Chapter 50.2

“Goodbye, my love,” Mark said, paying his respects before stepping outside with his daughter.

Daisy and her father lived in a territory directly under the Grand Duchess.

It had once been a small fief ruled by a baron under Narvik, but after the rebellion, it was now administered by an official dispatched from the High Tower.

Though modest in size, the estate supported a decent population, with well-paved streets and sturdy buildings.

“Handcrafted birds for sale! Beautiful wooden knights too!”

Daisy’s voice rang out in the bustling market as she tried to sell her carvings.

The fact that they had a market where they could sell figurines spoke volumes about the estate’s relative stability.

“Kind sirs, please spare a coin!”

Mark used a carved helmet with the white shield emblem of the Expeditionary Force to collect donations.

No guards or officials interfered—they even offered discreet assistance from time to time.

“Even if you don’t buy anything, please take a look!” Daisy called out brightly.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The sight of a disabled veteran and his cheerful daughter selling wooden crafts naturally drew the sympathy of passersby.

“How much for this little dog?”

“Three coppers, sir!”

“I’ll take one.”

“Thank you so much! Blessings of the ancestors upon you!”

By lunchtime, they had sold four figurines.

“Hungry, sweetie? Let’s go get something to eat,” Mark suggested.

“Okay!” Daisy replied, her face lighting up with joy.

The pair’s smiles radiated hope and happiness as they made their way to lunch.

Today, Daisy and her father hoped for a small indulgence—a stew with actual meat, a rarity for them.

As they packed up their wares, ready to leave for lunch, a group of thugs appeared, blocking their path.

“Hey! Who said you could beg here?” one of the men sneered.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” Mark asked cautiously.

“The problem? You’re begging in our territory without permission,” the thug growled.

“Oh! My apologies! I didn’t realize. We’ll leave immediately!” Mark stammered, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Sorry? You think an apology cuts it after you’ve already done it?”

Thud!

“Oof!”

One of the thugs kicked Mark, sending him sprawling to the ground. They showed no sympathy for the armless veteran, seeing him only as easy prey.

They snatched the helmet he used to collect coins, rifling through it.

“No! Please, leave that money!” Daisy cried out, stepping forward.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got some morals. We’ll just take a ‘service fee,’” the thug said mockingly, leaving a single copper in the helmet after pocketing the rest.

“Sniff… hic…”

Tears welled in Daisy’s eyes as she watched helplessly, a mix of fear, despair, and frustration building in her young heart.

Where are the guards? Someone, please report this!

Mark scanned the area, hoping for help. But passersby averted their eyes, unwilling to get involved.

The thugs laughed at Mark’s futile search.

“Looking for the guards? You think we don’t know when they’re on break?”

“Go ahead, report us. Let’s see who arrives faster—the guards or our blades,” one of them jeered before they finally walked away.

Father and daughter stood in stunned silence, gazing at the single copper coin left on the ground.

Their hope for a hearty stew shattered, they slowly trudged home, carrying the weight of humiliation and despair.

Thankfully, the wooden crafts they had been selling were untouched.

“We’ll try Foulton Street tomorrow,” Mark suggested after a long silence. “The guards patrol there more often.”

“…Okay,” Daisy whispered, forcing a faint smile in response to her father’s brave attempt at optimism.

Knock, knock, knock.

That night, the sound of a heavy knock broke the silence of their small home.

“I know you’re in there,” came a cold, formal voice.

“…”

“…”

Mark and Daisy froze, hearts pounding. This time, the fear was even greater than what they had felt with the thugs.

“Dad…?” Daisy whimpered.

“Open the door, sweetie. And get the emergency money.”

“The emergency money?”

“Yes. The last stipend I received.”

“…Okay.”

Daisy hesitated but complied, retrieving a small pouch from its hiding place.

When the door opened, the creditor stepped inside.

“So, how are things?”

“Well… not great,” Mark admitted.

“I see. I’m not unsympathetic to your situation,” the man said, his voice heavy with condescension. “But your interest is three months overdue. This puts me in a difficult position. I’m not asking for the principal—just enough to show you’re making an effort.”

Mark clenched his jaw, his mind replaying the day he had incurred the debt. Three months ago, when his wife had died, he had desperately hired adventurers to recover what remained of her body from a monster’s lair so he could give her a proper burial.

The small, humble funeral had left him in debt.

“If this continues, I’ll have no choice but to claim this house as collateral. It’s small and lacks farmland, but I could rent it out.”

“I’ll pay it back. Please, just give me a little more time,” Mark pleaded.

“You don’t think I’m a fool, do you?” the creditor sneered.

“…”

The man’s tone grew harsher as his patience wore thin.

“Here! Take this! Please consider it for now!” Daisy cried, handing over the pouch of emergency money.

“…Hmm?”

The man’s face darkened as he took the money.

“So, you had money all along? Now that I think about it, doesn’t the High Tower send you monthly stipends and supplies?”

“That’s not—” Mark began, ready to explain that the payments had stopped two months ago.

“Spare me your excuses. I expect the overdue interest by next month,” the creditor snapped, slamming the door as he left.

Mark and Daisy sat in silence, the storm of humiliation and despair still hanging over them.

“Hungry, Daisy?” Mark asked, forcing a smile.

“…Not really,” Daisy replied, her voice barely audible.

“Well, we need our strength. Let’s dig into the emergency rations,” Mark said, trying to sound upbeat.

They shared a meager portion of jerky, savoring it as though it were a feast. Then, they turned in early, hoping sleep might dull their hunger.

That night, Mark wrestled with nightmares and phantom pain, his groans filling the small room.

Daisy, used to the sounds of her father’s suffering, closed her eyes and pretended not to hear.

The Next Day

Carrying their wooden crafts, Mark and Daisy headed to a different part of the city, as far from yesterday’s incident as they could manage.

But fate seemed intent on testing them.

“Well, well, look who it is!”

“You think we wouldn’t find you here?”

“…”

“…”

Mark and Daisy froze, their paths once again blocked by the same thugs from the day before.