Chapter 139 – Papa, Daddy, and Father
After her birthday, Frontier Town no longer watched Ivaline from afar.
They approached her.
Shopkeepers who once whispered now greeted her by name. Adventurers who used to merely nod began stopping her for small talk. Even children ran up to thank her shyly before sprinting away in embarrassment.
The gifts were overwhelming.
The Four Bastions had to assist her in opening them. Accessories. Dresses. Preserved delicacies from distant regions. Bundles of handwritten letters tied carefully with ribbon.
Among them, three stood above the rest.
A radiant white-and-sapphire gown prepared personally by Corvix.
A vial of Elven Tears from Dr. Suniel — rarer than many noble heirlooms.
And a cake baked by Tomas with such sincerity that hardened adventurers wiped their eyes after tasting it.
“You should thank them personally,” Aldric suggested.
Ivaline agreed.
Before parting to do their quest, Seraphine showed her the bracelet Harlund had crafted. Ivaline lifted her own wrist in response.
Now, even separated, they could still feel one another.
That was enough.
Corvix
Ivaline in Corvix birthday present.
When Ivaline stepped into Corvix’s boutique wearing his gown, the room fell silent.
The dress flowed around her like winter light on untouched snow.
Its primary fabric was luminous white — pure, dignified — while deep sapphire lined the inner layers, visible when she moved. The hems and edges were richly traced in blue embroidery, delicate silver filigree curling like frost patterns across the bodice and sleeves. Fine gold trimming caught the light subtly, never loud, never vulgar.
White and blue.
Ash-grey in her right eye. Diamond-deep blue in her left.
It was as if the dress had been made to harmonize with her existence.
Employees stared.
Several bowed instinctively, mistaking her for visiting nobility.
Corvix did not bow.
He stared.
“…It suits you well.”
“Thank you. Your design is praise-worthy as ever.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Your speech has improved. I remember a short girl negotiating fiercely when I attempted to pay her nothing.”
“That was more than five years ago.”
“Was it?”
To outsiders, it was casual banter.
To those who knew him, it was something dangerously close to pride.
The little girl who once stood on a worn out boots to argue with him now stood tall in a gown he had crafted with his own hands.
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He gestured toward his office.
Inside, Nasha served imported tea and quietly positioned herself near the wall — the safest location should emotional catastrophe occur.
Silence.
Corvix stared.
Ivaline sipped calmly.
Nasha smiled politely while screaming internally.
Say something. Either of you. This tension is fatal.
Corvix finally spoke.
“Girl. Would you consider becoming my daughter?”
Nasha gasp, her mind drifted to weeks prior.
“Hypothetically,” Corvix had said stiffly, refusing eye contact, “if a man were to… care for a certain girl. Not related by blood. What would be appropriate?”
Nasha had nearly collapsed.
There is only one girl you look at like that, you emotionally constipated peacock.
Aloud, she answered smoothly, “If your intentions are sincere, adoption would be most respectable.”
He had gone silent.
Then nodded once.
And left.
I did not think you would actually proceed!
Back in the present,
Silence.
Ivaline tilted her head.
‘Chronicle. What is a daughter?’
‘A daughter is a female child under the guardianship of a parent. If not related by blood, the term becomes adoptive daughter. The male parent is Father.’
‘What does a daughter do?’
‘She is protected and supported. The father assumes responsibility for her well-being.’
Ivaline paused.
‘So it is similar to a long-term protective contract?’
Chronicle hesitated.
‘…Emotionally speaking, it is more complicated than that. But in your terms, it's similar.’
After brief consideration, she nodded.
“Okay.”
Nasha almost dropped the teapot.
Corvix’s lips curved — sharp, victorious, almost dangerous.
“Good. From today onward, call me ‘Papa.’”
“Yes, Papa.”
The word came naturally.
For one suspended second, Corvix froze.
Then he stood and pulled her into an embrace.
It began stiff.
It did not remain so.
At some untraceable point in time, this girl had become someone he would bankrupt himself to protect.
Behind them, Nasha covered her face.
This is my fault.
Sorry Ivaline!
Chronicle recorded silently.
Tomas
The bakery greeted her with warmth and the scent of fresh bread.
Tomas beamed the moment he saw her.
“Well now! That dress is beautiful on you!”
He poured milk. Set out cookies. Watched her eat with open affection.
At some point—
His hand moved on its own.
It landed gently on her head.
He froze.
Ivaline looked up at him quietly.
He expected her to pull away.
Instead, she lowered her head slightly, allowing it.
“…You’ve grown,” he murmured.
He withdrew slowly, embarrassed.
“Who would’ve thought the little girl I once let steal bread would become such a fine young lady?”
“If you had not allowed me to take it that day, I might have starved.”
He laughed softly. “So you remember.”
“You are my benefactor. I will not forget.”
His smile softened further.
“Silly girl. Your debt was repaid the day you chased those thugs out of my shop with a stick.”
The memory felt recent.
Too-thin arms.
Fierce eyes.
Now she sat before him composed, radiant.
“Ivaline… it may be improper to ask…”
She waited.
He swallowed.
“Would you let me take care of you from now on? Would you be my daughter?”
She looked up.
He swallowed.
Chronicle felt alarm bells.
He tried to speak, but Ivaline beat him to it.
“I don’t mind.”
Chronicle froze.
“Then call me ‘Daddy,’ alright?”
“Un. Daddy.”
And Tomas cried.
He hugged her without restraint, shoulders shaking.
Ivaline gently patted his back.
Chronicle began to feel something resembling dread.
He began calculating disaster scenarios.
Yet still choose silent.
Dr. Suniel
The guild clinic was immaculate.
Suniel allowed her into his office without ceremony.
Bubble bowed respectfully.
She noticed the assistant recruitment notice had been removed.
“That,” Suniel said calmly, “is because you introduced someone competent.”
After thanking him for the Elven Tears, she prepared to leave.
Suniel studied her quietly.
He remembered the first day she entered his office — small, silent, flawlessly efficient.
That child now stood before him steady and dignified.
She had earned his protection.
And he tried to ask her about it.
Chronicle sensed inevitable repetition.
‘Ivaline, perhaps we should reconsider—’
“Child.”
Suniel folded his hands.
“Would you permit me to become your father?”
‘Ivali—’
“I don’t mind.”
Bubble dropped her documents.
Suniel blinked once.
“…Then you may call me Father.”
“Yes, Father.”
He adjusted his sleeves.
Coughed.
Adjusted again.
Then stepped forward and embraced her.
It was formal.
Measured.
Firm.
Bubble stared at the ceiling as if seeking divine clarification.
Chronicle experienced something very close to regret.
He had explained definition.
He had not explained exclusivity.
Afterward
Outside the guild building, Chronicle finally spoke.
“Ivaline. Why did you accept Tomas and Dr. Suniel as well?”
She blinked.
“Because I can have multiple fathers?”
“…That is not how this works.”
“I have had multiple employers before. This is not different.”
Silence.
Now he understood the flaw.
He had explained structure.
He had not explained meaning.
Sooner or later—
Papa.
Daddy.
And Father.
Would discover one another.
And Frontier Town would tremble under the weight of three accomplished men realizing they shared the same daughter.
Chronicle began calculating future conflict probabilities.
They were…
Significant.
