"Sylphia... why is that bald uncle kneeling?" Reyhan asked, his tone filled with curiosity. He still couldn't understand why a large, dominant man like Gardon suddenly acted like that.
With barely contained excitement, Sylphia replied, "Uncle Gardon probably realized that Father is... a god!"
(For those who forgot why Sylphia thinks Reyhan is a god, please revisit chapter five.)
'What the hell... what did she just say?' Reyhan held his breath—if he still had lungs. His head spun, not from the wind, but from sudden panic.
Meanwhile, Gardon could only freeze in his kneeling position. His eyes widened, his lips trembled like he wanted to say something, but his tongue was paralyzed.
'A god? Did I hear that right?' he thought, cold sweat running down his temple.
'So it's true... Verin is the child of a god... even if just adopted.'
His mind filled with questions, yet he dared not ask a single one. He was too afraid.
'You really shouldn't have said that, Sylphia,' Reyhan thought, wanting to scold her but ultimately deciding to keep up the act.
"Sylphia, you mustn't reveal Father's identity like that," Reyhan said gently, as if not wanting to make the little girl feel guilty.
"S-sorry... so I'm not supposed to?" Sylphia replied in a small, trembling voice. Her clear eyes started to glisten, staring blankly as if she had just dropped her favorite birthday cake.
"Ah... it's okay," Reyhan said quickly. "Just don't do it again, alright?"
He then reached out his wind-formed hand, gently stroking her hair. The breeze carried a warm touch that made Sylphia smile again.
'Well… it's my fault too, for lying about who I was before. She misunderstood, but maybe this misunderstanding could be useful later,' Reyhan thought, beginning to see a natural opportunity.
"Now… tell Uncle to stand up," Reyhan said calmly.
"Alright, Father," Sylphia replied sweetly. But as soon as she turned to Gardon, her expression turned cold—like a noble elf from an ancient clan.
"Uncle, Father orders you to stand."
In less than a second, Gardon jumped to his feet, puffed out his chest, placed his hands behind his back, stomped his left foot, and shouted,
"YES SIR!!!"
His voice echoed through the area like a military drill.
Several passing elves turned to look.
"Who's that little girl? She made that big bald man kneel like that?" whispered one.
"I saw Lord Sirton with them earlier too..."
"Shhh! Quiet! She might be from a great noble house!" another quickly warned, bowing slightly as if fearing the distant aura of nobility.
Watching all of this unfold, Reyhan began to panic. "Sylphia, tell him to act normal... and keep his voice down," he said urgently.
Sylphia nodded and passed the message with her face still expressionless.
"Uncle, Father orders you to behave normally... and lower your voice."
"YE—uh, sorry, I mean... yes sir..." Gardon nearly yelled again but caught himself just in time. His tone dropped like a lion turning into a soaked kitten.
Reyhan fell silent for a moment, his thoughts full of worry. He knew talking to Gardon too long could raise suspicion. If Gardon started asking questions—or worse, investigating... things could go south.
'I need to wrap this up before it spirals.'
"Sylphia, tell Uncle... Father thanks him for bringing you here," Reyhan said inwardly, his tone calm but firm. "And Father asks him to keep this a secret. Also, tell him he may leave now."
Sylphia nodded in understanding and stepped forward half a step. She raised her chin slightly, then delivered the message in a... slightly different tone.
"Uncle, Father thanks you for escorting me here," she said with a blank expression, "and Father orders you to keep this secret... or die. You may go now."
Reyhan froze. 'WHAT?!'
His invisible eyes widened. 'I only said "please keep it secret," not "keep it or die"!'
He wanted to correct her but decided not to. Considering Sylphia's past, perhaps such language had become second nature. Whether she truly meant it as a threat or was simply copying the harsh world she once lived in was unclear.
'Well... for intimidation, she's got talent.'
But it wasn't just Reyhan who was shocked. Gardon looked even paler than before. His huge frame trembled slightly, like a massive tree swaying in a breeze.
"V-very well..." he whispered, barely audible. He bowed deeply, then cautiously looked up.
"B-but… may I… report this to my superior? Just for record-keeping?" he asked in a voice so soft it might evaporate with a breeze.
Reyhan paused. The request was risky, but it could also be useful. If Gardon trusted his superior, and if that superior was someone Reyhan could eventually use… it might be a smart move.
'...Fine. This might come in handy later.'
He conveyed this to Sylphia again.
She turned to Gardon.
"Father allows it. But only to Lord Harder. No one else."
"Thank you… sir..." Gardon bowed deeply again. This time, he seemed slightly relieved—though his fear still lingered.
