Black-Haired Dad Isn’t Something You Reap - Chapter 98

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 98. Even If I Hadn’t Intended It, Everything Speaks Through Results (3)
I’d noticed that when my tongue stiffened, I wouldn’t readily speak his name. And now that I thought about it, Father did the same, and everyone around Choco called him by the nicknames I’d given him rather than his actual name.
His name must be difficult to pronounce, making it inconvenient to call.
“Huh?”
Something I’d vaguely wondered about over the past five years suddenly clicked into place, and I felt something like sudden enlightenment. But I noticed Father’s emotional graph was far more robust than Choco’s.
“Amusement at 10?”
“My descendant is truly remarkable. That one barely feels emotions at all.”
What do you mean? Choco laughs all the time. Well, I’d always evaluated him as half-human because he seemed to only experience joy among the four emotions of happiness, anger, sorrow, and joy. I never realized Choco was this emotionally barren. In some sense, isn’t he an even greater monster than my Maternal Grandmother?
“You’re saying Choco only feels amusement when looking at me? And only at 10?”
“That’s genuinely remarkable. His average amusement level is 2.”
What? Choco is really strange!
“What about Father? Since he’s still family, doesn’t Choco feel anything different toward him?”
“He only feels amusement toward Chiron too.”
“That’s insane!”
My world felt like it was collapsing. I mean, we’re cousins—shouldn’t there be some familial affection? At the very least, shouldn’t there be anger or hatred? Father killed all of Choco’s parents and siblings!
“So how much amusement does Choco think Father is?”
“Well, it’s not directed at Kisomalos, so it might not be accurate.”
Kisomalos pondered for a moment before stating an ambiguous number.
“Somewhere between 5 and 8?”
“Yes!”
Father still won. Choco finds Father more amusing than me. Well, since it’s a positive emotion, I feel good about it.
“Now, what about Yupi from Lorowi…”
I had a rough idea, but I decided to check my Maternal Grandmother’s as well. Kisomalos must have this ability, which is how he could tell me that Lorowi hated me.
“Hatred at 100.”
“That’s why I told you to be careful with Lorowi…”
“Oh.”
Amid emotions filled only with hatred and displeasure, I noticed an unexpected number.
“Affection at 1.”
“Oh!”
Though the number was only 1, I felt like there was some hope.
“What could possibly be affectionate about that? Would imitating Mother work?”
“Would a master of imitation fail to see through that?”
So Kisomalos also knew that my Maternal Grandmother imitates the people around her? She truly is our ancestral deity.
“But why does she imitate those around her?”
“Probably to gain favor easily. Her survival instinct seems to have developed in a strange way.”
“Survival instinct?”
“A newborn instinctively tries to resemble their father to avoid abandonment. That’s the kind of survival instinct I mean.”
“I see…”
Since the Chief Chamberlain is close to me, my Maternal Grandmother imitated her as a means to gain my favor. Yet she has virtually no affection for me, while still wanting to gain my favor—it’s contradictory, I suppose.
“Wow! There are comments from the people too!”
“I conducted this field investigation myself!”
“Ooooh!”
To gain divine power, winning the people’s hearts was important, they said. I’ve accomplished quite a lot this time, so wouldn’t public opinion be favorable?
With a slightly racing heart, I opened the “Voice of the People” column.
– The Princess spent another trillion on military expenses.
– Acting like that from childhood, won’t she become a war-mad tyrant later?
– Did you see the Princess at the parade? After massacring the Media Royal Family, she was smiling brightly—it gave me chills.
I stopped reading. I felt a trauma trigger about to activate. Helbatro had spent all the money recklessly, and memories of those days when I was criticized for extravagance came flooding back.
“Stop, let’s stop reading!”
Kisomalos hurriedly turned off the screen, saying the divine power was complete. Cold sweat poured down my face as memories of that execution surfaced, so I curled up quietly on the floor and covered my ears.
“Oh dear! I’m sorry, descendant. I should have embellished it a bit more.”
Kisomalos quickly hoisted me onto his back and paced around the room with clicking hooves. The soft wool on his face felt comforting, and I gradually calmed down.
“…You smell like an animal.”
