The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

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Chapter 150: Not a Brother, but an Uncle (1)

The volunteer activities during the golden holidays have all come to an end. Tomorrow morning, everyone will return to the academy.

On their last night at the orphanage, the student volunteers gathered in the auditorium to listen to a speech by the orphanage director, Quilt.

“…Your parents are working hard for all of you at this very moment. But the children in this orphanage don’t have parents like you do… Therefore, the excellent individuals from the academy should be the guardians of these children, and the grace you have shown them during the past ten days will be remembered by these children for a lifetime… You have taken care of these children as if you were their parents over the past ten days…”

The power of a demon truly shines when it is within the demon’s mouth.

Indeed, many students in the auditorium shed tears as Quilt’s speech unfolded.

Quilt’s speech aimed to subtly stimulate the respect and gratitude that students already had for their parents and was nothing more than that in Vikir’s eyes, except for Vikir himself.

The evidence of this fact was the large donation box that appeared immediately after Quilt’s speech concluded.

“Now! Please show the love you’ve felt for our orphanage’s children over the past ten days! Just as you’ve received from your parents, please share with the children here!”

At Quilt’s words, students eagerly opened their wallets.

Jingling, jingling, and clinking!

The sound of coins and bills falling into the donation box echoed loudly.

The amount collected formed a small, golden mountain, stacked layer by layer, as much as the students at the academy respected and loved their parents.

…Of course, Vikir didn’t contribute a single penny.

He had no intention of donating anything to a demon.

At that moment, someone approached Vikir.

It was Sinclaire.

She grabbed Vikir’s sleeve and spoke to him.

“Big Brother. Big Brother, aren’t you giving money?”

“…I don’t have any money.”

“Money? Why don’t you have money? You’re an academy student.”

Admission to the academy required a substantial annual tuition fee.

Sinclaire frowned with an annoyed expression and poked Vikir’s side.

“Aren’t you being too mean? These kids don’t have parents to help them, you know. We should help them.”

That was the typical response from most of the student volunteers.

With the exception of Vikir. So, Tudor, Figgy, Sanchu… Even Bianca emptied her wallet into the donation box, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But Vikir firmly shook his head.

“Things like parents are hardly necessary.”

“Huh?”

Sinclaire looked at Vikir with a puzzled expression.

Vikir added briefly, “In the end, the world is something you have to overcome with your own strength. The presence of parents is only necessary during the early stages when help from others is crucial, but otherwise, it’s unnecessary.”

In truth, Vikir never thought that the children in the orphanage were pitiful or deserving of sympathy.

Just as Vikir himself was born and raised as a hunting dog in Baskerville, the children at this orphanage were also overcoming their early years with the help of the facility. Therefore, Vikir didn’t believe that the presence of parents was essential.

The perspective he held was functional, not emotional. Vikir had grown up in Baskerville, and during the “Era of Annihilation,” this parenting approach was quite natural to him.

Naturally, it might seem somewhat unfamiliar to the ordinary people of this era who had never experienced the “Era of Annihilation.”

Sinclaire’s gaze at Vikir changed slightly.

It went from being curious and playful to something sad and wistful.

“Big Brother…”

Finally, Sinclaire opened her mouth.

“Come to my house sometimes. During the holidays or vacation.”

“…?”

“Let’s have a meal together.”

Sinclaire lifted her foot and reached out to pat Vikir’s head.

“What are you doing?”

Vikir asked in a bewildered tone. Sinclaire seemed to snap out of it and pulled her hand back with a gasp.

It appeared that her actions had taken her by surprise as well.

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“Uh… Well, then, I’m off! I’ll go see the kids! Big Brother! Let’s definitely have a meal later! I’ll be around after the volunteer work ends and we return!”

She hurriedly retreated and waved her hand as she disappeared into the crowd.

“…She’s a strange one,” Vikir muttered, furrowing his brow.

Memories of Sinclaire from before his regression naturally resurfaced in his mind.

She didn’t talk much but was a cheerful girl. She got along with everyone to some extent but didn’t form deep connections with anyone. She was the brightest prodigy in the Corps, never missing the top spot in both written and practical exams during her four years at the academy. And after graduating, she disappeared, not revealing herself to the world.

She was known to be a commoner, but strangely, her origins and background were entirely unknown.

Vikir’s brow furrowed.

“Come to think of it, among the messages CindiWendy sent me, there was one saying, ‘There’s a member of royalty among the new students of the 20th academic year.’ Could it be…?”

Considering someone as outstanding as Sinclaire in appearance, talent, and the mysteriously concealed background, it was possible.

