The hospital reeked of antiseptic, decay, and the quiet inevitability of death.

  Mario sat beside the director's bed, staring at the old man's chest rising and falling with mounting strain. The heart monitor beeped steadily.

  "You never… answered my question," the director whispered, his voice low and frail.

  Hearing his faint voice, Mario leaned closer. "Which one?"

  "About… family." The director struggled for breath, each word carrying a muted strain. "Back then, you said you were still young."

  He then slowly lifted his left arm and placed his hand on Mario's head before a faint, weary smile formed on his face. "Now… you're thirty-five."

  Mario fell silent at that, subconsciously lowering his head to avoid the director's gaze. The hand resting on his head was gentle, and yet it felt heavy.

  The uncomfortable silence stretched for an entire minute.

  Eventually, he bit his lower lip, jaw tight, before releasing a quiet exhale. He lifted his head and looked back, his eyes distant, holding a trace of confusion.

  A stiff, forced smile surfaced on his face as he tried to put on his usual mask—but he failed.

  And when he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

  "I… I… didn't know how." As Mario spoke, he placed his right hand on the center of his chest, feeling a faint hollowness inside—as though something was missing.

  Hearing his answer, the director's lips pressed into a thin line.

  "…You should go for now." He slowly removed his hand from Mario's head before letting out a heavy sigh and closing his eyes.

  The heart monitor's rhythm slackened, almost imperceptibly, before returning to normal.

  For a few moments, Mario stayed seated before rising.

  He walked out of the room, his steps slow but heavy. He stopped at the door briefly, placing his hand on the doorknob.

  Mario turned his head toward the director on the bed before opening the door and walking out.

  Two days later, the monitor flatlined.

  Mario stood silently by the bedside, eyes dry and blank, looking at the director's body lying still and lifeless on the bed.

  His surroundings turned quiet.

  The doctors and nurses entered, moving with quiet efficiency. But Mario didn't shift, didn't speak. He remained statue-still and expressionless.

  —

  Years passed in quiet solitude. People came to comfort him, but it didn't change anything. Eventually, the business closed down.

  Home. Sleep. Solitude…

  —

  Mario paused, his gaze drifting downward for a moment. Then he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "From now on, your name will be… Kevin."

  The small child stared up at him, hesitating. Then, in a timid voice, he said, "Y-yes… F-Father."

  Mario froze, the words striking him off guard.

  "…Father?" A deep sigh escaped him, his eyes shifting slightly away as though hiding something.

  He tried to put on his usual mask, but since the director's death, even that seemed harder to do now.

  Eventually, he could only say slowly, in a quiet voice loud enough for the child to hear, "No… You should call me Teacher."

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  The child flinched, his small shoulders stiffening before slumping as he nodded meekly, head turned slightly toward the floor.

  —

  Time passed.

  —

  The sensation came while teaching Kevin how to julienne fish properly.

  But this time, it was different. The cool sensation spread inside his head as every memory from the moment he had both "Fish Cleaning" and "Rough Cooking" skills resurfaced vividly.

  Unconsciously, he took the knife and worked with the fish himself, letting young Kevin watch from the side.

  He first moved like the first time with the "Fish Cleaning" skill, but compared to then, the movements only took one motion. Then, with the "Fish Butchering" skill, he cleanly separated the bone from flesh. Then, with the "Fish Preparation" skill, he cut the fish thinly and precisely before preparing it on the plate.

  Meanwhile, young Kevin stood at the side, watching silently, as if watching not something bloody but something beautiful.

  Mario's "Rough Cooking" skill resurfaced in his mind as he made a sauce using only a few ingredients. Then, with the "Basic Cooking" skill, he precisely adjusted the heat. Then, with the "Proficient Cooking" skill, he added even the waste ingredients from the fish, giving the sauce a fishy flavor.

  And finally, both skills disappeared without his awareness as a new skill appeared—Master Chef - 1st Tier.

  Using that skill, he removed the waste ingredients slowly before pouring the sauce on the plated fish while his other hand slowly added a small amount of spices as the sauce was being poured.

  Mario paused as he exhaled a cool breath after the sensation disappeared from his head, his eyes slowly regaining their clarity.

  He looked at the result of his unconscious action and, without tasting it—guided by the smell alone—he knew it would be rich, deeply satisfying.

  Growl.

  He heard a stomach growling loudly. At first, he thought it was his own—until—

  "Teacher? ...Are you okay?" A voice with slight hesitation rang beside him.

  Mario turned to look at him and saw how, at the side of his mouth, a small amount of saliva was falling slowly, though the child kept wiping it with his forearm.

  Unconsciously, a smile appeared on Mario's face—the first smile since the director's passing. "...I'm fine."

  Using the fork, he stabbed the fish meat, wiped it with the sauce, then slowly extended it to Kevin.

  The child immediately bit it and chewed, his expression changing with each chew.

  Looking at him, Mario subconsciously extended his other free hand. It paused briefly, as though hesitating, before he eventually pulled it away.

  —

  Time passed with the company of the child. The emptiness was slowly being filled.

  —

  "Fath— I mean, Teacher, I want to stay. I still have a lot to learn."

