Chapter 738

“Aris, you’re lucky.”

The child had heard his father say this once before.

If only he had been born a little earlier, he would have been wrapped in rags in the slums, using garbage as a blanket. He would have stuffed rotten scraps into his hungry mouth, tears streaming down his face.

The merchant gently patted Aris’s head and smiled.

“Aris, it’s all thanks to your sister.”

“I’m grateful. Even though I’ve never met her.”

The child perched on a toy chair, resting his chin on his hand. His chubby cheeks puffed out adorably as he moved, though he seemed too serious to notice.

“Never met her?”

“Nope. She lives in the palace now, and after she was sent there, even Father hasn’t seen her. They say it’s rare for palace officials to meet her—she’s a very important person.”

“I see.”

A servant approaching from afar hesitated for a moment. He was carrying a tray of snacks so the child could enjoy some treats while playing, but the sight before him was unexpected.

Aris sat on his toy chair, arms crossed, while the slave leaned on the edge of the table, also with arms folded.

“Master Aris!”

“Oh! Cookies!”

“A-are you alright?”

“About what?”

“Well, you like wordplay, don’t you?”

Then why aren’t you playing? Why are you sitting like teacher and student? The servant was puzzled, but Aris just bit into a cookie and replied,

“We’re playing family!”

“Uh—”

Ian cut off the servant’s confusion with a light hand gesture, not wanting to hear any misunderstandings or nonsense reports.

A soft breeze swept past, ruffling Ian’s golden hair as sunlight shimmered on it.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t disturb us while we’re playing.”

“Ah…”

The servant was surely taken aback—he’d never heard a slave speak like that before. But despite his surprise, he quickly recovered.

“My apologies, Miss. If you need anything, just call. I’ll be nearby.”

“Thanks!”

“Y-yes. I’ll be off then.”

The servant gave Ian a quick nod and hurried away.

Other servants whispered among themselves, curious about what had happened, but Ian just shrugged, saying she had no idea. They only murmured that Chief Mer had brought a real one this time.

“Let’s continue.”

“But what does this ‘family play’ have to do with anything?”

“…It’s to make the game more realistic by understanding the specific roles.”

“Hm. I see.”

Since it was all just passing time anyway, the child shrugged and resumed his story.

“Anyway, Father knew my sister would become king.”

“Knew she would become king?”

“When my sister’s real mother—Father’s first wife—was pregnant with her, she had a dream. A huge fish came and told her to raise the child well.”

It was an unusual birth omen, and the first wife was pleased. But Father dismissed it as nonsense, and when Kumasha was born, he felt like his heart dropped.

Her skin was almost white, and her hair was white too. How could a baby be born with the hair of an old person? And her eyes were like clear glass.

“Father thought she was unlucky and wanted to sell her off, but the first wife stopped him, and she ended up dying from a fall.”

The child’s voice was flat, as if reciting an old folk tale. Ian’s brow twitched slightly, and the child stuffed the remaining cookies into his mouth.

“So, as soon as my sister could walk, she wandered the streets with Father. When she could hold things, she begged with a tin can all day. At night, she went around taverns selling cheap candy. Then—bam!—the day of destiny came.”

That was when the ministers searching for the next Kumasha spotted her in the slums.

She fit the prophecy perfectly—not just in appearance, but also in the calmness and unusual spirit required, despite her rough upbringing.

The merchant always recounted that moment like an adventure story.

“Thrilling!”

Aris shivered, mimicking his father’s gestures, and looked Ian straight in the eyes.

“They said he thought she’d faint standing up. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“…Yes, it is.”

Ian answered, recalling the dream Kumasha’s birth mother had—a giant fish. She had just seen something similar in Masantar. How fitting.

As Ian rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the child narrowed his eyes.

“Why? Want to see the palace?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because everyone around Father and me hopes for it.”

The people who gave the merchant wealth and power, and those who always smiled and praised Arsi, all ultimately aimed to reach the palace.

Even at such a young age, Aris understood this instinctively. No matter how young, he naturally knew what his strengths were.

“But you can’t. You’re mine now!”

Aris grinned, and Ian smiled faintly in return. It was the first time he’d heard such words. If the mages nearby had heard, they’d have been shocked.

The child probably didn’t realize who he was saying that to. Ian gently stroked Aris’s head and lowered himself to meet his eye level.

“There’s talk of war outside soon. Has there been any word from the palace? Since you’re of noble blood, they’d want to keep you safe.”

“Hmm. Not really.”

The child rolled his eyes—a classic sign of lying. Ian raised an eyebrow, silently asking, “Really?”

“If I belong to Aris, then I have a place to go too. I just want to know in advance.”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course.”

“…It’s a secret. Father told me not to tell anyone.”

