The Novel’s Dad?

It had been two years.

The tent? Wrecked after two months of rough mountain living. I had to improvise after that. Now, we were living in a cave. Yep, a literal cave. Shoddy furniture made from scraps and sticks littered the place. I even rigged up a water system using bamboo—it was primitive, but it worked.

Looking around, I still remembered the struggle of making this cave somewhat livable. Why? Because I forgot to buy tools. No hammer, no shovel, nothing remotely useful for basic construction. I mean, I’d never done any construction work in my life, so sue me.

Somehow, we made it work.

It helped that I’d managed to hire an aunty from the nearest town to do the grocery runs for me. The milk problem? Solved. She stocked up on it like we were running a dairy. Same went for other essentials, like the shovel I was currently using to bury Leon’s latest… contribution… just outside the cave.

As I dug, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “This is what my life’s come to. Burying my kid’s crap in the wilderness.”

At least the shovel made it easier. I really should’ve thought of that two years ago.

Next, I headed down to the river to wash the soft cloth we’d been using as a substitute diaper. No soap, though—I was being thrifty. I didn’t want to waste supplies, even though I still had a full briefcase of cash stashed back in the cave. Hopefully, that would last us until Leonard was done with milk and diapers.

As I scrubbed the cloth in the cold water, I couldn’t help but wonder how my wife was doing these days. Was she okay? Still out there buying me time?

I sighed. Wishing she’d find us felt like wishful thinking. Too easy, too hopeful. And hope didn’t exactly seem to be in abundance right now.

I returned to the cave, feeling a bit more at peace after my chore at the river. As I stepped inside, I saw Leon sitting quietly in one corner, sucking on his pacifier like the perfect little angel.

Then, I noticed something else.

Behind him, the sofa was on fire. Flames casually licking up the fabric, as if this was just a normal Tuesday.

I sighed for the second time. “Of course. Why wouldn’t the sofa be on fire?”

“Leon,” I said, as calmly as possible, “what did we say about fireballs in the house?”

I bolted toward the back of the cave where most of our water was stored, grabbed a bucket, and sprinted back to the burning sofa. Without wasting a second, I dumped the water over the flames.

It sizzled, but didn’t go out completely.

“Great,” I muttered, running back for another bucket. I repeated the process—grab water, douse flames, repeat—until the fire was finally out, leaving the sofa a charred, soggy mess.

I glanced over at Leon, who was still peacefully sucking his pacifier, completely unbothered.

“Rinse and repeat,” I sighed for the nth time.

Probably another piece of furniture would catch fire tomorrow, and I’d have to do this all over again. I sighed a lot this days. Sigh… I stared at the now-soggy sofa. How was I supposed to teach an infant self-control? Especially one with the power to conjure fireballs.

What would happen if Leon accidentally burned down the cave? He’d probably be fine—hunter genes and all—but what about our essentials? All the food, the tools, the milk... I shuddered at the thought.

I glanced at Leon, remembering how fast he was growing. At ten months, he’d already learned to walk. Now? He could run, climb, and jump like some kind of wild animal. As if to prove it, he dashed over to me, grabbing onto my leg and climbing up like a cat scaling a tree. Before I knew it, he was perched on my shoulders, babbling away.

Carefully, I pried him off and placed him in the makeshift crib, though I knew it wouldn’t hold him for long. He’d be out in no time.

I was worried, though. Leon barely spoke. Sure, he was physically advanced for his age, but verbally? Not so much. I talked to him every day, repeating words, hoping he’d pick up at least one. But nothing. Was something wrong with his brain? Shouldn’t he have picked up at least a few words by now?

Leon stared at me from his crib, eyes wide and pitiful, like he wanted something but couldn’t quite say what. “Bla-bla-bluba~!” he babbled.

Well, at least he could manage some baby talk. That was progress, right?

“Guess my boy’s not exactly a genius,” I muttered, smirking to myself. “Must’ve gotten that from his mom.”

Grabbing a stick, I shaved down the sides of the top and started chewing on it. An ancient method of cleaning teeth, but hey, caveman life didn’t exactly come with a dental plan. This was about as good as it was going to get.

As I gnawed on the stick, I glanced back at Leon, who was now content with his babbling. Life in a cave might have been rough, but at least we were surviving... for now.

I played with Leon, lifting him into the air and swinging him around. He squealed with laughter, his little hands flailing. “Who’s the strongest of them all? You!” I grinned, bouncing him up again.

“Baba~! Ba!” he babbled, clearly enjoying the ride.

“Yeah, yeah, who’s the most handsome of them all? That’s right, you are!”

I smiled, noticing the small strands of black hair growing in on his head. He’d definitely inherited my hair—hopefully not my hairline. But those brilliant blue eyes? All his mom. He was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.

As the sun began to set, it started to feel like nighttime was creeping in. That’s when Leon’s mood took a turn. He started throwing a tantrum, fussing and wriggling in my arms.

“Alright, alright… What’s the problem?” I sighed. It was either a dirty diaper or he was hungry. And given our history, it was probably both.

I checked for any signs of doo-doo, but thankfully, there was none. Dodged that bullet.

Next, I moved on to the milk routine. I boiled some water, then carefully poured it into a bottle. After that, I added the milk formula, gave it a good shake, and let it cool off for a moment. Once it was at a reasonable temperature, I started feeding Leon.

He calmed down immediately, happily sucking on the bottle.

“You’ll be fine, kiddo… you’ll be fine,” I murmured, watching him settle. He seemed content for now, and I could only hope that I was doing enough to keep things going for the both of us.

After I babied Leon for a bit, he finally drifted off to sleep. Carefully, I laid him down in the crib and grabbed a small package wrapped in foil before slipping out of the cave. Climbing up a tree, I found my usual spot—the one where I could actually get a signal.

I unwrapped the foil, turned on the phones one by one, and started browsing through emails and the internet. It was a good thing I’d bought new SIM cards recently, so I could burn through the data without worrying about leaving a trail. Waste not, want not, right?

After tweaking a few settings and hopping between proxies, I started sifting through the latest intel on the hunter world. As a ‘mundane’ person, finding traces of their activities was a challenge, but I’d managed.

The Hunter’s Net was a treasure trove. It facilitated all things hunter-related—black market deals, forum news, profiles of active hunters, you name it. For the past two years, I’d been working as an information broker, using my knowledge of the novel as leverage. My “products” were tips and insights only someone like me—who had literally written the world—could offer.

The payment? Favors or information. No cash. I wasn’t about to leave a paper trail, and getting online from the top of a tree was risky enough without adding financial transactions into the mix.