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Under the moonlight, one might pace in longing for home; beneath drifting clouds, another might nap while reminiscing of siblings.
Neither Allen nor Rudeus had ever stayed up late missing Paul, but that didn't stop them from silently sending their regards to their "Big Brother Paul" under those very same clouds.
Oh? You say the poem is about "missing a younger brother"? How does that relate to Paul?
Don't overthink it.
There's no issue here.
"Darling, wait—"
"Hm? Tired already? It's barely even started—"
"...Wait, let Lilia—"
"Madam... I can't—"
"...No strength left..."
At this very moment, it was high noon under a clear blue sky.
The sun blazed fiercely.
And the courtyard of the knight's residence in Buena Village was just as scorching.
Sounds from the upper floor of the mansion spilled past the edges of the walls, tumbling downward.
So intense it made one's scalp tingle.
So awkward that Rudeus, sweating profusely, kept glancing at Isolte's stunned expression.
This was beyond embarrassing. In his past life, Rudeus had been a shut-in with no close friends, but that didn't stop him from drawing parallels. Imagine if your rich childhood friend—a high school girl, no less—suddenly appeared, wanting to whisk you away to the big city for an adventure. And just before leaving, you insisted on going home to inform your parents, playing the "family card" to justify your departure.
But then, disaster struck.
Before he could even reach the entrance, before the "family card" could be played, his parents' adult activities were practically thrown in his face.
Off to the royal capital?
Rudeus felt like he was about to ascend to the heavens first.
He had only just begun to accept this family, trying to learn from Allen's example on how to fit in.
And now, Big Brother Paul was giving him a crash course in being human.
Ugh.
If it were just Allen and Sylphie with him, he might've managed. Even with the young lady present, he could've feigned composure.
But Isolte? They weren't close at all.
The battle upstairs was intense.
Even a shut-in had his dignity.
It was worth noting that, over the past year, Allen had often felt his handling of that night was far from perfect. The thought lingered in his mind, even leading to arguments with Rudeus at critical emotional crossroads.
But in this timeline, influenced by Allen, the infidelity incident had been brought to light in a direct, almost ruthless manner—forcing the conflict into the open.
His goal? To give Zenith an emotional outlet, a way to vent her feelings immediately.
Given the urgency, Allen had no choice but to resort to a method that, at its core, still relied on Zenith's hope for family harmony to achieve what had seemed impossible at the time.
Even if it gave her the illusion of respect.
But.
At the end of the day, Allen's morals were still those of a transmigrator.
In Mushoku Tensei, whether in this timeline or the original, Zenith had long understood Paul's nature and had prepared herself for his eventual infidelity.
So why the sudden outburst this time?
Because the situation had been too abrupt. Under the butterfly effect of Allen's actions, Paul's instinctive avoidance made him seem especially irresponsible. So she lashed out, overwhelmed, desperate to escape the moment.
And afterward?
Emotions clashed violently—shouting, sobbing, raw, unfiltered release. The conflict soared, derailed, and crashed like a rollercoaster, all within half an hour.
In the end, they huddled together downstairs, crying, reaching a fragile truce.
No casualties. A soft landing.
In the original story, after the night of infidelity, Zenith had quietly resented Lilia, intending to let time dull the pain. But Allen's interference had blown that path away.
The positive outcome? Zenith forgave the guilt-ridden Lilia almost immediately, fully accepting her long-held expectation of Paul's betrayal, abandoning her Milis faith, and truly welcoming Lilia as family.
The proof? By the next day, Lilia was eating at the table—no longer treated as a servant.
The negative outcome? It gave Paul—the Sword God of the Bed Arts—a dangerous idea.
From spring onward, he'd often sneak touches under the table, groping both Zenith and Lilia's thighs. Even when discussing the possibility of leaving Buena Village with Allen, he'd made his intentions clear.
And now, a year later...
He'd succeeded.
Achieving something even the original story hadn't depicted.
At this moment, the upstairs showed no signs of stopping.
But Allen was so damn tired of this.
"Lilia, switch with me... I need to go downstairs. Norn and Aisha might wake up—ah!"
"Don't worry, Madam... They nap for an hour at noon. They won't hear a thing from the attic..."
They'd been listening to this for half an hour now.
Hierarchy in harmony.
What a picture of familial bliss.
Big Brother Paul.
You've outdone yourself.
Truly, a masterclass in shamelessness.
Allen sighed softly, glancing to the side.
Sylphie had her face buried in her hands, red as a boiled lobster, her ears twitching nonstop. Noticing Allen's gaze, she stiffened like a startled cat, frantically waving her hands at him.
Allen: ...
Sylphie, don't get the wrong idea—
His lips parted, then closed. He decided silence was the better option and turned his attention to Eris in front of him.
She stood with her arms crossed, mimicking Allen's usual deadpan expression—though the occasional flicker of curiosity (and embarrassment) betrayed her. Allen had kept his hands firmly over her ears the entire time.
Eris was intuitive, not stupid. She knew exactly what was happening upstairs.
Allen averted his eyes, then looked at Isolte.
With her full Flow perception active, she noticed his gaze instantly, meeting it with a puzzled frown before bluntly asking:
"Shishou... Did you learn the 'Soundless Blade' here? I never expected a village in Fittoa to host such... lively performances, rivaling the capital's."
