The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character
Chapter 39 - 39: Ultra-rich Villain Dad [2]

"Young Master, we should head out. The Master is very particular about punctuality."

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

The butler gave a small nod before turning and walking ahead with precise, almost military-like strides.

As for me, I had no choice but to follow. What else could I do?

Thankfully, there wasn't a full-blown limousine waiting outside the academy gates.

If there had been, I probably would've passed out on the spot.

The car looked like a refined blend between elegance and intimidation—sleek black, polished to a mirror finish, with no visible emblem except for a subtle silver crest near the front wheel. Whatever brand it was, it definitely wasn't something sold to the general public.

The kind of vehicle that whispered old money without ever raising its voice.

The back door opened automatically with a soft hiss. Inside, the seats were made of what I could only assume was leather from some magical beast. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and mana crystals. A tiny enchantment sphere hovered near the ceiling, cycling the air for optimal comfort.

The butler gestured. "Please, Young Master."

I climbed in, trying not to look too impressed. It was hard. My whole body practically sank into the seat like it was trying to swallow me.

The door closed behind me without a sound. A moment later, the car began to move—smooth as water, barely a jolt.

"Estimated arrival in eighteen minutes," the butler said from the front. "The Master is expecting you at precisely nine o'clock."

"Right…"

I leaned back, staring at the enchanted glass window. Outside, the capital passed by—people in uniforms, shops opening up, early-morning spellcasters preparing wards for the day.

It looked normal.

I might be walking into this family meeting with a whole lot of blind spots.

I wanted to ask a few things about my not-so-dear father, but I swallowed the words before they left my lips.

Saying something unnecessary now could easily raise suspicion—and that was the last thing I needed.

So I bit my tongue and turned to the window, hoping for a distraction in the passing scenery.

…But all I saw were towering, futuristic buildings—nothing like Earth.

Only now did I realize this was the first time I was actually paying attention to my surroundings.

Yeah. This world really was different.

While I was lost in thought, trying to wrap my head around this strange new ecosystem, the car finally slowed to a stop.

"We've arrived, Young Master," the butler said, snapping me back to reality.

Sure enough, we had reached our destination.

Click—

He opened the car door for me with practiced grace.

'Whoa… this feels like I'm some noble or something.'

The thought made my whole body tense with secondhand embarrassment.

'Okay, cringe. Let's never think like that again.'

Shaking off the awkward feeling, I looked up at the restaurant in front of me.

Even from the outside, it screamed wealth. If this were Earth, it would've easily passed as a seven-star restaurant—if that even existed.

Put simply, it was ridiculously luxurious.

No average person could dream of dining here. Walking in with a school uniform felt borderline illegal.

"Uh, excuse me—"

"Master has reserved the entire restaurant," the butler cut in, as if reading my mind. "So it should be fine."

Wow. Was this guy a telepath?

I was about to ask if I could ask a few questions—just to mentally prepare myself—but the butler was already leading me toward the entrance.

The glass doors opened with a soft chime, revealing an interior that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a fantasy royal court. Gilded columns lined the walls, enchanted chandeliers floated above like starlight trapped in crystal, and the scent of aged wine and exotic spices filled the air. A harp played softly in the background—by itself, of course. Magic.

And in the center of it all, sitting at a long table covered in velvet and gold trim, was a man.

My father.

He didn't stand when I entered. Didn't even offer a wave.

He simply raised his eyes, cool and unreadable, and regarded me like I was another piece on his meticulously arranged chessboard.

Black hair, streaked with silver. Sharp jawline. Eyes like polished obsidian. Wearing a custom-tailored coat that could probably pay off an entire district's rent.

That was him.

The man I was supposed to call 'Father.'

"Sit," he said, voice calm—deceptively so. It had weight behind it. Power.

The kind of voice that didn't need to yell to command an entire room.

I did as told, sliding into the seat across from him.

The table was so long, we might as well have been sitting on opposite continents.

The silence lingered a little too long for comfort.

Then—

"You've grown."

Oh. One of those lines.

"…Thanks Dad?" I muttered.

I kept my tone casual, trying to avoid that painful kind of awkward silence where no one knows what to say.

He looked up at me, and for the first time in years, our eyes met.

"Oh? So it's true then. Your sister wasn't lying," he said, amused.

"What…?" I blinked. What kind of nonsense was he about to throw at me now?

His crimson eyes narrowed slightly, and the corner of his mouth curved into the faintest smirk. There was even a flicker of surprise in his gaze.

Why? Why is everyone always shocked when I act like a normal human being?

Seriously… just what kind of life did the old Rin Evans lead?

"You never used to talk to your sister properly," he said casually. "But I heard you actually called her 'sister' on the phone the other day."

Wait—what?! Since when was that breaking news?

I didn't know how Rin used to talk to his family! If I had known just calling her 'sister' was that out of character, I'd have prepared a script.

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