VIP Chapter 512: Memoir of an Anchor (1) (6k)
The day I officially became the “Family Head” wasn’t marked by a lavish banquet or a formal investiture ceremony.
It was dusk.
A time when lights would be lit in rooms, gradually surrendering to the encroaching darkness.
In the dim, half-lit ambiance, I saw my father sitting calmly by the window, as if he had been waiting for me.
Beside his chair lay a lightweight metal crutch. The age gap between my father and me wasn’t small, and he had both taken on the role of family head and married later in life.
Precisely because of this, Carver was also contemplating…
Was this the reason for a certain “distance” between him and his father?
“You’re here. And… you’ve arrived at the same time I calculated.”
“Yes, Father. All the procedures have been completed. All that’s needed is your signature, and tomorrow I will officially take over as family head. Do you… have any final instructions?”
“Haha… there’s no need to be so formal when we speak. We’ve been father and son for twenty years.”
“…Alright.”
For Carver, in his twenty years of life, he had always found it difficult to understand his “father.”
He seemed distant from everyone around him, as if caring for all his children, yet also as if he never truly wanted to “understand” them.
But without a doubt, he had managed the Hysterm Family exceptionally well.
Without him, the Hysterm Family might not have reached its current standing.
Precisely therefore, for Carver, his father was perhaps the only person before whom he would act with such deliberate “formality.”
“However, besides these procedural steps, to truly become the Family Head, you are still missing one thing, something I haven’t given you yet.”
He withdrew his gaze from the window.
Turning his attention to Carver, who stood in the room’s shadows, intentionally maintaining a distance.
Carver felt his father’s expression in the dim light appeared somewhat terrifying.
This terror stemmed from the sense of “mechanicalness” and “numbness” Carver felt from him.
As an elder who had already achieved so much in his career, and one who was about to retire, Carver believed he shouldn’t wear such an expression.
This expression was as if…
As if he had repeated the act of retiring from his career countless times.
“It’s alright. I called you here today precisely to give you this thing.”
He gave a slight smile and removed his golden spectacles, which had faded somewhat from the sun, from his ears.
These golden spectacles had once been a “symbol” of the Hysterm Family.
They symbolized the family’s rise from managing dungeons commercially to becoming nobles, representing “nobility,” “luxury,” and most importantly… mystery.
In the unreasonable and chaotic world of dungeons, the head of the Hysterm Family, wearing these spectacles, was like an eternal “observer” from outside the arena, silently creating rules.
“Come here, child.”
Seeing Carver hesitate, the old man spoke again in a voice as hoarse as the cicadas’ chirping outside the window on a summer day.
“The thing you mentioned, is it the spectacles?”
Carver cautiously walked into the sliver of sunlight from the setting sun that illuminated the room.
Then, he stopped in front of his father and realized that his father had, for the first time in a long while, not addressed him as “child.”
“Not exactly, but it needs to be passed on to you through these spectacles I’ve worn for many years, and… something that every member of the Hysterm Family needs to possess.”
In the sunset’s glow, Carver gazed at the spectacles.
Even though he sensed something slightly off about them, he found himself staring as if deeply drawn to them.
“The Hysterm Family has always been ‘special’ in this world. We create rules for the coexistence between the surface world and the underground, but we must also maintain these rules.”
“…I understand.”
This was an issue that had long been like a family emblem, and Carver wondered why it was being brought up at this particular time.
“But, as those granted the name ‘System,’ besides this, there is something else we must maintain…”
“However, theoretically, the Hysterm Family has already gained control of…”
“Fate.”
With an exceptionally heavy voice, Carver watched his father’s withered lips move, finally uttering that single word.
The setting sun, reduced to its final horizontal streak of light at the horizon, shone directly into Carver’s eyes.
“Child, accept this fate.”
He took the spectacles.
For him, his father, whom he had never truly understood as the head of the Hysterm Family, was now aging, yet for the first time, it felt as though he was passing on the most important thing in the entire family to him.
He removed his own spectacles and then raised the golden ones, placing them over his eyes.
“—Ascend the ‘Hysterm’ stage.”
Through the lenses of the wire-rimmed spectacles, which were slightly stronger than his own prescription…
He connected to the twelve “lives” of Carver and linked to his destiny to perform as the character “Carver Hysterm” on the “stage” of this world.
