Chapter 43

Ghislaine nodded without saying much. When her gaze fell on Roya, she raised an eyebrow and asked curiously, "Is this your daughter? Didn't the letter say two boys would be training under me?"

Roya sighed inwardly, reminded of his first meeting with Roxy. It seemed Roxy had said something similar back then.

With a helpless shrug, Roya bowed politely, performing a standard gesture of respect. "Greetings. I'm Paul's eldest son, Roya Greyrat. You can just call me Roya."

Rudeus followed suit with a bow. "I'm Paul's second son, Rudeus Greyrat. You can call me Rudeus."

Ghislaine nodded again. "As Paul's kids, you're pretty well-mannered. Just call me Ghislaine. Now, get on the carriage."

With that, she strode forward and climbed aboard.

The carriage driver was a middle-aged man with dark, sun-tanned skin, leisurely puffing on a pipe.

Zenith waved goodbye with tears in her eyes as the carriage slowly rolled away. Rudeus stared back at their home's entrance, his eyes brimming with emotion.

There was the little tree with yellow flowers—he'd fertilized it every day.

And the chipped spot on the doorframe, left behind after he'd accidentally hit it with a water ball spell.

The thought of leaving his adorable Sylphie behind, of not seeing her cute little face or holding her soft hands for a while, made Rudeus sigh heavily.

Roya shot him a disdainful glance, eyeing his melodramatic brother.

This guy's always like this, Roya thought. A true NEET at heart—impossible to change. He instinctively avoids anything tough.

As everyone boarded the carriage, Ghislaine pulled out a letter. "This is from Zenith. She said it's from Paul, but I can't read. Read it for me."

Rudeus, curious, asked, "How did you read letters before? You mentioned earlier that you learned about us from Paul's letter."

Ghislaine replied matter-of-factly, "I had someone else read it for me." She handed the envelope to Rudeus, who was closest.

Rudeus nodded in understanding, opened the letter, and began reading aloud. "Dear Rudeus and Roya, if you're reading this, I'm probably no longer in this world."

"What?!" Ghislaine exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

Roya glanced at the towering beastwoman—nearly six feet tall—and thought, Honestly, I didn't expect this carriage's roof to be so high…

"Please sit down, Ghislaine. There's more," Rudeus said, motioning for her to settle.

"Oh, right." Ghislaine sat back down.

Roya's lips twitched. The situation was getting absurd, and he wasn't sure what to say.

Rudeus continued, "—That was just a joke. I've always wanted to write something like that. You're probably confused about what's going on. Feel free to ask the musclehead in front of you… though I'd love to say that, her brain's made of muscle too, so she probably can't explain much."

"What?!" Ghislaine roared, standing up again.

Roya leaned over to peek at the letter's contents and said to the beastwoman, "Sit down, Ghislaine. The next part's a compliment."

"Oh, okay." She sat back down obediently.

Roya marveled silently. She's oddly entertaining.

Rudeus, ignoring the blond, poker-faced figure nearby—whose subtle smirk hinted at mischief—kept reading. "That musclehead's a Sword King. If you want to learn swordsmanship, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better teacher outside the Holy Land of Swords. I can vouch for her skill—because I've never beaten her… except in bed."

Roya smirked, thinking Paul never learned his lesson. Rudeus's face twitched as he mentally screamed, Stop writing unnecessary crap, you idiot Paul!

Surprisingly, Ghislaine didn't seem too upset.

Rudeus let out a small sigh of relief. The fierce woman in front of him wasn't someone he wanted to provoke.

"So, about Rudeus's job," he continued. "You'll head to the largest city in the Fittoa region to serve as a tutor for a certain young lady. Teach her arithmetic, reading, writing, and basic magic. She's a spoiled, violent little miss who's so bad even the school begged her to stay away. Several tutors have already been driven off… but I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Figure it out? He's dumping it all on me…" Rudeus muttered under his breath, then frowned. Roya's name hadn't come up yet.

Glancing at the next section, he read on. "As for Roya, with his talent, he'll probably master Ghislaine's sword techniques in no time. Once he can beat her, he should head to the Holy Land of Swords. With that level of skill, even the masters there will take good care of him."

Ghislaine gave Roya an appraising look.

Under the sunlight streaming through the curtains, his golden hair—tied neatly behind him—glowed softly, framing his youthful, handsome face. His reddish-gold eyes carried a faint air of authority, and his radiant locks added a touch of charm to the boy.

"Interesting," Ghislaine said calmly. "Paul thinks you'll master my sword skills quickly."

She wasn't upset—just surprised by Paul's high praise for his son.

Rudeus kept reading. "For the next five years, you'll live at the young lady's estate and teach her. Five years. During that time, you're forbidden from coming home or writing letters. As long as you're around, Sylphie won't grow independent. And it's not just her—I've noticed you're getting too reliant on her too. So, I'm forcing you apart. That said, with your big brother there, if anything bad happens, you can ask him for help—whether he agrees is up to him."

"Five years?!" Rudeus yelped.

His grand plans were crumbling, leaving him disheartened.

Roya shot him an exasperated look. "What's with that face? We're here to train with Ghislaine. You need to rein in that attitude and stop obsessing over frivolous stuff."

Rudeus sighed, reluctantly accepting his grim reality. Then, as if struck by inspiration, his eyes lit up. He turned to Roya with a hopeful grin. "Big brother, you're the best. You'll help me out, right?"