Turns out bolting from the academy without permission brought punishments bad enough to make him sweat bullets.
They made Scar a janitor for two straight days. The moment he got back from home, face dried out and pale from tears, eyes still swollen, Julien behind him cracking bad jokes to lighten the mood… he was slapped with the punishment at the entrance.
When he finally finished the cleaning and wiping, before he could even catch his breath or process what had happened three days ago, he was summoned.
The staff who came for him didn't mention a name, which was strange. Scar hoped it wasn't more work and definitely prayed it wasn't any of his enemies.
They entered a spacious office with paint and furnishings that made the room feel luxurious, dim, and steeped in history. At the far end sat a man: a scar cutting across his left eye, silver hair and a gray beard, wearing a short white robe like some Greek god.
He didn't need any introduction, Scar knew who he was immediately. It was his uncle, Arthur Rover.
He gulped.
Scar bore no ill will toward his uncle, but given that Isaac had died just days before, he had no desire to reconnect with the Rovers. Not until the person who'd killed Isaac paid for what they'd done.
Arthur's golden eyes stared into Scar's, hands propped on the table, chin resting on his fists. The silence in the room was so heavy it could've made a baby cry.
"You've grown more than I expected at sixteen. I thought I'd be looking at skinny bones and rough edges."
Scar furrowed his brow—too many words for a council member. But Scar could only sigh. Truth was, he'd wanted to thank Arthur for saving his ass when he was summoned to the Supreme Council a few days ago.
"I should have done this earlier. I assume that's why you called me. Thank you for standing up for me back then. I am doing my best to ensure the world does not overlook my Inheritance."
Arthur met him with uncontrollable laughter.
That was typical of Arthur's carefree attitude, but Scar wasn't receptive. In recent days, it was as though he'd lost all capacity for humor. Even maintaining a brave face for Julien, who kept trying to cheer him up, was draining.
"You've really grown, kid. The Scar I knew back then would've spat on what I did."
Scar's expression shifted a little, slightly humorous.
"Ha! You taught me that, remember?"
Reality crashed back when he realized what he'd let out. No one could know his identity, not even Arthur. But the slightest familiarity he'd heard in Arthur's words made him lose himself for a moment.
Arthur leaned into his seat.
"Don't be hard on yourself, lad. I grieve your loss with you, and I regret not having introduced myself sooner."
Sigh
"I knew you'd want the autopsy report on Isaac, so I made sure to request it beforehand."
A soft smile played on Scar's lips.
Those words were enough to calm his unease. He desperately wanted to kill Isaac's murderer the same way they'd killed him, but far more brutally.
"Ha! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you summoned me for my pre‑execution. Hmph. I take it you had Mingle deliver the news. That's rude, punishing me and embarrassing me at the same time."
Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
"Rules are rules, kid."
Then it hit Scar. Arthur was acting too familiar. He hadn't asked how Scar had survived eight years ago or why he'd never come to the Rovers. As the memories flashed through his mind, everything started clicking.
Isaac was an old bastard who couldn't walk for ten minutes without his back giving out. Yet he'd managed to provide for Scar financially for eight years. They weren't the richest, but they weren't poor either. Now he knew where the money had come from.
"How long have you known?"
Arthur ran his fingers through his hair for a moment.
"I think… it must have been when I recommended Isaac to your father. Yeah, that sounds right."
Scar's hand curled into a tight fist.
He wanted to grab the man by the throat, but he'd be killed before he could even reach him.
"Then why didn't you help Isaac? Or my parents? You're one of the strongest people alive… so why?"
His eyes burned with uncontrollable rage, yet he was powerless to act. Arthur had the Inheritance of Sun Phoenix, one of the eight Founders of Magic. Decades of service to humanity had proven his strength beyond doubt.
Hell, supposedly he'd slain a Hostile-level threat called Malpa, a Dreamwalker. A creature designed to prey on emotions.
Arthur didn't move from his seat, his cheerful expression wiped away. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground, avoiding Scar's.
Hm.
"I was late… twice, I wasn't there."
He didn't have to continue. Scar understood. Arthur had always been one of the most cheerful people he knew, even before Isaac came into his life. Seeing this expression explained everything.
The guilt of failing to save Scar's parents eight years ago was why he couldn't face him directly but had helped from the shadows.
'That still doesn't make it any less fucked up, huh? Tsk… doesn't matter in the end.'
He exhaled.
"Don't trouble yourself, uncle. I overreacted. I'm grown now, and I shouldn't be taking offense at such things."
Arthur gave Scar a skeptical look, though there was a hint of mockery in it.
"A man?"
Scar smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sure Isaac told you. That day, eight years ago, I saw the definition of a man. I didn't even cry… and I haven't cried since. Tears are for babies, like my roommate Julien."
Arthur's expression grew more skeptical, taunting even.
"Are you sure? You didn't cry days ago?"
Scar doubled down on his acting.
"Tch. What do you take me for? I am Scar. I drink boiling milk for breakfast."
The moment he spoke, poised to change the atmosphere, the door behind them was yanked open. Before Scar could even turn fully, he was wrapped in a tight hug.
He immediately felt the icy chill of her body, her white hair falling all down her back. It was Haven, sobbing on Scar's chest.
He was confused briefly. Haven was roughly his height, so having her rest against his chest felt odd. But soon, he ignored the supernatural cold. His heart hammered as emotion flooded him at the feeling of Haven crying in his arms.
Arthur watched from his seat, a smile tugging at his lips as Scar hugged Haven back. Their embrace lasted barely a minute, but soon Scar, who moments ago had been bragging about his toughness, had tears welling in his eyes.
Scar couldn't explain why he was crying, though part of him knew. He just didn't know why it would hit him now. He'd already mourned Isaac… why did one hug bring everything flooding back?
Then, without warning, Haven pulled herself free and left the room without even looking at Scar.
Scar stood there, perplexed.
Arthur's laughter immediately shifted the atmosphere.
"I thought you were a man. Was it really enough for her to cry in your arms to make you cry as well?"
Scar sneered.
The tears didn't matter anymore. Now it all made sense. Haven Velanora knew who he was.
'Heh. So much for that fake identity.'