Hitsugi no Maou

"Hey, dump this guy tomorrow." -

It was Reggie's father's routine to throw up that dialogue in a harsh (oh dear) voice as if he were a judge, tying his real son's hair to a beam (stirrup).

The guilty plea left a meal, poor sleeping minister, and not playing well like the (rather) neighbor's son in the house, mainly the 'lack of effort' in living the Ledge's daily life was considered a problem.

That's when Ledge's mother says this in the squeaky voice of a mosquito, staring worryingly at her son grabbing his own hair and desperately jumping on the floor.

"Reggie, apologize to your father" -.

Ledge's house ran one of the leading glass workshops in the country, and his father was the workshop manager there. The mother was in the position of one deputy workshop manager below, which meant that Ledge's parents were in a conjugal relationship, as well as an employer-subordinate relationship.

From day to day, the mother was managed by her father as an employer, reprimanded (snuggled) and stopped teething in the old days of Toto. The father was always right and believed that he was angry because he, his men, or his son, acted dishonestly.

As a matter of course, Ledge also began to have the same ideas as his mother. If his father abused him, he was ashamed of his stupidity, and begged for forgiveness with regret in his words.

And Ledge became exactly like his mother, an obedient, generous (kandai), favorable interpreter of his father.

When the father made the obvious wrong decision, as the child could tell, he grabbed his mouth and thanked the labor because he was tired of working for his family every morning and evening.

Even when his father uttered irrational words and yelled at his family as if they were dogs, he must have a lofty (thus) justice that his wife could not have thought of, and he reflected that they were foolish who could not perceive it.

As a natural consequence, the father's treatment of his family became haughty and arrogant (yummy) extreme, and the spirit of his mother and Ledge became exhausted (hihey) and atrophied (yummy) as if he were a dried rat in the attic.

- Thirteen years. For thirteen years indeed after Ledge was raw, the days of hardship continued when his father was at home, nervous and killing himself.

I can only count the days I didn't hear the 'dump this guy' dialogue. I didn't know if that was a threat (mostly) or serious, but aside from that, Ledge had never heard his father call himself by name once.

"This guy," "that guy," "that kid," "it" - his father only called Ledge that way. Ledge Swallow, the only unique name (to Yui Tsuzu), a swordfish flying on a rock shelf, only spoke of his mother and friends, and a school teacher.

Even the workers in his father's workshop called Ledge 'it' by becoming a workshop manager.

Reggie was like a thing. I was not treated as a human being. And it's all bad that Reggie doesn't like eating, sleeping sloppily, playing hard and cheerful, and having a weak face like a girl on a guy's ass.

It's unjust, so it's normal to be abused.

Living each day in regret and reflection, her mother often bought adult training stories and books describing domestic and international heroes Tan (Tan). "Read the story of a fine adult and try not to be offended by your father"... Yes I said it without expression and handed him a thick expensive book.

As Ledge was told, he learned to teach and live the best saints, sages and heroes in the world. He continued to carve into his soul the infinite possibilities of human existence, the greatness and excellence of being gentle with man and the world, forgiving temporal ambiguities with great heart, and confronting resolutely (kan) with great evil.

Whether that was going to free Ledge from his father's faith, or the mother who bought Ledge a book, he had no way of knowing.

... The turning point was visited by the time Ledge had his twelve summers.

A new glass workshop was created in the country to make products with high technology funded by the nobles, and guests' feet began to wander away from the workshop of the Ledge house.

Many of the employees were pulled out of the new workshop, and their father, who had difficulty managing it, ordered Ledge to help him with the workshop.

Reggie first doubted his father's sanity at this point. I knew as common sense that the Ledge, which had become twelve, already had considerable wisdom and that domestic law prohibited boys under the age of fifteen from working in the field dealing with higher technology like glass making.

But his father delivered Ledge to the bureau, saying he was fifteen years old and fake (when), and fabricated (twisted) the fact that he hired the son of a distant relative by stating his fake name further.

The pseudonym on the paperwork was mediocre and shallow, unlike Ledge's stunningly meaningful, fuzzy real name.

