Chapter 111: The Kindness of Overthinking – Growth Never Stops

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Upon hearing Eris' words, Rudeus instinctively wanted to snap back at the young lady—but the next moment, he heard Allen's laughter.

He blinked and turned to look at Allen.

The man's previously tense expression had relaxed, and Rudeus could almost swear he saw him exhale subtly in relief.

'Allen's expression has softened a bit. He was so tense earlier that it was honestly kind of intimidating. When we first met, his face was scary too, but today was different—it felt heavier, more oppressive.'

'Back then, he just didn't smile much and had a rough look. But today, it was like he was radiating pressure from within.'

While Rudeus was lost in thought, Alphonse sighed and ordered a maid to bring another chair from the adjacent room. Eris, seeing that Rudeus had finally been "disciplined" into obedience, smirked in satisfaction before striding ahead, ready to lead the group to the next location for their "tour."

Footsteps echoed as everyone followed. Eris walked at the front, with Allen right behind her. Rudeus trailed after Allen, his gaze dropping to the man's boots—still stained with Thomas' blood.

'Is this strange aura of his because he's adjusting after killing someone? Like how I needed time to process it?'

'…No, that's not it.'

'Allen isn't the type to be shaken by death. He doesn't feel discomfort like I do. For him, taking lives is as natural as eating or drinking. He never hesitates—whether it was when he single-handedly dealt with his own bounty hunters, or when he spent a day and night carving a lake of blood in Snow Valley, or even last night when he hunted down those assassins and brought back their heads.'

As footsteps and thoughts mingled, the group reached the doorway.

'Strong action stems from an unyielding will. Allen's resolve is—'

Thud.

Rudeus bumped straight into Allen's back, his train of thought abruptly cut off. He looked up and realized Allen had stopped walking, blocking the doorway. Everyone except Eris was forced to halt, turning their attention toward him.

Under their collective gaze, Allen tilted his head slightly, staring at the far end of the hallway where it turned a corner.

Then, he lowered his eyes to his own feet.

At the same time, a faint sound drifted down the corridor—a soft rustling, like fabric brushing against the floor, accompanied by light footsteps.

Rudeus blinked in realization.

That's the sound of a dress dragging across the ground.

The moment the thought formed, a figure rounded the corner.

Hilda, clad in a deep red gown, her fiery hair unmistakable.

Her dress was even more elaborate than the one she'd worn that morning, with a high collar framing her face and neck, lending her an air of dignified authority as she approached.

Eris immediately cried out, "Mother!" and threw herself into Hilda's arms.

Rudeus glanced at the hem of Hilda's dress trailing along the floor, then down at the space in front of him.

Allen had "blocked" the doorway in such a way that just enough room remained for Hilda to pass through.

He looked back up at Allen's face.

The man's expression was blank again, as unreadable as before.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rudeus caught the mother and daughter exchanging words.

"Mother, are you going to eat now?"

"Ah… I still need to think about it. What about you, Eris?"

"I'm taking them to see the library first! Sylphie is really interested in it!"

"…I see. Then go ahead. Don't forget to come to the dining hall later."

"Oh! Mother, can I eat with them instead?"

House tutors employed by the Boreas family naturally had no place at the family's main dining table, where Hilda, Philip, and Sauros usually ate. Guests like them were typically served meals separately by the servants.

Hilda seemed to pause for a moment before replying, "…Alright."

"Yes! Thank you!"

Footsteps resumed as the crimson dress swept past the group.

Allen and Sylphie both bowed their heads respectfully, but Rudeus kept his eyes fixed on Hilda.

As they passed each other, their gazes met briefly—and in that instant, Rudeus could have sworn he saw a flicker of disgust in Hilda's eyes. But it was mixed with something else—confusion, hesitation, an almost lost expression.

Does she hate me?

But if she hated me, would she look like that?

Rudeus wasn't sure. The old him would have immediately assumed so, but ever since meeting Allen—especially after the Snow Valley incident, where he had come to see Allen as his "savior"—he had started dreaming about the day his family kicked him out. The expressions of his siblings, the way they looked at him…

Before his reincarnation, he had believed their eyes held nothing but pure contempt, their scathing words dripping with loathing.

But during the monster wave in Snow Valley, when everyone had rushed toward Allen, their faces had been so vivid—joy, relief, gratitude, guilt, confusion…

Human emotions were complex, never just one thing.

Why could I sense all of that so clearly?

Because I was right there among them, surrounded by all those emotions.

Of course I could feel what I was feeling.

With that realization, the "gazes" in his dreams became clearer. His siblings' expressions gained depth.

Disgust? Hatred?

What lay beneath those surface-level emotions?

The faint hope in their eyes when they opened the door—only to be crushed by the sight of him still indulging in his degenerate habits.

Then came the rage, the furious outburst.

It was the culmination of repeated disappointments.

What were they hoping for? What were they disappointed about?

Rudeus subjected himself to the same relentless self-interrogation Allen often employed—just as he had done to Lilia back in Snow Valley. Over and over, in his dreams, he pressed himself for answers.

And he arrived at one conclusion.

His siblings had hoped—that maybe, just maybe, the shut-in NEET had already left the house, too ashamed to show his face, but secretly attending the funeral. If so, they might have been willing to give him one last chance.

But the old him had, predictably, failed to meet even that meager expectation. That was why their disappointment had erupted into anger.

If I had sincerely apologized, acknowledged their feelings, begged for forgiveness, and vowed to change—like how Allen forced Paul and Lilia to do during that night—instead of clinging to my computer and games, wailing "Don't do this to me…"

…Would things have been different?

Rudeus didn't know. He would never get the chance to find out.

But right now, in Hilda's eyes, he saw something similar.

He recognized it.

Layered emotions, not just simple disdain.

Beneath it all, there was something else.

What is it?

By the time his thoughts settled, Hilda had already walked away. Almost reflexively, Rudeus turned to study Allen's expression again.

The brief hint of amusement from earlier was gone.

His biological father's many "tests," his grandfather's outright rejection.

And after that?

The one who didn't recognize him—yet still wept instinctively upon seeing him.

His mother.

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