A regular sparrow wouldn’t normally recognize a telegram signal.
“I’ll assign you a temporary agent. No one in the Travel family, aside from me, knows of their existence.”
Could it be? The temporary agent my grandfather mentioned!
I hurried outside. The sparrow, as if it had been waiting, flew onto my arm.
“Hello, Berry Quartz Travel.”
“It… spoke…!”
I almost shouted in surprise but quickly scanned my surroundings.
The training hall was right behind the main building. There was no one in my immediate line of sight, but I couldn’t be sure no one was watching. Covering the sparrow with my hand, I rushed into an empty classroom in the training hall.
“Wow. That was shocking.”
Even as I closed the door, the sparrow remained perched quietly on my arm. When I removed my hand, the small fluffball of a bird stared at me with its black beady eyes.
So cute.
“Hello!”
“Hello.”
It really talks?! Words were actually coming from its tiny beak.
“I’m Jackjack. I usually get around in bird form, but I’m actually a sparrow beastfolk.”
“A beastfolk…! Why are you looking for me?”
“Your grandfather—who is far greater than the Grand Priest—sent me.”
“So… Jackjack is my temporary agent?”
But my grandfather said the agent would move outside in my place.
‘Is it smaller than Aqum…?’
The only beastfolk I’d seen before were from the Wild Dog Tribe. Even though Jeffrey was a half-blood, he was still stronger than most his age. I’d always thought of beastfolk as a strong race, but Jackjack was just… cute.
“You seem too small to be an agent—”
“Small?!”
Flap, flap.
Jackjack flapped its wings furiously.
“I may look small, but I’ve lived for 20 years! If you underestimate little Jackjack, you’re in for a boring time!”
“Gasp. Sorry! You look so young, I thought you were younger than me.”
It was actually much older than me. Not wanting to cause unnecessary trouble over racial discrimination, I quickly apologized.
“Hmph. As long as you know it was rude. I’m just a messenger. Your temporary agent is outside the Travel estate.”
“Ohh.”
My eyes sparkled.
I had asked my grandfather about the agent’s identity before, but he had only said he would tell me when it was no longer ‘temporary.’
And now, to have a sparrow beastfolk as the contact point for my agent…
He must be an incredible person…!
“If I tell Jackjack, will the temporary agent handle my tasks for me?”
“That’s right. Do you have a request?”
I nodded.
Ever since my grandfather mentioned making peace with the dwarves, I had thought of the best way to approach it.
“Deliver a letter to Bonwell Village for me!”
***
Stone House. Underground Wine Cellar.
“Edward’s equation… I did my best….”
“Of course! Mr. Callet, you gave it your all!”
Callet, sitting on one side of the square wooden table, muttered with his head down, while Sherry, seated across from him, nodded in agreement.
“……….”
Between them, Reytan silently sipped his wine, watching the two drunken fools beside him.
Reytan was currently regretting the answer he had given two hours ago.
He should never have fallen for the expensive wine Callet brought.
Had he refused, he wouldn’t have ended up drinking in the underground wine cellar with his childhood friends in the middle of the day, claiming they had run out of alcohol.
“Am I… incompetent?”
“No. You’re overflowing with talent.”
Reytan responded immediately.
Callet rarely drank, so he never got drunk. But when someone like him did, it was terrifying.
Reytan vividly remembered the twenty-year-old Callet whispering the same words into his ear over and over again until dawn.
“You’re both drunk. It’s time to head back. Callet, don’t you have to check in with the Count?”
“I told you, the Count said there were no meetings this afternoon and told me to take the day off.”
“If you’re feeling anxious about it, then you’re a workaholic. Why can’t you relax? Go home and do something for fun.”
“Oh, come on, young master. Do you think Mr. Callet has any hobbies? He just follows the Count around all the time. He’s completely on the Count’s side. Last time I asked him to get some seasoning from the head butler, and he didn’t even pretend to hear me.”
“That’s because it’s the head butler’s responsibility. And I… I solved Edward’s equation… The Count must think I’m incompetent.”
