Chapter 16: Family’s Testimony [End Of Volume 1]
——Earning Money
A heavy yet unavoidable issue.
Strolling through the streets of the small town, Eleanor slowed her pace.
Pondering how to quickly amass enough gold coins to squander for a lifetime, her fair hand stealthily picked up a sweet biscuit and popped it into her mouth.
Crunch~ Crunch~ Crunch~
How could this sweet biscuit be so delicious…
Oh no.
How could those gold coins fly into my purse?
Eleanor stroked her chin, striking a thoughtful pose.
Thinking 🤔ing
Ugh… I can’t figure it out.
Forget it, no more thinking. I still have plenty of money anyway. When it runs out, I’ll just hunt some monsters. It’ll also train this maiden’s combat skills.
Swordsmanship alone isn’t enough; mentality matters too.
Exiting thinking mode, Eleanor shifted her gaze forward.
Blocking the center of the path was a tall statue of a young man.
Big eyes, high nose bridge, tall stature, radiant smile—a standard Western handsome boy.
Next to him was a sword.
More precisely—
It was a blade, a single-edged blade with a significant curve.
——Tachi
A familiar term.
The keyword washed away the sands of time like a wave, revealing buried memories and bringing long-forgotten recollections back to Eleanor’s mind.
She seemed to recall something.
But only fragments, mere snippets.
…
“You’re quite the looker, blue eyes, high nose bridge, but why are you wielding a tachi?”
…
“Not bad in a fight, but too bad there aren’t cherry blossom trees around, or they might awaken the baka blood in you.”
…
Scattered fragments flashed through her mind. The statue’s figure grew increasingly familiar. She had definitely seen this guy before.
So…
“Who is he?”
While thinking, Eleanor pointed at the statue.
“Teacher doesn’t know?” Yvette looked at the puzzled sword spirit. “This is a statue of the former hero, Ilson Nolan.”
“Former hero? Is he dead?” She turned to the girl.
“Ilson Nolan, from Aerseran, born in the 24th year before the Light Era, died in the 192nd year of the Light Era, aged 216…”
Yvette quietly recited the biography her elementary teacher forced her to memorize, along with those of his three companions.
By the way, the Light Era began the day the hero defeated the Demon King, ushering in light, hence the name. Before that was the Chaos Era.
“So… what year is it in the Light Era?” The sword spirit snapped out of her thoughts.
“The 1212th year of the Light Era,” Yvette answered.
“Hiss—”
Eleanor gasped.
According to Yvette, this guy was at least 1,000 years old, yet the fragmented memories flooding her mind told her she had met him in person.
Great, I’ve become an old relic.
Eleanor smacked her lips unhappily, looking at the girl. “So, who’s the current hero?”
“No idea.” Yvette shook her head. “No one has pulled out the holy sword since the Demon King’s death.”
“As long as the Demon King doesn’t appear, the holy sword will remain sealed in its sheath,” Yvette earnestly recalled from her elementary textbook.
The hero and Demon King are tied together? Hmm… a reasonable setup, like those flop Western fantasy novels in my memory.
But that wasn’t important. Popping another sweet biscuit into her mouth, the sword spirit contentedly squinted her eyes.
So what if she met him? It was nearly 1,000 years ago. Maybe they had some connection.
But he’s dead, and there’s no one to ask. She couldn’t exactly dig up his bones, point at his skeleton, and say, “Tell me, who am I? How do you know me? Spill, or I’ll scatter your ashes!”
What a hellish joke, like Louis XVI battling the Hand of Noxus—just thinking about it felt eerie.
Eleanor shivered uncontrollably.
Yvette, seizing the moment when Eleanor wasn’t looking, quietly took the sword spirit’s soft hand in hers.
Afterward, she looked at her innocently. “What’s wrong, Teacher?”
Why does this suddenly feel like a clueless daughter?
Where did this wild dummy come from?
Oh, I raised her. Never mind then.
A home-raised dummy is still usable after some cleaning.
Eleanor sighed, looking at the slightly foolish girl. “I think I’ve seen him before, um… not the statue, the real person.”
“I remember we had a friendly sparring match.” The sword spirit spoke thoughtfully.
The silly girl’s eyes flickered with something unusual.
“Then… does Teacher remember your relationship with him?” Hesitant, almost probing, the girl cautiously asked.
Eleanor hadn’t expected Yvette to ask this. She thought Yvette would marvel at her age or something.
“Relationship… maybe friends? I think we sparred with swords, and I might’ve beaten him up. I don’t remember much else.”
