TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 12

Zeman returned to the inn room, his entire being radiating a cold chill. At some point, a faint candlelight had been lit in the room.  

“Dad!” Albin, noticing his return, sighed in relief and placed the candlestick on the table.  

He ran toward Zeman barefoot but immediately felt the icy dampness clinging to his father’s body. “Dad, why were you out in the rain so late? Where’s Gold?”  

Albin bustled around, handing him a towel while transferring warmth to him through magic.  

He muttered pitifully, “I woke up and saw the room empty. I thought you’d abandoned me, leaving me all alone here.”  

The room was meant for three, but waking up to find himself alone in the middle of the night had terrified him.  

Zeman’s gaze flickered. Taking the towel, he wiped the water off himself before lifting the barefoot Albin into his arms. He placed him back on the bed and tucked him in.  

Finally, he explained, “Someone came to find Gold. He’s gone home. He didn’t want to wake you, so I accompanied him part of the way.”  

“Huh, he left in such a hurry again…” Albin felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. “I wouldn’t have minded being woken up. You can sleep anytime, but goodbyes are important. Who knows if we’ll meet again?”  

“But going home must have made him happy!”  

Of course, going home was better than staying at a shelter. His family must have been looking for him for a long time, which was why they’d taken him back so urgently.  

Albin genuinely felt happy for him.  

Under the candlelight, Zeman looked into Albin’s shining eyes and abruptly asked, “If one day I leave…”  

Albin suddenly grabbed his clothes tightly, as if scared he’d leave right then and there.  

Zeman paused, then clarified, “I mean, after we reach the Rose Kingdom, when we part ways. Would that make you happy?”  

The question left Albin stunned.  

Though he’d always known their father-son relationship was temporary, he’d never actually considered what would happen after they separated. It was as if not thinking about it would make the moment never come.  

Now that the question had been posed, a wave of confusion surged within him, along with the fear and helplessness he’d felt in the cave.  

He didn’t need to think hard to know that with Zeman’s reliability, he would arrange a good place for him, perhaps a loving foster family, after reaching the Rose Kingdom.  

But no matter how good the future foster family was, they’d still just be strangers to him.  

Albin shrank into the blanket, half his face covered.  

“How could I possibly be happy?” he mumbled.  

He truly saw Zeman as his father—the person he trusted most in this world. Separating would feel like severing their bond as father and son.  

“I see…” Zeman lowered his gaze, as if pondering something.  

Albin suddenly grabbed his hand, sensing something amiss. With grave seriousness, he said, “Dad, you’re not allowed to leave without saying goodbye like Uncle Edward or Gold!”  

“I’ll be mad! Super, super mad!” He emphasized again and again, still feeling it wasn’t enough.  

“I’ll become a magician even stronger than you and then…” He faltered, unable to think of how to retaliate, and finally said, “I’ll bully you!”  

Zeman looked at him and, unexpectedly, his lips curled into a faint smile.  

Albin froze.  

“Dad, you smiled?”  

Albin stared wide-eyed to confirm, but the fleeting curve of Zeman’s lips seemed like an illusion. Zeman said nothing.  

Wait!  

Albin concentrated, trying to recall. Had he said something funny? Wasn’t he warning him? What was there to laugh about?  

Was it the magician comment?  

“Come on! I’ll definitely be a stronger magician than you. What’s so funny about that?” He puffed his cheeks indignantly, his gaze fiery as he questioned him.  

His dad was a delicate, clueless beauty who ran out into the rain foolishly. Although he knew some magic theory, he’d already botched a healing spell once. His magic seemed mediocre at best.  

Surpassing a father like that wouldn’t be hard at all.  

“Nothing.” The strongest human, Zeman, turned his back silently.  

“No laughing!” Albin flung off the blanket, leaped over like an angry sugar glider, and clung to Zeman’s back, uncaring that his father’s clothes were still wet.  

Zeman quickly peeled the little octopus off him, wrapped him in a blanket like a takoyaki ball, and tucked him in.  

“Sleep,” the adult ordered mercilessly.  

Unbelievable!  

Albin grumbled to himself, rolling back and forth.  

Why was his frail and delicate dad so strong? Was this just the strength difference between kids and adults?  

He whimpered and dozed off. The room fell silent.  

Half-asleep, he murmured, “Can’t you… always be my dad?”  

Zeman, who had been changing out of his wet clothes, froze. Turning around, he realized it was just Albin talking in his sleep.  

—

The next day, they continued traveling with the caravan, carrying some provisions bought at the inn.  

Looking at the unappetizing food, Albin thought of Gold.  

