SSS-Rank Hunter Reborn: Private Tutor to the Count's Bastard Son

The day he met his father.

Of course, they weren't close. They'd never even had a proper conversation.

Still, it was his father he was seeing after six whole months. He went with some expectations, but as feared, the results were disappointing.

Even if not warm hospitality, he thought there'd at least be a greeting. Far from a greeting, he was treated like he didn't exist at all. On top of that, instead of his name, he only heard the insulting term "half-breed."

Tap— Tap tap!

The sound of raindrops hitting the window could be heard.

While staring blankly out the window, melancholy emotions washed over him belatedly. He sat on the bed and hugged his knees.

It would've been nice to hear the spirits' chatter, but today all three weren't by his side. They'd stepped away for a while since dawn, saying there was an ominous smell.

"Sigh."

He let out a sigh from his frustrated heart.

He repeated it several times, but it wouldn't return to normal. It felt like three or four lead weights were placed inside his chest.

Grumble—

His tactless stomach made a loud noise.

He was hungry. But he had no appetite at all. Suddenly, he remembered the chunks of meat lined up on the table when he went to see his father.

Just thinking about it made him feel like retching, so Silvan shook his head vigorously. That's when the door suddenly opened.

Creak!

There was no knock. As far as Silvan knew, there were few visitors who would do that.

Shortly after, a familiar voice was heard.

"Silvan."

It was Ferda.

He immediately continued in a worried tone.

"Are you okay? Not feeling nauseous or anything?"

Silvan silently nodded.

Watching this, Ferda moved to draw the curtains. The room became darker. Listening to the increasingly heavy rain, Silvan buried his head between his knees.

The room was filled with silence for a while.

Just as only the ticking of the clock could be heard.

Silvan, who had been quiet, moved his lips.

"...Why does father hate me?"

A finely trembling voice.

Ferda recalled a scene he'd seen in the novel. Before Silvan's mother passed away, she left these words as her last will:

Your father, Count Arcdute, will never be able to harm you.

When he first read the novel, he felt something strange about this part.

Normally, wouldn't you say "Your father will take good care of you"?

'Of course I know the reason, but...'

The reason Silvan's mother had to say that. And the reason Silvan left the forest to come to the Count's house. Even the reason Count Arcdute hated Silvan so much—Ferda knew it all.

But this wasn't a story he could tell.

'If only we could go to the forest quickly.'

The forest where Silvan was born and raised.

There was someone there who could tell the truth. Only from him should Silvan hear it. Only then could he accept the truth as truth.

"I heard the servants talking before."

That's when Silvan opened his mouth again.

Still with his head buried, he let out trembling murmurs.

"They said father hates me because I'm a bad child..."

That's not true.

Even if Silvan were much gentler than now, or even if he had much more talent than Casher, he would never be loved by the Count. There's such a terrible bad blood between them.

That's when it happened.

Knock knock—

A sudden knocking sound.

Shortly after, the door opened slightly.

"Ex, excuse me."

Aaron peeked his head out.

Was it because the room was dark? Or did he sense the gloomy atmosphere? After hesitating for a moment, Aaron continued in a timid tone.

"I've prepared the meal you requested."

The smell of food came through the slightly opened door gap.

Not the fishy smell of raw meat, but the smell of proper cooking. Silvan slightly raised his head to look at Aaron. Then with a dry expression, he moved his lips.

"...I never asked for a meal."

"Huh?"

Aaron was noticeably flustered.

Then he immediately began to panic.

"But, but that..."

"Thanks. You can just leave it there and go."

That's when Ferda spoke up. Aaron bowed his head and placed the meal on the table.

Well-roasted whole duck, savory chicken wing soup, and white bread that looked freshly baked. They were all foods Silvan liked.

"Then excuse me."

Thud—

As the door closed, the room filled with the smell of food. But Silvan buried his face between his knees again. Then Ferda looked at him and said.

"I ordered it. You'd be hungry around now."

"...I'm not hungry at all."

"Don't lie. Then what's that sound coming from your stomach?"

At Ferda's words, Silvan quietly covered his stomach. But that was all. He remained unmoved on the bed.

Ferda shrugged and muttered nonchalantly.

"If you don't want to eat, then don't."

With those words, Ferda sat at the table.

Silvan wasn't the only one hungry. He was famished too.

Ferda began eating alone. He tore off one whole duck leg and put it straight in his mouth. The crunching sound and the smell of greasy meat stimulated Silvan's nose.

Gulp!

Saliva automatically went down.

He slightly raised his head to look at Ferda. One hand holding a duck leg, the other tearing white bread to dip in soup. Watching that scene, Silvan couldn't hold back any longer.

Thump—

He timidly walked over and sat across from him. Then Ferda silently tore off a leg and handed it to him. Silvan didn't refuse and accepted it. The room quickly filled with the sounds of eating.

After quite some time passed.

The quiet meal ended. At the same time, Ferda opened his mouth.

