The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character-Chapter 41: Ultra-rich Villain Dad [4]

Click—!

"Let's go."

"Yes, Master."

At his command, the limousine smoothly pulled away from the curb.

The man seated in the back didn't say another word, and the butler at the wheel drove in silence, calm and composed as ever.

.

.

.

A few minutes passed.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, the butler caught something unusual in the rearview mirror—his master was smiling.

His eyes widened slightly.

It had been years since he'd seen that expression.

Not since the Lady of the Evans household had passed.

Overcome with curiosity, the butler hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, keeping his tone respectful.

"Master... you seem to be in good spirits today. Did your meeting with the Young Master go well?"

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

There was a pause.

The man in the back slowly turned his head, his crimson eyes narrowing like a predator's. There was a chill in the air. The butler instantly regretted speaking.

He had overstepped.

He knew it.

And yet—after a beat of heavy silence—the master's expression softened. His lips curved upward again, eyes closing gently.

"Yes... it was a good meeting," he said, voice low and distant. "He even called me Father. Just like he used to when he was four or five."

The butler exhaled in relief. He had been forgiven.

More than that, he could tell his master was genuinely happy. A rare thing.

"I see," the butler said quietly. "That is... truly good to hear, Master."

"Hmm."

Aldric Evans leaned back in his seat, letting out a small, contented sigh.

It was rare to see a glimpse of warmth from a man like him.

But today... something had changed.

After that brief exchange, silence filled the car.

But unlike before, it wasn't an uncomfortable or heavy silence.

It was... peaceful.

Aldric Evans.

Chairman of the Evans Group—one of the top five conglomerates in the Velkova Republic—and a certified [B+] rank hero, found himself more exhausted than usual that evening.

The moment he stepped into his room, he didn't even bother changing. He simply threw himself onto the bed.

So many thoughts crowded his mind.

His rebellious son—Rin—had suddenly started acting like a completely different person overnight. That alone would've been shocking.

But what really got to him?

Rin, the boy who used to choke on even thin soup due to his fragile health, had casually devoured an entire plate of meat.

And most of all... he'd called him something he hadn't heard in years.

"Father."

Aldric stared blankly at the ceiling.

It felt surreal.

Rin had stopped using that word after the age of five. After that, he'd only ever called him "Dad"—and even then, it wasn't out of affection. It was more like... obligation. A reminder that they were related by blood and nothing more.

Not love. Not warmth. Just blood.

A tired sigh escaped Aldric's lips.

He remembered the conversation he had with his daughter just the day before.

She told him, eyes wide and trembling with emotion, that Rin had called her "Big sister."

Not just "sister." Big sis.

Aldric's brows furrowed at the memory. That nickname... Rin had only used it when they were little. Back when the two were inseparable—when his daughter would follow him everywhere, clinging to him like a shadow.

But everything had changed since then.

So when she said it, Aldric thought she was losing her mind.

He didn't believe her.

He assumed it was stress, nostalgia, maybe even a bit of denial.

Because the Rin he knew—his son—hadn't smiled warmly at anyone in years.

Not at family. Not at staff. Not even in photographs.

And the boy never used names. Only titles, spoken coldly, like reading off a list.

"—Why did you do that?"

Aldric closed his eyes as the memory surfaced—his son's voice, sharp and cold, cutting through him like a blade. Far too emotionless for a child so young.

He could still see it.

That glare. Those hollow, guarded eyes. That small figure, barely past toddlerhood, already walled off from the world like a soldier too broken to feel.

Something had shifted back then.

And now... it was shifting again.

But Aldric wasn't sure if that change was something to be hopeful about—or something to fear.

He wanted to be hopeful.

But just as the thought flickered in, more memories came crashing down.

—Why did you stop me?

—Who are you to save me?

—Did I ask you to save me?! Why don't you go back to managing your damn business, like you always do!

—Don't show me that fake concern!

—It's my talent! I don't care if I die using it!

—I just want to save Mother!!

—Why did you—

Aldric's breath caught in his throat.

He forced himself to shut the memory floodgate, swallowing hard as he tried to steady his breathing.

If he could go back—if he could change things—he would.

He'd tear apart the very fabric of time just to stop those moments from happening.

His hands clenched into fists on his lap.

A sharp click broke the silence.

The door creaked open, and his daughter stepped inside.

"Dad."

Aldric looked up, quickly wiping away the faint expression that had cracked through.

"Oh, you're back."

"You met Rin...?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, searching his face.

"How was it? Seeing him in person... Will he be alright without a doctor around? Does he still scream like he used to?"

Aldric blinked.

"He's fine," he said quietly. "Thankfully... he doesn't do that anymore. He looked healthier than when he was at home."

"What...?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "How's that possible?"

She realized she hadn't even thought to ask Rin herself. The shock of seeing him like that had overridden everything.

Even the top superhuman specialists had declared his condition incurable. The penalties from using his ability were said to be permanent.

So how?

"I don't know either," Aldric admitted, his voice low.

But deep inside, one thing wouldn't stop echoing—what Rin had said before leaving.

That he wasn't sure he could forgive them.

That simple truth... sat like a stone in his chest.

For now, he would just silently watch Rin from distance.

As Father....It was his duty to watch over his son.

...And he won't failed to that at least.