#008. Our Eldest is Too Exemplary (1)

#008. Our Eldest is Too Exemplary (1)

The Theresa party spent a week nursing their injuries and training.

No sooner had the quest prohibition penalty expired than Theresa tore a pile of Rank 3 quests from the notice board.

Crack. Splinter. Thud.

Savage beasts screamed as they fled, their backs viciously pursued by a woman in her vibrant twenties, exuding beauty and terror.

The sword she thrust out tore through flesh and slaughtered.

Gorgo watched the spectacle and thought.

Could this truly be human strength?

Understanding of the human body.

Understanding of mana.

Understanding of monsters.

Understanding of swordsmanship.

The relentless assault, lacking in no aspect, was impossible to believe as the work of a married woman wielding a blade.

The second child, like the eldest often did, made an “Oh” sound and reached to clap her hands, only for the eldest to insert his palm between hers.

“Not now. There’s a monster in the tree. The aggro will come to us, and we’ll all be in trouble with Mom.”

“Oh! Didn’t know…”

Tears welled up in the second child’s eyes.

The eldest soothed her, displaying a boyish tenderness.

Just as Gorgo was about to happily observe the scene further…

He voiced a question he couldn’t shake.

“Ian. Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother, what did she do before, originally?”

Ian answered with an impassive face.

“I don’t know either.”

Over the past week, Gorgo had heard several rumors about Teresa.

-Teresa? I heard she came from the back alleys.

-Why would such an alpha female be stuck living in the back alleys?

-Exactly. I’ve also heard stories about child abuse, alcoholism, a truly awful parent.

-That’s impossible.

-Honestly, I don’t believe it either.

He couldn’t believe it either.

That the woman worthy of being called ‘Mother’ Teresa was, until recently, a child abuser and alcoholic who mistreated her own children.

A mother who cherished her children more than anyone, not blinded by making money, and trying to lead them on the right path.

“Is it true that she used to drink a lot?”

Ian, with his particularly neat appearance, looked up at Gorgo intently.

Not possessing a jaw-droppingly beautiful face, but eyes like a mirror that, with their faultless, clear purity, involuntarily made the person looking back feel ashamed.

It was around the time Gorgo started to feel guilty in the face of those deep eyes that seemed to see through the darkness in his heart.

“The rumors Gorgo heard are true.”

“Is that so…”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Not at all.”

It wasn’t a story that made him feel betrayed, surprisingly.

“I feel respect instead.”

“Why?”

“Because she changed herself.”

It’s easy to be tainted by evil, but difficult to return to good.

That’s how most of life is.

It’s easy for a thin person to become obese.

They just need to eat without restraint.

Conversely, it’s difficult for an obese person to become thin.

They have to abstain from eating and exercise restraint.

Virtue is like that.

Bearing, enduring, and persevering.

Teresa had endured countless things from the very bottom of her life and risen to her current position.

She was a rare talent to find among adventurers called “messed-up lives.”

“What made your mother change?”

“She simply regained one thing.”

“What?”

“The maternal love for her children.”

“Huh…”

Gorgo was someone who escaped the filthy back alleys with an axe in hand.

Therefore, I am keenly aware of just how arduous a path reformation is, how much unwavering resolve and dedication it demands to truly achieve.

“A remarkable lad. Your steadfast will, it changed your mother.”

Children with good hearts twisted astray by ill-suited parents are a common sight in the slums.

But a heartwarming tale of a child’s righteousness moving even their parent, this was a first for Gorgo.

“People sing praises of Teresa-nim alone, but in my eyes, you’re the one destined for even greater things.”

“…”

“Haha. So you do know how to blush, eh?”

Always with that stoic face, whenever Teresa acted less than motherly, he would utter things both admirable and infuriating, straddling the line between dutiful son and ungrateful one, saying, “You are a mother who cares for children more than anyone else.”

That peculiar Ian’s unexpectedly human side reminded Gorgo so much of Teresa.

A mother and son, gruff in demeanor, yet cherishing their family more than anyone.

The conviction to give his life to protect them welled up within him once more.

* * *

“Wow… you finished all those requests. I always feel it, but Teresa-nim’s skills are truly something else.”

Teresa, having completed a large volume of 3rd class requests, had restored her credibility.

As she began to sweep up the lucrative jobs, the dream that had once slipped through her fingers was now within reach again.

The name of that dream, earned through blood, sweat, and toil, was the possession of a steel sword.

Having started barehanded and once wielding a rusty iron blade, she was finally able to purchase a proper, respectable steel sword.

“I don’t like it.”

“What?”

The blacksmith couldn’t suppress his discontent as he sold the sword.

“A vulgar merchant wouldn’t discriminate against money, but my conscience pricks at me. To smell fairy lilac coming from the child you bring around…”

Is that money, earned from s*xually exploiting your child?