It was at this time that I learned that my father was not in any way involved in Ledge's 'naming' out of his laziness (I want to) and indifference.

Since his obedience to his father, which had not slowed down for twelve years, began to break down easily, and Ledge actually began working in the workshop, his rate of disintegration (disappointment) increased rapidly.

Ledge has had the idea for years that his own father is a fine manager, a devoted (kennel) worker, and should therefore also be allowed to make some mistakes.

Even though he was dorsal (som) to the teachings of the heroes appearing in the books bought from his mother, he believed that it was a 'mistake' because his father was an ordinary man with no stronger heart than the heroes, and still worked desperately for his family, for his employees, and because he was nervous, and such mistakes should be forgiven with a great heart.

He's a great guy working for a lot of human life, so at least the extent to which he abused (mistreated) his family in the home should be seen greatly.

Such opinions were heard by Ledge from his mother, workers and teachers, and have always been his own.

That was a mistake.

I found out as soon as I actually worked in my parents' workshop. Ledge's father was neither a good manager nor a worker.

He was an authentic (and giddy) scumbag who had no defense whatsoever and had no use whatsoever, so much so that Ledge, who had just come out to work for society, would cease to exist.

He is the head of the glass workshop but doesn't even know what glass is made of, and doesn't understand its manufacturing or processing process. I don't know the cost, the time, the hassle, the value of the technician to make the product, I talk to the beak site and yell at the workers' performance.

He was the worst hereditary proprietor, having been fed by the track record of the workshop he inherited from his parents and by the arms of skilled technicians who have been working there for many years, and pulling that leg while keeping him fed.

Disturb the work that is going around normally, treat the visitors to the workshop with a great attitude and complain only about the results submitted, leaving all the troublesome work to others. Other than that, I was shamelessly out fishing and walking dogs. So you look like you've worked twice or three times as hard.

Reggie saw such a father with a clear contempt as he processed bright red burnt glass. It was the Deputy Workshop Manager's mother who was desperate to turn down customers and technicians to give up the scene his father had stirred.

In reality, a mother who used to call herself a bastard supported the workshop and put it together for many years without her father being helpful. He kept working more than the men every day, and when he got home, he was quietly doing his chores as a wife, as a mother.

Is there such a stupid story?

For every day of work in the workshop, the heroes of the book, familiar from an early age in Ledge's head, raised their voices.

Everyone complained of the injustice of what was done to Ledge, both the brave men of the brave North, the knights of the South who offered their whole lives in fidelity, the barbarian kings who slaughtered (hoffing) thousands of enemies, and the famous judges who judged many sinners.

The high priest who preached (and said) to forgive the sins of men, and the saint who loved even any evil man, eventually agreed with the voices of the other heroes.

Punish your father. Save your mother. That's justice.

Reggie endured the year as his father blamed him for his glass-working skill and working attitude every day and his hair was curled by beams (stirrups). That was the year I offered for my mother and the workers. The workshop never regained its previous luxury, but recovered its performance to the extent that it managed to maintain its presence with the efforts of Ledge, her mother and the workers.

Reggie listened to his father, who made the improvement insufficient, and then slammed the cobwebs in the middle of his ugly, distorted angry phase (Giushi) with the force of his full body.

His father was pompous while standing on the spot wondering if he had shaken his whole body violently. He had a nosebleed, but there's no sign of him falling. Again, Reggie hit his father in the nose with the exact same move.

Reggie is hardly a fighter. When I was thirteen years old and I looked like a woman, I was laughing at her. Mother loves Ledge's beautiful face and hair and sometimes really makes the girl do her thing. Ledge's hair was stretched out enough to make her beam (stirrup) harder, also because her mother wanted my child like a fairy tale princess.

The mother says she really wanted a daughter. But her belly was hurt when she gave birth to Ledge, and she could never have a child again.

His father grabbed Ledge's arm as he tried to make a third blow. The look of fury like I've never seen before was like a demon who stopped being human.

