#009. The Eldest Son is Too Charming (2)

#009. The Eldest Son is Too Charming (2)

No parent wishes a difficult path for their child.

For a man, the easiest shortcut in life is marrying a good wife.

But good women have standards.

An average woman would be beside herself just wanting to date a man.

But good women are surrounded by men.

They don’t desperately need a man, so they have no reason to easily accept the feelings of a man who shows interest.

The ultimate training method for men seeking to win over such women: Husband Training.

“Husband Training involves mastering all aspects of household chores, possessing a neat and tidy appearance, and understanding the etiquette required for official events.”

Elated by my quick understanding, Theresa hired a one-day personal tutor for Husband Training on the spot.

To analyze how many qualities Ian possessed to become a fine husband, and to see which areas he needed to improve.

Which meant I would be tested on all aspects of household chores, proper posture, and etiquette.

“Goro. Help me.”

“I envy you, though.”

“Me?”

Ian, flour dusting his cheek, seemed to silently protest, as if to say, *After seeing my state, you still ask that?*

But Gogo could only think, even with flour on his face, he’s adorable.

“Grooming lessons are for the well-to-do. A common family can’t afford the type of education designed to find a good wife, can they? They can only mimic it in a children’s game.”

The existence of mana and skills only solidified the power of the strong, and fixed the class system in place.

A fixed society charges an exorbitant price for attempts to break free from one’s assigned rank, and parents and siblings, unable to shoulder the cost, crush dreams of upward mobility for the sake of survival.

“Wow, cooking! Mom, I want to learn to cook, too…”

A parent yanked away a child clinging to the window, pointing at Ian during his cooking practice.

*Smack-*!

The boy, cheek stinging, looked up tearfully, but his mother only scolded him sternly.

“We barely scrape by as it is. Where do you think you’ll get the chance for grooming lessons? Forget it. That’s for the higher-ups.”

Ian watched the scene in silence.

The boy’s red, swollen cheek and dark eyes, devoid of stars.

The way he turned away without so much as a whimper.

The passersby who took it all for granted.

And, inside the warm practice room, Gogo, his tutor, and his own flour-covered hands, observing it all.

“Still want to quit?”

“…No.”

He had no interest in these grooming lessons.

But he understood how precious this opportunity was.

He knew what Theresa had sacrificed for it.

He understood what Gogo envied.

The knowledge of housework he’d naturally acquired while living on his own.

The cooking lessons that modern people took as a hobby.

They were no longer natural or a hobby.

For some, they were a distant dream, like a star in the night sky, forever out of reach no matter how desperately they desired it.

“Next is laundry. Orally or in writing, demonstrate your knowledge, from the simplest washing magic to handwashing, considering the type and volume of clothing.”

Ian effortlessly picked up a pen and began to write.

At that moment, the tutor was genuinely surprised.

His command of the written language was so exceptional.

He even flawlessly transcribed English characters used in modern magic.

Fantasy.

An era where swords and magic, monsters and barbarians, and mythology coexisted.

In an age where humans died like mayflies, education and skilled labor were all the more precious.

Without being born into wealth, obtaining the chance to learn was difficult, and the time and resources required far exceeded those of modern Earth.

In such an era, even the mandatory education a Korean player received was comparable to that of noblemen.

“Such remarkable achievement at such a young age… talent aside, considering his challenging background as an adventurer, he must have truly wonderful parents.”

Ian thought of his parents.

Not Teresa, but the parents who’d truly borne him.

To another world, and to the afterlife.

The parents who’d abandoned him.

Every domestic skill he’d mastered wasn’t learned from parents.

It was the duty a orphan must perform to survive.

Survival-driven housekeeping.

“Next, verbally or in writing, answer about cleaning methods using various cleaning tools.”

“Various sewing techniques…”

“How to shop for groceries based on area and item…”

Memories of hardship.

Labor ingrained like a habit.

The suffocating sensation that, if he were to lay his head on a worn bed and close his eyes, he’d open them to find his empty studio apartment, pressed down on him.

The muted sounds, like a world hushed when you submerge your head underwater, gradually grew louder.

He came to, finding Gorgo gazing down at him with concern, the groom training having long since ended.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong? You’ve been standing there blankly for a while now.”

“It’s nothing. I think I’m just a little tired.”

Ian shook his head, casting off the heavy sense of reality that had been clinging to his shoulders.

He preferred the discomfort of the dilapidated inn, with his family, to the comfort of his empty studio.

Seeing Teresa and Anna, who’d come to meet him, only confirmed it further.

The home he needed to return to wasn’t on Earth.

It was here.

“Ian. How was the lesson?”

“Good.”

“Gorgo. What did the instructor say?”

“Here are the instructor’s evaluation and recommendation letter. He said that in all fields, Ian has demonstrated exceptional achievement compared to his peers, and is especially skilled in advanced knowledge.”

“Advanced knowledge?”

“He said he could be hired as a servant at any noble household in a nearby city right away. He added that his knowledge and skill in writing are outstanding, and that he could achieve great success as a scholar or official.”

