The little child clung to his mother’s skirt, hiding behind her, revealing half of his head as he timidly looked at the brown-haired man opposite them.
The tall and strong man stood by the window, with bright sunlight streaming through, enveloping him in a radiant glow.
In the eyes of the little child, the powerful man seemed like a sun god bathed in glory.
Since he was born, he had grown up hearing about this man’s glorious achievements, and this was the first time he had seen him.
The Guardian of Mia Star.
His father.
The man who was as powerful and noble as a deity in the child’s heart.
The child’s eyes shone faintly, his face showing a bit of fear mixed with uncontrollable excitement, as he gazed at the man with admiration.
The tall man stood by the window, the bright sunlight illuminating half of his rugged face as he stared at the boy hiding behind his mother’s skirt.
His thick brows furrowed tightly as he looked at the child he was seeing for the first time after returning from eight years of battle, his son, with eyes sharp and tinged with coldness.
The man’s scrutinizing gaze made the child even more nervous, pursing his lips tighter and clutching his mother’s skirt, causing deep creases in the fabric.
His actions caused the man’s brows to furrow even more.
The man with a furrowed brow spoke, uttering his first words after seeing the child.
“Beiat, you disappoint me.”
***
In a luxurious room filled with a rich fragrance, a man lightly napping on a crimson sofa suddenly opened his eyes.
A few strands of his dark brown curly hair fell near the corners of his suddenly wide-open eyes, showing a hint of disarray.
The man sat up and lowered his head slightly, lifting his right hand as his fingers dug deeply into his neatly combed hair. His well-maintained pale fingers formed a sharp contrast with the dark brown of his hair.
A few more strands of curly hair fell, and the man, with his eyes closed, let the falling curls create deep shadows in his eye sockets.
The lines of his face were slightly softer, resembling his mother more, but the sharply defined lips that most resembled his father were tightly pressed together as if suppressing something.
In the spacious and luxurious room, empty except for him, he sat alone on the crimson sofa.
The room was silent and the only sound that could be heard was his breathing.
He sat quietly like that, holding his head, eyes closed, lips tightly pressed together.
After a long while, the man lowered his hand, opening his eyes with a gentle and calm expression in them.
He looked up at the mirror opposite him and pulled his lips into a perfect, polite, and gentle aristocratic smile.
“Someone, come.”
He said.
Immediately, a beautiful maid walked in through a side door, moving behind the sofa to gently comb his hair, tidying up the curls that had fallen around his eyes and returning them to their original neat state.
Beiat stood up and spread his arms, allowing the maid to remove the slightly wrinkled suit he had napped in on the sofa, and replace it with a new, clean, and perfectly unwrinkled aristocratic outfit.
He glanced at the servant standing respectfully on the side.
“What’s the situation?”
He asked, his expression calm.
“The mission failed, the target was taken by Major General Taylor.”
“Where is the person who was sent?”
Beiat continued to ask, his tone revealing nothing, but his eyes darkened.
“Mental disorder, the cause is unknown.”
People with mental power strong enough to counterattack an intruder are extremely rare, one in a million, and almost all of them are the best in their respective fields—Miao Te couldn’t possibly be associated with such top-tier individuals, so the servant did not speculate in that direction.
He judged that Major General Taylor had left the teenager a special equipment to protect him, and it was the counterattack of that unknown device that caused the mental disorder of the person they sent.
“Did you try to forcibly read their memories?”
“We have used a mental scanner to investigate but were unable to find any useful information. His mind was completely shattered.”
“What was their reaction?”
“Major General Taylor has not shown up, but his subordinate, Major Robin, has been very firm.”
The servant said, “He stated that if the Mia family cannot ensure the safety of their guests, Major General Taylor will immediately leave Mia Star and return to a safer place.”
With his new outfit neatly arranged, Beiat lowered his arms and took the ornamental golden pocket watch handed to him by the maid.
“Send his head over as an apology.”
Snapping the golden pocket watch shut and tossing it into his chest pocket, he uttered cruel words in a gentle tone.
“Yes, Lord Beiat.”
The failed agent, now of no further use, became a pawn to be discarded. His final task was to offer his head as an apology to Major General Taylor’s side.
“Lord Beiat…”
The servant spoke again but hesitated.
