My Daddy Hides His Power - Chapter 8

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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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Father Hides His Strength
Chapter 8
His eyes held the hollow emptiness of someone who’d seen everything the world had to offer, yet the boy possessed a beauty so striking it could scarcely be called anything but exceptional.
‘That’s it! The closer you get to being a main character, the sharper your features become—I’m certain of it!’
And so, in that moment, I grasped the rules of this world as naturally as breathing.
As for me—an extra, yet far too adorable to be truly expendable—hadn’t Susan constantly showered me with praise until her mouth ran dry?
‘Which means I was never really an extra at all. Never. I was….’
Suddenly my own existence gave me a headache. I’d tried not to think about it.
‘Never mind. Let me set my worries aside for now.’
That was right. My instinct was screaming at me—this boy was Chesher.
Black hair. Crimson eyes.
His appearance matched Chesher’s description perfectly.
Of course, there were probably other black-haired, red-eyed children in the world.
But.
A handsome boy with black hair and red eyes, discovered by Enoch Rubinstein—the protagonist himself.
This was no coincidence.
It had to be following the original story’s progression to the letter.
“What… what’s your name?”
“…….”
The boy didn’t answer my hurried question. He simply stared at me with unrelenting intensity.
Well, he was clearly on guard. There was no way he’d open up easily.
“Are you hurting much? Can you stand?”
When Father offered his hand, the boy looked at it for a moment before getting up on his own.
Then, limping, he passed us by.
“Wait. Hold on.”
Smack!
Father’s outstretched hand was slapped away by the boy’s.
The boy looked between us once more, his gaze vacant and hollow, before slipping away into the shadows.
“Wait, just a moment!”
“Lilis.”
Father stopped me before I could follow further.
He smiled ruefully and spoke.
“You see, my dear, there are many people who don’t care for nobles.”
“Ah, I… yes.”
“Since he’s uncomfortable, let’s just leave it at helping him this much.”
As he said this, Father continued to gaze at the boy’s receding silhouette as he disappeared from the alley.
I watched my father, drawn inexplicably to this strange boy, and felt an inner laugh bubble up.
‘This really is a novel. The original story is unfolding just as it should.’
This was surely the chance encounter—the first meeting between Enoch Rubinstein and Chesher that the story had promised.
“Come now, Princess. Let’s go.”
“All right.”
Taking my hand, Father began walking again in silence.
I could somehow read every thought crossing his mind as he walked lost in contemplation.
Seven years away, yet the rot of this nation’s reality was far from welcoming upon his return.
Concern for a daughter who would have to adapt and survive in such a place.
An inexplicable draw toward the boy he’d just met.
Things like that were surely weighing on him.
“Father.”
I squeezed his hand gently.
“Yes, Princess. What is it?”
“Do I have to pick my friends the way I’m supposed to? Can’t I choose them myself?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m a noble, aren’t I? So… can’t I befriend commoners?”
Father fell silent at my question.
Enoch Rubinstein. A revolutionary, skeptical of this mad Class System of the Empire, a man of justice.
Perhaps even before losing his daughter, the blood of revolution already burned hot within him—a question that would stir it to fever pitch.
“No, Lilis.”
As I’d expected, Father’s eyes grew resolute.
“If it’s what you want, then nothing else matters. Noble or commoner, Ability User or Non-ability User—if you wish it, you can be close to anyone.”
“Really?”
“Then let’s do that.”
Father chuckled softly and pinched my cheek gently.
“Father, Father—that boy from earlier, remember? Do you really think he’ll be all right? Should we just leave him like that?”
“Hmm?”
“He was hurt pretty badly. Will he get proper treatment? And besides… he seems to hate Nobles so much he won’t even greet them. If he keeps getting beaten up like that, what will happen to him?”
“…You have a point.”
“I wonder where he went.”
“You’re this worried about someone you just met?”
“Yes!”
I looked up at Father.
“I don’t know why, but I keep thinking about him. I think… I want to be his friend.”
Father’s expression shifted into surprise.
Of course—even he couldn’t stop thinking about that strange boy, so hearing his daughter say something similar must have struck him oddly.
“Father, could you find him again later and help him? I’m curious if he got treated properly, and I want to talk to him too….”
“Ha, haha.”
Father stared at me blankly for a moment, then broke into laughter.
“I….”
Then he swept me up into his arms and rubbed his forehead against my cheek, murmuring softly.
“…I’ve raised an angel.”
“You’ll find him and help?”
“Yes, let’s do it. Of course we should. When have I ever refused our little princess anything?”
“Yay! You’re the best, Father. Thank you.”
I burrowed into Father’s embrace, hiding the bitter expression creeping across my face.
‘According to the original story, Chesher would be living at the Marquis Onyx Residence by now.’
