The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 40: Ultra-rich Villain Dad [3]

"...And now here you are, looking me in the eye while greeting me," he said, eyes steady on mine. "I have to admit... you've changed, son."

Changed?

Yeah, that was one way to put it.

I had changed. A lot.

Because I wasn't the real Rin Evans in the first place.

...But he didn't need to know that.

"I had to change, Dad. If I want to become a hero."

"A hero, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "So you're still obsessed with that. Maybe you haven't changed as much as I thought."

His tone was calm, even, completely composed. Like he was just making casual conversation—but I could feel it. He was testing me. Every word, every question—it was all measured.

But I wasn't a rookie either.

I've read enough novels to know how these kinds of tense family reunions usually play out.

So, was I nervous?

Sure. A little.

Worried? Not at all.

"Sit down," he said. "Let's have a light breakfast."

"Yes, sir."

The meal was mostly quiet. Neither of us said much, and the only sound between us was the occasional clink of silverware.

But as I neared the end of the soup, I caught it again—a flash of surprise in his eyes.

Seriously, what was with everyone giving me that look?

First Leona, then the butler, now my own dad?

Did Rin used to act that differently?

After finishing the soup—served as a simple appetizer—I set my spoon down and met his gaze.

He stared at me for a moment, then said, "You ate the soup quickly."

I froze for a second.

Was that supposed to be a subtle jab? A critique about manners or something? Come on, we just saw each other for the first time in years and he's starting with this?

Sorry, but I grew up in an orphanage. I've had tougher breakfast conversations with kids who tried to steal my toast.

That kind of passive-aggressive parenting wasn't going to work on me.

"The last time I saw you," he continued, "you were screaming because you couldn't swallow anything with chunks in it."

Oh.

So... that's what this was about.

I see now.

The old Rin... was really that delicate?

Wow. The kid was soft.

"I'm not sure."

I blinked.

"What?"

He looked at me steadily. "I'm not sure if you've just decided to accept everything and treat us like strangers... or if you've actually started to forgive us, even a little."

I didn't know what to say.

For the first time since I sat down, he didn't look like the cold, distant man I'd always imagined. He looked like... a father. A father quietly hoping for something from his son.

But I didn't have the answers he was looking for.

When I glanced up, his crimson eyes—those almost vampiric eyes—held something unexpected: a mixture of hope, longing... and sorrow.

I inhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.

This wasn't something I could brush off. Something must've happened—something heavy, maybe even painful—between him, Rin's sister, and the old Rin... me.

He wasn't just asking out of curiosity.

He was asking because he needed to know.

But I couldn't give him anything—not yet. Because I wasn't the Rin he remembered.

And without knowing what happened between them, without knowing the full story... I had no right to speak on Rin's behalf.

So there was only one thing I could do.

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Put this conversation on pause. At least until I could understand the past.

"To be honest... I don't know."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "What?"

I met his gaze—those blood-red eyes that mirrored mine.

"I'm not sure how I feel right now. It's... complicated. I don't want to rush an answer. I'll figure it out, but only after I become a hero."

"A hero, huh...?" he murmured, lowering his head slightly, eyes drifting to the floor.

He stayed quiet for a few moments. The silence stretched, just tense enough to be uncomfortable.

Then he looked up at me again.

"Alright. If that's what you've decided, I won't stop you. You look better than the last time I saw you... healthier."

Healthier?

I wasn't just healthier. I was built different now.

Ten-kilogram dumbbells? Child's play.

But then came the food—and that's where things got weird.

The main dish arrived, and I was staring down at a bowl of clear soup.

Across from me, he was already cutting into a thick, juicy roast beef.

What the hell?

Discrimination in real time?

Was this why he ended up so emotionally repressed?

Okay, maybe it made some sense. If I had been the kind of sickly kid who couldn't even handle chunky soup, they probably wouldn't serve me roast beef either.

But that was the old Rin Evans.

This was Rin Evans Mk.2.

And this upgraded version? He was starving—for protein.

Meanwhile, sitting across from me was a man who'd clearly never missed a day of protein intake in his life.

Come on. Wasn't it about time he shared some of that abundance?

I cleared my throat. It was time for a secret weapon—my ultimate technique.

"Faaather~ why are you the only one eating meat? What about me, Father? Is there no meat for your poor son, Father?"

Yes. I was pulling out the legendary "guilt trip used by children aged five to ten."

I knew it was cringe. The whole thing felt ridiculous coming out of my mouth, but the tension in the air was way too thick, and honestly? I just really wanted some meat.

He paused, blinking at me in disbelief.

"You want meat? And what's with this 'Father' stuff? You've always called me 'Dad.' And even that was barely passable—you never said it with that much... drama."

For the first time since we sat down, he cracked.

His usual cool, composed mask slipped just a little. He looked genuinely flustered.

Oh?

So the cold-blooded Rin Evans' father actually liked being called 'Father.' Noted.

And then—without saying another word—he slid all the meat from his plate onto mine.

Every. Last. Piece.

He even gave me a small smile. Not a smug smirk. A real smile.

I blinked.

Then quietly started eating.

He didn't take his eyes off me. Just stared.

Unblinking.

Observing like I was some rare creature that had started talking.

I tried to ignore him. Pretend like his intense gaze wasn't burning holes through my soul.

...Fine. Maybe I was a little bothered.

But not enough to stop eating.

Free meat was free meat.