Chapter 2 The Duke's Final Farewell

  "Is it an illusion?"

  For a brief moment, the old and sickly duke wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. How could anyone enter the duke's bedchamber at such a late hour? It seemed impossible for anyone to climb this high unless they were a bird.

  But it was neither an illusion nor a trick.

  Step, step...

  The soft sound of footsteps grew closer. At the same time, the figure, obscured by the shadows cast by the lamp, slowly came into view. A black robe, falling to the knees over brown boots, appeared first, and then the intruder's full form emerged as they approached the bedside, illuminated by the lamp.

  The Duke of Leo's eyes trembled violently. His dry, cracked lips quivered. After what seemed like an eternity, a trembling voice slipped through the duke's lips.

  "Are you... an illusion? Am I... dreaming?"

  A hand. A large hand descended onto the duke's head.

  The hand brushed through his snow-white hair, then gently stroked his wrinkled forehead and rough, dry cheek.

  "It's not a dream, my son."

  "…!"

  At the sound of that warm, gentle voice, just as tender as the hand, the old duke's eyes widened further, and a tear slowly trickled down his cheek.

  "Ah, Father. Dad..."

  Like a child once more, the old duke weakly raised his hand toward his father, as if needing to confirm it wasn't just an illusion.

  "Yes, my son. Jean Theo, my proud boy."

  His father grasped his son's hand tightly.

  The warmth, faint in the depths of his memory, surged back through decades of time, and the Duke of Leo wept, hot tears flowing down his face. Only his father had ever called him Jean Theo.

  "Why… why did you come so late? Father, Dad… I missed you so much. I longed for you so much. Why now? Why now? Huu…"

  "I'm sorry, my son. I'm just… so sorry."

  As he wiped away his son's tears, his father smiled. It was a bitter and sorrowful smile, one that told the Duke of Leo everything he needed to know.

  How painful must it have been for someone who neither aged nor died to witness their child grow old and face death?

  The old duke, Leo, realized what his father had endured as a parent, seeing his child's aging and imminent death. Yet, at the same time, the old duke recognized something even deeper. His father's love for him was far greater than that pain. It was this love that had brought his father back to him.

  In that moment, the Duke of Leo felt a profound sense of fullness and peace.

  "Father…"

  Just as in his childhood, when his father had always been willing to grant his every wish, the old duke spoke with a trembling voice.

  "Was I… a good ruler? Was I a ruler you and the gods could be proud of?"

  The duke's source of strength as a ruler had always come from this question. For years, he had worked tirelessly, not only out of a sense of duty to his people but also because, deep down, he had wanted his father's approval. And now, as his time grew short, he longed to hear his father's response.

  In his trembling vision, he saw his father shake his head. The weight of disappointment began to press down on him, but then, a soft voice whispered in his ear.

  "You are my proud son. I have always been proud of you, Jean Theo."

  "…!"

  The Duke of Leo's eyes, once wide with tension, relaxed into a gentle curve.

  More than as a ruler, as a son, his father was proud of him.

  "I love you, Jean Theo. Thank you for being born as my son… and for living as my son."

  His father's voice, carrying a touch of moisture, felt just as it had in his childhood, when his father would tell him exciting old stories before bed.

  "Yes, Father… I, too, am grateful. I was happy because you were my father."

  "Yes, yes…"

  "Did you know, Father? Ten years ago, I…"

  The old duke, feeling as if he had become a six-year-old child again, gasped for breath but eagerly shared his accomplishments from the past with his father. His father held his hand tightly, smiling and nodding as he listened.

  The conversation between father and son continued, filled with warmth.

  Two days later.

  On a crisp autumn day, Jean Theo-Bastien, Duke of Leo, passed away.

  It was a peaceful death, as he quietly left the world in his sleep.

  Many had already gathered in the duchy, knowing that the duke's time was near. As a result, the funeral was held without delay.

  The funeral of the wise ruler who had brought prosperity to the Duchy of Leo drew a large crowd, all of whom came to bid farewell as the procession made its way to the family crypt.

  Among the crowd, there was a tall man, his face partially hidden beneath a hood, wearing a long, thick robe reminiscent of the mercenaries of the distant past.

  The man stood motionless, watching the funeral procession amidst the sobbing people of the duchy. Then, he turned away.

  "I will love you forever, my son…"

  A soft whisper escaped his tightly closed lips, but no one heard it.