Chapter 106

“My, they certainly are sleeping well.”

Cody peered through the half-open door of the bedroom adjacent to the living room. Sarah and Mihai were curled up together on a single bed, fast asleep. It was nearly midnight, yet they had been out for over eight hours.

As expected, the lack of proper nutrition had clearly taken a heavy toll on their small bodies.

“Hmph. That is what happens when they get carried away playing after a meal.”

“Look at you, talking like that. You were the one who humored them and played along,” Cody teased.

“They were being noisy, so I simply dealt with them as needed.”

Whether they were truly that happy or just starved for attention, both Sarah and Mihai had grown fond of Harold by the time dinner was over. They had opened their hearts enough to eventually fall asleep leaning against him, utterly exhausted from their play.

The siblings hadn't stirred since. Harold had prepared some extra dinner for them just in case, but at this rate, it would likely serve as their breakfast tomorrow.

“It’s not very convincing when you say that while you’re busy making snacks for us,” Cody remarked.

“It is merely to kill time.”

In truth, they had nothing to do until Finnegan’s wife returned. Thus, in response to Cody’s request for a light snack, Harold was preparing something simple.

He had sliced some dried meat into thick strips and was currently seasoning them with pepper while searing the surface in a pan. It was a task simple enough that even Sarah could have managed it.

Normally, such a snack would be paired with alcohol, but Harold was not so devoid of common sense that he would start a drinking party in a stranger’s house without permission. Instead, he made Cody settle for the leftover vegetable stew from lunch. Since the soup was lightly seasoned, it didn't clash with the salty dried meat.

While Harold continued to brush off Cody’s teasing, he suddenly sensed a presence outside.

“She’s here.”

“Eh? How can you tell?”

“A single presence is approaching with a dragging gait. There is no mistake.”

“Aren't you becoming less and less human by the day?”

“Enough. Just go and greet her already.”

“Right, right.”

Urged by Harold, Cody headed toward the front entrance. Rather than lying in wait inside the house, it was far more polite to greet her at the door. Even then, she would undoubtedly be suspicious; finding a stranger—even a former colleague of her husband—inside her home upon returning would be more than enough to cause alarm.

In fact, Harold had gone beyond simply being inside; he had taken over the kitchen. He hoped the smooth-talking Cody could charm his way through the explanation. It was a vital division of labor, arguably more important than helping with the actual cooking.

With his heart pounding inwardly, Harold remained seated, waiting for them to enter.

A few minutes later, Harold finally came face-to-face with Finnegan’s wife.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Cynthia.”

“Harold Stokes.”

“Forgive his brusqueness. He’s not a bad man, despite appearances,” Cody interjected.

“No, it’s fine… And about the matter regarding my husband?”

Though clearly wary of the sudden situation, Cynthia moved the conversation forward herself. It was a testament to how desperate she was to find any glimmer of hope for her husband.

Harold met Cody’s eyes and sent him a sharp look that said, You explain. Harold’s tongue was ill-suited for explanations, especially toward someone he was meeting for the first time. Sensing this, Cody opened his well-oiled mouth.

“To be blunt, we have found a method that might be able to wake Finnegan from his coma.”

“I-Is that true!?”

“Yes. Although, it is only a possibility.”

Cody added the caveat to imply that it might fail. Harold watched him, momentarily surprised that the man could speak so seriously. Then again, as a high-ranking officer in an organization as prestigious as the Order of the Holy King, Cody had to be capable of adjusting his register to suit the situation.

It was Harold’s own mouth—which could only produce biting, insolent remarks unless he was speaking to his parents—that was the anomaly.

“……And what would the cost be?” Cynthia asked, her voice heavy with apprehension.

It was only natural to assume such a treatment wouldn't be free. For a family living in such dire poverty, the question of payment was a terrifying wall.

However, Cody wasn't a cruel man. He had a casual, easygoing personality, and Harold sat back as a silent observer, confident that Cody wouldn't make any unreasonable demands—until Cody turned his gaze toward him.

“What? If you have something to say, say it clearly.”

“It’s not that I want to say something specific, but this can't be done without Harold’s sword. It’s not a decision I can make on my own.”

“Nonsense. I am merely lending the blade.”

As far as Harold was concerned, simply discovering whether he could break the brainwashing Justus had placed on Finnegan was reward enough. He had other concerns, but those weren't things he could voice right now.

In short, he was telling Cody to just decide the terms.

“Hmm, in that case… there aren't really any materials or medical costs, so I wouldn't mind doing it for free, but…”

“That is out of the question! I cannot offer nothing in return when you might be able to save my husband.”

“No, well, I understand that, but…”

Cody’s words trailed off. There was no monetary cost, but the treatment would technically shave away a portion of the user's life.

If he explained that, Cynthia’s common sense might lead her to decline out of guilt. Even if she accepted, she would be burdened by a debt of life that she could never hope to repay. Cody was likely struggling to find a way to persuade her without making the burden too heavy.

Harold understood Cynthia's pride, but he refused to waste time here. He needed to treat Finnegan immediately and bring the results back to Vincent and the others. For Harold, this was already a settled matter.