These spectacles, handed down from the previous Family Head, were like a thick script, filled with countless notes.
A script that would truly make him someone named “Carver Hysterm.”
A script that would truly make him a “numb actor.”
A script that thrust him onto the stage of fate.
…
[First Trial Performance].
Thirty years ago, on a plain, sunny afternoon.
“As a reward for my foresight, can you give me a kiss?”
In this trial performance, Carver Hysterm was a cliché adventurer hero. Not the most powerful, but he had the great mage Mits by his side, someone who grew with him and conquered dungeons alongside him.
Through days and nights of arduous training, the frail young man and his childhood sweetheart mage, Mits, became legendary adventurers.
Perhaps they weren’t the strongest, perhaps they never reached the deepest levels of any dungeon, but from a child never expected to succeed to the head of the Hysterm Family, and holding a wedding ceremony with his childhood sweetheart.
Unfortunately, despite their efforts, they were unable to have a child.
But for the two who loved each other, this was of no consequence.
For this world, which celebrated their lives as a “hero’s story,” it was also of no consequence.
Because…
For Carver, he could see Mits at any moment, opening the office door…
“Speaking of which! Carver, someone discovered this ancient magic a few days ago, it’s very interesting!”
She was no longer the girl from back then, but as she spoke, the corners of her lips turned up slightly, revealing her dimples.
“With this, I can finally find the sequel to my previous research. Look, maybe one day I can discover the ultimate magic—which is more interesting, this or the ultimate dungeon?”
Then, she would pour out her favorite magic, the very thing she had dedicated half her life to, as a tiny spice to Carver’s bored work.
It was like…
A glimpse into a future where they would be old and gray, still sitting at a small table in the Hysterm Family garden, enjoying the “cliché yet beautiful ending of heroes.”
But…
One day, a frontline employee burst into his office.
“Extra, extra! Mr. Carver, big news.”
As he spoke these words, an interruption button was pressed on this cliché, uneventful, yet truly beautiful hero’s story.
[Click.]
Whether it was Mits’s smile upon discovering new and interesting magic, the bickering of the two in the small office, or a peaceful afternoon in the Hysterm Family garden—places that could have been the best possible ending to a play—all turned to dust.
This was, ultimately, a curtain drawn on a destiny that never reached its “true ending.”
…
[Second Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the middle of the night, handing me those golden spectacles.
“…Carver, Carver? Are you alright? I know you’re excited, but don’t just stare blankly.”
“Mits… Mits?”
I turned my head and saw Mits, looking younger than in my memory, as if she had returned to twenty years ago. Her hair color had also become a bit more brown, and she wore an incredibly happy smile.
There were some differences from last time.
Could it be that…
I had returned to twenty years ago?
“Hmm, it’s still a bit early, why don’t we go out somewhere?”
After that, everything proceeded “as usual.”
Scene after scene, endlessly repeating.
Inheriting the position of Family Head of the Hysterm Family.
No interruptions, successfully completing a beautiful wedding ceremony.
Amidst the busy dungeon affairs and various adventurer development policies, I heard the good news of Mits’s pregnancy.
Something that, in my memory, had not happened the “first time.”
“Hmm… expectations for the child? I don’t have any particularly special thoughts. Perhaps… I’d hope for someone who can live their life with their own determination and will.”
“Oh, and since we’re at it, how about naming him Will?”
…
Everything was heading towards…
Towards a beautiful conclusion.
If…
Mits could give birth to Will, and, more importantly, if she were alive…
Carver stood amidst the bustling crowd in the room. Servants and doctors were in a frenzy.
He could hear the newborn’s cries, but the joy of a new life couldn’t compensate for the…
The immense sorrow of realizing Mits lay on the crowded delivery bed, cold and covered in blood.
“Ha… ha…”
Her messy brown hair spread across the bed. Her deceased vital signs had rendered her someone only Carver would care about.
“You… you must be joking, right?”
Her eyes, which should have been open, were now closed. But even if they were open, there would be no light in those brown irises.
“I… I know, the future shouldn’t be like this. We… we should have another twenty years…”
Her lips were a deep purple from exerting all her strength, but her bloodless body made this purple appear faint.
“Last time…”
Her legs, which always hopped like a rabbit’s, now bore the marks of dried blood from her thighs downwards, eventually turning into an irreversible black.
