Chapter 15: A Father's Suspicion

The house was quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace and the rhythmic sound of Myura’s breathing. The faint glow of the lanterns cast long shadows across the wooden walls, creating a peaceful stillness.

Alice sat beside Myura’s bed, her hand resting gently on her daughter’s forehead as she watched over her. Even in sleep, Myura’s brows were slightly furrowed, her breathing uneven, as if her body was still struggling against something unseen.

Takeshi stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his sharp eyes never leaving Myura. His wife believed this was just an illness, but something about it didn’t sit right with him.

He had seen battle, had witnessed men pushed to their absolute limit—this wasn’t a sickness. This was exhaustion.

Something had drained her completely, and she wasn’t telling them what.

He stepped forward. “How is she?”

Alice sighed softly. “She’s still warm, but the fever is going down.” She brushed Myura’s damp hair away from her face, smiling slightly. “She just needs rest.”

Takeshi didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on his daughter’s pale face. He had always been proud of how resilient she was, but there was something… off.

Something is wrong.

“Did she say anything?” he asked.

Alice shook her head. “Only that she had a long day.”

Takeshi narrowed his eyes slightly. A long day shouldn’t put her in this state.

He studied Myura carefully—her skin was clammy, her hands were curled slightly at her sides, and there was a tension in her features, even as she slept.

Something wasn’t adding up.

He glanced at Alice. “Go get some rest. I’ll watch over her.”

Alice hesitated. “But—”

“She’s strong,” he reassured her. “She’ll be fine. You need sleep too.”

Alice hesitated a moment longer before sighing. “Alright. Wake me if anything changes.”

With one last lingering glance at Myura, she kissed her forehead and left the room.

Takeshi remained, pulling up a chair beside the bed, his sharp eyes watching his daughter in silence.

Something didn’t sit right with him.

His daughter had always been resilient. Even as a child, she rarely got sick. She had never been frail, never prone to sudden exhaustion. Yet now, her face was pale, her body burning with fever, her breaths uneven.

And what bothered him the most—there were no symptoms of any illness.

She hadn’t coughed. She hadn’t complained of pain or aches before collapsing. Her body wasn’t trembling from chills or showing signs of any known sickness.

This wasn’t an infection. This wasn’t something natural.

This was exhaustion.

Takeshi exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair as he let his thoughts roam.

* She had been perfectly fine this morning.

* She spent the whole day with Kazuki.

* She returned home in this state.

And most importantly—

* This wasn’t the first time.

He had noticed it before—small things. The way she sometimes looked drained after spending time alone either outside or in the forest. The flickers of something unreadable in her expression when she thought no one was watching and like she's always staring off like she’s seeing something.

Then there was her magic.

Takeshi frowned, his jaw tightening. She had no elemental affinity.

That should have been impossible. Both he and Alice were mages. Even if she wasn’t strong, she should have had something.

But she had never shown any ability with wind magic like him. No fire magic like her mother.

Nothing.

Unless…

Unless she had been hiding something.

Takeshi’s gaze lingered on Myura’s face, watching her chest rise and fall in slow, uneven breaths.

And then—

He felt it.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A faint pulse. A presence that wasn’t coming from Myura… but at the same time, was.

His breath stilled. His body tensed.

The presence was faint, but familiar. Too familiar. It felt like Myura, but not quite.

For the first time in years, Takeshi felt something he couldn’t explain.

His hand instinctively moved to the sword resting against the side of the bed.

THE PRESENCE SPEAKS

The air in the room shifted. The shadows flickered unnaturally for just a moment. Takeshi didn’t move, but his muscles coiled like a spring, ready to react.

A whisper, low and steady, not human, reached his ears.

“You are perceptive, Takeshi.”

Takeshi’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade. He didn’t draw it—not yet.

His voice was calm but firm. “If you’re a spirit, then you’re speaking to the wrong man.”

A soft chuckle. “I am not a ghost.”

Takeshi exhaled slowly. “Then what are you?”

The voice didn’t answer.

But the presence didn’t leave.

Takeshi’s mind sharpened. Demon? Curse? Something attached to Myura?

He gripped his sword tighter.

“If you are something unnatural,” he said evenly, “Something lurking to hurt my daughter or my family, I will destroy you.”