“What’s wrong, Little Yi?” Eleanor looked suspiciously at the girl, who seemed a bit off.
“Nothing.” Yvette’s expression dimmed. Watching Eleanor stare at the statue, she felt an indescribable complexity.
What a strange feeling. It should be joyful that Teacher recalled old memories.
But her heart felt an inexplicable heaviness.
Eleanor easily noticed the girl’s obvious little movements.
That was fear.
Fear of what?
Fear that her place in Eleanor’s heart would diminish?
“Sigh.”
Eleanor sighed again.
There’s a saying: Childhood wounds take a lifetime to heal.
Someone who’s been abandoned once craves and lacks security even more.
It seems I haven’t paid enough attention to Yvette.
As family, I’m a bit unqualified.
So—
She pulled her hand free from the girl’s grasp.
And then~~
Her soft, fair hands slowly lifted, clamping Yvette’s face—one on each side—gently pulling outward in the girl’s puzzled expression.
Being coy wasn’t her style. Some things are better said clearly.
She kneaded the girl’s cute cheeks, pretending to be puffed up with anger.
“What, feeling like you’re less important to Teacher than him?”
“I… I didn’t… ugh!”
Without giving the girl a chance to explain, Eleanor’s fingers poked at her dimples, stretching them into a comical smile.
“This Little Yi looks so silly.”
“No… no…” Stammering, the girl’s beautiful eyes began to glisten with tears.
Hearing the pleading sounds squeezed from the girl’s throat, Eleanor gave a playful smile.
“Ehe, just kidding. You’re actually pretty cute. No, Little Yi is the embodiment of cuteness—cute no matter how you look!”
“Teacher… you… you’re mean.”
Even her complaints were cautious. She seemed so soft, the type that wouldn’t resist even if bullied.
But Eleanor didn’t like bullying. Though pinching the girl’s cheeks was indeed addictive.
Still, she reluctantly let go, placing her hand on the girl’s head, gently ruffling it.
“Alright, don’t be upset. He’s just a friend. Definitely not as important as Little Yi. You’re my only family, the most important person to me~~”
She softly comforted the girl, then flashed a cheeky grin, raising her tone:
“Or~~ is the silly-looking Little Yi secretly a domineering CEO, wanting to lock Teacher up in a room to have me all to yourself?”
Teasingly, she spoke, but seeing Yvette’s wide-eyed confusion, Eleanor realized she might’ve said something odd.
Forget it—no more teasing the dummy. My silly daughter definitely didn’t catch the hidden meaning.
And she doesn’t need to. Being silly is fine; dummies should act like dummies.
Just be a good swordmaster, let me raise her well, satisfy my sudden urge to nurture, make a name for ourselves, then retire to a pastoral life like a cool hermit.
So awesome.
Daydream over, back to reality.
Eleanor looked at the girl, at her clear, watery eyes. After a quick thought, she came up with a new idea.
So she stood on her tiptoes—
Pointed to her soft, fair cheek, and said:
“Here, give me a kiss. Only for Little Yi. This is special family bonding~~”
“Bonding~~,” a word with magical charm.
The old relic shamelessly raised her voice, smiling as she offered her cheek to the girl.
And then~~
She saw the girl’s adorable, flustered expression, her fair face turning bright red in an instant.
[Only for her to kiss—]
Hearing the girl’s soft, sweet voice, Yvette felt herself getting all awkward.
Her toes curled, her heart pounded, and her mind grew dizzy.
Looking at the girl’s cute face, her consciousness blurred, and even her voice trembled:
“A… a kiss…?”
“What? Shy?”
“It’s just normal family bonding. Plus, Little Yi’s a girl. Kissing cheeks between girls is totally normal.”
(P.S.: At this moment, Eleanor would never imagine that in the future, Yvette would use this very line to kiss her until her legs went weak.)
(But for now, it’s still Eleanor’s dominant phase.)
She didn’t give the girl much time to process.
Eleanor’s next move dealt a critical blow to the flustered girl.
Seeing the still-dazed girl, she sighed helplessly and lowered her raised cheek.
My silly daughter’s too shy. This isn’t good—such thin skin will get her taken advantage of in society.
So she reached out her right hand, hooking it around the girl’s neck.
In the girl’s visibly panicked gaze, their faces drew closer, until they were mere inches apart.
The girl paused, turning slightly. Eleanor kissed her left cheek, whispering:
“Like this…”
“Proof of family—”
“Got it?”
…