I subtly made Lazerita leave the scene (?).
Since the monster had taken care of the abusive mother, I turned my back toward Carmilla, who was probably feeling relieved.
But her reaction was unexpected.
Thud! Thud!
“W-what do you think you’re doing!”
“…?”
“My mother! What if she got hurt because of you!”
I thought she’d be happy, considering she always trembled in fear when her mother was around.
Contrary to my expectations, Carmilla was questioning me.
Even though hitting me would probably hurt her own fist more, she kept pounding on me, huffing angrily.
“Grrrr…”
“Say something! …Ah, right, you’re a monster that can’t speak.”
Maybe she had finally realized the limit of my monstrous form, where I could only growl.
Her anger faded for a moment, and she took a step back, sighing in disappointment.
I felt the same way.
I mean, normally, monsters classified as Level 2 or higher can speak.
Why was I the only one who couldn’t?
What kind of monster was I, anyway?
Since I was a monster, that meant I had a title, but even I had no idea what I was.
An awkward silence followed.
‘What should I do now…?’
There was a limit to how much I could communicate through gestures.
As I kept pondering—
“…!”
I had an idea. A thread of opportunity.
Screech.
“Huh? What are you doing?”
If I couldn’t speak, I could write.
Are you okay?
“Ah!”
I inserted my finger into the asphalt road and wrote my message as if scribbling in the sand.
“You… You can write human letters?”
Nod, nod.
I answered simple yes-or-no questions by nodding or shaking my head.
Seeing this, Carmilla’s eyes sparkled, realizing that we could communicate.
“My house is in City C, the neighboring district.”
“Grk?”
“So, the thing is, it’s hard to cross the barriers between cities. Could you at least take me to the entrance?”
She held my hand, as if holding me responsible for throwing away the car she came in.
Before I knew it, she had forgotten any fear of monsters and was urging me to go.
“You’re not a bad monster, right?”
…Nod, nod.
“Then, while we go… could you listen to my story?”
The Edelstein family.
They weren’t quite as renowned as the Okami family, the face of City D.
But within the hero society, they had a respectable reputation.
After all, since the founding of Hero City, they had never once failed to produce an A-rank hero in every generation.
E-rank heroes: 5,000.
D-rank heroes: 2,400.
C-rank heroes: 1,000.
B-rank heroes: 300.
A-rank heroes: 70.
And S-rank heroes: 5.
This was how the Hero Association was structured.
Becoming an A-rank hero meant surpassing the professional level and firmly establishing oneself as an elite warrior.
However—
“Edelstein again…”
“How many centuries have they been stuck at A-rank?”
“Aren’t they just a family that never makes it past A-rank?”
Reaching the top 1% wasn’t enough.
The real goal was the miraculous top 0.1%—a fundamental human ‘desire.’
Despite centuries of effort, the Edelstein family had never produced a single S-rank hero.
Their legacy of producing countless A-rank heroes was overshadowed by their failure to reach the S-rank.
And now, Carmilla, born as the latest heir of the Edelstein family.
Her childhood was…
“Carmilla, want to play a game together?”
“Yes!”
“Honey, dinner’s almost ready, so just a little bit longer, okay? Carmilla too!”
“Yes, understood~.”
A hellish childhood, as people expected?
Not at all.
She was raised in a warm, loving household, as if to break the family’s so-called curse.
A mother who didn’t care about public opinion.
A father who cherished Carmilla dearly alongside her mother.
Carmilla loved her family.
She was happy.
No one forced her to become a hero.
She naturally wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
Back then, Lazerita only focused on passing everything she knew to Carmilla.
She never demanded more.
She simply wanted her daughter to be happy, even if she fell short of her own achievements.
That was something Lazerita often said.
Because she believed she was the one who would break the Edelstein family’s cycle.
“Honey, are you ready?”
“Of course. The summoning circle is perfect.”
A basement beneath a massive detached house.
A couple had been constructing a summoning circle for a certain monster for a long time.
