamiliar to me.

My little sister. Paul and Zenith's daughter. She had only been four when the Teleportation Incident happened, so she should have been seven now. In the three years since I'd seen her, she'd grown a lot taller, though she still had a little baby fat in her cheeks.

She stared at me for several seconds, her mouth slightly open, as if she wasn't quite sure who I was. No wonder. Three years ago, I'd been a ten-year-old child. Now I'd grown thirty centimeters, and my voice had changed too.

Then her gaze shifted to Eris.

Eris stood at the entrance to the tent. Sunlight streamed in behind her, tracing a golden outline around her figure. An unnamed sword hung at her waist.

Norn's eyes lit up.

She crawled all the way out from behind the blanket and knelt on the bed, leaning forward with both hands gripping its edge. The stray lock of blond hair bobbed with her.

"Do you know how to use a sword?"

Her voice was small and timid, but her question was direct.

Eris froze for a moment. Then she smiled.

"Yes."

Norn's eyes grew even brighter. She leaned a little farther forward, almost tumbling off the edge of the bed.

"...Then can you teach me swordsmanship?"

Paul stood nearby, watching them, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

"You, kid..." He patted my shoulder and lowered his voice. "You're much better than I was when I was young. Back then, I wouldn't have had the courage to cross the Demon Continent with a woman."

His tone was different from usual. Paul normally spoke in an easygoing, irreverent way. But now there was something in his voice I hadn't heard very often.

I couldn't answer him. My throat was still hoarse, and I wanted to say something, but I opened my mouth and nothing came out.

Outside the tent, the evening sun had already sunk low. The canvas had turned orange-red, and light filtered through the gaps, painting golden stripes across the map.

Paul walked over to the table, braced both hands on it, and looked at the map spread out before him. Some routes had been crossed out in red, while others had been circled. More than thirty messages, more than thirty guilds. Every one of them was a hope.

His finger moved slowly across the map, pausing whenever it passed one of the crossed-out routes. Those crosses represented disappointment after disappointment. Each time he drew one, he was probably thinking, Not this time either.

The wood in the fire crackled. Beyond the tent came the faint clamor of the distant refugee camp, as far away as another world.

He raised his head and looked at us.