Poking at the hard bread that seemed like it needed an axe to break, he asked, “If we have magic, why can’t we make better food?”  

“Magic is reserved for miracles and combat,” Zeman replied.  

Albin didn’t understand.  

“But Uncle Edward once made roses grow out of the grass. Why can’t we grow enough wheat to feed everyone?”  

Magic for combat made sense—protecting one’s home was important. But the religious applications puzzled him.  

Wasn’t eating just as important as miracles?  

“To make sure everyone has enough to eat—that’s a miracle, isn’t it?”  

This time, Zeman remained silent for a long while before answering.  

“There are two reasons. First, magic doesn’t create things out of nothing—it transforms mana into something else. Even the gods can’t make all the fields in this world yield crops.”  

“Second, those with the ability to use magic are either clerics in temples or magicians serving nobles. They have unique social roles and responsibilities, and they follow orders from the temple or their liege… There’s much more to it.”  

Albin nodded, half-understanding.  

The adult world sure was complicated.  

They traveled with the merchant caravan for several days, crossing the plains of black soil until they finally reached the capital of the Kingdom of Ryegrass.

The cargo wagons took a different route into the city, and the two bid farewell to the caravan. They approached the city guards, paid the entry tax, and underwent questioning and inspection.

Once granted permission to enter, they walked through the grand city gates. Albin felt as though he had stepped into a bustling amusement park.

Especially in the central square, where massive colorful banners fluttered in the wind. Vibrant ribbons and fresh flowers decorated every street, and the air was filled with the scent of grapes and wine. The festive enthusiasm seemed to ward off the winter chill.

It was the first day of the carnival, but it was said that the most exciting events would happen in the evening.

Father and son first sought a place to stay. However, it was clear they had arrived too late—the rooms had been booked long in advance by tourists flocking to the carnival. They checked several inns but found no vacancies.

Finally, they entered a tavern that also offered lodging. Albin clung to the counter, looking pleadingly at the innkeeper.

“Auntie, hello. Do you have any rooms left? My dad and I just arrived today.”

“No—” The innkeeper, wiping a glass, was about to curtly refuse when she met Albin’s watery gaze. Her words caught in her throat.

“No rooms at all?” Albin asked, his head drooping in disappointment as he looked up at Zeman. Were they going to sleep on the street tonight?

The innkeeper stared at Albin, as if seeing someone else through him. A mix of nostalgia and sadness flickered across her face. 

Abruptly, she changed her tone. “There’s only a small room left. If I tidy it up, it should do. Would you mind?”

Albin nodded enthusiastically. Zeman inquired about the price and promptly paid the room fee, which included meals.

The innkeeper asked them to wait while she went upstairs to prepare the room.

“Great! We have a place to sleep tonight!” Albin cheered, then peeked curiously at the dishes other patrons were eating.

This kind of small tavern didn’t offer a menu; everyone got the same meal. Fortunately, since they were in a prosperous capital city and it was a major festival, the hot stew included meat. The set meal also came with roasted meat, cheese, pickled vegetables, and bread glazed with olive oil, all seemingly fresh from the bakery.

A regular sipping beer nearby chuckled as he watched the boy. “No wonder the innkeeper gave you a room.”

Albin tilted his head, curious.

The patron explained, “The innkeeper’s son would be about your age if he were still alive.”

“What happened to Auntie’s son?” Albin asked innocently.

The patron hesitated, and the others nearby exchanged glances, their eyes avoiding his question.

“It’s… good news.”

“It means he was talented.”

“Sadly, he didn’t make it.”

Albin was confused, but it was clear they didn’t want to elaborate.

After a while, the innkeeper returned and handed them the room key.

The father and son ordered two meals and went upstairs to check their room.

The room was indeed small but serviceable for sleeping. Zeman began organizing their belongings, which had grown heavier with the various items he had bought for Albin along the journey.

Albin quickly surveyed the room and then ran downstairs to fetch their dinner.

The tavern’s main hall was heavy with the scent of alcohol. During their time at inns along the way, they had often brought their meals to their room.

As he descended the narrow stairs, Albin noticed a group of people in cloaks heading upstairs. He stepped aside to let them pass and couldn’t help but glance at them curiously.

Underneath their cloaks, they seemed to be wearing some sort of uniform robes, made of a material unlike anything commoners wore. A golden chalice emblem adorned their attire. They looked important.

Golden chalice… He had seen that symbol on the streets earlier. It seemed to represent the Temple of Wine.

Were these people from the Temple of Wine? They seemed to be muttering something under their breath.

As they passed, Albin resumed his descent but suddenly heard a voice behind him.

“Somnus.”

His vision went dark, and he fell unconscious.

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