Episode 73

What the man initially requested was, nominally, “helping out at the charity bazaar.”

Several pristine tents had been erected across the broad field in front of the temple.

People bustled past, but many couldn’t help casting a glance toward the man.

“My goodness, who’s the young lady next to you? Your niece?”

“Niece? She’s my daughter.”

“Rezit, you have a daughter? How come we've never known?”

“Because I kept her hidden, of course. Daughter, say hello.”

“Hello. I’m in your care today.”

As I went around bowing politely, no one appeared particularly suspicious.

As expected of a temple-sponsored event, the pathways remained neat and uncluttered.

“Our booth is here. You know how to handle the money, right?”

“That’s my specialty.”

“Daughter, I’m counting on you today.”

“You too, Dad.”

The sky was a clear blue, without a single cloud.

Because we priced everything below market value, customers arrived in a constant stream. My stand-in father never missed a chance to charm each and every one of them.

“Goodness, it’s been ages! Your leg—did it heal?”

“Ta-da! This one’s a special gift just for you. Pretty cool, right?”

“You mean the one I bought last time? Of course I remember. As if I could forget you.”

He switched up his tone seamlessly depending on the customer.

‘Sales isn’t for amateurs, clearly...’

I’d helped out at my mother’s shop before, but never to this degree.

Push and pull, charm and retreat.

Even those who came just to browse often left with something in hand, swayed by his eloquence.

“At this rate, do you even need me here?”

“Now, that’s a bit hurtful. You're making your father sad.”

“You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

“I’m doing well because my daughter is such a huge help. Don’t worry about it.”

Worry?

‘This is just one roleplay gig for me.’

He was twice my age; he’d find a use for my presence one way or another.

And just as he’d said, there were people drawn in purely by the idea of “the daughter.”

Once the midday rush passed, the crowd began to thin.

The man handed me a sandwich sold at the temple and broached a new topic.

“You don’t seem too fond of children?”

“I don’t particularly like or dislike them. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been keeping a little distance.”

“I don’t dislike them. I just don’t have any strong feelings one way or the other.”

It was really just awkwardness.

The man, who had devoured his sandwich in just two bites, observed me steadily.

“What did you like when you were little?”

“Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“Kids are potential customers too. It’s important to understand their needs.”

Laughter from children echoed loudly all around us.

‘With kids swarming the place, why is he asking me?’

Following my gaze, he added with a chuckle,

“Still, it’s the adults who spend the money. So ideally, you appeal to both the child and the parent.”

“Well, in that case…”

From long ago—

I slowly reached into the memories I had shelved away.

“Shiny, smooth things... Money?”

“How elegant.”

“It was when we were teetering on the edge of losing everything. Before that... I was too young to remember much.”

“How did you used to play?”

“Just the usual. Running on the sand, climbing trees, playing house.”

“And what role did you play in house?”

“The bank.”

“...Sorry?”

“I played the role of the lender who hounds the breadwinner for unpaid debts.”

I’d even made a few kids cry with how realistic I was.

‘Maybe I was a born fibber from the start.’

Polishing any skill pays off eventually.

“What was your dream?”

“…”

“What did you dream of being?”

“Back then…”

I waited endlessly for a father who may or may not have existed. If I met him, I swore I’d—

“I don’t know anymore.”

Even if it were granted now, it’s far too late a wish.

I shrugged and turned to greet another customer.

From then on, my fake father and I had no time for small talk—we were too busy.

We only locked eyes again once the sales period ended.

While packing up the stall, the man suddenly handed me a white box.

“Here, daughter. Take this.”

“What is it?”

“A gift from Dad.”

When I opened the lid, what immediately caught my eye were luxurious-looking accessories.

A necklace, bracelet, and ring—everything in a matching set.

I shut the box right away.

“Ha… It looks expensive. I can’t accept this.”

“It’s for my daughter. How could I possibly regret giving it?”

If I really were his daughter, perhaps.