The child whispered this precious secret into Ian’s ear.

“There’s a secret passage under the palace. It leads to the Northern Mountain, where there’s a secret fortress managed by the Tolrun Palace. If things get bad, they’ll go there.”

“I see.”

A secret fortress in the Northern Mountain. If it’s underground, there’s no way to detect it from outside. The only way to pursue would be to follow the palace tunnels.

Ian nodded in understanding.

‘If the birth omen is true, it means she was blessed by the underground deity from birth. Perhaps previous Kumashas also unknowingly carried traces of this deity. Maybe the current Kumasha’s power has finally come to fruition.’

Ian folded his arms, lost in thought.

Aris, meanwhile, ran over to a toy box and pulled out a wig and an apron. Ian looked on curiously, and Aris blinked as if it was obvious.

“Family play! You be the mom. I’ll be the dad.”

“…No.”

“Huh? Then you want to be the dad?”

“No. Family play is on hold for now.”

“What kind of rule is that!”

Aris threw the toy kitchen set on the floor, sniffling. No riding horses, no family play? What kind of slave was this? One… two… three—

“Waaah!”

Counting silently, Aris burst into a loud cry. Standing firmly on both feet, his head tilted back to the sky. It was basically a battle cry—asking to be noticed.

“Miss!”

“What’s wrong?”

The servants watching from the shadows were startled and rushed over. The child’s tears fell like raindrops as he pointed at Ian.

“This guy says no riding horses, and sniffs, no family play either! It’s no fun!”

“Are you crazy? Don’t you understand the situation?”

“Better not get a beating—wait, no. If you get hurt on your face, you’ll be in trouble.”

“This brat’s just acting out because he knows what’s coming.”

“What are you looking at? Kneel down and apologize to Master Aris! If the mistress sees this, you’ll be dead meat!”

The servants shouted in turn, but Ian didn’t flinch. There was still much to confirm, and he wondered if he should leave now. Nothing was stopping him from flying away if he wanted.

The servants hesitated, unable to approach Ian’s unyielding presence, and Aris was so flustered he forgot to keep crying, just blinking in surprise.

“Is this going to go on forever—!”

One servant, unable to stand it any longer, raised his hand. When dealing with arrogant types who only rely on their looks, a beating was the best medicine.

Just as he was about to strike Ian’s cheek—

Thump! Thump thump!

“Everyone, gather!”

The servant’s hand froze mid-air at the call from inside the mansion. A faint vibration echoed—like footsteps or a knocking sound.

At that moment, other servants running down the hallway shouted, looking toward the garden.

“It’s Moira! What are you waiting for? Escort Master Aris to his room!”

“Y-yes!”

“You lucky bastard.”

“What should we do with this one?”

“Master Aris, will you keep playing with him?”

Aris nodded at the servants’ questions. Despite the annoyance, he seemed to want to keep Ian by his side.

The servants split into two groups—one took Aris to a room, while the others dashed down the hallway toward the main entrance.

Tap, tap, tap!

“What’s going on?” Aris asked.

“I don’t know. Please stay inside this room. We’ll come back to escort you shortly,” the servant replied.

With that, the servant left, leaving Aris and Ian alone in the room.

Without even glancing around, Ian strode over to the window. Peeking through the gap in the curtains, he saw a crowd gathered like a dark cloud.

“Ugh. Why have they all come here?”

Most of them were holding farming tools or sticks—ordinary townsfolk.

With the war driving up prices and making life harsh, anxiety had spread like wildfire. Rumors about the checkpoint’s abuses had reached the people, and unable to bear it any longer, they had risen up.

“Mer, the inspector, come out! Is it true you’ve been smuggling goods with deposits paid? Explain yourself, every last detail!”

“Yes, that’s right! If the merchants can’t get through the checkpoint, we’ll starve! You can’t run things like this! Mayor, you should be explaining this, not standing by!”

“You’re not even nobility!”

“No, wait, that’s not right. The mayor is the king’s…”

“Oh, I see. So the inspector isn’t nobility either!”

“Who cares? Honestly, even though the mayor is the king’s father, we’ve never even seen his face!”

“Exactly! Stop killing the merchants at the checkpoint! At this rate, we’ll all starve!”

The “goods with deposits” they were talking about was Ian himself. How had the rumor spread so fast? Ian was puzzled.

“…?”

Then Ian spotted some familiar faces in the crowd.

“Give him back, you bastards!”

“Our Ian—no, whoever he is—give him back!”

“Don’t live like that!”

“If you’ve got a problem, come out and say it!”

They were Ministry of Magic members, their faces crudely hidden beneath robes. Where they’d gotten them, no one knew, but each one was waving a shovel or sickle with fervor.

“…”

Ian let out a sigh at the pitiful scene before him.