“Writing?”

Teresa’s expression grew increasingly grave.

Advanced knowledge. Writing.

None of it was she who taught.

And yet, Ian apparently knew it.

This was not something to be taken lightly.

“Ian. Where did you learn your writing and knowledge?”

Ian possessed all sorts of strange skills and knowledge.

And every time, he always said the same thing.

*The lady from the alley taught me.*

Until now, she could accept it.

The disheveled assailant with full-body burns.

She might have been, like herself, a pitiful soul fallen from a high rank to the very bottom.

Yet, if she truly intended to bestow a worthy lesson, she wouldn’t have passed on knowledge from a brothel regarding fairy lilacs.

A grown woman’s lubricant and written words – high knowledge and such things were incompatible teachings.

Suspicion.

Under Teresa’s blatant gaze, Ian responded.

“A person from the Zeppelin Trading Company told me.”

A more plausible excuse than knowledge gleaned from a back-alley auntie.

“English and Hanja. Even languages dealing with modern and ancient magic?”

Teresa conjured a more reasonable possibility.

“Your father was a mage. If it was him, it would be possible. Teaching the language of magic. Teaching high knowledge.”

“…!”

Betrayal flickered in her eyes.

“Since when was it? Since when has that man been educating you behind my back? Seducing you without even showing his detestable face to me!”

* * *

Speechless.

It had only been an excuse to explain the source of his player knowledge.

He had merely strived to realize the value of the opportunities his mother, Teresa, provided, determined not to squander her sacrifices.

And that had wounded Teresa.

Ian’s biological father.

Teresa’s husband.

The man who abandoned their family.

A misfortunate misunderstanding unfolded: that he secretly imparted teachings unbeknownst to Teresa, that he had been deceiving her all this time.

Trust is but a worthless weakness to the unjust.

But to the honorable, trust is as precious as life itself, something that must be protected.

What kind of person am I?

An abandoned woman.

A wounded beast.

What words should I utter before a mother yearning for the truth?

Reveal the truth of the Player?

Tell her that their lives are a fabrication, false existences solely for my amusement?

Such a thought never even crossed his mind for a moment.

━━━

＜Tutorial Quest＞

It is time to take the first step toward nurturing an adventurer.

Join the Adventurer’s Guild as a staff member and achieve your first accomplishment.

Reward: Strengthened Brainwashing Ability

━━━

Always keeping the tutorial window displayed in the corner of his vision, he had postponed the tutorial because he didn’t want to lose his second family, his second chance at life.

Therefore, his thoughts gravitated toward what would be the best answer for his mother, for his family.

“Answer me-!”

Mother despises Father.

Hatred blossomed into something akin to murderous intent.

And from *that* man, the eldest son had secretly learned.

It’s understandable she’d feel resentment, confusion.

She’d want to deny it, but even if she spoke the words, she wouldn’t believe them.

If my very existence only brings her pain…

━━━

[Brainwashing]

[Basic – This ability can twist and manipulate a person’s heart.]

━━━

‘Such a heart, it’s not worth possessing, is it?’

Brainwashing warps the human heart.

It deceives emotions.

It can’t erase hatred or anger, but it *can* distort their direction.

For example, by making one forget the object of their hatred.

So the lost hatred might subside.

So that even when the emotion surges forth, they can’t recall what incited it.

I know the keywords required for this brainwashing.

I even have the experience of having repeated it several times.

Didn’t I always use brainwashing in the game’s tutorial?

A touch of mercy, not wanting to inflict suffering even on prologue parents who held no meaning.

Hoping that she, who screamed that her life was ruined by her child, could start a new life without one.

I repeat what I have always done.

I am a brainwasher.

A deceiver who twists and manipulates people’s hearts.

Using this wicked power, I will…

[Brainwashing Activated]

[Designated Target – Mom]

[Command – Forget the child that causes you pain.]

I will disappear from Mom’s life, from her memory.

The hand that gripped my collar loosens.

Is that so.

Did it work?

Not all brainwashing is guaranteed to succeed.

The less the target desires the outcome, the lower the chance of success.

It doesn’t work on those with a strong will.

Mother Teresa is stronger than anyone.

She’s nothing like she was when she was a drunkard.

And yet, if it worked on Mom.

No, if it worked on *her*.

There can only be one reason.

A child secretly taking lessons from a detestable husband.

The hatred for the husband turned towards Ian.

Turned towards me.

They truly wished for my disappearance.

Wished for the disappearance of the child who resembled the husband.

If this is your wish, then I accept it.

Farewell.

“…….”

Concealing the sorrow, I turned and began to walk.

One step.

Two steps.

The heavy, arduous steps halted.

Teresa’s strong yet fragile arms embraced me from behind.

“Don’t say such things.”

“……!”

“Answer me. You won’t ever, say such things again…!”

Tears, belonging to whom I couldn’t tell, streamed down my cheek.

Simply nodding my head was all I could do.