SSS-Class Sword Magus: My Wife Is A Goddess!

Chapter 5 – Father, Son

"You mentioned that your goal is to help me once I get sent to this world next week," Jack said calmly, eyeing the woman in front of him. "How exactly are you going to help me?"

Lune smiled faintly, her tone gentle. "I'll guide you through the process. Give you useful information if needed… and maybe a few survival tips along the way?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Tips? Judging by what I've seen, you're clearly strong enough to save me from most—if not all—dangerous situations. So why not just do that?"

He wasn't trying to test her. It just didn't make sense. From the glimpse he'd seen of her power, Lune could likely tear through armies if she wanted. If she truly wanted to protect him, then nothing in the world should be able to stop her.

Lune nodded softly. "It's true. I can save you." She sat down slowly on the edge of his bed, her voice carrying a patient tone. "But there are two reasons why I want to avoid doing that as much as possible."

Jack remained quiet, listening.

"The first reason is a bit… complex," she began, folding her hands in her lap. "But to keep it simple: when you become a Chronist, your body and mind will begin adapting. You'll gain the ability to grow stronger—much, much faster than you would under normal conditions."

She looked him in the eyes.

"The more danger you face, the more enemies you fight and defeat, the more your instincts sharpen. You'll gain not just strength, but also experience—battle awareness, reflexes, intuition. These can't be learned from the sidelines. If I rescue you every time you're in trouble, you'll never become the Chronist you were meant to be."

Jack leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But he nodded.

"That makes sense," he admitted.

'She wants me to follow the same path the future version of me walked. She doesn't want to risk altering that by protecting me too much,' he thought, quietly.

"And the second reason?" he asked.

Lune's expression changed—her eyes softened with a bittersweet look. "Because… my husband told me not to. He made me promise that I wouldn't interfere, no matter how hopeless things might seem."

Jack blinked. "Your husband?"

She chuckled, the memory warming her face. "Yes. You."

Jack's face twisted into a frown. "I said that?"

"Oh, you were very clear about it," Lune smiled. "'Don't go easy on him. Let him learn like he's supposed to, even if that means a dozen near-death experiences.' That's what you said."

Jack stared at her in silence, his blank expression failing to mask the sarcastic thought rolling through his head.

'A real thoughtful guy, that version of me. Throwing my younger self into the fire like it's a game.'

"So I shouldn't rely on you at all?" he asked flatly.

"Not completely, no," she said. "I'll offer knowledge, information, and maybe a bit of guidance. But I'll only step in if you're about to die with no possible escape. And even then, only if I absolutely must."

"Fair enough," Jack muttered. He filed that away in his mental checklist. "I'm not the type to refuse help, even if it's half-measures."

That seemed to surprise her. "Oh?" she asked, eyebrows rising. "You… trust me?"

"Hm?" Jack tilted his head. "Of course. I already accepted your offer, didn't I?"

"No, I mean… I'm a complete stranger to you. You wouldn't be more skeptical?"

Jack shrugged. "Under normal circumstances, maybe. But you're clearly far more powerful than I am. If you wanted to do something bad, taking this roundabout approach would be a colossal waste of time. So yeah, I believe you. You knew some version of me. That's enough."

Lune blinked. Her expression wavered, caught off guard by his matter-of-fact reasoning.

'He's the same,' she thought. 'Exactly the same. Even now… even as a boy.'

Her chest swelled with emotion as she stared at him, lips curling into a tender, wistful smile. There he was—the man she had loved. He hadn't changed at all. The personality, the logic, the way he spoke—it was still Jack.

It made her feel like she'd found something precious that had been lost long ago.

"Well then," Jack interrupted, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Let's move on. I want every single piece of necessary information you can give me before the skip happens. All of it."

Lune blinked. "So quick…"

"I only have six days to prepare," Jack replied, his voice crisp and focused. "Wasting time is the worst thing I could do. I need to plan."

He didn't linger on sentiment or let emotions cloud his thoughts. The situation was bizarre and fantastical, but he'd already begun adapting. He didn't have the luxury of disbelief.

Lune opened her mouth to respond—but a knock at the door interrupted her.

"Jack, are you awake?" a man's voice called from the hallway.

Jack froze.

'It's Dad.'

He turned quickly to Lune. "Hide."

"No need," she said calmly. "He won't be able to see me."

Jack blinked at her, puzzled but not questioning. He opened the door to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with sharp features and a serious, somewhat weary expression.

Alexander Blackwood. His father.

"I'm awake," Jack said. "Do you need something?"

Alexander's eyes swept over him, then past him into the room—perhaps sensing something. His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

"Can I come in?" he asked. "I want to talk to you about today's therapy session."

Jack hesitated, then stepped aside. "Yeah. Come in."

The older man entered slowly, glancing around the room again with narrowed eyes. He seemed… unsure. Almost like he sensed something, but couldn't place it.

Lune, still seated on the bed, stiffened. Her eyes widened slightly.

'Did… did he notice me?'

She felt a strange anxiety rising in her chest. 'He looks just like him. Just like Jack. What should I do?'

Jack gave her a subtle hand gesture—small, precise. Stay still. Say nothing.

"Can I sit?" Alexander asked, pointing at Jack's bed.

"Yes," Jack replied.

With a sigh, Alexander sat down heavily. He clasped his hands together, elbows on his knees.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jack blinked. "Normal. No pain or discomfort."

"No, Jack," Alexander said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"…?" Jack tilted his head. "I told you. Physically, I'm fine."

"I meant mentally," his father clarified. "Emotionally. How are you feeling?"

A pause.

"…Also normal," Jack replied eventually. "Nothing unusual to report."

Alexander gave a quiet nod. "Your mother told me your therapist admitted she couldn't help you."

"She said she didn't understand what was wrong with me," Jack confirmed. "And she didn't want to waste my time."

"The same answer, every time," Alexander said bitterly. "If suing them for incompetence were an option, I'd already be filing papers."

Jack didn't respond.

"Which is why," his father continued, "we've decided to try something else."

Jack's gaze sharpened. "What is it?"

"We're sending you to meet a colleague of ours. Someone we trust. He runs a psychological facility and was intrigued when I told him about your case. He wants to meet you—maybe even take you in."

Jack's expression changed subtly. His brow lowered.

"A facility?" he asked. "You mean… an asylum?"

"It's not quite an asylu—"

"You're sending me to an asylum," Jack cut in coldly.

The air changed instantly. A chilling tension filled the room.

Alexander sighed deeply. "We're doing this to help you, Jack. Your mother and I are trying everything we can. This is for your own good."

"I don't need help," Jack said, voice low. "I've told you countless times. I'm fine. I don't want to go to some asylum."

"Listen to me," Alexander snapped. "This is for your best interest."

"I know what's best for me."

"You clearly don't."

"I do."

"You don't!" Alexander's voice suddenly rose. "You've killed before, Jack. And you didn't even feel regret. Not once. If that doesn't need help, then I don't know what does."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jack didn't flinch.

Alexander stood, his voice quieter now. "Don't confuse my decisions with hatred. I've never hated you, Jack. But if you're not willing to accept help…"

He turned away, walking to the door.

"…Then there's no place for you in this house."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Jack sat still, unmoving.

Lune, still on the bed, could only stare.