“Come to think of it,” the scribe said with a weary little sigh, “it’s a dreadfully merciless system, isn’t it?”
He must have meant the regulations surrounding children born outside marriage. Seen from one angle, they could tear parent and child apart.
“It is not guaranteed misery,” I replied. “Even children abandoned after adultery can receive the same education as anyone else.”
I paused, then added flatly,
“As for what becomes of the parents, I cannot say. But a decent life will not be waiting for them.”
“Ugh…” The scribe made a pained sound.
Once a man or woman fathers or bears such a child even once, surveillance is attached to both of them. They are watched to determine whether there is any room for reform. It is a measure introduced quietly in recent years, meant to prevent the needless increase of such births.
If they straighten their lives and become earnest, the surveillance is eased.
If there is no sign of reform, if they seek out another married partner again, then a report is filed. What comes after that, even I do not know.
The Crown Prince merely told me, “You are better off not knowing.”
It seems to be under the Crown Princess’s jurisdiction. I have no intention of touching it.
“If it was only a fling, they would have used prevention,” I said. “They say it becomes difficult once a child is conceived.”
“Y-yes…” The scribe swallowed, then stared at me. “Asty-san, don’t tell me you…”
My throat tightened as though something had lodged there. This sort of subject has never agreed with me.
“In any case,” I said, forcing the conversation onward, “if they do not wish to be parted from the child, then they must earn the money. There are those who have done so. I know it for a fact.”
“…Well, sure,” the scribe muttered. “But that’s… that’s beyond ordinary people.”
He gave a strained laugh.
“Your mother was beyond ordinary people, Asty-san.”
From the time I could form memories, it was only Mother and me.
There was no trace of a father in our home, not even a shadow. Before I knew it, we were living together in that house in Alstreil. When Mother was away during the day, I was left with acquaintances.
I learned my own origins only after I began attending the academy at seven.
Mother’s absences increased sharply. It was not rare for her to be home only on weekends.
One night, I had been left with one of Mother’s friends. I woke to voices in the middle of the night and found Mother there, speaking quietly with that friend.
“I’m sorry again,” Mother said. “I forced my companions to let me slip away.”
“You’ll leave again soon, won’t you?” her friend replied. “Misty… will you never let that child go?”
“…No.” Mother’s voice was steady, but it carried something raw beneath it. “Even if it’s painful, even if it’s hard, I chose to stay together. Raising him properly is the meaning of my life.”
She lowered her head, as if ashamed.
“I’m sorry, Delila. I’ve caused you nothing but trouble.”
Delila wore a troubled expression.
At the time, I was too young to understand, but she must have been worried for Mother.
“It’s no trouble,” Delila said. “Asty is a sweet boy. He listens, he learns quickly.”
Then her tone softened.
“But I’m worried about you. You’re working every day, day and night. You never stop.”
“It’s all right,” Mother replied. “I take the magical medicines from Frailchest.”
“Ah! That suspicious stuff again. Use mine instead.”
“I like the way it recovers gradually,” Mother said with a faint, almost teasing warmth.
Delila clicked her tongue, half exasperated, half helpless.
“…Honestly. But that child’s father… what in the world is he doing?”
At the word “father,” my breath caught.
A father I didn’t know existed. A father I had never seen.
My heart began to pound so loudly it felt as if it might spill out of my mouth, and I held a hand over my lips as I strained to listen.
Mother exhaled, and her answer came, too light for what it contained.
“Well… I altered memories and records, you know. He’s probably living happily with his wife.”
“Won’t there be any claim on him?”
“No.” Mother’s voice was very small. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Asty was born.”
For a moment, her words would not enter my head.
My heart hammered, frantic. My legs trembled, and I sank down, unable to decide what I ought to do.
From the tone of her voice, Mother tried to laugh. It failed.
“From his perspective, it would be terrifying, wouldn’t it? Thinking it was just play, and then the woman had a child on her own.”