“What?”
“Lord Marquis Mia requests your presence.”
“…”
After a brief silence, the man’s expression was still gentle, but the shadows under his eyes became deeper.
“I see.”
He said, turning his head to glance at another mirror.
The man in the mirror was well-dressed, elegant, and had a gentle face. Then he smiled, with the impeccable posture of an aristocrat.
***
Dozens of servants stood quietly with their heads bowed in the background, while the little child stood on the golden sand, watching the massive landing starships descend from the sky.
He watched the tall, straight figure of the man descending from the hatch, his eyes sparkling with anticipation after not seeing his father for so long.
When the man’s gaze fell on him, his innocent face lit up with a bright smile, almost eager to step forward and go to his father.
But the child’s bright smile froze on his face the moment his eyes met the man’s.
His eyes widened as he saw his father looking at him, frowning.
He watched the man turn and walk away. The child stood there in a daze, his shadow stretched out under his feet.
He watched that broad back gradually disappear from his sight, and the light in his eyes faded away without a trace.
“Mom, is Father angry with me?”
“…Beiat, you are the heir of the Mia family. At all times, you must remain calm, courteous, and composed. You shouldn’t have shown such an expression when greeting your father.”
“But, Mom, Father doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true, Beiat. You need to work hard because your father wants to see his child excel more than anyone else.”
“If I do well, will Father like me?”
“Yes, Beiat. When that time comes, your father will be proud of you.”
At that time, the little child worked hard, wanting to become strong, to be an excellent heir, and to make his father proud of him.
And all this child longed for was a look of approval from the father he revered as a god.
***
The atmosphere in the dark-colored study room was oppressively tense at this moment. On the massive desk, a comically faced tumbler toy swayed back and forth.
The old Marquis stood on a dark fur rug, his gaze fixed on the swaying tumbler toy, his fingers stroking the golden ring on his hand.
Even though he has grown old, and even though wrinkles are all over his face, his back is still straight, without the slightest bend.
He stood there, commanding respect without needing to express anger.
This old man, who had spent most of his life-fighting in the vastness of space, stood there quietly, yet an inexplicable sense of pressure filled the air.
Beiat habitually lowered his head, standing on one side of the study.
His eyes were downcast, as usual, looking at the dark fur rug in front of his boots. The dark brown curls fell, casting deep shadows in his eye sockets, revealing only his submissive expression and concealing the look in his lowered eyes.
“Beiat, you have done something you shouldn’t have.”
After a long silence, the old man finally spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud, but his tone was exceptionally stern.
The man lowered his head even more in front of the old man, so low that one couldn’t even see the expression on his face.
Only the act of bowing his head expressed his obedience to his father.
“Yes, Father, I am very sorry.”
Beiat said softly.
“But he is only a Major General, Father.”
“…Yes, just a Major General.”
The old man let out a sigh.
He looked deeply at his son with his head bowed, wondering when it was that his child, the future heir of the Mia family, stopped lifting his head in his presence.
He understood his son.
Beiat was jealous of that outstanding young man.
He was always unwilling to admit that the young man was better than him.
So, he tried every trick to embarrass that young man, to drive him off the planet, out of his sight.
He used those underhanded tactics to try to strike at Taylor’s weak spot and provoke him through that teenager.
Narrow-minded.
Jealous of the virtuous.
Bullying the weak and fearing the strong.
…This was his child.
…This was the future heir of the Mia family!
A deep breath got stuck in his chest, and the old marquis raised his hand—
A heavy slap echoed.
The slap landed heavily on Beiat’s face, so hard that it made him stagger, and an alarming red handprint instantly appeared on his well-maintained, delicate cheek.
“Beiat, you have disappointed me too much!”
His cheek burned with pain as Beiat raised his eyes slightly, seeing the uncontrollable anger on the old Marquis’s face and the disappointment in his gaze as he stared at him.
He lowered his eyes, showing no emotion in them.
The old Marquis’s chest heaved violently as he raised his hand, pointing towards the door.
“Get out!” he shouted angrily.
Beiat didn’t say a word. He turned and left the study as his father ordered.
Behind him, the old man watching was filled with heartache and disappointment.
***
The child has been working hard.
