...That might be it. Maybe my build reminds Rudeus of the school bullies from my past life, triggering some PTSD. That would make this affection quest hard to complete. If only Rudeus were a girl... no wait, a 34-year-old NEET man in the mind of a girl... ugh, that's explosive.
Allen sighed quietly and stepped toward the study door.
The door was open. Inside, Paul was hunched over, gripping his hair in thought.
Allen knocked lightly.
"Master."
Paul looked up. There were scattered sheets of paper on the desk.
"Oh, come in. Have a seat."
Allen glanced at the chair—it was quite far from the desk where Paul was resting his chin—and then Paul picked up a pen and looked at Allen.
"Since you're a stranger, before I officially make you our family's swordsman, I need to do a simple background check."
Allen raised an eyebrow, staring straight at Paul's face.
Paul quickly waved his hand and scratched his head, glancing at the ceiling with a troubled look.
"Don't worry, I know adventurer etiquette. I used to be one myself. It's just a very rough investigation. Since it concerns my child's safety, I hope you understand."
Allen's expression softened and, as if suddenly interested, he leaned back casually in the chair with a faint smile.
"Go ahead."
"Uh, name?"
"Allen."
Paul's pen paused for a moment, then he slowly nodded and continued asking.
"Is it okay to ask your age?"
Allen looked at the pen in Paul's hand and smiled indifferently.
"Nine years and four months."
Paul blinked.
"Your usual range of activity?"
"Around the Asura royal capital."
Paul seemed to feel a dryness in his throat and swallowed.
"Swordsman level?"
"Currently holds the title of Water God Style—Advanced."
Paul scratched his head with his pen and took a while before smiling again.
"I noticed your clothes are pretty worn out... I assume it's been a while since you earned any money? When exactly did you lose your wealth in the labyrinth?"
Allen answered with a cheerful tone.
"Last November, Master."
Paul inhaled deeply and let out a relieved sigh. Looking up at Allen, his expression softened, and his tone took on an oddly affectionate quality.
"Alright then, Allen. You can stay here for now. Let's have dinner together later—Zenith is a great cook."
Allen squinted at him.
"Any other questions, Master?"
Paul hesitated, then shook his head.
"No, that's all. You can rest in your room for a bit, or maybe go play with Rudeus. Despite your height, you're only four years older than him."
Allen stood.
"Then I'll excuse myself."
"Mm, go on."
As Allen left and closed the door behind him, Paul stared at the door for a moment, then sat down and pulled out a blank sheet of letter paper.
Click. The door shut.
Just as Paul was about to start writing, a lazy voice drifted in front of him.
"Uncle Paul. Who are you writing to?"
Paul's pupils shrank, and he looked up in shock.
Allen was leaning against the now-closed door, silently watching him.
A few months ago, Allen's system had randomly notified him of a +2 increase in participation score for major Mushoku Tensei events, which puzzled him.
He had just set off toward Buena Village at the time, and the people or events he'd encountered before that had no relation to any early childhood incidents. So how did his score go up?
Now he had his answer.
Someone already "knew" him.
Allen stepped closer to the flustered Paul, peering curiously at the desk.
On the desk lay a letter filled with neat, ornate noble handwriting. The paper itself was old and slightly yellowed—not something written recently.
Allen squinted and rudely reached to pick up the letter.
Paul's expression changed instantly. He shot up to grab Allen's hand.
But just before Paul could seize his wrist, Allen brought his middle and index fingers together and swiped gently across Paul's palm.
Like a slippery fish, his hand twisted free of the grip, causing Paul to stumble forward and slam into the desk.
He could only watch helplessly as Allen pinched the letter with two fingers and began reading aloud.
"Water God Style—Ryu Secret Technique."
Allen held the letter up to eye level and carefully read its contents:
Paul,
How have you been? I imagine life with your wife in the countryside is quite pleasant.
I'm writing to ask a favor.
It concerns my eldest son in the royal capital—Allen Boreas Greyrat. I'm not sure if you remember, but I wrote to you when he was born.
He had barely opened his eyes when James took him to the capital to raise as his own. That was the price of losing the heir struggle.
Such is the Boreas tradition—to avoid internal conflict.
But I still couldn't resist secretly visiting him once under the pretense of reporting to the mayor.
After all, he is my firstborn in this world.
Ironically, I don't even have the right to give him a name...
You're free to laugh at me. I've mocked you plenty in the past—it's only fair.
Back to the point: Allen is very different from me. He's extraordinarily talented. Even at a young age, he shows remarkable skill in swordsmanship.
When I saw him from afar, surrounded by admiration and praised by James, he showed neither arrogance nor fear—only calm composure.
That mix of restraint and sharpness... it was surreal. His expression resembles Father's, but not entirely. I even wondered—could this really be my child?
One thing's certain:
He should grow up among applause and roses, not in the shadow of a failed man like me, playing the son of some backwater mayor.
But when I looked at him, I couldn't help but wonder—what if I had won the power struggle against James? Would I be the one standing in front of him now?
I envy James. He doesn't deserve—
Ahem, I digress.
One month ago, Allen disappeared while en route to the Magic University.
Publicly, the case was labeled as a disappearance.
James seems unwilling to search for him, but I'm deeply worried for his safety.
I asked one of our house guards—your former teammate, the Sword King Ghislaine—to investigate the place where he vanished, the Upper Red Dragon's Jaw.
But ten days have passed with no result.
I sense a conspiracy.
I wanted Ghislaine to use her old adventurer connections, but she said it was outside her capability and suggested I turn to you.
So I'm asking: please use your adventurer network to look for him.
His features are sharp, with eyebrows like Father's, brown hair like mine, and grey eyes from Hilda. He stands out in a crowd.
If you get any leads, please inform me. If someone sees him, tell them to keep him in place and send word to me—I'll confirm it myself.
Please understand: I can't openly hire people to search for him. It wouldn't be appropriate for someone in my position.
After all, his "father" is James.
Sorry to burden you with this side of me.
Sincerely,
Philip
Allen stared at the final line—the familiar yet distant name—and fell silent.
Meanwhile, Paul scratched his head awkwardly, unsure what to say.
(End of Chapter)
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