She inhaled sharply.
“But still, I… I really…”
The Mother I knew always laughed boldly. She never seemed shaken by anything.
And yet now she was crying.
That sight struck me like a blow. I felt I should not be watching. I crawled back beneath the bedding and lay still.
Wrapped in the blanket, I waited for my heart to quiet, repeating what I had heard over and over until it began to take shape.
So Mother was not his wife.
My father had a wife who was not Mother, and he likely did not even know she had given birth to me.
That was why he had never been here.
And then I understood, with a slow, suffocating clarity, that I had not been born because my father wanted me.
Tears seeped out at last, and I cried in silence beneath the covers.
The next day I went to the town library and searched for answers.
There, I learned that in this country I belonged to a clearly defined category.
A child born of adultery.
I learned, too, how such children were treated.
The academy fees would not be paid by the state.
Then who would pay them?
Those outrageous sums. Who would shoulder them?
There was only one answer.
Mother.
Mother was taking on an impossible schedule of high-risk quests to pay my tuition.
To a child of seven, it was an unimaginable amount. So enormous that no ordinary work could cover it.
Even once I understood, there was nothing I could do at that age.
Mother continued to laugh boldly in front of me, bright and unfaltering, as if she were the sort of woman who would never stray.
And yet at night, alone, she would murmur as she prayed, as though confessing something she could not wash away.
If she would not speak of it, I told myself I would forget.
I wore a calm face and lived my days as if nothing had happened.
I attended the academy on the money Mother scraped together, and I studied with all I had.
At sixteen, I began to take simple quests.
When I said I wanted pocket money, that I wanted to help the household, she finally allowed it, provided they were easy ones.
Those peaceful days ended without warning.
By the time I had stabilized as an adventurer and could earn steadily, I returned from a quest to find Mother collapsed.
The doctor called it exhaustion.
Exhaustion.
I had thought I would finally be able to let her rest, and yet she never woke again. She left this world without ever returning to me.
I learned that Mother had regretted her adultery only after her death, when I began sorting through what she left behind.
When I claimed the funds she had stored with the guild, I discovered that a vast sum had been deposited as compensation to my father’s wife.
Because she had altered memories and records and made it all “as though it never happened,” she could not apologize. She could not confess. She could not even offer compensation openly.
That must have cornered her.
It wasn’t only to earn my tuition. She had taken dangerous quests at a relentless pace.
It was as if she did not mind dying at any time.
I could not forgive it.
I could not forgive the existence of a father who, ignorant of all her suffering, was likely living comfortably somewhere.
So I pursued information-gathering quests. I developed spell after spell.
It was then that I began playing at being a detective.
When the Crown Prince’s aide noticed me and I began working in palace intelligence, I learned of other children like myself, and I was shaken to the core.
Most of them had no father who even knew they were being raised.
Unable to pay those extortionate fees, some sold their bodies.
I begged the Crown Prince to protect such children, but he told me a royal could not support it openly.
He also said, quietly, that if it were done out of sight, he would close his eyes to it.
An orphanage for children born of adultery exists under the name of one of the Prince’s close associates, funded by donations.
I, too, gave a portion of my earnings from quests.
And still, every year, more such children appear.
Those who commit adultery never cease.
One day, sick with it all, I went on a quest and was injured.
No recovery potion. No magic left.
I lay there thinking, so this is where I die, and felt my life turn bitter in my mouth.
Then two women found me.
“It’s all right,” one of them said gently. “Here. Drink this.”
A recovery potion was placed between my lips. It was easy to swallow, and I felt my strength and mana return little by little.
“Thank you,” I managed.
She smiled at me and held out her hand.
“Don’t throw yourself away,” she said. “If you keep living, good things will happen someday.”
A stranger saw through me, and then she encouraged me.
Later, I learned who she was.
Those two women were the pair adventurers everyone admired.
One was Ameri-san.
And the one who gave me that potion was Sheila-san.