Having frequented brothels with Reida, Isolte had witnessed far more spectacular displays.
This was tame by comparison.
Allen opened his mouth, then closed it again before muttering:
"Buena Village—the 'Ars Minor' of the countryside."
"...Huh?"
"Never mind."
Taking a deep breath, Allen decided not to wait for the upstairs affair to end "naturally" so Paul could save face.
If Paul refused to be dignified, he'd enforce dignity.
He patted Rudeus—who'd been frozen in place—on the shoulder, then looked up at the attic window. The sound leaked out likely because the small room's window had been left open.
But inside the house, with two floors and a door separating them, the two napping toddlers wouldn't hear a thing.
How considerate.
Considerate my ass!
"It's been since winter since we last visited. Uncle's as unreliable as ever, huh?"
Rudeus answered reflexively, instinctively defending Paul as a father:
"Aisha and Norn are barely a year old... They won't remember any of this when they grow up. If Paul—er, Father—waited until they were older, opportunities like this would be rarer... So he's making the most of this... 'window of freedom.'"
Despite his embarrassment, his logic was sound.
Allen frowned.
"We're not waiting. If we do, they might just send someone down to keep watch while continuing upstairs."
Rudeus gave him a how do you know Paul so well? look. "...That does sound like him."
"Besides, I don't plan to stay overnight. If we leave too late, we won't reach the next town before dark. Starting the trip exhausted would just pile up fatigue over the next month. And the girls have their own needs too. Let's get them inside for tea, meet Norn and Aisha, and by then, things upstairs should be... wrapping up. Maybe even give the first person coming down a... 'surprise.'"
Rudeus's eye twitched.
What kind of surprise is that?!
But what he said was:
"But the door's probably locked..."
Allen rolled up his sleeves, eyeing the second floor.
"I'll climb through the window. I'm good at that—did it when Roxy visited. My old bedroom window's still slightly open."
"Uh—"
Without waiting for a reply, Allen stepped forward, lightly kicked off the wall, and—using his refined battle aura control—effortlessly propelled himself to the second floor in one smooth motion.
Graceful.
No need for a second foothold.
He reached out, pulled the window open, and swung his legs over the sill—
Only to freeze.
Wind rushed past him, rustling the pages of a book on the desk.
A familiar desk.
With the familiar burn mark Paul had haphazardly carved out.
The familiar clay-filled base of a figurine stand.
The Roxy figurine that once stood there had been taken by Allen long ago. On his last visit, Rudeus had filled the hole with a clay figurine of Allen—a rough, unpainted sculpture of him mid-battle, turning with a broken sword in hand.
The base was a grotesque pile of shattered monster skulls, brains splattered by a chipped blade—so detailed it almost felt real.
And in front of this "Snowy Ravine Hunter Limited Edition" figurine...
A tiny redhead lay sprawled on the desk, her small ponytail sticking up, tiny fangs peeking from her lips as her chubby cheeks squished against the wood. In her sleep, she smacked her lips, lost in some dream.
Allen stared at Aisha—only one year and four months old but already the size of a two- or three-year-old from his past life. His eyes lingered on the miniature maid outfit (undoubtedly Lilia's handiwork) and twitched.
Lilia's... something else.
He turned his gaze to the bed.
Norn, equally small and dressed in a white dress, lay curled up in a tight, insecure ball, her short golden-white hair splayed across the pillow. She looked even younger than Aisha, her brows furrowed in sleep.
The curtains swayed beside Allen as the wind blew in.
For a moment, he just smiled, feeling an odd sense of peace.
He almost didn't want to step inside and wake them.
But then—
His expression stiffened.
Slowly, he turned back to the desk.
A pair of bright green eyes stared straight at him.
Aisha was awake.
She blinked, dazed.
Blinked again.
They stared at each other in silence.
Then—
Without breaking eye contact, Aisha clambered onto the desk, crawling closer until her face was inches from Allen's.
He blinked.
Suddenly, she grinned—wide and toothy—and lunged, wrapping her arms around his neck!
"Allen!"
Her momentum nearly sent them both tumbling out the window, but Allen caught the windowsill with one hand, leaving them dangling mid-air.
"Ah—!"
Gasps erupted from below.
Allen glanced down, waving to signal he was fine.
When he looked back, Aisha was nuzzling into his shoulder, giggling.
"Hehe."
She looked up, eyes sparkling.
"Allen!"
Her speech was still babyish, but her trust was absolute—zero fear of falling from the second floor.
Then, delayed reactions from above:
"Huh—?!"
Allen looked up.
Paul, Zenith, and Lilia were now staring down from the attic window, horrified—first at Allen hanging from the window, then at the crowd below.
Their expressions turned pale.
They vanished instantly, followed by Paul's panicked shout:
"Wait! When did you get back?! We'll be right down—!"
"Darling, you're naked—!"
"Ah! Right!"
A cacophony of stumbling and clattering erupted from above.
Allen sighed, shaking his head—
Then felt a tickle on his cheek.
Aisha's antenna-like hair had poked him.
He looked down at her, smiling.
"Long time no see, Aisha."
She just burrowed deeper into his neck, giggling.
"Allen!"
Then—another gaze.
Allen turned.
Norn was awake now, staring at him and Aisha dangling outside the window.
Her face tightened.
Tightened more.
Then—
"Waaah—!"
She burst into tears.
A study in contrasts.
Two children.
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