"I don't know the reason either."

At those words, Silvan raised his head.

Ferda met his eyes and continued.

"But it's certain he doesn't think highly of you. I've never heard of any custom where you serve raw meat to a son you're meeting after so long."

Silvan bit his lips tightly.

After filling his stomach, his mood had improved somewhat, but the melancholy feelings seemed to wash over him again. Meanwhile, Ferda moved his lips again.

"Silvan, what kind of person is Count Arcdute to you?"

"What kind of person, well of course..."

"Do you think of him as a father? Really?"

Silvan hesitated for a moment. It was certain they shared blood. But could that alone really make him a father?

With that thought, he hesitated to readily say yes.

At the same time, Ferda slipped into that gap.

"That can't be right. You lived your whole life not knowing his face, then only spent about six months together. Plus, you've never even had a proper conversation."

"..."

At the sharp tone, Silvan clenched his fists tightly.

But Ferda didn't stop.

"What parent in the world calls their child a half-breed? And not even when they're alone together. Even if they were alone, that's not right to say."

His words were correct.

Each and every word sharply pierced Silvan's heart. It hurt. Silvan bit his lips hard. Then he struggled to open his mouth.

"...I know too."

How could he not know? That this wasn't a normal father-son relationship.

But for Silvan, the father was an existence he couldn't easily deny.

"But if I don't even have a father, then I really have nobody."

Around the age of ten.

Silvan lost his mother.

"I don't mind being alone. I've been alone all this time, so I'm used to it."

In the forest too, he was always alone. Of course, there were those who devotedly cared for him and visited often, but that couldn't be an answer to not being alone.

"...But being alone is different from having nobody by your side. It's hard to explain why, but it's definitely different. So..."

He probably can't easily give up the existence called father.

Even if he's treated worse than a son, having a father means someone is by his side.

So Silvan is forcibly holding onto it. Even knowing that the Count's existence, the father's existence, hurts Silvan, he can't let go.

Because if he lets go just because it hurts, then he'd really become all alone.

"June 20th."

That's when Ferda spoke.

Looking at Silvan, he listed information from his memory.

"Born in Serneck Forest. Last winter, you left the forest and came here."

"...?"

A puzzled light filled Silvan's eyes.

Ferda, who had paused briefly, took a deep breath.

The first thing he mentioned was Silvan's birthday. Next, he talked about his history.

But this was just a taste. The story he was about to tell wasn't in the novel—it was a story only Ferda knew.

"Your favorite food is meat. Not raw meat, of course, but grilled or steamed. You like pork best, but lately you've been obsessed with duck. To the point where you look for duck meat all day—morning, noon, and night."

"...!"

Silvan's shoulders trembled finely.

Now he must know too. What Ferda was talking about.

"You hate the heat, so you look for water even after sweating just a little. You don't have any particular sleeping habits, but sometimes you roll off the bed. You like being praised, and when you're happy or in a good mood, you perk up your ears."

From the first season to the eighth season.

This kind of information wasn't written anywhere.

'So...'

Right now, at this moment, only Ferda knows Silvan Arcdute better than anyone else.

So he could say this too.

"Even with all this, does it still feel like there's nobody by your side?"

Silvan's eyes trembled finely. Then he immediately hung his head deeply.

"But, but Ferda is..."

"It's true that Count Arcdute hired me."

Ferda took the initiative.

He, who had been standing still, turned around.

"But deciding to take you as my student was my decision. Not the Count's orders."

Recognizing Silvan Arcdute not as a simple protagonist from a novel, not as a tool to achieve his purpose, but as an equal existence—that was solely Ferda's resolve and will.

"No matter what anyone says, you are my student."

Not a beast to be tamed.

Ferda's large hand rested on top of Silvan's head.

"You don't need to hold onto things that hurt you."

Hearing that warm voice, Silvan hung his head deeply.

A relationship with nothing except mixed blood. But the existence called father was something he couldn't easily abandon. On the other hand, Ferda was a complete stranger. They hadn't known each other long, and no blood connected them.

But why?

He saw the shadow of the person he'd so longed for in Ferda.

"If there's something you don't like, you don't have to force yourself to do it. If something makes you proud, I'll praise you all you want. Unless something special happens, I won't leave you alone."

The words he'd so wanted to hear from Count Arcdute, his father, came from Ferda's mouth. Something suddenly welled up in his frustrated chest. His body trembled regardless of his will.

"So now it's okay."

Was it because of the warmth he felt from above his head?

His vision gradually became hazy.

"Until you no longer need me, I'll stay by your side."

He couldn't raise his head. Dewdrops had bloomed on the floor.

He couldn't answer either. His voice would be wet.

But he could at least nod his head.

No answer came back from Ferda. But that was okay. Right now, he was putting all his strength into pouring out the emotional lumps he'd kept in his heart.

The day he met Count Arcdute.

The rain in his heart that had been falling for so long finally stopped.