They were Ron and Beacrox.

�Father.�

Ron turned toward his son after hearing his voice.

His son Beacrox who had come to the Western continent at a young age had not learned any assassin skills from him.

Ron had not taught them to Beacrox on purpose.

This had been the case in the Eastern continent before the massacre of the Molan household.

He should have taught his son assassin skills right away if he planned on passing the Molan household over to him, however, Ron had told his son that training his body came first and taught him greatsword arts.

�I must have known.�

Ron thought that he had finally figured out why he had acted that way.

He didn�t want to do it.

He didn�t want to pass on the assassin household to his son.

Now, his son used his greatsword arts more than his assassin skills or torture skills, but he cooked more than anything else.

Ron was thinking that was a relief.

That was why Ron looked at his son who was a healthy young man unlike his old self with concern and started to speak.

�These days, it would be good to have a bad guy who only beats up bad guys.�

Beacrox started to smile.

�I think it is fitting. It is fitting for the Molan household.�

Both of their tones and smiles seemed similar.

That was why they were family.

�Raon-nim.�

Ron called out to Raon and pointed to the ceiling.

That was the beginning.

* * *

�This is driving me nuts.� JrNovels.com