Chapter 5 Part 1

Alexander didn’t even know that Leopold was a noble before being registered into the Bergritz family. From his earliest memories, Leopold was always a blacksmith.

When they lived in Sanz, Leopold was technically a blacksmith’s assistant, but his skill in handling iron was excellent. However, as an outsider and of considerable age, he had to go out to work every day to avoid being ostracized.

His mother couldn’t find a proper job, so she earned a few coins by selling food to miners.

Like countless others scattered on the streets, they too were poor.

Thanks to this, from the moment Alexander was able to carry something, he carried firewood, did household chores, or followed his father to help with chores at the forge. He never thought it was hard.

“Good boy.”

A simple word like this, saying he was kind or did well, seemed to solve many things.

“My beloved son.”

The house had only one room, so they all had to sleep in one bed, and his mother always hugged him and whispered this.

They were always busy with work, barely had time for conversation, and even struggled to eat three meals a day, but they were diligent workers.

Days of living industriously and praying to the six apostles of Haisa were not bad.

“Oh dear, how pretty!”

One day, while getting ready to go out as usual, the self-cultivating farmer living across the street made a ruckus playing with his daughter in the yard.

“So you’ll marry her off?”

When the husband spoke, the wife rebuked him. Then the little daughter toddled out, looking for her father before her mother.

It was an everyday scene, but that day, the child’s gaze met Alexander’s before her father’s.

“Alexander!”

The little daughter, recognizing him sitting in the yard, ran over.

Alexander grabbed her by both sides and lifted her up.

“Hello.”

“Hello!”

The child kissed Alexander’s cheeks messily and exclaimed.

“I’ll marry you when I grow up!”

“What nonsense!”

“Alex is good enough. He’s hardworking and handsome.”

The daughter’s childish words made the father fume, and the mother simply laughed. Alexander knew they wouldn’t truly marry off their daughter to him.

“Yes, you have to marry me, right?”

He intentionally didn’t give them the answer they wanted, instead kissing the child’s cheek and smiling faintly.

He had long known of the gossip surrounding his face.

Living in poverty made him sensitive to every little thing he had.

“Really? I can marry you when I grow up?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t erase his smile as he watched the flustered neighbors. After slowly putting the child down, he finished gathering his things.

“I have to go.”

Ignoring his twisted feelings, he headed toward the forge. His father was diligently heating the iron.

“Father, I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re here.”

After greeting the others, Alexander approached his father, filled a canteen with water, and placed it nearby. Then, he began helping to shape the horseshoes by holding them with tongs.

“You’re strong, just like me, Alexander.”

While the hammering continued and the heat rose, his father suddenly spoke.

“Handling iron is all about knowing where to focus. There comes a moment to make a choice. From forging to refining, you have to gauge strength and shape, and decide.”

He quietly listened to his father’s voice. His childhood was a continuation of such advice and a mix of countless sounds. The bubbling of thin soup in the pot, the watermill turning in the village square, the clanging of hammer on heated iron, and occasionally the clatter of noblemen’s horses passing by.

He thought it would last forever and had no complaints. However, his father’s bitter expression when comforting his crying mother was something his young self couldn’t fully comprehend. He could at least sense it wasn’t an entirely good situation. He knew, too, that the cause was money.

“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry, Aisha.”

Whenever Alexander seemed to be asleep, his father would always soothe his crying mother.

“If you think you’re living this way because of me…”

“No, this is my choice.”

Even when his mother sounded weak, his father always responded firmly. To the son eavesdropping, there was no sense of unease in his voice.

“I’m fine. Please eat.”

On those days, Alexander would always pretend not to notice in the morning and cut a slightly bigger piece of bread to give to his mother. He even left just one bite of the butter he loved so much for her. His father loved his mother excessively, and his mother seemed pitiable. It was around then that Alexander thought he should earn money.

When he started going to the forge every day and helping the other adults, they were annoyed at first. But one by one, they began giving him tasks, and eventually, they even offered him praise.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now—you’ve got skill. And you seem to know a bit about archery, too.”

It was during a time when he was heating dull blades all day in place of his ailing father. As he was drenched in sweat as usual, someone offered a compliment.

“Not just archery, huh? This kid knows how to handle a sword, too.”

“He’s a natural. Born for handling, not making.”

“Don’t tease him for no reason. Well done, Alex. You’re a true blacksmith’s son! I thought you were just some stray, ha ha!”

The sudden wave of praise nearly made him drop the tongs in his hand. When he froze like a stone, they only laughed louder, saying he looked embarrassed.

“Enough noise, everyone.”

The man known as the most skilled blacksmith quieted the commotion. Instead of humiliating Alexander, he ruffled his hair, looking genuinely impressed.

“Alex, do you want to work here?”

“……Will you pay me?”

The blacksmith’s eyes widened at Alexander’s cautious question.

“You cheeky little thing, ha ha! Sure! I’ll pay you exactly for the work you do!”

That day was one of the rare times young Alexander showed his emotions. He ran home excitedly. Even though he slipped in the rain, he didn’t care.

