Chapter 9: The eldest son is too kind(1)
After a week of nursing injuries and training, the Teresa party was ready. The moment the quest ban penalty ended, Teresa tore a pile of Level 3 quests from the guild board.
Rip. Crunch. Thud.
Beasts screamed and fled, pursued ferociously by a woman in her vibrant twenties. Her sword slashed through flesh, butchering with precision.
Gorgo watched, awestruck. Was this truly human strength? Her understanding of the body, mana, monsters, and swordsmanship was flawless—a terrifying onslaught that didn’t seem like the work of a married woman wielding a blade.
As Anna, the youngest, tried to clap, mimicking Ian’s usual “Oh,” Ian slipped his hand between hers.
“Not now. There’s a monster in the trees. If it gets aggroed, it’ll trouble Mom and us.”
“Eek! I didn’t know…”
Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. Ian soothed her, showing a gentle, boyish kindness.
Gorgo, watching fondly for a moment, voiced a lingering question.
“Ian, can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“What did your mom do before?”
Ian answered with an impassive face.
“I don’t know.”
Over the past week, Gorgo had heard rumors about Teresa.
- Teresa? They say she’s from the alleys.
- How’d an alpha female like her end up stuck there?
- Yeah, I heard she was a child abuser, an alcoholic, a deadbeat parent.
- No way.
- Honestly, I don’t buy it either.
Gorgo couldn’t believe it either. A woman dubbed Teresa of Motherhood, who loved her kids more than anyone, was supposedly a child abuser and alcoholic until recently?
“Did she really drink a lot before?”
Ian looked up at Gorgo with his characteristic refined features. Not strikingly handsome, but his pure, clear eyes, like a mirror, made others feel ashamed. As Gorgo felt guilt under that piercing gaze, Ian spoke.
“The rumors you heard are true.”
“Really…”
“Disappointed?”
“Not at all.”
It was surprising but not a betrayal.
“I actually felt respect.”
“Why?”
“She changed herself.”
Falling into evil is easy; returning to good is hard. That’s how life works. A skinny person can get fat easily—just eat without restraint. But a fat person slimming down is tough—it requires abstinence and discipline. Virtue is like that: enduring, persevering. Teresa climbed from rock bottom through countless trials to reach her current state. Among adventurers called deadbeats, she was a rare gem.
“What changed your mother?”
“She just reclaimed one thing.”
“What?”
“Her love for her children.”
“Huh…”
Gorgo, who escaped the filthy alleys with just an axe, knew how hard it was to reform, how much resolve and persistence it took.
“Impressive kid. Your unwavering will changed her.”
In the slums, it’s common for kids with good hearts to go astray under bad parents. But a child’s righteousness inspiring a parent? Gorgo had never seen such a story.
“People praise Teresa, but to me, you’re the one who’ll become something greater.”
“…”
Always stoic, Ian would say, “You love your children more than anyone,” whenever Teresa acted unmotherly—a mix of filial and rebellious. To Gorgo, Ian’s unexpected humanity resembled Teresa. Gruff but fiercely protective of family. Gorgo felt renewed conviction to give his life to protect them.
“Wow… clearing all those quests? Teresa’s skills are incredible, as always.”
Completing a slew of Level 3 quests restored Teresa’s reputation. As she took on lucrative jobs, the dream that slipped away was grasped again: owning an iron sword. From bare fists to a rusty sword, she finally bought a proper one.
“Not satisfied.”
“What’s wrong?”
The blacksmith, selling the sword, couldn’t hide his discontent.
“I’m a crude merchant who takes any money, but my conscience nags. Your kid smells of Fairy Lilac…”
That money—was it earned by exploiting your child sexually? The blacksmith’s blunt suspicion made Teresa’s face burn as she gripped the sword’s hilt. Before she could make an irreversible mistake, Gorgo stepped in.
“As a party member, I vouch for the Teresa party. We don’t use the kids for impure purposes.”
“Then the smell?”
“Gathering materials.”
“…Makes sense. The kids helped with chores, huh? For my rude question, I’ll throw in a scabbard for free. Sorry.”
The tense moment passed. Teresa’s rare good mood from buying the sword sank into the gutter.
“No more making lubricant.”
“It saves equipment.”
Teresa grabbed Ian by the scruff of his neck, her eyes blazing as she stared into his.
“Your honor is my honor. I can buy another damn sword.”
“…!”
“Answer. Swear you’ll never touch Fairy Lilac again.”
Rarely, Ian’s stoic face wavered. Teresa, no fool to her clever eldest, softened her tone.
“You’re a child I’m prouder of than anyone.”
“…!”
You don’t need to dirty your hands; your heart speaks clearly. I’m proud of you. Words unimaginable from the delinquent mom days.
“Okay…”
Ian bowed his head. His boyish shyness satisfied both Teresa and Gorgo. A tough situation, a harsh environment—reasons a boy couldn’t be boyish. That made the emotion on his usually blank face all the more joyful. Gorgo was glad they visited the blacksmith. They gained something more valuable than an iron sword: family bonds.
Mother and Gorgo might’ve been satisfied with the warm moment, but I wasn’t. No more Fairy Lilac? That’s such a useful item. Even in high-level zones, it’s a key ingredient for premium lubricant to clean sticky beast blood and fluids. In the game, I always shared its recipe with guild adventurers and urged them to keep it stocked. It boosts long-term survival rates and speeds up rank progression by reducing equipment wear, extending replacement cycles, saving money for pricey gear, even magical artifacts.
‘Haven’t seen Mother that mad in a while.’
Gorgo’s rescue felt reluctant, but this scolding stemmed from rage at the blacksmith’s gaze. Maybe other adventurers had commented on the smell on my hands or body. Sniff. Huff. I pressed my sleeve to my nose, but it didn’t smell bad to me. Upset and frustrated, I kicked a stone on the ground. It hit a passing carriage wheel and bounced up.
Oh no.
Frozen in panic, a large shield blocked my front.
Thud.
The adventurer who blocked the stones spoke.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t kick stones; it’s dangerous.”
“I’ll remember.”
“You seem troubled.”
If it were a lustful female adventurer, I’d thank them and run, but this was a male adventurer.
“I want to ease Mother’s burden.”
“Such a kind heart for your age.”
A square kite shield covered his forearm. A high-quality longsword radiated a chill. A successful high-ranking adventurer, as kind as his skill.
“A child’s sacrifice unwanted by parents can’t be rewarded. Your mother might have a path prepared for you, so talk to her.”
I headed straight to the guild. Mother was arm-wrestling, fleecing burly female adventurers. Seeing me hesitantly approach, they gave knowing looks.
“What’re you staring at? Wanna die?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Jeez, I didn’t even say he’s cute, why the fuss?”
“Who said anything about wanting to snatch him?”
Sly gazes clung to me, from cheeks to chest, waist, thighs. Even as a boy, the heated stares made me shrink back. Hiding behind Mother, cries of “Kyaa,” “Phew,” and “That boy’s tasty” didn’t stop.
Bang!
Mother slammed her opponent’s wrist onto the table, and the women scattered in fright. Only then did I muster the courage to ask.
“Mom, what do you want me to do?”
Her face, glaring at the fleeing adventurers, dripped with contempt.
“Don’t get tangled with those idiots.”
“How do I do that?”
“Groom training.”
Shouldn’t have asked.