Invincible
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#189
🕑 Added 2025-01-22 18:50:39 +0000 UTCRockefeller (4)
It was a question that came up frequently.
It was natural to meet people who asked various questions to someone from another country.
Nevertheless, it was hard to open his mouth because the place he was now standing was a place where accountability was demanded.
"I was born in Abelarn."
It was quite an unfamiliar situation for Rockefeller.
Many procedures had been boldly omitted in the process of obtaining citizenship in the empire, thanks to the convenience provided by Arkandric.
He had avoided answering in depth when someone asked too much, showing discomfort, and he had managed to get by so far, but the inquiries that would start now would be almost like an interrogation.
"Abelarn, the country where a civil war recently broke out, right?"
Ders said this with a sour smile.
Rockefeller calmed his expression and asked, "Is that a problem?"
"No. There's nothing particularly strange. It matches the information about the professor, and there were many refugees at that time, so it's natural that they ended up in the empire."
Ders's questions continued.
"I hear you come from a fallen noble family, which exactly were you from?"
However, Rockefeller had been prepared for this kind of situation for a long time.
He had worried that such a situation might arise.
"The Harman family mainly managed farmland. But the land burned, and the livestock were either stolen or ran away."
"Ah, because of the civil war?"
"Exactly. Days when any existing order could easily collapse."
Whether this sounded credible or not, neither Ders nor the students raised any doubts about it.
"So, how did you come to learn magic?"
"...When the family was affluent, a tutor was invited."
"...Did your family belong to the imperial camp at that time?"
"Of course. Nobility always....."
Such questions continued endlessly, and Rockefeller always calmly acted out the truth.
However, a lie is just a lie.
Even if he could deceive others, he couldn't deceive himself.
"I heard you're not originally from Pathfinder, how did you come to the academy?"
"That phrase is a bit strange. Although it's shorter than others, I definitely held a title and was active in the Academy due to a suggestion from the principal."
Every time Rockefeller lied, he suppressed the truth that slowly emerged in his mind.
"So, what motivated you to become a professor?"
"...The motivation to become a professor?"
But that was not something that could ever be suppressed.
***
"I will become a teacher."
"How can a stupid person teach? Stop talking nonsense."
When he was eight years old, he had definitely said that to Medel.
"Stupid? Is that what you say to your mother?"
She got angry, but Medel was never his mother.
That made sense since Medel was only ten years older than him, and while people often called Rockefeller intelligent, Medel was not.
Despite having nothing in common, she was still the woman who told him to call her mother.
"I've heard the villagers talking. They say you picked me up?"
"Who dares say that? That's all lies. Don't mind it."
"Really, what makes you think I'd believe such lies? That would mean Medel gave birth to me when she was ten years old. Isn't that strange?"
Medel, truly believing that a ten-year-old could give birth, had opened her eyes wide.
"Can't I?"
Rockefeller liked Medel, who was as dense as living with a bear rather than a person.
She was always optimistic and, after saying something foolish, would always show a wide, peaceful smile, which calmed his heart and filled it with warmth.
"Hehe. Thanks to you, Rockefeller, I learned something new today?"
"Don't call me by such a rustic name. I am Delken."
"Why? What’s wrong with the name I gave you?"
"Rather go to work, will you? Or the lady next door will scold you again."
"Aish. I hate cutting with scissors."
"You have to do it to make a living."
Although they were in a poor environment, Rockefeller was satisfied.
As the days went by, the atmosphere in the refugee-filled village was gloomy, and he often cursed the corrupt imperial and radical rebels who had brought about this situation, but at least Rockefeller's immediate surroundings were far from grey.
"Delken. Will you learn from this old man today again?"
The neighbor, a retired mathematician, liked to teach for free.
"Please tell Medel I'm thankful for covering for me last time."
The ladies who worked with Medel always made sure to provide food as well.
"Anyway, she tried to nurse him, but there was no milk. Can you believe it? She really was a handful. Huh? Delken. Ahem. Oh, are you here to see mom?"
Medel's employer, the workshop owner, grumbled, but she was a deep and warm-hearted person.
"She's not my mom. Ma'am, please give this to Medel. Here's a customer's clothing."
"Ugh, if you're going to bring work home, at least bring it properly. That girl, really."
Thus, the neighbors were filled with good people.
I heard that initially, they weren't like this.
The mathematician next door had tried to commit suicide out of grief for losing his family in the war, and those who worked merely sighed, questioning what the point of living this way was.
The owner of the workshop said that these people changed because of a girl who came here one day carrying a newborn.
"Huh? Rockefeller, sorry, I forgot again. Hehe."
In this refugee village filled with wooden planks, Medel was the light.
Rockefeller was always grateful to her for having picked him up.
Thanks to her, he could feel her warmth up close.
But it didn't last long.
One day, he was waiting for Medel to come home from work.
When she didn't arrive by dinner time, and he was about to go out to meet her, the door opened.
