My Taboo Harem System

Chapter 122: Father

Father

Patrick let out a low groan as consciousness slowly returned to him.

His body felt impossibly heavy, every muscle stiff and sore, as though it no longer belonged to him. A dull ache spread through his limbs while sensation gradually seeped back into them, making even the smallest movement feel foreign. His eyelids twitched before finally opening, revealing nothing but a plain white ceiling overhead.

For several long seconds, he simply stared at it.

Where... am I?

The softness beneath him registered a moment later.

A bed...?

His brow furrowed.

Instinctively, Patrick tried to push himself upright.

The moment he did, an intense surge of pain exploded through his entire body.

"...Gh—!"

His muscles immediately gave out beneath him. He crashed back against the mattress with a painful groan, his breathing turning ragged as sharp waves of agony tore through his shoulder, ribs, and chest. Every inhale stung. Every heartbeat seemed to pound directly against his wounds.

Clenching his teeth, Patrick forced himself to endure the pain without another sound.

Then, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"I never thought I’d live long enough to see you in this much pain."

Patrick slowly turned his head toward the speaker.

Seated beside the bed with one leg casually crossed over the other was the female knight who had accompanied him on the expedition. Her silver armor had long since been removed, replaced by lighter clothing more suitable for resting, yet she still carried herself with the same disciplined posture as before. Resting her chin against one hand, she watched him with an amused smile that only widened after their eyes met.

Patrick merely grunted before looking away.

Only then did he properly notice the state he was in.

His right arm—the same one he had instinctively raised to block David’s arrow—had been wrapped from shoulder to wrist in thick white bandages. More bandages were tightly secured around his chest beneath the loose hospital garments he’d been dressed in, while another strip circled his forehead, disappearing into his hair where his skull had evidently been treated.

He looked less like a victorious warrior...

...and more like someone who had barely managed to crawl back from death’s doorstep.

Silence lingered between them for several moments before Patrick finally spoke.

"...Where am I?"

"At the academy."

Her answer came without the slightest hesitation.

"You were in critical condition. I couldn’t exactly leave you lying out there, and I wasn’t about to trust your injuries to just any medic."

She leaned back in her chair, casually folding her arms across her chest.

"You should be thankful I was there."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"If I hadn’t arrived when I—"

"I would’ve been fine without you."

Patrick cut her off before she could finish.

His voice was rough and strained, but the arrogance behind it hadn’t diminished in the slightest.

"I don’t need your help, bitch."

The insult failed to provoke even the smallest reaction.

Instead...

Her smile grew wider.

"Really?"

She tilted her head ever so slightly, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"Because I don’t remember being the one who got my ass kicked by a mere commoner."

She paused for a brief moment before pretending to correct herself.

"Oh... scratch that."

"I meant the one who had his life spared by a mere commoner."

Patrick’s head snapped toward her.

"Don’t fucking exaggerate."

"I’m not."

Her answer came instantly.

"You think I didn’t watch the fight?"

The playful smile faded from her face, replaced by something far more serious.

"I was there, Patrick."

"I watched the entire battle."

The room fell silent.

Patrick said nothing.

His jaw slowly tightened as he held her gaze.

Then the knight spoke once more.

"The boy spared your life."

The words landed with far greater force than any punch ever could.

Patrick’s expression hardened.

Beneath the blanket, his fists slowly curled into tight balls, his knuckles whitening as frustration and humiliation churned violently inside him.

The knight watched him for another second before letting out a quiet sigh.

A disappointed smile crossed her face as she slowly shook her head.

"All I have to say..."

She paused, allowing the words to settle.

"...is that the title of prodigy has truly lost its meaning."

Patrick grit his teeth and forced himself upright once more.

For a brief moment, it looked as though he intended to throw himself at the knight. However, the instant he exerted himself, a violent surge of pain ripped through his battered body like a bolt of lightning.

"...Gh!"

His strength vanished immediately.

He collapsed back onto the bed, one hand clutching his chest as his breathing turned ragged. Every fractured rib protested with each shallow inhale, while an unbearable throbbing pounded inside his skull. His fingers instinctively tightened around the blanket before he suddenly froze.

His hand...

Frowning, Patrick slowly lifted it into view.

It was wrapped from the wrist to the fingers in thick white bandages.

The knight followed his gaze and let out a quiet sigh.

"...You don’t remember?"

Patrick remained silent, staring at his hand with a faint crease between his brows.

