Chapter 29 - Father's Friend
As Dahlia continued inspecting the surrounding magical tools, Ozwald approached her.
"Lady Dalia, please feel free to use this from now on."
He handed her a golden card with his bare hand, having removed his white glove. The card bore the name of the shop, Goddess' Right Eye, engraved alongside a delicate image of a goddess.
"Um, what is this?"
"It grants you unrestricted access to the shop. Even if Volfred-sama is not present or if you come alone, and regardless of whether I am here, you may visit freely and take your time viewing the magical tools."
Dahlia hadn’t bought anything from the shop.
Though both were magical toolmakers, their ages differed, and they had never interacted before. She couldn’t understand why she was being given such a privilege.
As Dahlia looked puzzled, Ozwald ran a hand through his slightly darker gray hair.
"I owe a debt to your father, Carlo-san. When I asked how I could repay him, he told me, 'If my daughter ever visits your shop, show her your magical tools. If she doesn’t, then keep this a secret until the grave.' I had the card prepared back then."
"My father..."
"I'm truly glad to have met you today. If I ever pass on to the other side, I can tell Carlo-san that I’ve settled my debt."
"If it’s not too much trouble, may I ask what kind of debt you’re referring to?"
The man before her took a deep breath, lowered his eyes, and began to speak.
"...I’m embarrassed to admit it, but when I was younger, my wife eloped with a man from the shop, taking a substantial amount of money with her. I was left contemplating whether to close my shop, take on massive debts, or simply end it all. Then, Carlo-san came along and dragged me out for drinks at a food stall."
"I-I see..."
She immediately regretted asking.
She had no idea what kind of expression to make or how to respond.
"Yes, it was my first time drinking at a food stall. We got a bit overenthusiastic with the alcohol, and since I was already acquainted with Carlo-san, I poured my heart out to him. Afterward, he scolded me, saying, 'In times like these, you need to find a new woman.' Then, he bragged that he already had a beloved young woman in his life."
Father! What kind of advice was that?!
Dahlia understood her father’s intent to console someone who, like him, had been abandoned by his wife.
But his choice of words left her wondering if she should pay her respects to his grave with a kick.
"After the food stall, he took me to the Green Tower, where I met a young girl cradled in a maid’s arms—you. I couldn’t stop laughing when he called you his 'most beloved young woman.'"
"...I see."
"He complained that the tower lacked proper ventilation, and during the hot summer, it gives his daughter heat rash. Since he treated me to drinks, he ordered me to create a magical tool to solve the problem. That’s how I got over my problems and ended up developing the air cooling fan. Thanks to that, I rebuilt my shop, and here I am today. I owe my gratitude to you as well."
"No, I..."
She was speechless. Never had she imagined that it had anything to do with her, nor did she expect that the reason behind the development of the air cooling fan would be connected to her.
"Carlo-san and I were always busy with work, so we could only drink together at baronial meetings. Looking back, I wish I had invited him out more often. Perhaps he only sympathized with me and didn’t see me as a close friend."
"Not at all! Every summer, my father would sit in front of the air cooling fan, raise his ale, and say, 'Cheers to Ozwald Zola.' I’m sure he thought of you as a friend and felt like you were drinking together."
"Did he really? Carlo-san... in front of the air cooling fan... hahaha..."
Ozwald began laughing, but his laughter soon turned oddly drawn out.
Removing his glasses, he pressed a handkerchief tightly to his eyes.
"...My apologies. Thank you, Lady Dahlia. You’ve lifted a weight off my heart."
"No, thank you for the card and for sharing stories about my father. I’m glad to have heard them."
"Please visit again. I’d love to take my time hearing more about magical tools and your father. I’ll be looking forward to it."
"Yes, thank you."
When Ozwald extended his hand, Dahlia clasped it in return.
His tears had dried, leaving a bright and refreshed smile on his face.
"...Lady Dalia, shall we move on to the next shop?"
Volf, who had just descended the stairs, called out in a slightly lower voice.
"Yes."
After exchanging polite bows with Ozwald, she followed Volf out of the shop.