“Then, if you were charged a fee, could you even pay it? Or do you have something else you could possibly offer in place of coin?”

Harold’s attempt at "assisting" the persuasion came out as a cold interrogation.

Cody and Cynthia fell silent, as did Harold himself, immediately regretting the way his words had twisted. The concept of sugarcoating simply didn't exist for his tongue.

But if he stayed silent now, the atmosphere would become irredeemably suffocating. Cursing his own clumsiness, he decided to push through with sheer momentum.

“Neither is an option for you, is it? If you had any savings to speak of, your brats would be eating decent meals instead of starving.”

“That is… true, but…”

“Then do not speak of things you cannot provide. Whether I receive a reward from the likes of you makes no difference to me.”

“Harold, you’re going too far,” Cody warned.

“I am merely stating the facts. Listen. Your only choice is to accept the treatment for free or refuse it. Anything else is a waste of thought.”

Unable to endure the verbal assault, a single tear traced a path down Cynthia’s cheek as she looked at the floor.

Harold’s conscience shrieked in remorse. If he stopped now, he would truly be nothing more than a high-handed, arrogant piece of trash.

Panicking, he decided to use action as a buffer. He stood up, ladled a portion of the steaming soup into a small plate, and set it down in front of the weeping Cynthia.

“……What is this?”

“Don't argue. Just drink it.”

The sudden gesture left both Cynthia and Cody looking utterly bewildered. Harold simply wanted her to have something warm to calm her nerves.

Whether his intent reached her was unclear, but Cynthia nonetheless took a sip.

“It’s delicious……”

“Naturally. I was the one who prepared it.”

“You made this?”

“Yes, and the rest of the food as well.”

He began to set the table with the leftovers from lunch. His movements were practiced and fluid, as graceful as a trained servant. Urged by Harold, Cynthia began to eat.

“How does a proper meal suit you?”

“……It is delicious. So much so… I feel I might cry……”

You’re already crying, Harold thought, though he was not tactless enough to say it aloud.

To be honest, his cooking likely couldn't compete with a professional or even an experienced housewife, but the fact that she was weeping over it showed just how dire their situation had become. He couldn't tell if her tears were from the taste or from the lingering sting of his words.

“I thought as much. Your brats were delighted by a simple meal and cheered over a single bar of soap. They are easily pleased.”

“Why do you go so far for us? As you said, we have nothing to give you in return……”

If he could have said something like, "The children's smiles are payment enough," he might have redeemed his reputation. Unfortunately, Harold was not that kind of young man.

“It is a whim. But not entirely. If I can successfully treat Finnegan, it will benefit me as well.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Cody make a face that said, Wait, really? Since it didn't directly concern him, Harold hadn't shared his theories, but in hindsight, explaining it to Cody beforehand would have made these negotiations much smoother.

Truly, regret always came too late.

“I have granted you a measure of grace this time. I am a noble; depending on my whim, I may hand down a punishment, or I may bestow a grant.”

Harold knew it was a terrible way to phrase things, but in this world, such logic held weight.

“Our standing is different. You are only permitted to move according to my will. Understand that.”

Cynthia’s face twisted.

Her expression was a cocktail of anger at Harold's arrogance, misery at her own powerlessness, and a bitter resignation toward a world where the strong toyed with the weak.

She was about to submit to his words, swallowing her pride, when Harold spoke again to stop her.

“……However, if you cannot accept that, then swear an oath here. Swear that you will become strong enough to carry out your own will and protect those you love. If you can make that oath, I will let everything today stand as a loan.”

“Eh……?”

“Naturally, the interest on this debt will be high. Do you have the resolve to step forward? Will you choose to walk a steep and difficult path, or will you stay here like a chick waiting for feed?”

In essence, Harold had proposed a choice:

Accept the treatment as a "grant" (charity) and be done with it, or accept it as a "loan" (a debt) to be repaid through her own strength later.

It was a cruel question to ask a family with no resources, but Harold's desire for a quick resolution and his naturally sharp tongue had resulted in this binary ultimatum.

Well, she’ll probably choose the former, and I can leave the emotional aftercare to Cody, Harold thought as he waited for her reply.

“……I understand. I accept your proposal.”

“I see. Then—”

“Yes, I swear it here. I will become strong to protect my husband and my children. And no matter how many years it takes, I will surely repay this great debt to you.”

(……Wait, what?)

Harold was stunned. She chose the debt? Isn't that going to be incredibly difficult?

Ignoring Harold’s internal confusion, Cynthia stood up, knelt before him, and bowed her head low.

“And to you, I shall swear my absolute loyalty.”

The atmosphere was far too heavy for Harold to say, "I don't actually want that."

Faced with a development that was the polar opposite of what he had intended, Harold could only muster a curt, “Hmph. Save those words until your husband opens his eyes.”

Still, if this meant they could move on to the treatment immediately, he supposed it was a "mission accomplished" of sorts.

“Ah, I see! A play on words with the word kashi—meaning both 'grant' and 'loan.' How stylish of you, Harold!”

Cody had chimed in with a completely off-base observation. Harold promptly decided to stomp on Cody’s foot with just enough force to say, That’s not it at all!