I covered my mouth with both hands and whispered softly.

“This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I’m giving it because you did even better than expected. Ever heard of a bonus?”

“I just did what I was supposed to. This is a bit much.”

“Anyone would think I gave you a solid gold turtle, the way you're reacting.”

“All right, all right.”

“Haha. Yeah, okay—maybe I did go a bit overboard. But it’s the thought that counts, right? Don’t break your old man’s heart now.”

“If it’s about sincerity, I’d say the clothes and shoes I’m wearing are plenty.”

“Those are standard work provisions. But my daughter—”

“Hey kid! Come over here for a second!”

The one who cut off his nonsense was an elderly man selling goods at the neighboring stall.

He looked directly at me and gestured.

“M-Me? You mean me?”

“Yes, you! Need a bit of young muscle over here! Come now.”

“O-Okay. Kid, um—kid coming through.”

I sprang to my feet and dashed over.

The back of my neck prickled a little, but...

Well, what could I do?

---

“Was all that really necessary?”

No sooner had Sonnet left her spot than someone else took it.

Rezit gave a short laugh and shot a sideways glance.

“Look who’s getting cheeky.”

“When did our trading company ever have ranks?”

That remark was the cue for scattered individuals under the tents to begin gathering.

Roughly 70% of the bazaar’s attendees—including customers—were employees of Rezit’s trading company.

“What the hell got into you, suddenly deciding to throw a bazaar?

"Do you know how hard it was to drag everyone from their regular tasks?”

“The temple loved it, though.”

“Of course they did. Donations are just pouring in like manna from heaven.”

The way they surrounded their guildmaster was practically sacrilegious.

“Do you even realize how many late nights we pulled for this?”

“My point exactly. And who was that girl, anyway?”

“Where’d he find someone like her?”

“She worked so smoothly—shouldn’t we just scout her?”

“Seriously! I saw her spot a fake coin earlier.”

“How did she even catch that? Those things are a nightmare.”

The coin was a fake; realistic enough to fool most.

Kids often tried to sneak them into events like this—an ongoing headache.

“She said the weight was different.”

“She could tell by feel alone? We need to recruit her.”

“But don’t you think she looks... familiar?”

The curious glances were growing more intense.

Rezit Dahl simply met every gaze with an untroubled smile.

From the huddle of employees came a loud clap.

“Oh! That’s who she is!”

“Who?”

“The photo on the Guildmaster’s desk—you all know the one, right?”

Eyes blinked blankly before people began exclaiming in bursts.

A black-and-white photo, old and colorless.

Those close to him had at least glimpsed it once: a woman in a bonnet, smiling radiantly.

“Wait, the desk photo? Isn’t she the same woman in his locket?”

“He carries her picture in a locket? Seriously?”

“Hey, Guildmaster. Who is she, really?”

The confusion boiled over once more.

And if he didn’t answer soon, even being the guild’s head wouldn’t save him from interrogation.

“My dear employees, my beloved team.”

The man, usually composed, hesitated as he began to speak.

“Tell me honestly… do you think she looks like me?”

A dozen heads turned toward Sonnet, now dismantling the tent in the distance.

The employees’ expressions twisted in every direction.

“Boss, she’s way too young. Don’t be creepy.”

“Sure, our company’s growing—we’ve got a department store slot now! But still, that’s a reach.”

“I’m not joking. I mean it. Does she really... seem like my daughter?”

The tension in the air was loud enough to echo.

Employees exchanged looks full of unsaid words, then began to respond gently.

“Well… maybe a little?”

“She’s got similar eyes.”

“Forget looks—she’s got your head for numbers, that’s for sure.”

“Same eye color, too.”

“If you had a daughter, she'd be about that age, Guildmaster.”

“Why bring that up now? Wait, you’re not actually—”

“Ha…”

His normally composed sky-blue eyes, so often veiled for effect, now trembled visibly.

His face slightly flushed, the man stared at the neatly braided lavender hair in silence.

---

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