While Vikir was lost in thought…

Unfortunately Quilt’s voice rang out again.

“Now! Our orphanage’s children will now express their gratitude to the volunteers!”

At that moment, spotlights shone on the other side of the stage.

There, the children of the orphanage, dressed up as best they could, stood in line with awkward and bashful expressions.

Each of them held flower wreaths made with amateurish skill in their hands.

Quilt, wearing a strained smile, spoke.

“Now, kids~ It’s time to express your gratitude to the people who’ve become your ‘parents’ for the past ten days, isn’t it?”

It was evident that the plan was to extract more donations from the Academy students who had no prior social experience using the children as bait.

However, the genuine feelings of the children who made the flower wreaths and the bond with the volunteer students were real.

The children approached the older sisters, brothers, and Big Brothers with excitement, hoping that they would like the handmade flower bouquets and necklaces, and the older siblings accepted the children’s gifts with joyful expressions.

Tudor, Sanchu, Figgy, and even Bianca embraced the children tightly.

“Waah! I’m Tudor! I swear, I’ll visit you every week until I become a great hero! Of course, even after that!”

“In the North, we treasure children the most. They are the sprouts that will pull the empire’s future. Work hard, all of you.”

“Waah! Big Sister will definitely come again! Next time, I’ll bring lots of delicious things!”

“True… Ten days may be short, or long, depending on how you see it. But I’ve really grown attached.”

The children hung the flower wreaths around the students’ necks and gave them kisses on the cheeks.

But…

“…”

For some reason, very few children approached Vikir.

It was partly due to Vikir’s rough and cold demeanor, but the main reason was that Vikir hadn’t shown himself to the children over the past ten days.

Cleaning sewers, repairing pipes, tiling the restaurant, fixing the playground… Vikir always took care of the dirty jobs in the background, so his activities remained hidden from view.

As a result, Vikir’s volunteer score, evaluation, and image were quite low.

At that moment, a young child approached Vikir as well.

It was none other than Nymphet.

“…”

“…”

Nimpet stared at Vikir in silence.

Vikir, too, gazed back at Nimpet.

Surprisingly, Vikir broke the silence first.

“What are you looking at?”

In response, Nimpet hesitated for a moment, then brought out something hidden behind her hands.

It was a small, handmade flower wreath.

“Um. Thank you.”

Vikir received the flower wreath from Nimpet with his hand.

Usually, one would bend their legs to match the child’s height and let the child hang a wreath around their neck. But there was no such consideration for Vikir.

At that moment, Nimpet took Vikir’s hand.

Then, using cute fingers, Nimpet wrote a message on Vikir’s palm.

‘Thank you for your hard work, Oppa.’

It referred to Vikir’s work in the sewers.

Vikir nodded slightly. “You’re welcome.”

Vikir’s actions didn’t have much enthusiasm beyond that.

However, to Vikir’s surprise, Nimpet showed a willingness to continue the conversation.

“Will you come next time?”

For a moment, Vikir’s pupils trembled.

Next. Was there a next time?

Hunting dogs are prepared for death at every moment.

Their lives were a constant struggle between being killed by their prey’s retaliation or living at the mercy of their owners.

Thus, Vikir, like other volunteers, didn’t take the idea of a ‘next’ lightly.

Moreover, had Nymphet not been a child who had been disappointed by volunteers whose visits had become increasingly infrequent?

After a brief hesitation, Vikir eventually nodded. “As long as there’s a ‘tomorrow’ for me and for you, I’ll try to come.”

That was the most significant promise Vikir could make.

Upon hearing these words, Nimpet’s eyes widened for a moment.

After a while, Nimpet smiled broadly and nodded.

“I’ll wait.”

Nimpet’s moist fingers conveyed the message of their promise to Vikir’s dry palm.

Eventually, it was time for kisses.

The other children all kissed the cheeks of different volunteers.

But neither Nymphet nor Vikir moved to bring their lips and cheeks close.

Finally, Vikir turned away.

“You don’t have to kiss me; I’m not a big fan of it.”

Nymphet seemed somewhat flustered in response.

For some reason, she fumbled with his hands, making Vikir’s action conspicuous.

At that moment, Vikir left a final message.

“…And I’m not ‘Oppa’; I’m ‘Uncle.'”

Hearing the word ‘Oppa’ was somewhat awkward for Vikir.

Leaving the disappointed Nymphet behind, Vikir walked away, leaving the hall.

“Wait a moment!”

Even if Saint Dolores blocked Vikir’s path.

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