Teresa’s face flushed with rage at the blacksmith’s blatant suspicion, and she placed her hand on the sword hilt.

Before she could make an irreversible mistake, Gorgo stepped in front of her.

“As a party member, I vouch for them. Teresa’s party does not exploit children for impure purposes.”

“Then the smell?”

“Gathered materials.”

“…Well, I suppose that’s understandable. So the kids helped with odd jobs. As an apology for my rude questions, I’ll give you the scabbard for free. My apologies.”

The tense moment barely passed.

Teresa’s spirits, which had been uncharacteristically high after purchasing the steel sword, plummeted into the abyss.

“From now on, do not create lubricant.”

“It damages the equipment.”

Teresa grabbed Ian by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up.

Her eyes blazing with anger, she stared intensely into Ian’s eyes.

“Your reputation is my reputation. This puny steel sword is easily replaced.”

“…!”

“Answer me. Promise me you won’t touch Fairy Lilac ever again.”

Unusually, a ripple of emotion flickered across Ian’s stoic face.

Teresa was not blind to the hesitation that crossed her clever son’s face.

Teresa coaxed him with a gentler tone.

“You are the most precious child anyone could ask for.”

“…!”

Even without staining your hands, your heart has reached me.

I am so proud of you.

A sincerity from Teresa that I wouldn’t have dared to imagine during her ‘delinquent mama’ days.

“Okay…”

Ian lowered his head.

Teresa felt a subtle, yet deep contentment at his boyish shyness.

A disadvantaged upbringing.

A difficult environment.

Reasons why a boy couldn’t be boyish.

That’s why the emotions that surfaced on his usually expressionless face were all the more joyous.

Gorgon reckoned it was lucky he’d stopped by the smithy.

He’d obtained a family bond more valuable than any iron sword.

* * *

Mom and Gorgon might have been satisfied with the warm atmosphere, but I was far from pleased.

Don’t make Fairy Lilac, she says.

Does she have any idea how useful that item is?

Even in high-level zones, it’s a crucial ingredient for high-grade lubricant that removes the viscous blood and fluids of monsters.

In the game, we always shared the recipe with affiliated adventurers and recommended they keep it on hand.

That alone drastically improved an adventurer’s long-term survival rate and noticeably sped up their ranking.

Equipment consumption during combat was lowered, equipment replacement cycles were lengthened, and saved money could be used for expensive gear, even magical armaments.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Mom get so upset.’

Gorgon’s rescue felt like she was reluctantly doing it for my sake, but this scolding… I couldn’t shake the impression that she was deeply enraged by the blacksmith’s gaze directed at me.

Perhaps there were adventurers who complained about the smell ingrained in my hands and body, even when I wasn’t around to hear it.

*Sniff*

*Phoo*

I smell my sleeve but It really isn’t that bad.

Frustrated and feeling wronged, I kicked a stone on the ground.

Just then, the stone struck a carriage wheel speeding along the main road and bounced up.

Oh, no.

Startled, I froze, unable to move. A large shield blocked my path.

Thud.

The adventurer, having deflected all the stones, spoke.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t kick stones, it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You seem troubled.”

A female adventurer with ulterior motives might have simply given thanks and hurried away, but this was a male adventurer.

“I wish to lighten Mama’s load.”

“For one so young, such a kind heart.”

An angular kite shield, covering her forearm.

A high-class longsword, radiating coldness even at a glance.

A successful, high-class adventurer, as noble in spirit as they were skilled.

“Sacrifices made unwillingly by a child are never rewarded, dear one. Perhaps your parents have a path already laid out for you. You should speak with them directly.”

I went straight to the Guild.

Mama, slender of frame, was fleecing burly female adventurers in arm wrestling matches.

My timid appearance drew meaningful glances from the adventurers.

“What are you looking at? You want to die?”

“I didn’t say a word?”

“Honestly. It’s not like anyone was saying the kid’s handsome, why all the fuss?”

“Did anyone say they wanted to… nurture him?”

Languid gazes clung to me, from my cheeks to my chest, waist, and thighs.

Even for a man, the heated attention would have been unsettling. I instinctively flinched, shrinking in on myself.

As I hid behind Mama, exclamations like “Kya,” “Pya,” “That’s one tasty morsel” echoed through the room.

*SLAM!*

The female adventurers scattered in terror only after Mama slammed her opponent’s wrist into the table in a display of brute strength.

Finally, I mustered my courage and asked, “Mama, what would you want me to do?”

Her face, still glaring at the fleeing adventurers, was etched with contempt.

“Anything but get mixed up with those simpletons.”

“How do I do that?”

“Enroll in Husband Training.”

I shouldn’t have asked.