Lazerita and her husband sought the power of an S-rank hero.
In secret from the Hero Association, they planned to make a contract with a powerful monster.
If their plan were to be exposed, they wouldn’t just be expelled from hero society—they’d be branded as villains and become enemies of the entire city.
Even knowing this, they pressed forward with their plan.
But it wasn’t just because of their family’s long-standing failure.
“Mom! Dad! I’m scared, don’t do it!”
“It’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
“It’s dangerous. Stay upstairs, okay?”
They feared that one day, their daughter Carmilla—destined to be a hero—would receive the same judgmental gazes they had endured.
That was their greatest fear.
To break that curse, they sought to summon a monster through a theoretically perfect summoning circle.
However—
“Ugh, aaaargh?!”
“I… I can’t control this power?!”
Monster power is not something humans can control—
it emerges from countless forms of fear.
To the arrogant couple who believed they could tame such a force, divine punishment came in the form of a demon’s grasp.
Boom.
“D-Dad…?”
Carmilla, who had secretly come down to the basement, was caught in the explosion and lost consciousness.
When she awoke, the first thing she saw— was her father’s body, split in half, each half lying in opposite directions, drenched in red.
And from that moment—
“You have to do it.”
“M-Mom…?”
“How uncultured. It’s not ‘Mom,’ it’s ‘Mother.'”
Slap!
Her mother had changed.
That was the end of their once-happy family.
As expected, from then on, sleep became a luxury, replaced by relentless Spartan training.
A sudden change in her environment.
Her father’s death.
A mother—no, a “Mother”—who had become an entirely different person.
Carmilla was utterly confused, but the moment her mind wandered, she was beaten mercilessly.
And so, she forgot even her father’s funeral, immersing herself entirely in her studies.
No matter how much she tried to forget, no matter how much she told herself it was in the past, she couldn’t help but long for those days.
Before they performed the summoning.
Back when they were still a happy family.
But that time was gone forever.
Most of all, her father was gone.
Because he had died.
…Why?
“Mom is still alive and with me now.
So why did Dad have to die?”
Maybe—
just maybe—
if Dad had survived,
Mom wouldn’t have changed like this.
Maybe they could have been happy again.
Mom—
the way she used to be—was the person Carmilla missed more than anything in the world.
And just as much as Mom, she missed Dad too.
The man who always made delicious meals for her.
Who nagged her but always smiled warmly.
Who naturally fit between her and Mom, bringing them together.
But that father—was torn in half.
Because he was a weak “man.”
…Crack.
From that sorrow, Liam—
Sorrow turned into helplessness.
And helplessness gradually morphed into hatred.
Why did he die from such a minor explosion?
Even his much younger daughter had only briefly lost consciousness before waking up just fine,
yet her so-called father had died so easily.
That’s why I live like this now.
Enduring my mother’s relentless abuse day and night, hoping that maybe—just maybe—one day she’ll return to how she was before.
Because my father—because men—are weak.
After that, I could never smile happily again.
If only my father had known his place.
If he had lived more like a real man.
If he had just stayed in the kitchen, washing dishes and cooking for the rest of his life.
Then maybe we could have still been a happy family, the three of us living peacefully together.
Maybe Mom would have struggled with the summoning circle on her own and eventually given up.
But no.
Because she was a hero, he thought he was her “sidekick” or something.
It was because he helped that things turned out this way.
No—maybe the summoning failed because of that incompetent man’s interference.
A perfectly capable woman—
If I had taken my father’s place back then, I could have completed the summoning successfully.
No—without a doubt, I would have succeeded.
Because in this world, as a woman, I was inherently superior to any man!
So—
So my father…!
…Pat.
“!? “
But that was where Carmilla’s story ended.
Because as she spoke, her voice filled with anger, tears had begun streaming down her face.
And at that moment, a hand gently rested on top of her golden hair—as if to say, “You’ve been through so much.”
“Sniff… Waaaahhh!”
“Grk.”
Pat, pat, pat.