  Mario fell silent. He already knew what Kevin was going to say.

  After a long pause, he shook his head and said in a calm voice, "No."

  He placed the diary and blade on the table, along with a pouch heavy with gold. "I have nothing left to teach you."

  "That's not—"

  "Kevin." Mario met his student's eyes as his voice slightly rose—before it settled again. "You have a unique skill. Do you understand what that means? You don't belong in this small city, running a restaurant that serves fish to people."

  Kevin's jaw tightened. He swallowed hard, forcing the tears back, and said in a low voice, "But I want to stay with you…"

  Mario heard Kevin as his hand unconsciously clenched. He stood up and walked away.

  Kevin stared at his back—straight, distant, already leaving.

  Tears fell from his eyes before he asked in a slow and almost imperceptible voice, "...Why?"

  Kevin's voice trembled in a sob.

  Mario heard the sob behind him. He paused, his hands clenched tightly, before forcing himself to continue walking.

  "...Why do you keep pushing me away?"

  "…You're the only one I have."

  "...First you didn't want me to call you father."

  "...Didn't you know how happy I was when you adopted me?"

  Hearing that question, Mario felt his legs becoming heavy, as if a heavy stone were tied to them.

  Mario fought the desire to stop and continued to walk—albeit more slowly.

  "I only have you, but why do you keep pushing me away? Tell me, father—why?!" Kevin's voice became higher, almost shouting.

  Before dropping again. "…Do you hate me?"

  Mario paused, his legs feeling heavier after the question. He gritted his teeth, his emotions in turmoil as he turned. "I don't, and I… I can't hate you."

  Mario's gaze dropped as his voice turned low. "I cannot be the father you want because I…"

  "...don't know how."

  "But it's already enough for me to be by your side!" Kevin rebuked, tears in his eyes.

  "Don't you understand? I… I'm empty." Mario's voice rose slightly before dropping into an almost calm voice. "Every time I'm with others, I wear a mask. I watch, I imitate… I've done it my whole life, hoping I'd understand, but… I'm still lost."

  He slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with Kevin. "...That's why I don't want to be close to you. I don't want you to suffer because of me."

  Kevin saw how Mario's expression changed almost every second, turning calm, then complicated, before returning calm again and again.

  His sobs paused as he slowly walked closer to Mario.

  Kevin hugged Mario. "You're my father. That's all that I need."

  Mario froze. His hands hovered, unsure, before he slowly wrapped them around Kevin.

  "...I'm sorry," he muttered.

  Half an hour later, both had calmed down.

  Mario sat at the table and said, "Ke—" He paused before correcting himself. "Son, I don't want you to remain caged in this small place."

  He paused, then looked at Kevin's eyes—they were still red.

  "...You have what I don't, so you don't need to follow and become like me."

  Eventually, Kevin could only reluctantly agree.

  —

  Blur. Silence. Empty rooms and cold meals.

  —

  The capital's technology was impressive. Machines hummed with power. Doctors possessed knowledge that would have seemed like magic in his small city.

  But knowledge had limits. Technology had boundaries.

  "We can extend his life," the doctor told Kevin. "A few more years, perhaps five if we're fortunate."

  Kevin's face crumpled. His voice grew slightly louder. "But you can't cure him?"

  Unconsciously, a sharp aura was released from his body.

  Feeling the threat, a combat AI walked inside holding a weapon.

  However, Kevin extended one hand and pointed his index and middle fingers forward.

  At its center, a sharp white sphere silently gathered.

  The doctor immediately raised his right hand and signaled the combat AI away. The white sharp sphere also scattered as Kevin lowered his hand.

  He looked at the doctor with an unreadable expression.

  "No. We truly can't do anything." The doctor bowed slightly and said, "...I'm sorry."

  Kevin could only look away and clenched his fist.

  Mario was submerged in an unknown liquid with an oxygen mask on his face and IVs in his body. He was inside a capsule-like machine.

  He was awakened slightly by Kevin's aura.

  Unconsciously, he opened his eyes—confusion at first, as he didn't know how he'd ended up here.

  But eventually, he looked forward.

  He saw a man with his back to him. The man's left hand was extended, his index and middle fingers pointing at a figure wearing a suit. A white sphere was gathering at the center.

  Mario, though groggy, still recognized it wasn't human from its eyes.

  But he didn't pay it much attention as he looked at the man, finding him familiar.

  The man's hair was longer, his black hair reaching his nape. At his waist was a weapon—a sword in its sheath.

  Mario found the sword looked slightly familiar.

  I see…

  His face showed a faint smile as he fell asleep again.

  —

  The last memory was the quietest.

  Mario felt cold all over his body. He felt it becoming weaker and weaker as seconds passed. He was unconsciously awakened by the feeling.

  His eyes fluttered as he saw a man—his face full of tears and snot.

  His hands were on the glass as if trying to reach him.

  In the last bit of Mario's consciousness, he extended one hand on the glass toward the man's face.

  He smiled.

  A last thought passed through his mind.

  Old, yet still a crybaby as ever…

  Finally, for some reason, the cold didn't feel uncomfortable anymore for Mario, as he found himself at peace with the feeling.

  The memory faded to black.