Then, with a speed that didn't suit his build, Gardon pulled a small pink wig from his dimensional pouch and placed it firmly on his bald head.
He spread his arms, began swaying his hips side to side while humming softly. Moments later, Joni—the giant pink garuda—came rushing in.
But before the bird could land, Gardon leapt high into the air and landed on Joni's back like a veteran soldier fleeing a terrifying battlefield. He didn't even remove his wig or ask for permission to take Verin or Sylphia as his disciple.
Without looking back, Joni flapped its wings once—sending a gust that blew nearby elves' cloaks backward—then soared into the sky, carrying Gardon who now just wanted to be anywhere but here.
"What was that." Reyhan's voice was stunned.
"Don't ask, Father," Sylphia replied, already looking exhausted.
After Gardon flew away, the area fell quiet again. The wind blew softly, bringing a strange peace after the small chaos earlier.
Reyhan finally spoke.
"Why were you so harsh with him? Didn't he help you a lot?" he asked, puzzled.
Sylphia turned to the source of the voice and answered innocently,
"So that he'll be afraid of you, Father."
Reyhan paused, unsure whether to respond with logic or just laugh. In the end, he only let out a long sigh.
The two of them chuckled together. A light, warm laugh that somehow felt like the most normal thing in the world—even though one of them was an invisible wind and the other a six-year-old who could intimidate grown men.
But that warmth didn't last long.
Sylphia's giggle faded. She looked up at the sky with a neutral expression, then asked a question that instantly made Reyhan tense.
"By the way… Father."
"Hm?"
"Why have you been calling me by my name all this time? That's not like you."
Her voice was calm but carried an invisible pressure—a quiet kind of interrogation that made Reyhan break out in a cold sweat.
'I'm doomed.'
Reyhan's mind raced. He needed a reason that would pass the scrutiny of this sharp-tongued little genius. And finally… he found one.
With a pitiful tone, Reyhan said:
"Oh right, sorry. Father just woke up… still a bit fuzzy… Forgive me, sweetheart."
He made his voice as gentle as possible, with a slight tremble—like someone who just woke up from a coma. He even let out a soft breeze across Sylphia's cheek, as if trying to hug her through the wind.
Hearing that, Sylphia's previously sharp gaze softened. Her face shifted from stern to worried.
"Are you okay, Father? Still dizzy? Do you want to sit down for a bit?" she asked quickly, her voice softening again.
Reyhan hurried to reassure her.
"I'm fine now. Don't worry. What about you? Tired?"
Sylphia gave a small nod.
"In that case, let's go into the inn. You need some rest," said Reyhan.
But just as they started walking toward the entrance of the old hall that would serve as their temporary lodging, Sylphia suddenly stopped. She turned and said:
"But, Father… I don't have any money."
The atmosphere fell silent. Even the wind seemed to pause for a moment.
'Oh no…'
Reyhan froze for a split second. Then, without saying a word, he swiftly floated up into the sky. Once he was high enough and sure no one could hear him, he spoke inwardly:
"System… do you have any money?"
[I am a system designed to enhance strength, not dispense money.]
"Come on… can't you help me out?"
[Unfortunately, no.]
'Digital freeloader!' Reyhan grumbled in his mind.
With an invisible face now filled with shame, Reyhan floated back down to Sylphia's side.
"Sorry… Father doesn't have any money either."
Sylphia looked at him for a moment, then replied flatly, "It's okay, Father. I kind of figured that already."
'Oof, my heart.'
Reyhan instantly felt like a complete failure of a father. Even though he knew it wasn't meant as a jab, it still hit like a brick—especially coming from his own daughter's tiny mouth.
But before Reyhan could sink deeper into his guilt, Sylphia reached into the small bag tied to her waist. She pulled out a white envelope sealed with a blue crest bearing a silver sun.
"Oh right, I forgot," she said as she held it up.
"This is a letter from… what was his name again?" Sylphia tapped her finger on her temple and slowly spun it as she tried to recall.
"Oh yeah, Sir. Sirton. He said this is a recommendation letter. Maybe I can apply here, at Lumenvale Academy. Academies usually have dorms, right?"
Reyhan fell silent.
Lumenvale.
That name… it felt familiar. Deeply familiar.
He remembered the days before he had the system. When he was just a simple breeze. No power, no direction. He used to sneak into the library there, slipping in through window cracks, reading ancient books from the hidden shelves. No one ever noticed.
'Lumenvale Academy? Maybe I'll see her again.'
"Professor Rosalia Larnia."
"Who's that, Father?"