Ch.55Stone Golem – 4

“If it’s Priscilla’s father… then it must be Duke Maximilian Agnes.”

Although Priscilla called him “daddy” quite naturally, that was perfectly understandable. After all, she had lived as Priscilla for at least 500 years.

I too distinguish between my parents in this world and my parents from my original world in my mind, but I still call them mother and father with my mouth.

Besides, what mattered now wasn’t something like titles.

“Your father wants to see me? Why?”

“Remember when I gave him the core design? It apparently became a much bigger deal than expected. I heard the Emperor himself mentioned the core. So the project timeline has been drastically moved up.”

The Emperor personally mentioned it? Perhaps the efficiency improvement was too impressive.

It was absurd, but I could understand. The efficiency increase was a whopping 30%. Anyone with even the slightest interest in numbers and statistics would go crazy over such a figure.

I thought the Imperial Palace wouldn’t care much about such things, but apparently it was a concern for people other than just mages. High-grade magic stones are extremely expensive, after all.

“So as the topic was being discussed, it eventually reached my father’s ears. My father is a duke, you know.”

A duke would naturally have connections to the imperial family. And if the developer of this technology happened to be his own daughter? He couldn’t help but take notice.

“He contacted me last night. He heard there was a male student who provided advice on the core improvements, and asked if it was the same boy I’ve been hanging around with at the Academy lately.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said yes. When he asked who you were, I told him Mira Crate. He immediately asked if you were the youngest son of the Crate family, and I confirmed that too. Then he just said ‘I see’ and hung up. This morning, he asked if he could meet you.”

It wasn’t like I couldn’t meet him. He had no means or justification to interfere with or check me, and above all, Priscilla wouldn’t allow it anyway.

“Your father… I mean, your father in this world. What kind of person is he? He must have certain personality traits, like being strict or cold or something like that.”

Priscilla tilted her head at my question before answering.

“Hmm… a daughter-obsessed dad?”

In my knowledge, daughter-obsessed fathers in fiction generally fall into two categories.

One type dotes on their daughter so much that they try to set her up with good matches, while the other type dotes on their daughter so much that they thoroughly reject any man who approaches her.

In reality, there isn’t much difference between the two. The former has ridiculously high standards for “good matches,” and the latter eventually accepts whoever their daughter insists on. It’s essentially the same outcome either way.

The type that belongs to neither category—and the most troublesome one—is the father who gets angry at men pursuing his daughter but also gets angry if someone rejects her, demanding to know what’s wrong with his precious daughter.

Most are closer to comic relief characters who end up sulking alone after being scolded by their wives and disappointing their daughters, but I wasn’t sure if such a character would appear in this kind of romance fantasy.

“My father? Well… I don’t know much except that he cherishes me greatly. I’ve never brought a man home before.”

Priscilla couldn’t answer this question either. Throughout her countless regressions, she had to stay faithful to the original story, which meant she never had any men in her life.

How could she possibly answer how her father might react to meeting me when she’d never brought a man home before?

Moreover, since the original Priscilla had been so buried in her studies that she rarely went home, the Agnes ducal family was essentially uncharted territory.

“So, you’re going to meet Priscilla’s father today?”

“Well, somehow it turned out that way.”

“Is it a formal meeting with the parents?”

“No,” Priscilla answered for me, her voice remarkably firm. Rosaria blinked, clearly surprised by Priscilla’s resolute response.

“Why not?”

“Because Mira won’t abandon me. And I don’t want to do that either. What if it makes Mira dislike me?”

“Uh… I see. Right.”

Rosaria replied with a slightly disturbed voice, then sat on the bed with a “well, if that’s how it is” expression as she saw us off.

Priscilla and I headed toward the dimensional gate installed at the Academy, and soon an elderly man in formal attire appeared from the glowing blue portal.

“It’s been a while, young miss.”

The elderly man bowed politely to us. He was the head butler of the Agnes family. Perhaps because the person to be escorted was his master’s daughter, they had sent someone of considerable rank.

“Let’s go right away. No need to waste time.”

“Yes, young miss. I shall escort you.”

A carriage suddenly emerged from the dimensional gate. It wasn’t quite as extravagant as the one that Alexander fellow had brought before, but while it wasn’t literally covered in jewels and gold, it was still plenty luxurious.

We boarded the carriage under the butler’s guidance, and soon after, with the distinctive sound of crossing dimensions, we passed through the gate. The door opened. It hadn’t even been a minute since we boarded.

I wondered why they bothered with a carriage at all, but figured it was just a matter of propriety. I got out first and offered my hand to Priscilla. She took it with a shy expression.

“Hmm.”

