The Academy's Terminally Ill Side Character
Chapter 41 - 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?"

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 look… stable?"

Aldric studied her carefully. Her voice was laced with caution, the words almost fragile, like porcelain. She wasn't asking just out of concern.

She was scared.

Scared of hope.

"He seemed… better," Aldric replied slowly, choosing his words with care. "Healthier. Sharper."

"But?"

"But." He exhaled, rubbing his temples. "It's like watching someone wake up from a coma with someone else behind their eyes. He looks like Rin. Sounds like him. But he's different. Clearer. More deliberate. And…"

"And what?"

"He called me Father."

That made her stiffen.

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She just stood there, frozen like a statue carved from disbelief.

Then, finally, in a whisper: "So… it wasn't just me."

He nodded.

A pause passed between them.

Then she walked further into the room, her steps slow but purposeful. She sat beside him on the bed, hands folded neatly in her lap.

"…Do you think he's pretending?" she asked.

Aldric didn't answer immediately. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze on the floor. "If he is, then he's the best damn actor I've ever seen. But I don't think so."

"Then what do you think?"

"I think…" He looked up. "I think we lost our son once."

Her throat tightened. Her fingers curled in her lap.

"And now?" she asked.

He stared at the wall for a long moment before replying, "Now… I think we've been given a second chance. But I don't know what to do with it."

Silence again. But this time, it wasn't the peaceful kind. It was heavy with history, with guilt, with words never spoken and apologies left too late.

"…Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly. "What we did? How we handled everything back then?"

Aldric closed his eyes.

"Yes," he said simply.

She looked down at her lap, biting her lip. "Then let's not waste this."

He turned to her, brows furrowing.

"I don't know what happened to him. I don't know why he's acting like this, or if it'll last. But… if this is our second chance, then I want to be there. I want to know him again."

Aldric didn't speak, but the look in his eyes softened.

"I thought I lost my little brother forever," she whispered. "But maybe… just maybe…"

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

They both understood.

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.