Another chuckle, but this time, there was a hint of amusement.

“You misunderstand,” the voice said. “I am not your enemy.”

The golden shimmer flickered at the foot of the bed, shifting into form. A small, fox-like creature with silver fur and piercing golden eyes materialized before him, tail curling around its paws.

Takeshi’s grip loosened slightly, but his expression remained unreadable.

His sharp gaze locked onto the creature. “What exactly are you?”

The creature blinked lazily. “I am Zenko.”

Takeshi studied it carefully. It’s not a demon or a curse.

Yet… there was something else.

A familiarity. A connection.

Then it clicked.

The presence he felt earlier.

Takeshi’s sharp mind pieced it together immediately.

Zenko wasn’t just a separate being. He wasn’t some outside force attached to Myura.

He was part of her.

THE TRUTH OF ZENKO

Takeshi leaned forward, his voice quieter now, but no less firm.

“You feel like her.”

Zenko’s ears twitched.

“You aren’t just some spirit hanging around her.” Takeshi narrowed his eyes. “You are her. Or at least… part of her.”

Zenko regarded him carefully before nodding once. “Correct you are! You are quite perceptive and sharp.”

Takeshi was confused but not too suprised.

He had suspected something, but not this fox-thing.

Finally, he exhaled through his nose. “How long have you been with her?”

Zenko’s golden gaze didn’t waver. “Since the moment she took her first breath and every moment after.”

Takeshi’s fingers stopped drumming against his knee. “You’ve been with her… her whole life?”

Zenko nodded once. “And even moments before it.”

Takeshi stilled. That phrasing? Before?

“Moments before?”

Zenko didn’t answer. His tail flicked, but his expression remained with a small smile.

Takeshi didn’t press—not yet.

Instead, he asked, “And what exactly are you supposed to be?”

Zenko tilted his head slightly. “A guardian spirit made from a fragment of Myura’s spirit and soul with my own wonderful personality.” Zenko said with a big smile.

Takeshi absorbed the words, letting them settle.

A guardian spirit. That was rare. Spirits didn’t attach themselves to humans so easily—unless there was a reason and he was made from part of her. A guardian spirit being created? It’s not like the other ancient spirits that have existed for millenia.

He kept his tone even. “A guardian spirit of what?”

Zenko hesitated. His golden eyes flickered. “Of her.”

Takeshi’s eyes didn’t waver..

A FATHER’S REALIZATION

Zenko explains to Takeshi that Myura has dark magic and how she grows stronger all the time but can’t use her full power. He explains Myura’s power is like a pool but when she uses it, It’s like trying to take all of the water out with a straw making it to where she tires easily and it makes it hard for her to hold back her aura.

Takeshi sat back, arms crossed, studying Zenko. “Then tell me something.”

“Myura is human. She was born to my wife. To me. She has no demon blood. Yet I know what they say about dark magic users.”

He let the words sit.

Zenko remained silent.

Takeshi’s jaw tightened slightly. “That they’re monsters. That they’re not human at all.”

Zenko’s tail flicked. “And do you believe that?”

Takeshi studied him and then looked at Myura.

He had heard of dark magic users before. Some were terrifying, twisted creatures whose power had long since corrupted them.

No one ever questioned where dark magic came from. Only that it existed. Only that it was evil.

Finally, Takeshi exhaled through his nose. “I believe that darkness, like any power, is only as evil as the one who wields it.”

Zenko’s gaze softened slightly. “Then you understand more than most.”

Takeshi’s fingers tapped against the armrest again. “So she was born with it.”

Zenko nodded.

That answer settled something in Takeshi. It meant Myura wasn’t cursed.

It meant she wasn’t some monster wearing human skin.

She was still his daughter.

Even if she had darkness inside her.

A SILENT UNDERSTANDING

Zenko studied him. “Because you were already finding the truth on your own. And because…”

He glanced at Myura.

“…because she will need you. Ya’ll mean everything to her.”

Takeshi exhaled.

“…I’ll be here for her.”

Zenko’s golden gaze lingered before shimmering out of view. “Now that you know, will you treat her differently”? Zenko said as his voice faded

Takeshi sat in silence, watching his daughter sleep.

He had answers.

But more importantly—he had a promise to keep.