Medel was panting heavily.
And a ragged man with his arm over her shoulder, head drooping.
The man's chest bore an arrow, undoubtedly inflicted by the rebels.
Medel had shouted loudly to save him.
"Rockefeller, boil some water now. I'll find something to stop the bleeding, hurry!"
According to Medel, she found the man collapsed in the back mountain while picking wild vegetables.
She had rushed him here immediately, and Rockefeller was amazed by Medel's decision at that time.
"Still, you managed not to ask the villagers for help? If you had, you might have been hanged in the square. You thought deeply, that's unexpected."
It's wartime now.
And this is a shantytown filled with victims.
Whether imperial soldiers or rebels, as long as they weren't found, it was full of people ready to kill without a trace.
"Huh, really? I just brought him here without thinking."
Medel cared for the dying man with all her heart... She tried to, at least.
Of course, she had to go to work, and being clumsy, most of the burden fell on Rockefeller.
"Wake up. How long are you going to stay unconscious?"
A few days passed since he started caring for the man.
When he was getting tired of urging him to wake up every day, the man finally woke up.
"Where am I?"
Upon hearing his voice and accent, Rockefeller was surprised.
It felt dignified, unlike the usual.
"Now that I look at your face, you seem rather noble..."
He thought perhaps he was a nobility, but he immediately shook his head.
No noble would come to such a shabby place.
And given his soldier's uniform, he was likely a well-off commoner who had become a soldier out of necessity because of the war.
It was often the case, after all.
"You might want to change that manner of speaking first, sir? Here, if you act like you've been well-off, it's going to be tough. Even if you're ruined like everyone else, they'll gossip behind your back if you act high and mighty."
"What?"
Rockefeller, like Medel, wanted to be helpful to someone.
He carefully explained to the unfamiliar man what the shantytown was like and strongly advised him never to reveal he had been a soldier.
"Your uniform has been burned. Ah, but don't worry, I've kept your valuables safe."
The man quickly adapted to life here.
He was really bad at chores like chopping wood, but he was good at hunting.
Still, he managed to do the chores passably well after putting in some effort.
"Sir, is your chest okay?"
"Delken... don't call me sir, call me brother if you don't like being called Rockefeller."
"Hmph, you've lost your noble air already."
Initially, he seemed to have a sharp personality, but he started to soften a bit.
And Rockefeller vaguely realized the reason.
"Medel is truly a remarkable woman."
"Why? Weren't there people like her in the city?"
"Well? There were many women who pretended to be similar. Either they were calculating and flirtatious, or, well... hehe."
"Why are you laughing suddenly?"
"No, it's nothing."
The man's gaze gradually became similar to the other men around Medel.
The men who lived by drawing comfort from her smiling face had captured her smile with their eyes.
Yet, the man had a fierceness in his eyes unlike the others, as if driven by conquest.
A few weeks later, Medel was, after all, a woman—a woman who harbored feelings towards a man.
Although she had never shown such aspects as a mother, she gradually opened her heart to the man's endless seductions.
Probably due to his blonde and handsome appearance.
Many women would have fallen for such a man if he spoke in that manner.
"You don't have to cut hair for a while. I'm making enough money."
"No, no. It's much better if we both earn. No, more than that, how long do you plan to stay here?"
"Why? Did I make some mistake?"
"...No, not that. Just..."
But Medel never truly abandoned Rockefeller.
Her words were a guard against the man whose departure time was uncertain.
She might have hoped that if he promised to stay, he might become a father.
Rockefeller felt both grateful and regretful towards such Medel.
"I don't mind, Medel."
Medel had given up her life as a woman because of him.
And though it ached inside, he didn't want to act like a petulant child.
That's why he pretended to be an adult, wanting to grow up.
Then one day, without a word, the man left the shantytown, leaving behind an envelope and a ring for Medel.
"Isn't it a letter? Won't you read it?"
"...What's the point? I'm illiterate."
"Then I'll read it for you."
"No, it's okay. It's no longer needed."
Medel said this but never threw away the letter or the ring.
Months later, her belly began to swell gradually.
"I'll be back. Take good care of yourself."
"...I'm sorry, am I?"
"It's something Medel used to do. It's a piece of cake for me."
Rockefeller took over Medel's job while she was pregnant.
Although young, he was quick to understand and was highly regarded for his work.
"Your hands are very delicate, Delken."
"It's all thanks to the lady next door who sharpens the scissors well, you know."
During the day, he did the cutting and sewing; in the evening, he hunted.
He never stopped learning from the old man next door even while working.
"You've already learned this much, Delken. Soon, I'll run out of things to teach you."
"Once I've learned everything, please teach me history and imperial language classes too. Oh, do you know anything about magic?"
"Magic? Hmm, it's closely related to mathematics. I have some superficial knowledge."
Rockefeller tirelessly handled every schedule without a day off.
After another half-year had passed, joyous news spread through the household.
The child Medel bore was a boy.