"I sincerely look forward to your next visit."
Ozwald’s kind voice called out gently behind her.
Outside, the temperature had risen yet again.
As Dahlia was about to slip the golden card into her bag, she turned it over.
The signature on the back read, Dahlia Rossetti.
It was her name, but the slightly slanted, familiar handwriting unmistakably belonged to her father.
As a magical toolmaker, she respected him deeply, but in his daily life, he had been easygoing and sometimes careless.
He would drink while tinkering with magical tools in his workshop and occasionally fall asleep there.
When she woke him and told him to sleep in his bedroom, he’d stubbornly insist he wasn’t asleep.
He often ate while reading books or documents, only to spill food on them and panic.
Though she’d tell him which polished shoes to wear, he’d often leave wearing the dirty ones.
No matter how many times she reminded him to hang his coat on a hanger, he’d drape it over the back of his workshop chair.
She had scolded him countless times not to drink too much or add more salt to his cooking.
Yet, showing his good side only after his passing seemed unfair.
"Dahlia, what happened? Did Ozwald say something inappropriate?"
Volf grabbed her arm firmly and questioned her in rapid succession.
Only then did she realize tears were streaming down her face.
"No... I’m sorry. I just... remembered my father..."
"...I see."
The young man covered Dahlia with his cloak and hood, shielding her as he stood protectively in front of her.
Though it was hot, his cloak felt warm.
"I’ll wait until you’re ready."
From within the cloak came the faint, familiar scent of Volf.
・・・・・・・
After Dahlia calmed down, Volf led her to a nearby café.
Using the excuse, "My companion got something in her eye," he managed to persuade the staff to let them use a restroom equipped with a dresser designed for noblewomen.
Dahlia washed her face and was able to fix her makeup there.
"I’m truly sorry for causing you trouble."
"Don’t worry about it."
On the table, two cups of tea were already placed, along with a magical tool to prevent eavesdropping.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes. About what just happened..."
Not wanting Volf to worry further, Dahlia carefully explained the situation with Ozwald, sugarcoating as much as possible.
Of course, she couldn’t bring herself to mention details like "his wife ran off" or "he spilled everything over drinks at a food stall."
Instead, she recounted how Ozwald had once been struggling, how he had spoken with her father, which led to the development of a magical tool, and how she herself had apparently met him when she was very young. She also explained that Ozwald, at her father’s request, had given her a card granting access to his shop.
When she finished, Volf visibly relaxed, letting out a deep breath.
"So that’s what happened..."
"Yes. I never expected to hear such stories about my father at the shop. This signature here—this handwriting—it’s my father’s. That’s why I just... Well, it’s already been a year since he passed."
"Perhaps, it’s only been a year for you."
Volf offered her the tea, and they finally sipped together.
From the smooth flavor, Dahlia could tell it was an expensive blend, but by now, it had gone completely cold.
"After hearing all of that, this might be awkward to say, but... When you go to visit that shop, could you let me accompany you, if possible?"
"If my behavior there caused you any issues, please feel free to say so."
She wondered if her behavior or demeanor in the shop might have caused him trouble. Dahlia hurriedly responded.
"No, it’s not that... It’s just that you seemed to get along well with Ozwald-san in the shop, and his attitude worries me. Plus, considering that I played a role in setting this whole thing in motion, there’s a small chance your father—wherever he is—might hold a grudge against me..."
It was rare for Volf to dance around words like this.
His usually firm lips hesitated as he carefully chose his words.
"Please, be straightforward."
"Ozwald’s second wife is only a bit older than you, and his third wife is about your age too. So, I’m concerned he might try to court you as his fourth wife."
"That will never happen!"
It seemed her father’s words had left a profound impression on Ozwald.
Dahlia promised Volf that she would do her best to visit the shop with him in the future.
Incidentally, there was one thing Dahlia would never learn about Ozwald:
The reason her father, Carlo, never invited Ozwald back to the Green Tower—
It was because, after drinking too much, Ozwald had said, "When Dahlia grows up, let me marry her."
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