Volume 4 Chapter 112: The Visitor

After being thoroughly teased by Alice-chan, we regrouped with the members of Sextet and exited My Garden.

“…Huh?”

As soon as we stepped out, I felt something was off.

My Garden is supposed to return you to the exact spot where you entered. I should be sitting on the sofa right now, but instead, I feel something warm and oddly familiar beneath me—rugged, yet strangely nostalgic. There’s also a faint whiff of cigarette smoke, a smell I haven’t encountered in years.

In front of me, Alice-chan—who seems to be in the same situation—has ended up perched on Tesea’s lap, her face twisted in annoyance. Beside her are Noel and Fiona, now dressed in elegant gowns for some reason. I have no idea why they changed clothes, but it seems everyone moved locations while we were inside. That must be why Alice-chan ended up on Tesea’s lap.

That’s all fine and good, but… if that’s the case, whose lap am I sitting on?

It’s undeniable—I’m sitting on someone. Hesitantly, I glance to either side. On my left is the Manager, now in a pure white dress. On my right is Sierra, still in her usual outfit. Neither Elle nor Sophie is anywhere to be seen in the room.

And frankly, if it were any of them, it wouldn’t feel so… sturdy.

It could have been Number One, but he’s standing as usual behind the sofa, alongside Number Two.

No, I already know who it is. I just don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to accept the exasperating truth staring me in the face.

Even though I thought I’d long forgotten what it felt like, being here now brings everything back.

Why… why is he here?

“Yo, Noil. Been a while.”

“Go home, Dad.”

The nostalgic voice from behind was met with my curt response, as I stubbornly refused to turn around.

Short, neatly trimmed black hair, dark eyes, and a ridiculously well-toned physique you can see even through his casual linen shirt.

His rugged face, exuding wild charm that women probably go crazy for, sports a scruffy beard. A black eyepatch covers his right eye, and aside from a few more crow’s feet, he looks almost exactly the same as I remember.

“You’ve grown taller. Though I’m still taller—and better-looking,” he says with a manly grin, the unlit cigarette still hanging from his mouth.

The man sitting across from me on the sofa is my father, Gray Arlens.

I half-glared at him.

“Why are you here?”

“Don’t sweat the small stuff. Anyway, you take after your mother more than me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Man, what’s with the attitude? Acting like a rebellious teenager again?”

“I grew out of that a long time ago. This is just who I am.”

Ugh. Seriously, he hasn’t changed at all.

I looked at him as he patted his knees and leaned forward, as obnoxiously cheerful as ever.

With a sigh, I rephrased my question.

“So, why are you here?”

I mean, it’s not like I mind him coming. But normal people send some kind of notice beforehand instead of just showing up. Does he have any idea how much of a shock this was? His carefree attitude drives me nuts.

Not that I’m one to talk.

“Didn’t you read my letter? I sent word that I’d visit the capital around the Star Lake Festival.”

“Letter?”

“It should’ve reached you.”

He crossed his arms, tilting his head like he couldn’t figure out what went wrong.

A letter, huh…

“Oh.”

“…Oh?”

…Right. I tossed them all during that one phase.

Back when Fiona’s mail-sorting efforts paid off, I decided it was too much of a hassle to deal with and threw away anything not specifically addressed to Fiona or Noel.

Was his letter in that pile?

But there were so many…

And I did get permission from the Manager…

Besides, hardly anyone writes directly to me…

“Yeah, I didn’t see it…”

“You threw it away without reading, didn’t you?”

“…Anyway, how did you even know I was here?”

He gave me a suspicious look, but I dodged the question by changing the subject.

Seriously, can he not be this laid-back?

With a sigh that practically said, “Good grief,” Dad shook his head and leaned back deeply into the sofa.

He’s way too comfortable. What a free spirit.

Not stopping there, though, as if something had annoyed him, he raised an eyebrow and sprawled out across the sofa. That’s just excessive freedom.

Everyone else—except for Sierra and Tesea, who were sitting on either side of me—was standing out of courtesy, but here he was, occupying the entire sofa all to himself. Does he not know what the word “consideration” means?

Now lying on his side, propping his head up with one arm, he lazily waved his free hand at Fiona, who was standing behind the sofa I was sitting on. Dressed in the light blue gown she wore during her meeting with Sierra, she sparkled with joy as she waved back at him.

“I heard from Fiona-chan.”

Ah… now that he mentions it, she did say something about visiting him. I really wish she wouldn’t.

“Well, I had some personal business in the capital, so I figured I’d drop by and see your face while I was at it.”

“Got it. So, when are you leaving? Now? Hang on, I’ll grab you a souvenir.”

“Let me relax, will ya?”

“…Tch.”

“Sierra’s one thing, but hearing that attitude from you, Noil, is enough to make even me cry.”

When Sierra clicked her tongue, Dad gave us a pleading look. I mean, come on, I wasn’t serious. There’s no way I’d treat my family that badly.

So, when is he leaving? Maybe in two hours?

“Tesea, your brother’s a real piece of work. What’s his deal?”

He’s your son.

Also, why just me? Not that I care, but still.

“U-uhm… ahaha…”

“Can you believe it, Noil? This adorable girl is my daughter now!”

“Shut it.”

Dad turned to me with a wide grin after looking at Tesea, who gave an awkward laugh and scratched her cheek with her finger. She lowered her head shyly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“Noil, scoot over. There’s an unwelcome intruder sitting between my two precious daughters.”

“I’m not an intruder!”

I’m your son.