“You brat! What can I do when I’m literally an animal right now!”
I could feel my ancestor god’s concern for me, so I tried to laugh it off.
Yes, this reality doesn’t change. It’s true that I invested heavily in the Air Force, and it’s true that I executed the Media Royal Family for the marriage alliance. Rather than running away from this, I need to figure out how to make the people accept these facts in a positive light.
“Newspapers, if I buy out the news outlets so only good news comes out…!”
“You’re going to become a dictator that way.”
What are you saying? Emperor and dictator are synonymous. I recited a sentence I’d seen in Martin’s republican discourse and took a deep breath. It’s fine. I’m safe now. Everything’s fine.
“By the way, you’re going to Astiages soon, right?”
“Pardon? Yes, that’s correct.”
Now that business was concluded, Kisomalos left the empty room and walked toward where my chamber was, his hooves clicking against the floor. Carrying me on his back, our family’s ancestor god spoke with concern.
“I think it’s best you don’t get any closer to Hisperon.”
“Huh? Why?”
I’d already given him healing divine medicine, and I wouldn’t be uprooting the Princess Palace’s foundations anymore. If it was about money, I assured him it was fine, but Kisomalos shook his head.
“No. I sent you back using my divine power, but for ordinary people, fate doesn’t change easily.”
“Does that mean….”
That Hisperon would die young, just as he had in the history before my regression? When I asked this, the golden sheep nodded.
“The timing may differ, but he won’t live long—that much will remain the same.”
“But the Media Royal Family members didn’t live out their natural lifespans and died. Isn’t that changing fate?”
“Nah, that’s different. Maxwell would be happy about the free entropy that created.”
Did we really need to bring up the name of one of the Four Creator Gods who made the Mortal Realm? The workings of the Divine Realm are truly incomprehensible.
“Ah! And while I can’t openly roam the Divine Realm, I should be able to sneak out a Christmas present for our descendant!”
“Oh! So I’m getting a Christmas present starting this year?!”
“Of course! You’ve become a deity, so it’d be strange not to give you one!”
Wow, how exciting! I think this is the first time I’m receiving a Christmas present in my own name!
I excitedly grabbed the ram’s horns and tugged them repeatedly. Kisomalos bleated in pain, but he didn’t seem to mind, suffering through each tug.
“I’m so grateful! I won’t have to make excuses about not getting presents because I killed my father anymore!”
“Well, I do feel sorry about that.”
We strolled through the garden talking a bit more, then returned to my room. Since Kisomalos was a god with a sense of propriety, he bleated like an ordinary sheep in front of my friends, and Croa and Shirley were extremely worried about whether I was injured. It was probably because the sheep had snatched me up and dashed away.
“I’m fine. I’ve already had a good talk with Mutton, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
As I asserted this confidently, Shirley and Croa looked at me with expressions of utter pity. Hey, you two laughed and found it adorable when I said the exact same thing last time.
Laugh, will you? Can’t you smile right now?

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Time passed, and we sent a diplomatic document stating that we would visit Astiages while bringing the Prince of Media with us. In matters like this, striking first is always best. We’re practically prostrating ourselves and offering to send the legitimate heirs—what could Astiages possibly do about it? They can’t even tell us not to come.
As expected, the Northern Empire expressed their welcome to our visit, and the corresponding official documents were reviewed by everyone in Father’s office. Choco, the Chief Chamberlain, Shirley, Croa, and I pored over the copies for a long time before finally exhaling a relieved sigh.
“There are no objections raised.”
“We should be able to manage with just the formalities, shouldn’t we?”
“But Father, if I don’t go, won’t Pisha feel lonely?”
“That won’t happen. You will remain to guard the Princess Palace.”
Since it was decided that we’d go with just Croa added to the group that had visited the Empire before, Shirley voiced her enormous displeasure, and Father rejected it outright. Shirley threw a tantrum exactly as she’d learned from me, crying and rolling on the floor, but a question occurred to me, so I spoke up.
“By the way, when we meet the Emperor, is it okay if Croa wears inline skates?”
The way he’d be gliding around the Audience Chamber with that whooshing sound—that’s not exactly proper etiquette, is it?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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