I Will Try to Save My Dad - Chapter 4

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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 4

“Your daughter has grown far too wise for her years.”

A few weeks prior, when I had lived with Berry in the Rural Village.
In a dimly lit room where candlelight flickered, Marshall—a half-breed of human and otherworldly descent—sealed a medicine bottle as she spoke.
Berry lay sleeping on the bed, her fever finally broken, while I held her small hand and gazed upon my daughter.

“At forty degrees of fever, one can barely see what’s right in front of them. A seven-year-old should be wailing in agony, yet here she is, smiling and insisting she’s fine. That little thing despises causing her father even a moment of worry.”
“…Marshall, what illness does Berry suffer from? She endures these high fevers nearly every month. It cannot be explained away as mere constitutional weakness.”
“If I knew, I would have told you long ago. No warning signs. No discernible cause. In all my years as an apothecary, I’ve never encountered such a malady. Did that sword you left at the Holy Temple curse her?”
“Windis is not a blade capable of such things.”

Marshall regarded me over the rim of her spectacles.
What is fate?
Here I was, watching over a man for six years—one who had once drawn his blade on an elderly herb-gatherer and demanded water. Who would have imagined?
Lips cracked and parched from thirst, eyes burning with the will to survive, the cry of an infant I didn’t even know I carried—all of it.
They say compassion grows with age. I had brought him here merely to provide a few meals, yet he had taken root in my village and settled in completely.
He claimed the isolation from the outside world suited him perfectly.
But no matter how isolated this village was, news still found its way in.

“Count Trabel has placed a bounty on your head.”
“…I saw the notice at the market today.”
“The rumors about him being wealthier than the Emperor must be true. The sum is staggering. Surely someone has already reported you.”
“Did you report me, Marshall?”
“Don’t be absurd. If I sold you for that reward, I’d spend the next ten times that amount chasing you down. I’ve never met anyone who despises losing money more than you do. I’m ruthless myself, but you surpass even me.”

Such a man bearing the Hand of Minus—it was almost laughable, yet I couldn’t muster even that.
A meticulous creature from that Trabel line, so thorough in crafting the reputation he desires.
Yet I harbored no hatred for him, because I understood that he clung desperately to the one thing he wished to protect.
Marshall’s gaze shifted to the small table beside the bed.

“You know as well as I do—you’ll be hunted until that bounty is withdrawn. And Berry will be hunted simply because she is your daughter.”

There lay a single book, its pages yellowed and worn beyond counting from countless hands. The binding had nearly disintegrated.
My most cherished reading: Raising Your Child Well, Alone.
Marshall spoke toward my broad, silent back.

“A wandering life isn’t good for her.”