Apparently, while Alice-chan and I were inside My Garden, Tesea had explained her situation, and, as expected, Dad accepted it without a shred of hesitation. In fact, he even said something annoying like, “Getting such a cute daughter out of nowhere? This is nothing but a win! What good deeds did I do to deserve this, huh?”

“Fufu… you get along so well with your father,” Noel said, chuckling softly as she smiled.

The way she said father rubbed me the wrong way, but it was probably just my imagination.

More importantly, was she not paying attention to the exchange just now? I mean, we don’t have a bad relationship, but still…

By the way, why is she in a gown too, just like Fiona? Did they have some kind of formal event to attend?

Noel was wearing a red dress. It resembled her Magis Gear in some ways, with delicate lace accents in various places. The skirt… what was it called again? Something about fish… fishing… no, that’s not it. Oh, fish tail! That was the name. Fiona had mentioned it yesterday while choosing clothes, explaining the different styles. I only remembered it because of the “fish” part.

The front was short, ending above the knees, but the back extended longer, like the tail of a fish.

She paired it with heels and lace gloves. It was a much more mature outfit than usual, but… why was she dressed like that?

Surely it wasn’t because this old man showed up, right? Look closely—this guy’s wearing a sloppy linen shirt and equally sloppy pants.

“Mind if I smoke?”

See? He’s just a regular old man.

“I don’t mind,” the Manager said with a gentle smile, nodding magnanimously. “This isn’t a no-smoking area, and there’s an ashtray as well.”

Dad—no, the old man—was given the green light by the Manager. Speaking of which, when did she start owning such a dress?

The Manager’s dress was pure white, probably the same style as Noel’s, though… off-shoulder? Like Fiona’s, it exposed her shoulders and chest area, with a large ribbon tied around her waist as an accent.

Her hair, which she usually left undone, was neatly styled in the back, likely to match the dress.

Did she do that herself? Or did someone help her? She’s not exactly skilled at delicate tasks like cooking or painting.

Is the room behind me a ballroom or something?

Alice-chan, well, her outfit could also be considered a dress. Plus, with Number One and Number Two standing there like guards, the whole scene looks like a party for nobles.

In front of me, a casual old man. Behind me, a glamorous party.

The gap is insane. It’s like jumping off a cliff where you just keep falling forever without hitting the bottom.

The old man casually rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a lighter. A fancy, navy-blue lighter with ornate engravings—clearly high-quality.

He opened the lid, and a sharp, elegant click resonated through the room. Even as an old man, he had impeccable taste in lighters. He’d been using the same one for as long as I could remember.

Honestly, I didn’t dislike the sound or even the faint smell of tobacco. I realized I’d almost let nostalgia creep into my expression for a moment.

“…Actually, I’ll smoke outside. It doesn’t feel right to do it in front of such beautiful women.”

But Dad didn’t light the cigarette. He simply closed the lighter and said, “Alright, up I go,” as he pushed himself off the sofa.

This old man has always been the type to say embarrassing lines without a hint of shame. He’s been like this since his youth, and apparently, it made him quite popular back then. Not that I care.

“Noil, come with me. Let’s have some man-to-man—”

“You—no, old man—what are you…?”

Alice-chan’s trembling voice interrupted him mid-sentence as she called him old man.

Everyone turned their gaze toward Alice-chan, who stood frozen, her eyes wide in shock.

“I’m not an old man, I’m your big brother.”

“You’re an old man.”

You’re already thirty-eight, after all.

“I’m not an old man, I’m your father.”

“Shut it.”

As he gave me a thumbs-up with that smug face, I stood up and slapped his hand away.

Dad, now looking annoyed, sighed and muttered, “Good grief…” before putting his hands on his hips and shifting his attention to Alice-chan.

“So? What’s up, missy? Hmm? By the way, what’s your name?”

“…That doesn’t matter. That lighter… no, that Magis Tool…”

“Oh? You’ve got sharp eyes. That’s right, this is a Magis Tool. The best lighter in the world. Ever heard of the Creator? If you’re one of the Creators’ Lineage, you must’ve at least heard the name. This lighter was—”

“I am the Creator.”

“…What?”

The old man—no, Dad—tilted his head in confusion, stroking his chin as he turned his puzzled gaze toward me. Don’t look at me! I have no idea what’s going on either! How am I supposed to know when even you, who seems directly involved, are clueless?

What’s going on with Alice-chan—

“I’m the Creator now.”

For someone who’s usually so strong-willed and confident, Alice-chan looked like she was on the verge of tears as she spoke.

Dad’s eyes widened slightly as he looked between the lighter and Alice-chan.

“Answer me, old man… Why do you have that hag’s lighter? It’s supposed to be… the only one in the world. That Magis Tool lighter, made by the Creator, shouldn’t exist in duplicates… That hag said so herself.”

“That’s because I’m the one who asked her to make that so-called ridiculous thing.”

Dad tossed the lighter into the air, caught it, and turned the base toward Alice-chan. Though it had been used for years, there wasn’t a single scratch on it, and engraved there was a maker’s mark.

Alice-chan’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at it.

“So, you’re the successor now, huh? To the first Creator, Rowly Hellsight, that old hag.”

With a wide grin, Dad said those words.

“Ah, I see… so that’s how it is. You’ve grown up, Alice-chan.”

His tone carried far more joy than when he first saw me.

“…Hm? Actually, not really. You’re still the smallest one here.”

He folded his arms and tilted his head, correcting himself with a casual remark.