"You suffered multiple fractured ribs," she said calmly. "Your hand was nearly shattered beyond repair after blocking that arrow, and you were left with a severe concussion."

She leaned comfortably against her chair, her tone remaining as composed as ever.

"Like I said before... you should be grateful the boy chose to spare your life."

Patrick slowly raised his head.

"He cheated."

The words escaped through clenched teeth, filled with bitterness.

The knight simply shook her head.

"No, Patrick."

There wasn’t even the slightest hesitation in her voice.

"He was simply the better man."

Patrick stared at her as though she had uttered the greatest insult imaginable.

"...The better man?"

A dry laugh escaped him.

"You expect me to believe you stood there and watched some filthy Uncommon lay his hands on an official of the law..." His voice gradually rose. "...and you didn’t execute him on the spot? That alone is enough to warrant his death."

A faint smile appeared on the knight’s lips.

"I find that rather amusing."

She folded her arms.

"Weren’t you the one shouting that no one was to interfere?"

Patrick frowned.

"You specifically declared that whatever happened during your duel—even if he killed you—not a single person was to lay a hand on him."

Patrick’s face twisted with disbelief.

"You liar."

His voice became louder.

"I never said anything like that."

His breathing grew heavier as anger boiled inside him.

"I’ll have your head for this treason—"

A silver flash interrupted him.

Patrick’s pupils shrank.

Before he could even react, the cold edge of a sword rested against his throat.

The knight now stood directly before him, one hand calmly gripping her blade while a faint smile rested upon her lips. Yet despite that smile, there wasn’t the slightest warmth in her eyes.

"Watch your tongue, fool."

Her voice remained soft.

Calm.

Almost gentle.

Yet every word carried enough weight to suffocate the room.

"You have absolutely no idea..." she said quietly, "...what I’m truly capable of."

Silence swallowed the room.

Patrick glared back at her, his jaw trembling with fury. His teeth ground together so hard they threatened to crack, but despite the rage burning inside him, he remained perfectly still.

Several long moments passed before he finally lowered his gaze.

Seeing the fire leave his eyes, the knight calmly withdrew her sword before sliding it back into its sheath with a crisp metallic click.

"Good."

She returned to her chair as though nothing had happened.

"You’ll recover before long."

Her expression softened ever so slightly.

"Although..."

She paused.

"I’m honestly surprised your mother hasn’t come looking for you."

"I wonder where she could possibly be."

Patrick remained silent for a while before speaking again.

"...Did you seriously just let him walk away?"

The knight didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"I don’t owe you an explanation."

Patrick stared at her back for several seconds before letting out a quiet scoff.

"...Fine."

"I’d like some privacy."

"I want to be alone."

The knight shrugged.

"I wasn’t planning on staying much longer anyway."

Without another glance, she walked toward the door.

A moment later...

Click.

The room fell silent.

Patrick slowly sank back into the pillow, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as the events of the duel replayed endlessly inside his mind.

"...Denzel..."

The name rolled off his tongue like poison.

His fingers slowly curled into fists, causing the bandages around his hand to tighten.

"That bastard..."

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles around it began to twitch.

"I won’t forgive him."

"I’ll never forgive the humiliation he put me through."

His breathing gradually became heavier as murderous intent filled his thoughts.

"He caught me off guard this time..."

A cold smile slowly spread across his face.

"But let’s see how confident he’ll be..."

"...when I kill him."

The hatred burning inside his eyes was almost tangible.

Then...

Click.

The door opened once again.

Patrick’s expression immediately darkened.

"What part of ’privacy’ do you not fucking unders—"

His words stopped.

Standing at the entrance was a man dressed in magnificent royal robes embroidered with intricate golden patterns. Though age had begun to leave traces upon him in the form of gray strands woven through his neatly combed hair and the full beard adorning his face, it had done nothing to diminish the dignity he carried. His hands were calmly clasped behind his back as he stepped into the room with slow, measured footsteps.

There was no overwhelming aura.

No terrifying killing intent.

No visible display of power.

Yet the atmosphere inside the room shifted the instant he entered, becoming noticeably heavier.

Patrick froze.

Every trace of anger disappeared from his face.

His back instinctively straightened, while the arrogance that had defined every word he’d spoken until now seemed to evaporate without a trace.

Unable to meet the man’s eyes, Patrick slowly lowered his head.

For the first time since waking...

He looked genuinely submissive.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"...Hello, Father."