***

Night had fallen again.
Reytan Quartz Trabel walked through the quiet corridor, lost in thought.
The last time I visited the Main Estate, it had also been night. The perfect hour to meet the Count while avoiding the eyes of the direct line.
Callet, walking ahead, remained silent.
My childhood friend, whom I hadn’t seen in six years, had become the Count’s aide. I remained vigilant, trying to grasp the years that had slipped away.
I needed to know who still stood with me. Who to keep close and who to watch.
Even if I would soon leave this place, I could not afford to let my guard down.
“The Count awaits you in the Study.”
Where Callet stopped, a closed door stood before us—a loyal door that allowed no light to escape, revealing nothing of its master within to the outside world.
As if arranged beforehand, Callet knocked twice before opening the door.
Instead of bright lamps from the ceiling, soft lighting illuminated the room.
“Fool.”
As I stepped inside, the door closed with a sound, and a sharp voice erupted from the man seated at the desk.
A towering old man with white hair tinged in gold was the source of that voice.
Laksek Iron Trabel.
The man who had raised the Trabel Family to its greatest heights in history.
“What kind of fool abandons his position as Grand Master to raise a child? How do you even survive with such poor judgment?”
Laksek spoke toward his son entering the room. Clear displeasure was etched into the wrinkles across his brow.
The authority he possessed was truly formidable. With a single word, he could move mountains and part seas.
Within the Heishal Empire, he wielded influence second only to the Emperor and the High Pontiff. Nothing went against the Count’s will.
Except for one person.
“I was living well enough.”
Reytan Quartz Trabel stopped at the edge of the carpet and spoke with a twisted smile.
The bounty the Count had placed on my head a month ago.
Because of that bounty, I had abandoned my former life, and my daughter had nearly become a fugitive.
It was only natural that my mood was foul.
“It seems the Count cannot do the same. Why place a bounty on a fool who severed ties? Has your memory deteriorated in the time we haven’t seen each other?”
“Is that what you say to your father after six years? Tsk, tsk. How did I father such a wretch? Your mother, may she rest, would weep if she saw you now.”
“Well, would that be more tears than she shed while you were alive? You should have treated her better when she was called the second wife.”
“You, you, you…!”
Count Trabel kicked back his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Reytan Quartz Trabel.
I met the Count’s golden eyes, burning with rage, without so much as a change in my breathing.
Had any of my other siblings faced such a gaze, they would already be trembling on their knees, begging forgiveness.
After all, who else but me would be mad enough to deliberately provoke the Count to his face?
‘The reckless young master has returned.’
Callet, the Count’s aide, stood at the doorway and silently observed the situation unfold.
Callet was not one to display much emotion on his face.
So it didn’t show, but to be honest, he had felt chills run down his spine several times over these past few days watching Reytan Quartz Trabel play the role of a father.
Who was Reytan Quartz Trabel?
A man who had lived his entire life drenched in blood on the battlefield—one deserving of embarrassing epithets like “Blood Madman” or “Reaper of Death.”
Even when his actions seemed careless, there were no openings in his defense, and though he appeared at ease, his edges were always sharp.
Moreover, he possessed exceptional swordsmanship and bore the title of one chosen by the Holy Sword.
Among the knights, Reytan was a being in the heavens—one they dared not speak of carelessly.
That was the Reytan he remembered, and yet….

“Oh, Uncle Callet is our daddy’s friend? Would you like some sweets?”
“Very very—you should say ‘Would you like some?’ instead.”
“Ah-huh. Would you like some?”
“Thank you, Miss Berry.”
“What about daddy’s?”
“Oh, that was just the last one….”
“I see…so daddy doesn’t have any. But the mister I just met today does….”
“Now, don’t be sad. Next time we have sweets, you can ask daddy first!”
“First priority.”
“Yes, first priority!”

Being called “mister” in that subtly dismissive way was one thing, but Reytan Quartz Trabel actually looking dejected over losing priority—it was almost unbelievable.
Similar scenes that made one doubt their own eyes had occurred several times during the carriage ride from the Rural Village to the Trabel Estate over the past few days.
Was time truly so terrifying?
Goosebumps rose on Callet’s forearm as he stood expressionless.
Meanwhile, the tension between the father and son of the Trabel household remained taut.
Reytan Quartz Trabel asked his father.
“Why did you place the bounty, sir?”
Reytan Quartz Trabel had set foot in the Trabel Estate to settle accounts.
The reason widely known—that the Count had placed the bounty out of longing for his second son—was absurd.
“I doubt my life is worth a billion Cona to you, sir. And since I’ve come of my own accord, shouldn’t I be the one to claim the bounty?”
“Why would you take it? Do you know how much it cost to raise you? You owe me money. You wretch.”
“Did you repay the previous Count for raising you, sir?”
Bang! When the Count brought his massive fist down on the desk, the vibration shook all the way to the floor below.
It was the middle of the night.
No matter how well-soundproofed the Count’s study was, that vibration may well have resonated through the ceiling of the floor below.
Callet hastily stepped in to mediate.
“Master, if there’s a commotion, the lady sleeping on the lower floor will wake.”
“…Right. In any case, you’re an impudent one, always talking back to your father.”
There was a reason he had summoned Reytan Quartz Trabel in secret this night, away from the eyes of other direct family members.
It was possible to build a significant achievement—one that could greatly influence the upcoming struggle over the Separate House.
Reytan had anticipated as much.
“Well, we can discuss the bounty later. Just how profitable must this matter be for the Count to summon me?”
At Reytan’s question, Count Trabel let out a groan and sank back into his chair, pressing his throbbing temples.
“The Church is in an uproar.”
The High Pontiff—had it not been for him, there would have been no reason to make such a fuss searching for his son.
“That bizarre holy sword you abandoned refuses to choose its next master.”

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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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