“Ugh, you’re repeating yourself. But doesn’t this remind you of the old days? Back when we used to play around without a care—”
“I’m heading up first.”
“Where do you think you’re going? There’s still wine left. Sit down.”
Sherry blocked Reytan’s escape attempt.
She wasn’t about to let this rare moment of sweet indulgence, after years of restraint, end so quickly.
Holding up her wine glass, she squinted at Reytan, who looked displeased. His reflection in the curved surface of the glass made his face appear smaller.
Hah. Even from this angle, he’s still ridiculously handsome.
“You must have had an easy life, young master, thanks to your good looks.”
Then, as if suddenly overwhelmed by her own words, she scrunched her eyebrows and sniffled, lowering her head.
“No, it must have been difficult. No one has had a harder life than our young master. Sniff.”
Keeping up with a drunkard’s mood swings was exhausting.
“…Not really.”
Reytan responded reluctantly to Sherry’s sudden sympathy.
Across from her, Callet was also muttering something with his head lowered.
This scene was too amusing to witness alone. Reytan took another sip of wine.
“But young master, be honest with us.”
Sherry, who had just been lamenting Reytan’s hardships, suddenly perked up.
“Who is Miss Berry’s mother?”
“……….”
Reytan furrowed his brow, and Callet looked over at him.
“How did someone as adorable as Miss Berry come from your looks, young master? Does she take after her mother?”
“Absolutely not.”
The idea that his beloved daughter resembled that hateful woman…
The response came out instinctively, rejecting the mere suggestion.
Sherry’s eyes sparkled.
“Oh my, what a rare response from you! Now, let’s see… Last time, you said she wasn’t deceased… Mr. Callet, do you know anything?”
“I don’t. I’ve never heard a thing. Reytan never—”
“Mr. Callet, that’s enough. But… do you still have any contact with her? Is there any custody issue? Could she try to take Miss Berry away from you?”
Sherry asked with concern. Reytan traced the rim of his wine glass with his fingertips as it rested on the wooden table.
[While you were so carelessly neglecting me, that woman came to see me at the Grand Temple.]
[Since only you can hear my voice, she spilled her true thoughts easily, thinking I was just a sword.]
[She said she was coming to reclaim her daughter.]
That was what Wyndis had told him when he had gone to the Grand Temple to retrieve a top-grade healing potion.
A chilling breeze swept through the wine cellar. Sherry shivered and rubbed her arms.
“Ugh. It’s cold. But judging from the young master’s reaction… does that mean it’s possible?”
“…It’s not entirely impossible.”
“Absolutely not!”
Sherry shot up from her seat, shouting her opposition.
“Miss Berry isn’t going anywhere! I swear, young master Reytan, if you lose her, I won’t stand for it!”
“We can’t let that happen. Miss Berry must not be taken outside the Travel estate.”
“What’s this? Mr. Callet, are you actually agreeing with us for once? It’s been a while since we’ve been on the same side.”
Reytan listened to his drunken friends bicker while refilling his wine glass.
There was one good thing about drinking with childhood friends. Unlike Brown in the photograph, they actually responded when he spoke.
He had already finished two and a half bottles by himself. He could feel the subtle buzz creeping in.
“Everyone.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah?”
“Did I ever tell you? When Berry was one year old, her hands were this small….”
***
A few days later, a letter from the dwarves arrived for the Count of Travel.
My grandfather was so shocked that he secretly called for me through Jackjack.
“What did you do?”
“Hehe. I hired a courier!”
I had written a letter to the dwarves as if I were a legal representative of the Travel family.
The letter contained an apology for the past mistakes of the Travel family, an offer of reparations, and a request for reconciliation, expressing the desire to rebuild a strong cooperative relationship.
The letter was flawless, but my grandfather had sent many letters to the dwarves before—some far more refined than mine.
But letters alone weren’t enough.
Once trust was broken, no amount of sincerity would change anything. The mere fact that it came from the Travel family would be enough to make the dwarves turn a blind eye.
So the key was—
‘Connections!’
Connections my grandfather didn’t have, but I did.