According to Setting 6 in Chesher Rubinstein’s profile―
6. Originally born as an Illegitimate Child of a certain Noble and abused throughout his childhood, he catches the eye of Enoch Rubinstein by chance and is adopted as his foster son.
―As the Illegitimate Child of some Noble, he would be enduring a terribly unfortunate childhood right now.
Of course, that wretched childhood was never described in the novel itself.
begins with a scene of thirteen-year-old Chesher, already Father’s foster son, training in swordsmanship.
The explanation that he was the Illegitimate Child of the Marquis Onyx comes later.
‘I don’t know where you are right now, but….’
The narrative of abuse imposed on Chesher to cultivate his resentment toward Nobles was unbearably heart-wrenching.
Anyone who had seen that hollow expression on Chesher’s face—so unbecoming of a child—would feel the same way I did.
‘Wait for me, Chesher. I’ll find you as soon as I can.’
* * *
He had no family name—only the given name Chesher.
He had lived for eleven years with his mother, a former maid, before being abandoned in front of the Marquis Onyx Residence half a year ago.
The father he never knew he had, the Marquis Onyx, was a formidable man.
A Noble of Quarto rank.
An Ability User second only to Dos.
“Jonathan, have you finally lost your mind? What do you intend to do by leaving that brat outside?”
Chesher stared blankly at his father, the Marquis Onyx, and his half-brother Jonathan quarreling.
Jonathan, his half-brother, harbored a contempt for Chesher—a father’s Illegitimate Child—so profound it was sickening.
Today he had dragged Chesher out like a dog, abandoned him in the middle of the District, and returned home alone.
“I can’t stand the sight of that filth in this house!”
“Silence! Then what do you expect me to do! If I leave him anywhere and the Imperial Army decides to conduct a sudden Ability User inspection, what then?”
The Marquis Onyx bristled with frustration.
“If his status as an Ability User is exposed, they’ll search for his parents. It’s only a matter of time before my bloodline is revealed, and then I’ll be not just a man who fathered a bastard, but one who abandoned him like garbage to the world.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to make it known to everyone! A filthy creature tainted with lowborn blood!”
“Then why don’t I just keep him locked away and raise him where no one knows?”
“If you’re going to do that, you might as well kill him where no soul will ever find out. I can’t even bear to be in the same space as that vermin!”
“…….”
The Marquis Onyx fell silent at Jonathan’s words.
That silence spoke of hesitation.
A mere impurity that would tarnish his reputation, yet his own blood ran through those veins, and he could not bring himself to kill.
The hesitation born of meager self-reproach.
“Do not repeat today’s actions. As for anything else, I will not interfere.”
The Marquis Onyx cast a cold glance at Chesher, who knelt silently, and left the room with icy composure.
“Filthy wretch.”
As if he had been waiting for this moment, Jonathan’s fist shot down toward Chesher’s head.
Chesher blinked instinctively.
The world slowed.
Very slowly, as if someone had cast a spell.
It would probably take ten minutes before that fist reached his cheek.
Whether he was slowing time itself or deceiving his own eyes, he couldn’t say.
Chesher didn’t fully understand what kind of ability this was.
He only vaguely assumed it was an ability he possessed because he was an Ability User.
“W-what’s your name?”
Suddenly he remembered the small girl in priest’s robes he’d met in the alley.
A young priest would naturally be a high-ranking Ability User.
People like that wouldn’t understand.
The lives of the countless Non-ability Users and lower classes crushed beneath their feet.
‘I’m sick of it.’
Chesher thought.
Nobles were all arrogant and tyrannical.
Like his father and half-brother.
‘There.’
The fist finally connected, snapping his head to the side.
The world remained slow and the fist drifted lazily through the air, but the pain arrived sharp and whole.
He could have dodged—he didn’t, because he couldn’t risk angering his brother further.
That was the way of things.
The lower classes must never presume to look up at the higher ones, never vex their tempers.
‘Just finish it. Get it over with.’
Chesher closed his eyes.
The world snapped back to its proper pace.
Now familiar blows—fists and kicks—fell upon him in quick succession.
‘It would be easier if I just died. But I’m afraid of that too.’
Chesher curled into himself, enduring the kicks with bitter mockery.
He had no courage to act on even the knowledge of how to die—his stomach had rumbled, so he hadn’t run away; instead he’d meekly returned to the Marquis’s residence.
He found himself utterly despicable.
No nerve for suicide—how convenient it would be if life simply ran out, if he could just fade away naturally.
“Cough, ack!”
Left alone in the end, Chesher gazed slowly up at the ceiling, blinking at a measured pace.
His hand drifted to his trouser pocket.
The handkerchief the noble girl had given him.
“I-I’m sorry. I suddenly touched it. Here, I’ll leave it.”
Chesher couldn’t understand why he’d kept it.
He looked at the handkerchief with the rabbit embroidered on it, then clutched it tight in his palm and spoke in a hoarse, hollow voice.
“I want to die….”

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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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