Chapter 2
âDaadâ!â
âAh, our daughter. Donât worry, Daddyâs ears are still working. I can hear you, Eve.â
âDonât make swords, Daddy!â
âOkay, okay, still feeling really bad? Drink some more milk and get some rest.â
âAh, donât make swords! If you make a sword, Iâll die! W-Whatâs that? Huh? Whatâs that? The iron is⌠Daddyâs life force⌠Ugh!â
âYeah, yeah, our daughter, Iâll make sure to call the doctor tomorrow.â
While pushing bread into my mouth, my dad mumbled.
Because of that, I had to awkwardly chew on bread I didnât even want to eat.
After that, I didnât give up and kept pleading with Dad.
âDonât make swords! Donât make them, please!â
âWhy is she acting like this again? Our daughter, go out and play, okay? Daddyâs busyââ
Dad was a stubborn adult who didnât even listen to the words of an eight-year-old.
In the end, I gave up trying to convince him and had to come up with another plan.
That plan wasâŚ
âBusiness interference!â
After that, I secretly took the sword Dad had worked hard on, went to the market, and staged a performance.
âAgh, why canât a sword cut the potatoesâ!â
âNo, this time, the ham doesnât cut either!â
âMr. Royce! A sword made by him canât be this badâ!â
My interference worked, and the number of warriors coming to request sword-making from Dad decreased day by day.
Dad, unaware that I was sabotaging his business, shed some tears.
âSorry, Dad.â
I wanted to live with my dad for a long, long time.
As I carried the Excalibur Dad made for me as a birthday gift and walked home, I apologized silently to him.
âŚPoor Dad.
When he made me this sword, he never imagined it would be used like this.
Later:
âDaughter.â
âMm.â
âWhy arenât any customers coming these days?â
I flinched.
I tried to ignore the pricking of my conscience and swatted at the fly flying around.
Swatâ.
âDaughter, tell me. Is Dadâs sword bad? Huh? Is my sword terrible? Is that why no oneâs coming?â
âAh, Dad, your sword is the best in the world.â
Yes, this is true, Dad.
This was my sincere truth. Because in the original novel, Dad was described as âthe worldâs best weapon craftsman, Neil Royce.â
So the reason no one was requesting swords from my dad wasnât because of his skill. It was because of my covert operations.
And, of course, Dad knew that too.
Although we lived in this small village now, when he was younger, he used to receive requests from nobles and travel to the capital city.
ââŚThis canât be! Iâm Neil Royce! Huh? These people in this little village donât know, but the swords I make are the best in the world! These fools donât recognize the worldâs best sword!â
Dad tore at his unwashed hair, crying loudly.
I comforted him, as usual, and gently brushed his tangled hair over his shoulder.
âAh, Dad, stop crying. Donât! Even if our swords donât sell, weâre still doing fine. Remember the money you got for fixing Mr. Groverâs farm tools?â
âYeah, but selling just one sword would earn a lot more! Why arenât any requests coming in? Itâs so great!â
âYeah, I know. Our dadâs sword is really great.â
âŚSorry, Dad.
I tried my best to comfort him.
Dad hugged me and said, âOf course, itâs only you, Eve!â
Just thenâŚ
Ding-dongâ
The doorbell outside the workshop rang.
âWho could it be?â
No one ever came to our house⌠Could it be a foolish warrior who hasnât heard the rumors about my dad being a useless blacksmith?
Dad, who had been sobbing, reflexively looked up.
âYeahâgoing, goingâŚâ
His glasses were slightly crooked.
I quickly adjusted his glasses and sat him back down, then said brightly, âDad! Iâll go check!â
Something didnât feel right.
I had a strong feeling that some warrior guest was standing outside, ready to trouble my dad.
Fortunately, Dad nodded willingly.
I rushed out of the workshop, crossed the house through the back door, and stood in front of the entrance.
Click.
I peered outside through the small keyhole.
I could hear the voices of men standing outside.
âReally, Neil Royce lives in this run-down house?â
âYes! My information is reliable!â
Damn it, itâs the warriors!
I knew it! I had a bad feeling!
I had forgotten to close the back door when I rushed out. I glanced at it anxiously, worried the voices would reach Dadâs workshop.
âDad wonât come out, right?â
But if I went and closed the door now, the warriors might leave, saying, âLetâs try again next time.â And then when they come back, I wonât be home, and only Dad will be here.
âI wish I knew what the hero warriors looked like.â
I knew I lived in a world that was part of a novel, but unfortunately, I didnât know the faces of the main characters.
Since I didnât know which warrior would be the shameless one to cause my dadâs overwork, I had to refuse every warrior guest who came.
With a sigh, I hid Dadâs shoes in the shoe rack, then took out two old womenâs shoes, which I had borrowed from Aunt Hillary, and placed them prominently.
Then, I flung open the door.
The warriors, who obviously expected an adult man to come out, didnât even look down at first.
When they finally noticed me and looked down, they were surprised.
ââŚHuh? Itâs just a little kid?â
What? Rude warriors!
I held back the urge to slam the door in their faces and put on my most innocent expression.
âWh-Who are you?â
âIs this Neil Royceâs house? Oh, are you his daughter?â
Ha, ha, I expected that question.
I stepped aside to show the womenâs shoes clearly, lowered my eyes, and with a soft voice, I politely answered.
âNi-Nil? No⌠I live with my mom.â
ââŚYou live with your mom?â
âYes, sniff! I⌠I donât have a dad!â
I donât have a dad.
The warriors looked at each other in confusion.
Just then, from the distance of the workshop, I heard Dadâs voice.
âEveâ! Whoâs here? Why is it taking so long?â
Crap, this is bad.
The warriors, hearing the manâs voice from afar, looked at me curiously.
âA manâs voice just nowâŚâ
âMy momâs voice⌠itâs a bit⌠husky.â
âEveâ! My daughter!â
ââŚBut thatâs clearly a manâs voice.â
âMy mom is a bit sick, so⌠sniff, sniff!â
âHey⌠kid, sorry about that.â
âIf youâre sorry, then please leave!â
I squeezed out some tears and pushed the warriors out the door, slamming it shut!
Just then, Dad opened the back door and came inside.






