Perhaps it was because I was getting older, or I was just terrible at remembering things, but my oldest memories about my father were from when I was eight years old. He was always strict and cold, keeping a distance from me. I was always left to watch his back as he walked away.
However, Max had said, "Every day, he would talk about how you would beg him for a ride on his shoulders. Then, he would go on and on about how small and cute you were.”
According to him, my dad was a pushover when it came to me. He sounded like someone who could only exist in a novel and I wondered if he really said those things...
I sighed. If this was the case, why didn’t he ever show me that he cared? I hid how I felt in front of Max, but listening to my father’s stories come from someone else made me miserable. If he had expressed himself a little, our relationship wouldn’t have become like this. I almost felt deceived.
Just then, the door to my room creaked open. I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Speak of the devil! I didn’t know he would suddenly barge into my room while I was busy resenting him.
While I was questioning why he had come to my room, he began to speak. "You’re sleeping rather quietly today, aren’t you?” he asked. Was I a noisy sleeper? I felt rather upset about being criticized out of the blue. "You’re not snoring, either.”
I couldn’t help but feel ashamed. He probably kept his comments to himself until now because he didn’t want to offend me.
I was still rationalizing his behavior when he suddenly said, "I’m back, Jubel.”
His voice was quiet, but he sounded natural. It was as if he had done this many times. His unfamiliar tone of voice made me feel strange, so I began to wonder... Did he always do this while I was asleep?
At that thought, sorrow overcame me, and I felt my heart break. I wanted to show him that I was awake so that I could talk to him, but I continued to feign sleep to avoid creating an awkward situation. I promised myself that I would talk to him tomorrow.
Then, he said something else.
"I don’t deserve happiness… but I can’t help but want to stay by your side.”
Tearful, I immediately sat up. "Don’t say that now!” I cried.
His eyes grew wide. He was surprised that I was still awake. Collecting himself, he sighed. "Perhaps that’s asking for too much. I’ve been a terrible father to you…”
Frustrated, I shook my head violently and took his hands. "You can do that from now on!”
Misunderstanding me, he sighed again. "Yes, I’ll make sure I—”
Cutting him off, I said, "No. What I mean is that we can try to become closer to each other from now on.”
Watching his astonished expression, an embarrassing promise I couldn’t dare speak aloud came to mind...
And let’s be happy, Dad.
There was a moment of silence.
Afterward, he simply said, "I’m sorry.”
My heart sank. I asked for us to grow closer, not for an apology. With trembling eyes, I gazed at him. Why was he saying these things? I thought everything was all right and that we could get to know each other from now on. Despairing, I lowered my head.
"I’m sorry for making you say those things…”
I raised my head once more to look at him, only to realize his usual wintry eyes now carried a warmth to them. They reminded me of a clear sky on a spring day.
"I regret being a terrible father to you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I always thought he was ashamed of me because I wasn’t a good enough daughter, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I focused my gaze on the hand he wrapped around mine. He was holding me without shaking me away. Realizing that he had never let go of me, I burst into tears.
Dad tightened his grip around my hand. His other hand rose slightly as if to do something, but he let it fall instead, clenching it into a fist at his side. Although his expression remained indifferent, the calmness that customarily characterized his gaze was absent. Finally, I realized that he just wasn’t good at expressing himself. All along, he had cared for me in his own way.
Once I stopped crying, he lowered his eyes. Then, when he next spoke, it was with the stern tone he usually used. "Good night,” he said.
Tightening my grip on his hand, I stopped him.
"Dad.” He looked back in response. Meeting his eyes, I mentioned what had happened earlier. "Max told me about the stories you’ve told him.”
Seemingly embarrassed, he averted my gaze. "I see. I never thought he would ever mention them to you…”
I nodded. "That was his original plan, but he got caught.”
A rare expression crossed his face—he was startled. "You caught him? How?”
I knew I was pretty dull, but he didn’t need to look at me like that! In any case, I recounted the day’s events. "Well, Max seemed tired earlier, so I let him sleep in my room. Then, he started talking in his sleep and—”
"You let him do what?” Dad thundered, stopping me mid-sentence. Realizing he could be even more frightening than I had imagined, I zipped my mouth shut. "That damned bastard slept in your bed?”
I shuddered at his rather harsh choice of words and bitter expression. Then I remembered that I hadn’t come of age yet. Telling him that I let my boyfriend sleep in my bed probably wasn’t the best idea. What I had done deserved a scolding, so I hastened to provide an excuse: "Daddy, he told me he hadn’t slept for three days!”
His expression grew even more frigid. "Being sleepless for three days shouldn’t bother him in the least.”
Desperate to avoid trouble, I kept pushing. "Anyway, nothing happened!” I swore. "Really!”
"Good. If something did happen, I wouldn’t leave that scoundrel be,” he said lowly.
I gulped. Then, I let out a laugh when I realized that he was just worried about me. Holding his hand tightly, I changed the topic. "I was actually surprised to hear that I used to ride on your shoulders when I was young…”
A pained smile made its way onto his face, but I didn’t know why.
"Ah, yes. You were an energetic kid, indeed.”
He didn’t sound too interested, but I could tell he was reminiscing about the past. Plucking up my courage, I decided to make a request. "Dad, I want to hear the stories that Max didn’t tell me. I feel like I don’t remember most of my childhood memories.”
He sighed deeply. Then, with a faint smile, he said, "It may take a long time. Is that okay with you?”
"Of course!”
It didn’t matter if we had to stay up all night or if we had to talk until the next day and the day after. I was ready to listen to anything and everything he had to say.
Thinking about how he had fallen asleep a while ago with Jubelian in his arms, Max felt a smile tug on his lips. If he could, he wanted to get married sooner so that he could see her every day. However, his current situation rendered it impossible to hold a wedding because he was still planning an uprising against the emperor. Max was tempted to welcome her as his companion in secret, but… Regis would never allow it.
The lady still liked him though, didn’t she? Assuming that she would agree to his proposal no matter what, Max stepped into his room.
Victor and Dennis greeted him.
"Your Highness! You’ve returned!” Victor cried, making a great fuss. "We were worried sick about you!”
Seeing his uneasy subordinates, Max frowned slightly. "Did something happen in my absence?” he asked.
Nodding, Dennis handed over some documents. "Please take a look at these.”
Max perused the inked writing. It was a notice from the emperor. He furrowed his brows. "To commemorate the harvest festival… a hunting contest will be held in three weeks?” he recited. "Not just the royal family, but nobles ranked higher than counts and their families are obliged to participate…”
To his knowledge, the emperor hated hunting, and it wasn’t because he was uncomfortable with slaughtering animals. The man was just terrible at it. So, why in the world would he hold an event like this?