He demanded almost impossible standards from himself, learning everything he was supposed to learn, and trying his best to excel.
Every day and night, he reminded himself that he must not lose to anyone.
[You are the heir of the Mia family, Beiat. Your father wants you to be better than anyone.]
***
“Father! I can now pilot a frigate(T/N: some kind of a military spaceship) on my own!”
“Too slow, Beiat. It took you an entire year to pilot it on your own. You disappoint me.”
“…I’m sorry, Father.”
Not enough.
The child thought.
It must be that he wasn’t doing enough; he needed to work harder.
“Father, I’ve completed all my history studies, and the tutor says my learning ability is the best he’s ever seen—”
“Are you satisfied with just that? Beiat, you disappoint me.”
***
“Father, I made it to the finals of the simulated star battle in the academy… The finals are open to the public; can you come to watch?”
“Beiat, these so-called simulated battles are nothing more than children’s games in my eyes. If you’re proud of this, you will only disappoint me.”
***
Again and again, the burning flame was extinguished by cold water, leaving only ash with no warmth.
Why?
Why is Father never satisfied with anything I do?
…Why?
The young child slowly grew up, but what he longed for never came.
What he always saw was his father’s stern face. What he always heard were his father’s reprimands.
He began to slowly learn to give up.
No matter how hard he tried, all he ever got was that same sentence, so he thought, forget it.
Disappointment, as it turned out, was just that.
When did he stop wanting to see his father’s face? When did he stop wanting to meet his father’s gaze?… He couldn’t remember.
He had simply become accustomed to lowering his head in front of his father, hiding his face, with his heart as calm as the Dead Sea.
He had grown up. He was no longer that child who longed for a look of approval from his father. His emotions would no longer be stirred by any of his father’s actions or words.
He had become used to this way of interacting with his father.
Until that day…
“That young man’s future is limitless.”
That was a look of admiration he had never seen on his father’s face.
But this look was directed at another young man.
“Taylor… I always thought he was promoted to Major General only because of the Emperor’s favor, but now it seems that young man has earned his position entirely through his own merit.”
“Even I, at his age, was far inferior to him.”
The old man, who was always stingy with praise, looked at that young man with burning admiration, then turned his disappointed gaze back to his own son.
“Beiat, if you could be half as good as him…”
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms.
He once thought his heart had become as hard as iron. He once thought he would never again be shaken by this man’s rebukes—
But this person, this man he called his father, could always easily pierce him with just a glance, just a word, leaving him covered in wounds.
This man could always casually throw his dignity to the ground and trample it until nothing was left.
***
Low laughter echoed through the oppressive room as the man sitting on the crimson sofa lowered his head, covering his face with his hands.
The deep, eerie laughter slipped through the gaps between his fingers as he covered his face.
“You have disappointed me too much, Beiat.”
Father, I’ve gotten used to it.
I’ve gotten used to your disappointment in me.
The dark brown curls fell messily over the back of the man’s hands as he covered his face, and his eyes peered through the gaps between his fingers.
The mirror opposite him reflected his current appearance, along with the red mark on his cheek.
A faint stinging sensation radiated from his cheek, burning as if that pain was seeping through his skin, flesh, and even bone into the deepest parts of his body.
The man with his face covered continued to stare at the mirror, still laughing, again and again.
The laughter grew louder, sharper.
In the end, the laughter became almost hysterical.
The entire room echoed with that piercing laughter.
Father, I know you want a son better than anyone else.
Because your son is me, you have always been disappointed.
You will never be proud of me.
I know how much you wish that young Major General, better than anyone, was your son—
The man stared at the reflection in the mirror, his distorted eyes peering through his fingers, appearing unusually ferocious and insane.
What if that guy died?
Father.
If that guy died, would he still be better than me?!
***
Translation by NightOwll
***
T/N: Hi Everyone! I’m back again and i’m gonna try my piece on this one.
[This story is one of my favourite list that I marked complete(MTL’d baby!) a long time ago.]
[I’ve forgotten almost all of it. However one thing’s for certain.]
[And that is to note that this translation is mostly 90% MTL’s, 9% of my understanding edits and research and +1%(not,it’s 100%) my insanity.]
[This story is for those readers who enjoys reading no matter how bad the translation is. Thank you!]