“It wasn’t like this last time, last time…”
He remembered it clearly.
In his mind, alongside his childhood memories, was an incredibly clear memory of the next twenty years that *should* have followed…
Mits showing him her research on ancient magic.
Mits sitting in the courtyard, talking to him about the most promising newcomers.
Mits complaining that he had returned too late again due to his busy work.
Mits…
Mits growing old, a single strand of golden hair appearing amidst her brown locks.
But now, she was a cold corpse. The storyline that existed only in his memory, and had never materialized in this world, had become the glaring, solidified black bloodstains on her body.
In the end, she hadn’t even managed a smile.
Carver breathed raggedly, feeling his heart clench cruelly even as it beat fiercely, carrying his blood like a curse against the “destiny” that ran completely counter to the beautiful future he had envisioned.
“Fate… it shouldn’t be like this…”
“Before… before, we didn’t have a child… and she… she was still alive and well…”
“Why… is it because… because of ‘Will’s’ arrival that this world has become like this?”
The story that followed was the cliché of a heartbroken old man. Carver, who had lost his wife due to “Will,” someone who didn’t exist in his past memories, never showed any “concern” for Will.
“Will” grew up slowly amidst this sorting out of his and others’ mistakes.
Carver became the stern Guild Master of the Adventurer’s Guild.
Until…
“Mr. Carver, big news—”
That voice. A voice completely different from the last time, at an entirely different juncture.
It hit pause on the story, which felt awkward and out of place for the Adventurer’s Guild, of an old man reminiscing about his deceased wife.
[Click.]
…
[Third Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the early morning, handing me those golden spectacles.
He tried to “change” fate.
On the day Mits was about to give birth, in that room, her bedside was surrounded by people.
The most renowned obstetrician, mages most skilled in relevant magic, an S-ranked priest from the Adventurer’s Guild, he held Mits’s hand tightly.
Yet, he still watched helplessly as the blood flowed from her, unable to be stopped.
Watching her go into shock in an instant.
Watching everyone try every “method that had worked in dungeons”…
Whether it was “medicine,” “magic,” or the blessings of the holy Reviers, or Carver gripping her hand, nothing could halt her body’s cooling temperature and the spreading crimson blood.
…
[Fourth Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the morning, handing me those golden spectacles.
He tried to “change” fate.
Starting from altering Mits’s physical condition from the beginning.
Perhaps the only thing changed was the final moment he could speak a word to Mits.
That word he wished he would never hear again.
“Carver, can you… like praising me… kiss…”
…
[Fifth Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window at noon, handing me those golden spectacles.
He tried to “change” fate.
Starting from “not having a child.”
Every step was taken with extreme caution. All methods were tried, but…
“So, we have a child. Then… how about naming him Will?”
“You don’t seem very happy? Carver… what’s wrong? I feel like ever since you inherited the family head position, you’ve been… not quite as happy…”
He could only stand by the bedside, watching the child being carried away, and tell his servant that his name was “Will.”
…
[Sixth Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the afternoon, handing me those golden spectacles.
He tried to “change” fate.
Starting from rejecting Mits, making her stay as far away from him as possible.
“I don’t know what information you received that makes you so certain, but if you ever decide to tell me everything…”
Carver watched Mits’s retreating figure in the pouring rain.
“If you come looking for me, I’ll always be here, waiting for you, until the day I die.”
The greatest resistance to “fate” might not come from helpless plans or the myriad of interconnected coincidences, but from “love.”
“Let me feel again… that you still ‘love’ me, just once.”
In the end, he again looked at Mits lying on the bed, stained with blood. He stood alone by the bedside, finally reaching out to caress his own heart.
It was calm.
There was no pain, no heart-wrenching feeling.
It rested quietly in his chest cavity. His brain felt no “immense sorrow” piercing through it, yet it constantly prompted him to be a “sad” good husband.
Like a clown on stage, repeatedly performing an unsurprising script for the audience, laughing heartily when he should, crying profusely when he should, even the timing of these actions should be meticulously followed, identical each time.
He accepted it.
“Fate” was immutable.
Even if his beautiful future of growing old together had been rewritten into a separation by death, even if the character named “Carver Hysterm” on stage remembered the script of his perfect life, his performance could no longer return to the first time.
But…
Was this the “ending” for Carver Hysterm?
On that day, the old man in charge of radio intelligence rushed into his office.
