The chilled atmosphere prickled at my skin relentlessly.
While I stood there stunned and flustered, my father approached, calling my name in a voice as cold as ice.
"Kali."
"...Yes."
"What are all these canvas-like things here? Did Rozaria draw them?"
"That's..."
"But it's strange. As far as I know, Rozaria hasn't come here since she enrolled. So why do they still smell like fresh oil paint? Why haven't they been cleaned up yet?"
He knew everything, yet he was asking on purpose.
Forcing me to confess it myself, to admit my mistakes one by one and reflect on them out loud.
Indeed, as Kali's father, he bore a striking resemblance to Kim Siwoo's dad.
That only amplified my resentment toward him.
"You have just one year left. Even when I asked when you'd get your act together, your mother brushed it off, saying she'd handle it and left you alone. I waited because you showed some promise, until you'd take an interest in swordsmanship. But magic? Magic?"
"...I just tried it a little."
"And 'a little' got you this far? Hah. If you'd practiced swordsmanship this hard, you'd have scores good enough for Graveda Academy by now."
His mocking words made my blood boil in all sorts of ways.
All the grueling hours Kali had poured into swinging that sword flashed by with a pounding headache, fueling my sense of injustice.
Normally, Kali would have just owned up to his faults and moved on.
"You're asking the impossible."
"What?"
"You make getting into Graveda Academy sound way too easy."
"Of course. Do you know whose son you are? You know it yourself! Even with all this slacking around, you're still leagues above your peers!"
Ah, fuck.
I wanted to just let it rip, but Kali's memories were still pleading with me not to.
Well, back when I was Kim Siwoo, I never properly stood up to my dad either—I just ran away from home.
And now you want me to mouth off here?
'Then fuck it, let's do it. Same shit again? Isn't going through that knot once enough?'
Conflicting thoughts clashed endlessly, clouding my judgment.
Why did our lives have to be so similar, forcing me to relive this crap?
I swallowed the mounting headache and lifted my head.
I didn't want to stay trapped in Kali's old pattern of shrinking back and saying nothing in moments like this.
"Am I such a disappointment to you?"
"Hah, yes. You think any parent wouldn't be frustrated watching their son waste his days like this?"
"I see. Then should I just leave the family?"
"What?"
"Kali...!"
They clearly hadn't expected such strong words from me—my mother rushed over in a panic.
She was milder than Father, but honestly, not by much.
In the end, they both wanted me to carry on the family legacy as a proper swordsman, reaching Sword Master and continuing the line.
Had they ever considered my opinion even once?
"Rika seems pretty talented anyway. She can take over. Right?"
"Kali, you know... Rika is..."
"No matter how precious Rika is to us, letting someone not of our blood succeed us? Are you saying that in your right mind?!"
Rika de Gladys.
My little sister, but her situation was complicated in many ways.
Four years younger, yet her swordsmanship talent probably outshone mine.
I think I'd heard she had great magic potential too...
Anyway, suggesting Rika inherit the family pushed Father's berserk button—he started bellowing.
"I see. So to you, I'm your one and only heir, your only path forward."
"Yes, now that you get it, throw all this crap out and get back to swordsmanship..."
"Then losing someone so precious must hurt you deeply. It's a shame my loving father has to go through that."
"You bastard, what the hell are you..."
"As of today, I'm discarding the Gladys name. Satisfied now?"
"Ahh..."
My mother, who'd been listening, finally collapsed, her legs giving out.
Furious at my words, Father slapped me across the face. Knowing the skill gap made dodging pointless, I took it full on.
The pain barely registered—my head was burning hotter with rage.
"Why decide that on your own! Always crushing our hopes like this! How long do we have to wait for you to focus on swordsmanship?!"
"I never asked you to wait."
"What?"
"Ah, maybe I did. My fault for lying and building up those expectations from the start."
I had to own up to what was true.
It wasn't the parents' fault—it was Kali's childish mistake that had snowballed all this time.
Or more precisely, Kali had believed he could change by now.
But reality's wall was too high; no amount of faking it could bridge the gap.
"Lying?"
"About my talent. I didn't want to disappoint you! And I fooled myself into thinking I could make it someday! Holed up in this villa corner, swinging that sword till my hands blistered!"
"...What?"
But surely you hoped for something too?
Even if I hid it, couldn't you see through it? Didn't you ever want to tell me to rest?
Did you ever repay that hope even once?
How long are you going to let an obvious kid's lie like this jerk you around!
"My hands... got hurt playing around..."
"You know best, Father. The difference between calluses from sword swings and playing around. As a Sword Master, you'd spot it instantly."
"..."
The truth was, they all knew.
How convincing could a kid's lies be until he was barely an adult?
Even I could see the red flags right away—what must it look like to an expert like Father?
But they'd ignored reality.
They just couldn't accept their son's talent was that lacking.
"I'm fed up. Truly fed up..."
I didn't need to vent this explosively.
I could have said the same thing more calmly.
Regrets like that aside, one thing was clear: spewing it out left me feeling unburdened in ways I hadn't before.
This was a collision that had to happen eventually.
"No matter how hard I try, it never ends. Even swinging till my arms shatter, I can't reach the top. What am I supposed to do?"
"Kali..."
"So I decided to quit. This time for real—take a break and find something else. Is that so wrong?"
My parents looked conflicted, lost in thought.
They sighed, calming down, while I shut myself in my room and flopped onto the bed.
Ha, my head's seriously spinning.
"It's a bit different, though. Right?"
Back then, it was just 'screw college, I'll draw comics for a living.'
Here, it's 'no matter what, I can't do it—I'm done.'
Of course, the conviction that smashing the path they chose was the only way to my happiness? Identical.
"...Kali."
"Yes, Mother."
Soon, having sorted her thoughts, Mother entered my room and spoke.
Wonder what Father said.
Probably just told me to get out.
But Mother's unexpected words carried a surprisingly warm tone.
"First off, I'm sorry. We've been trying to burden you with too much."
"...No, I was the one who lied."
"But we made you feel like you had to."
This sudden heart-to-heart felt weirdly ticklish.
If she'd just told me to pack and leave, I'd have felt relieved.
But this apology left me unsure how to respond.
"Father's been thinking too. He even blamed himself for making you hate swordsmanship."
"..."
"But you know what he wants most, right? Think it over again—don't abandon it entirely? We won't push for the top anymore."
Sigh...
Honestly, at this point, 'Kali' could call it a win.
But now I had to live as 'Kim Siwoo' in this body too.
Achieving just what Kali's memories wanted wasn't enough for me.
"No. I've found what I want to do. I'm going to draw from now on."
"You're serious?"
"Yes, I mean—"
"Absolutely not!"
"Dear!"
"Abandoning swordsmanship for magic? Kali, no. It's all my fault, so please—just keep learning the sword."
I'd never seen Father on his knees, begging.
Why was he so desperate for me to learn swordsmanship?
I truly couldn't understand.
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