The moment he was punched in the belly, the heroes who nested in the head of the ledge pulled out their swords. A valiant man from the North dwelt in the belly of the Ledge, consolidating his muscles and receiving his father's cobwebs.

There was pain. But it was surprisingly small. Compared to the pain of getting your hair wrapped around a beam (stirrup) every night and desperately holding down the screaming head skin. Compared to the anger I had tasted that for thirteen years, it was really not enough to take.

Reggie punched a finger like a white fairy tale princess into his father's eyes as he punched what was in his stomach on our floor. Dirty body fluids splashed and deafening voices poked at the tympanic membrane.

"The brave men of the North. Kill the monster."

Speak up along with blush and puke. The glass worker on the shelf slammed him on the back of his father's head.

The glittering, blood-scattered glass was incredibly clean.

"Knight of the South. Kick the enemy's ass."

On the right ankle of his father, who broke his hip, he opened the door vigorously and slammed the hardware section.

The sound of his falling father was heartily pleasant for some reason.

"The king of the barbarians. Hang the traitor."

Let's take the floor. I turned to my father and knocked down a shelf full of dishes.

Ear inadvertently at the fracture noise mixed with the noise of the ceramics and glass smashing.

"Judge of the Empire. Judge the sinners."

When I rocked and kicked the cupboard, a scream echoed that I didn't even think was of the world.

This is all, this was offensive. Slightly rolling his eyeballs, his father was crying bloody at the feet of Ledge.

- Oh, my God.

Reggie cursed his own destiny with heartfelt grief at this time.

The worst father who has tormented himself and his mother for years, a scumbag who is not worth living, is crying like a toddler. I suffer from pain and am sore.

When I saw the unusual appearance, I felt sorry for Ledge.

Memories rush around the back of my brain with tremendous speed. I smile at Ledge and see the figure of my father, who has given me all sorts of mercy.

You're a cute scumbag, about the day you stuck your head to me. He told me to be a fine adult at best, and that he'd cook me meat from a cow that would never fit my physique to throw up back if I spoke to him.

That you smiled and tore away the paintings you painted at school. That you opened the bedroom door in the middle of the night. Everything ran through Ledge's brain like a bad disease.

Merciful Ledge. A loving ledge. He was so generous (kandai) that all mankind wept, he was a foolish boy.

It didn't take me long to realize that it wasn't pity I felt for my crying father, it was extreme pity.

Reggie said this to his mother, who was standing up across the door, without even turning her face.

"Hey, come dump this guy tomorrow"

The call from outside the window awakened the ledge that was falling asleep on the floor where he was.

I take my head out of the nappy cloth that was twirling, and I yawn heavily. Even in the meantime, the voices outside the window call out the name of the ledge, gradually causing the call to be spaced apart.

Looks like the morning has arrived in the village of the birth canal. But the sun does not shine on the ground, and the exact same darkness surrounds the world as before falling asleep.

"Ledge! Ledge! Ledge Ledge!" he had no choice but to wake himself up in a voice that repeated like crazy and put his head out of a window that was not fitted with glass.

Straw, sprinkled with branches of burning bunnah, was staring at the ledge from the ground. Last night we all chose the house of thoughts for our beds to rest in. The girl and Reggie took a break by themselves, but Straw and Sabitoga should have slept in the same house.

Are we simply close, or are our nerves trying to be fat? I didn't understand Ledge very well, such as throwing away a safe chance to sleep alone that I might never visit again.

"You son of a bitch! How many times the hell am I gonna let you call me! You put a key to the door, it's breakfast!

"Hey, Straw. Did you just call me by name?"

Straw, who shut up for a moment, yelled at Reggie shortly afterwards.

"Don't fall asleep! I think you hung up" Don't call me that, call me by name "! Ledge Ledge, oh Ledge, is this satisfying or bokenassssssssssssssssssss!!

……

"Come on down here! He said he'd leave as soon as he ate!

Reggie looks at Straw's back as he leaves yelling at him, with his hair on.

From my mother's lost beloved length of hair, a single piece of gold thread fell clearly out the window - and then a little laugh followed her.