Then my eyes met those of a burly man standing with his arms crossed, looking down at me with obvious displeasure. I had sensed something ominous from the moment we crossed the dimensional gate.

A man with the same orange hair and light brown eyes as Priscilla, with a formidable physique that could rival Professor Jake’s. Anyone could tell he was Priscilla’s father.

The man’s eyes moved to our joined hands. His expression turned fierce. A murderous aura emanated from his body. I gestured to Priscilla to stay back when she tried to step forward.

It was more of a show of force to establish dominance. He didn’t really intend to kill me. An uninformed person might be terrified, but I was far from being that type of person.

Real killing intent was what the Sword Saint had emanated before.

“Pleased to meet you, Duke Maximilian Agnes.”

I ignored the murderous aura appropriately and bowed my head in greeting. A look of “that’s more like it” appeared on the Duke’s face.

“I’m glad you didn’t address me as ‘father-in-law’ at our first meeting.”

Ah, so that was the issue.

“I’ve heard the news. My daughter says you advised her when designing a new core for magic stone golems. I also heard you provided the basic framework for it.”

“I was just lucky.”

As I calmly engaged in conversation despite his murderous aura, the Duke, who had now withdrawn his intimidation, smiled with satisfaction.

“So you’re not completely without merit. Mira Crate, was it?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I heard the youngest son of the Crate family is terribly sickly. I was told dozens of doctors have to accompany him whenever he goes out.”

“Rumors are just rumors, aren’t they?”

Due to what happened when I was born, I’ve always been overprotected, but I’ve never actually been unwell. I haven’t even caught a common cold. I’ve tried countless times to prove I’m healthy, but no one ever listened.

“True. Rumors are just rumors.”

The Duke’s gaze, which had momentarily softened, sharpened again.

“Then are all the rumors about you circulating at Bellium Academy also false?”

“That depends on what kind they are.”

Rumors like there being a madman who declared he would be the top student for all three years at the entrance ceremony are indeed true. Recently, there also seem to be rumors that this might actually be possible.

“I heard you created a club for entertainment purposes with the Holy Maiden candidate, the warrior chosen by the sacred sword, the warrior’s childhood friend, and my precious daughter, and that you do unspeakable things there. They say even the young lady of the Astriar family is desperate to join but can’t.”

“……”

Who the hell spread such rumors? One of those who applied to join the club and got rejected, perhaps?

Seeing my dumbfounded expression, the Duke relaxed his face. Priscilla emitting murderous aura while grinding her teeth right beside me probably helped too.

“So it was just a rumor after all.”

“What did I tell you, dear? I said our daughter wouldn’t be with that kind of man.”

A woman with slightly lighter orange hair standing next to him poked the Duke’s side with her elbow. Judging by their interaction, the Duke was fortunately henpecked.

“Very well. Welcome to the Agnes ducal house, Mira Crate.”

The Duke extended his hand to me.

He’s offering a handshake to me, who’s neither the head of the Crate family nor his son? I looked at the Duke with surprised eyes. Judging by the similar reactions of those around us, this seemed to be an impulsive action on his part.

“Make yourself at home.”

“…Thank you for your hospitality.”

I grasped his hand.

—CRUNCH!

‘Huh?’

And then I felt something ominous as the Duke’s hand tightened like a hydraulic press. It was a grip intended to completely crush my hand. My skin began to turn pale white.

‘So this is why he offered a handshake?’

I applied force back. My strength must have been much greater than expected, as the Duke flinched. Then, with a smile close to combative spirit on his face, he bulged his right arm to the point it looked like it might burst.

The people around us seemed to have finally grasped the situation. Priscilla’s mother slapped the Duke’s shoulder repeatedly, scolding him for treating a guest this way, but the Duke showed no intention of easing up.

‘Should I let him win?’

With that thought, I slightly loosened my grip, and disappointment visibly flashed across the Duke’s face. Oh, that’s not what he wanted?

‘Tsk.’

Seeing his obvious disappointment, I reluctantly applied force again. I couldn’t back down now.

I wasn’t sure if this man wanted a fierce contest of strength that he would narrowly win, or if he truly wanted me to prove myself by defeating him.

But one thing was clear: winning would earn me much more favor than losing. So I channeled strength into my arm. Hard, and then harder.

When I applied my final burst of strength—

—CRACK!

With a terribly violent sound, the Duke’s hand caved inward. Gasps of shock came from those around us, but the Duke himself, whose hand had just been crushed, maintained a calmly surprised expression.

It’s a bit strange to say “calmly surprised,” but that’s how it was.

“……”

Wait, is this right? Why is his body so weak?