“Mr. Carver, someth… s… something happened…”
[Click.]
The sixth trial performance was interrupted.
He then remembered, in his attempts to salvage Mits’s death, in the future he had spent in a daze, each and every time…
He had been interrupted by such “news.”
…
[Seventh Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window at dusk, handing me those golden spectacles.
He had no choice but to “accept” fate.
He calmly bid farewell to Mits and, for the first time in so many attempts, “reconciled” with Will.
He became a good father, the best at cultivating adventurers.
Carver diligently guided Will’s growth, protecting him as if he were Mits’s last legacy, urging Will to study the best magic.
“Father, look, this is my Magic Academy graduation certificate! Although I skipped three grades, I still managed to graduate.”
Will proudly showed him the graduation certificate.
His calm and numb heart seemed to warm slightly.
“Father, our party has been formed, and we’re heading to the deepest part of the dungeon!”
“Today we cleared another super tough dungeon.”
“Should our next target be the Death Hall?”
“The deepest part seems to be right over there.”
…
But…
“Good news, Father. We’ve… successfully reached the final floor of the Death Hall. I didn’t kill the Emperor. I wanted to see what’s at the very deepest part…”
“Isn’t that the dream of all adventurers? That door is right in front of me.”
“Lirya is also very curious.”
In that “telegram” sent by Will, Carver seemed to see his own once youthful and spirited self.
He saw himself, with his “fiancée,” walking the path he had once tread.
For the first time, after experiencing so many long lifetimes, Carver felt that perhaps continuing this way, reaching an ending where he could see his son successfully establish himself, wouldn’t be so bad…
[Click.]
However…
The seventh trial performance was interrupted.
Like an actor who thought they had performed a perfect scene, only to be met with a stage accident. All the lights went out, and he realized he might just be a clown wallowing in his own self-congratulatory happy ending.
…
[Eighth Trial Performance].
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the middle of the night, handing me those golden spectacles.
He didn’t know how to “face” fate this time.
If the previous destiny was an “ending” he could accept, should he “re-enact” this one?
He did as he was told. Scene after scene unfolded. He watched Mits die, watched the “growth” of the child who had once made him so proud, until he discovered…
This time, Will…
“I don’t want to go to the Magic Academy.”
“Why make me go to a magic academy where I can only get a zero score?”
“I don’t like you controlling my life like this.”
“I’ll prove myself. Get lost, Father.”
Finally, he died on the first floor of the Dust Bone Corridor, struck down by a Slime he had brought in himself.
[Click.]
…
Ninth Trial Performance.
Opening my eyes again, I saw my father sitting by the window in the early morning, handing me those golden spectacles.
So, how should he “face” fate this time?
He had tried to “change” fate.
He had tried to “accept” fate.
But no matter what, his “interrupted” lives, that didn’t reach their conclusion, proved these approaches were “wrong.”
Then, what he could do was indeed simply…
[Click.]
…
[Tenth, Eleventh, Twelfth Trial Performances].
[Click.]
[Click.]
[Click.]
…
“How was it? Carver Hysterm.”
Through the slightly dizzying, clearer-than-his-own-prescription golden wire-rimmed spectacles, which bore a hint of dust on the frame and lenses, he felt as if he had personally experienced a long play. Finally, he looked at the horizontal light disappearing into the deepest part of the horizon, at the sun that had already sunk below the ground…
And at his “father,” whom he finally understood.
His father, wearing a smile, having shed his heavy burden and about to welcome his “ending,” seemed to reveal a genuine smile he had never seen before.
Yet, it didn’t feel like a smile directed at his own “son.”
It was as if an actor, finally finished with their role, could shed their costume and sit in the audience, admiring the most beautiful play.
“Now, you should know what you need to do, shouldn’t you?”
Removing the spectacles, the near-sighted elder squinted, wanting to see Carver’s “expression,” wanting to savor Carver’s “expression.”
“I… what I need to do…”
All paths unfurled before Carver.
Before putting on the spectacles, his frivolous and spirited tone ceased.
Finally, he simply looked at his father somewhat numbly.
“Yes, that’s right…”
He put on his characteristic smile, the one that hid everything.
“As the clown who performs countless trial performances of an ‘undetermined script,’ there’s only one thing I need to do…”
“Before that, just like the previous few times, I have to wait for someone.”