However, the atmosphere at home was unusual. Around their shabby house were several large horses and people dressed differently from the locals.

“Just to check, right?”

As he approached the house, he heard someone’s nervous voice. He could only see the back of an unfamiliar visitor’s head, but for a moment, it looked so much like his father’s back that he almost mistook him for his father.

“Well, even if it’s not necessary.”

“I’ll just check and, if I deem it suitable, I’ll give you silver coins accepted in the capital. A whole five hundred. Isn’t that enough?”

The man was facing his father across a small table. The situation was clearly tense, so Alexander rushed into the house. He immediately stood in front of his father and picked up a piece of firewood, wielding it like a sword.

“Who are you people?”

“…Is this the son of your older brother?”

The intruder was small in stature but had a face that looked astonishingly similar to his father’s. As Alexander’s shoulders tensed in confusion, his father’s hand rested on them, gently shaking his head as if telling him to calm down. Alexander lowered the firewood he had gripped like a weapon, though his wariness did not fade. This allowed him to finally check on his mother. She was standing next to his father, her expression equally troubled.

“You’ve got spirit,” the stranger sneered.

But his father didn’t reply. Instead, he swallowed hard and asked,

“Five hundred silver coins, is that certain?”

“Certain.”

The intruder confidently gestured for someone to bring a box. When it was opened, it revealed a heap of silver coins unlike anything Alexander had ever seen.

“But dear…” his mother said, sounding troubled, though she didn’t fully try to stop the decision. She, like Alexander, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the silver coins.

As the family remained silent, fixated on the money, the intruder, smirking, grabbed Alexander’s shoulder.

“What’s your name?”

At the rough touch, Alexander didn’t answer immediately and just glared at him. The man’s face twisted with irritation.

“I asked you what your name is.”

“Alexander, his name is Alexander!” his mother answered instead.

The man’s sneer grew even more mocking.

“What a grand name you’ve given him.”

“…….”

“Okay, Alexander. Hold out your hand.”

Alexander hesitated, turning to look at his parents who were sitting nearby. He had no idea what was happening or how this conversation was unfolding.

“Hold out your hand, Alexander,” his father said sternly.

Reluctantly, Alexander extended his hand toward the stranger. The man placed a gemstone, about the size of a thumb, into Alexander’s palm. He didn’t know then that the black gemstone was a mana stone imbued with magical energy.

As the stone sat in his hand, it rapidly changed to a red color. It was as if roots were spreading from the gemstone, wrapping around his hand. Alexander quickly shook his hand, causing the stone to fall to the floor, but the man already looked satisfied.

“…My God.”

He gasped and sighed repeatedly.

“This will work. It’ll definitely work!”

Nearly screaming, he grabbed both of Alexander’s shoulders. His green eyes, filled with madness, approached Alexander as if to devour him.

“You’re going to handle a dragon.”

“…What do you mean…”

“Your build is good, hm? And I like the look in your eyes. From now on, you’ll live as my son!”

As the stranger grabbed his wrist and tried to drag him away, Alexander used all his strength to strike his arm away and ran behind his mother and father. But they didn’t embrace or protect him—instead, they didn’t move at all.

Why? Alexander was bewildered.

“Alex, you have to go,” his father said without looking at him, and his mother also turned away.

Pale and trembling, Alexander mumbled, “Go? Go where? I don’t understand…”

“It’ll be much better than living here,” his father said.

Only then did Alexander realize what was happening. He had heard about poor neighbors selling their children to wealthy families. He had thought it was an absurd tale. But now it was happening to him.

“I want to stay here.”

Alexander uncharacteristically insisted. No, it was a situation where he had every right to insist. However, his parents silently turned their backs, neither shielding him nor holding him back. Alexander tugged at the hem of their clothes, his small fists clenched with strength.

“Father… Mother…”

Didn’t they say they loved him? Didn’t they embrace him, calling him their beloved son? His father, though not as openly affectionate as his mother, also used to kiss him goodnight, whispering that he loved him. Pretending to sleep, he would swallow their love, one of his few joys.

“Go. You’re no longer my son.”

Only when soldiers grabbed his arms and dragged him away did Alexander come to his senses.

“Father! I’ll do better! I’ll help more with the work, I’ll eat less. Ah, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for eating so much. I was just hungry!”

He screamed, drenched in tears.

“Mother, I can work in the forge now! They said they’ll let me work as an assistant. I can earn money. Please… please! Let go! Let me go!!!”

He was terrified as he saw the house growing smaller in his blurred vision. He pleaded. He begged. Despite being slapped and trampled by Lutelros for his continued resistance, he did not stop his cries. But even as he was dragged toward the carriage, his parents stood there as if rooted to the spot. They did not even meet his eyes.

Alexander felt something inside him—a root, like the very thing that had been supporting him—burning away. When he realized this, he meekly followed Lutelros.

From that day on, Alexander Gaiardro became Alexander Bergritz, son of Lutelros Bergritz.

“Five hundred silver coins.”

Finishing the brief, worthless memory, Alexander smiled at Melissa. The sea breeze slapped their cheeks.

“My biological father sold me to Bergritz for that price.”