Looking around the room, annoyed and seeing the mess, he felt even angrier. 

His mother, who was supposed to have looked after the household, had died early. As a result, this house filled with this many children was utterly messed up. And he, who had been a stranger until a few days ago, couldn't easily reach out to do anything about it, which is why the mess just kept growing. 

It wasn't a good feeling, but: ‘It's not my house anyway, so what does it matter,'

Rockefeller, who avoided responsibility by telling himself that, turned away from the dirty house and spoke to his two younger siblings, 

"Let's go inside, dad's calling," 

The fourth child was quiet and got up without a fuss, but that whining younger sister was different. It was weird of him to expect anything from a 6-year-old child who barely knew anything. 

Eventually, Rockefeller picked up his little sister and soothed her tantrums. 

And with that, all of the Rothmedici family members were gathered in a matter of minutes at the request of Rockefeller's father, Hans Rothmedici.

"You've gathered, that's good," he was coughing between long breaths, and it was easy to tell that his condition was not good at all. 

To Rockefeller's eyes, his condition looked so severe that it seemed like he had little time left.

His seemingly endless coughs came to an end, and Hans sighed. He lay back on his bed and slowly began to speak to his children gathered around his bed, 

"Your grandfather was a wonderful, capable person. Others highly respected him." 

Their only pride was their grandfather, David Rothmedici, a doctor.

"Your grandfather didn't learn healing magic as the priests did, but he took care of so many people through first aid and various folk remedies that he learned while watching over the shoulder of others during the war. He was such a great doctor that we didn't need a priest here."

Reminiscent of his childhood, when he lacked for nothing, he got absorbed in nostalgia for a moment and then began to talk again.

"Even when this father of yours was young. This house wasn't so bad. Rather than visiting priests who have high fees, people in the provinces would always visit your grandfather for medical treatment if there was an illness. It was perfect back then. Even though we were commoners, we did not live badly," 

Then he suddenly blushed.

"Even your grandfather didn't keep forcing me to become a mage… It would have been really good. I didn't have the right qualities to become a mage, and we spent money in a useless place… I'm so sorry to you kids."

"No, dad, we never thought that," 

On behalf of his quieter brothers, Rockefeller comforted him, but they were words that didn't even reach Hans' ears. It was because he genuinely felt that a good household that had been on the rise had been brought to ruin because of him. 

Even though he poured so much money into the academy, he couldn't become a mage, and he became sick and used up all his remaining wealth for medicine. 

After coughing and sighing again for a time, Hans began talking again.

"Do you know why we are called Rothmedici?" 

Everyone, including Rockefeller, remained quiet at the question since they didn't know the answer.

"Your grandfather always wore red clothes, so he was nicknamed Rothmedici. It means red doctor," 

Hans brought a yellow, dirty rag to his mouth and began to cough for a long while. 

Rockefeller could see bloodstains on the clothes discarded by the bedside table. 

‘Will he die like this? His condition is so serious,' 

It wasn't his birth father, so his weak condition hadn't affected him that much since he figured a man would die when his time came anyway – but seeing his little siblings hiccoughing through their tears, he felt sympathy. 

It may feel like someone else to him, but this was their birth father, to the kids gathered around him. 

"The reason I asked you all to gather today is not for any other reason but because it seems like this father of yours doesn't have much time left. So I wanted to say something to you all before going," 

Upon hearing those words, the kids who had been barely holding back their sobs now openly wept. The only ones not crying were the second son, who looked red and distressed, and Rockefeller, who calmly accepted the situation.

Their father's red-rimmed gaze found his eldest son.

"Rockefeller," 

"Yes, dad?"

Hans saw his eldest son, who looked calm and composed in the midst of this and felt very proud of him. 

"I'm glad that you'll be there," 

He didn't say anything but Rockefeller felt like dying right then too. Everything in this household will become his responsibility if it goes like this. It means becoming the head of the family and taking care of his younger siblings. 

"Dad, even just thinking of my younger siblings and me, you should get better somehow," 

Hans laughed lightly while looking at his eldest son, who looked unusually like an adult today. 

"Rockefeller, if anything too difficult comes up, go to the territory lord. Your grandfather helped the previous lord a lot, and I too have done a lot of work for the current lord – they won't overlook you if you ask for help,"

Rockefeller disagreed. 

If the territory lord were in any mind to take care of them, he would have done so much earlier. 

"And this – it's your grandfather's teachings. Make sure you consider his teachings." 

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