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“THAT day, it was like a switch flipped,” Kuro said to Sophie. “Like whatever spell had possessed her finally broke. Miina turned into the most diligent girl in the world. She cut ties with her old crowd, signed up for the Guild exam, studied her butt off, and passed. Now she works as a Guild receptionist, and she’s damn good at it too.”
A flicker of a smile touched his lips, quiet and proud.
“What a world we live in now, where a demi-human can become a Guild receptionist.”
As Kuro reflected on how much the times had changed, Sophie just sat there, unsure how to process everything she’d just heard. For all the calm in his voice, the story hadn’t felt like some quaint tale about a rebellious teenager and her father patching things up in the end.
It was heavier than that. Darker. But also…hopeful.
Somehow, it felt like a door had cracked open to a world she hadn’t known existed.
She’d been told that demi-humans tended to form their own communities and live among their own. These communities…weren’t always given the chance to thrive. Of all the slums they’d been taught to never set foot in at the academy, she recalled that over half were said to be demi-human districts.
Windows smashed in. Trash everywhere. People stumbling through the streets, strung out or drunk as if it were normal. They’d been described as dangerous places.
Once something’s been dirtied, it’s hard to make it clean again.
Once purity has been lost, it’s almost impossible to restore it.
Yet, a father who had done just that sat in front of her. One who had done the impossible. Reached into that dark, broken place and pulled his daughter out.
It wasn’t as if she was about to claim corporal punishment was right—or moral, at all—but she also couldn’t deny it: in this particular case, a little tough love had saved a soul. Maybe for good.
She sat with that thought for a moment, her face softening into contemplation. Then:
“Thank you for sharing such a personal story, Mr. Kuro, but…” Why are you trying to erase a mark that means so much to you?
But before she could speak the question aloud, Kuro’s whiskers twitched. He puffed out his chest proudly.
“My daughter’s getting married, you see.”
“My!” Sophie clapped her hands, her expression brightening.
The fiancé was a demi-human adventurer.
One who had fallen hard for the beautiful Guild receptionist and, like a soul possessed, expounded his love for her again and again and again until she finally gave in.
“Like mother, like daughter,” Sophie said.
“Indeed.” Kuro nodded. “He’s earned my respect, so I gave them my blessing. At the ceremony, I’ll be wearing our traditional attire, as is custom. The thing is, it’s…rather revealing.”
His kind took great pride in the beauty of their coats, and their traditional attire was designed to show it off. It amounted to a loincloth—and little else.
“Miina once apologized to me, rubbing the spot, saying, ‘Sorry, sorry.’ So I thought, you know what? I’ll surprise her on her big day. Show her she doesn’t need to carry that guilt anymore.”
Sophie didn’t say anything.
“That’s it. I’ve told you everything, Ms. Sophie. Now, please—if you would do your thing!”
She just stared at him, brows slightly furrowed, her expression unreadable.
Kuro took her silence for refusal. His ears drooped slightly. “I see. A demi-human like me isn’t even worth the mana, is that it?”
But then…
“Mr. Blackdiamond Bloodgang!!!” Sophie roared.
She slammed both hands on the table with such force that the leftover meat juices on Kuro’s empty plate leapt into the air.
He jumped. He hadn’t expected an outburst like that from someone so quiet and respectful until now. His ears shot up. Even his tail twitched.
“What was that?” he asked, startled.
Sophie fixed him with a tight, trembling smile. Her voice was soft, but her fury was barely contained. “Mr. Kuro…the only surprise women appreciate from men your age is waking up to find they’ve passed peacefully in their sleep.”
“I’m…sorry?” Kuro tilted his head, genuinely confused.
But Sophie wasn’t done.
She was angry.
Fuming.
That this blockheaded father could be so blind to his daughter’s feelings—whether he meant to be or not.
“I simply cannot, for the life of me, fathom why you thought it was a good idea to remove that spot without even mentioning it to your daughter first.”
Her voice shook with emotion. “That isn’t a scar, Mr. Kuro. It’s a reminder. A memory. A treasure. It’s proof that you love your daughter and have loved her through the worst of it.”
She leaned forward, eyes burning.
“It’s not yours to do with as you wish.”
Kuro’s eyes widened, as did his jaw.
What beautiful fangs, Sophie thought, just for a brief moment, before the indignation reclaimed her.
“Go home. Talk to your daughter. Then come back to me. If she agrees to erase it, I’ll have nothing more to say. But doing it without her consent? That’s like burning a diary. Tossing out a cherished keepsake. I’m sorry, Mr. Kuro, but I won’t be an accomplice to something so callous. So cruel.”
“But…I don’t have any more days off,” Kuro said. “I only get two a month.”
“Then I shall come to you.”
Saying this, Sophie reached out a hand to Kuro’s belly.
She fluffed it.
Then fluffed it again.
A perk of the job, as it were.
“I understand your daughter’s wedding is exciting news—truly, I do,” Sophie said. “But I urge you to take a moment. Let the emotion settle before you make a decision you can’t take back.”
She gestured to the bald spot.
“You won’t get another chance to remake it if it’s gone.”
Kuro didn’t respond right away. He stared at the floor, clearly deep in thought. Still unconvinced.
Men! Why I never! Her frustration flared all over again.
“Mr. Kuro,” she said sharply. “That is a badge of honor. A badge your daughter gave you—for raising her, for loving her since she was that tiny little girl, all the way to her wedding day. So please, I’m begging you. Let’s wait a little longer.”
She softened again, voice quieter.
“Talk to your daughter. Then I’ll come to you. If she agrees, I’ll heal it. No questions asked.”
At last, Kuro seemed to relax. His shoulders eased a little.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
“Which gate are you posted at? South gate? North?”
“North.”
“Very well. Then, if it’s all right with you, I’ll come to the north gate in three days’ time. At noon.”
Kuro nodded, his ears flopping with the motion, making Sophie giggle.
“Your ears droop, Mr. Kuro. How adorable,” she said.
He bashfully scratched the back of his head. “They used to stand tall on top of my head. But after all those years wearing a helmet…they kind of bent, I suppose.”
“And they wouldn’t cut out any holes for your ears?”
“Put in that much effort? For a demi-human? Not a chance.”
With that, he stood and neatly folded the handkerchief he’d used to sit.
Sophie had found it charming at first—old-fashioned manners. But now, she thought maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe it was the quiet reflex of someone who’d been made to feel unwelcome too many times.
“Three days, then,” Sophie said.
“Three days. Sorry for the trouble, but I can’t leave my post. You’ll have to come right up to me.”
“Not a problem. They don’t give you a break for lunch?”
“A gatekeeper can’t ever leave the gate, so no. No breaks.”
His face cracked into a smile as he said this, and only then did Sophie notice it: the fur around his face was scruffier and lighter in color. It was sun-bleached, weathered by time.
Two days off a month. No breaks. No exceptions for heat, cold, wind, or snow. Just him, his “partner,” and Mrs. Rustle, standing in constant vigil next to his gate.
As Sophie looked at the broad back of the man who had sealed away his anger, laughter, and freedom as an adventurer to raise his daughter, she whispered a quiet prayer for their happiness.