I WAS Humanity's HOPE-Chapter 30: Home, Sweet Home?

Richard lounged on the broad steps of his newly purchased manor, arms crossed behind his head as he watched clouds drift across the late afternoon sky.

The stately façade stretched behind him in elegant lines—arched windows, tall columns, and a glossy black door with a brass knocker shaped like a griffin. He could still hardly believe he owned the place.

Richard heard the crunch of gravel under tyres and sat up straighter. A familiar hatchback pulled in next to the still-empty driveway.

The engine cut out, and from within emerged Meredith, followed closely by their parents—Margaret and Andrew. Richard rose to greet them, keys jangling in his hands.

His mother stepped out first, wearing a subdued teal cardigan, her expression wavering between annoyance and concern. Andrew paced around the vehicle, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the manor.

"Well," Margaret ventured, glancing from the house’s sprawling gardens to Richard’s altogether too-casual pose on the steps. "You didn’t mention the place was quite so... grand."

Andrew let out a low whistle. "Indeed. You’ve not done bad, son."

Meredith followed with a brisk step, her robes neatly arranged, but even she paused at the sheer size of the property. Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure you don’t need a map just to find your bedroom, Richy?"

Richard shrugged, a self-satisfied smirk in place. "I’m a big lad. Thought I needed the space."

Margaret inhaled slowly, smoothing her cardigan. "It’s lovely, dear, but you could’ve consulted us—or at least told us you were thinking about moving out. This is all... so sudden."

"Especially when you only went out this morning," Andrew muttered, giving the building another contemplative once-over. "I recall you saying something about heading to your classes, not house-hunting."

Meredith didn’t bother mincing words. She shot him a probing glare. "Are you all right in the head, Richard? Buying a whole house on a whim? Mum nearly had a fit when we got your text."

Richard exhaled with mock exasperation, gesturing for them to follow him up the steps. "Mum, Dad, Mer—trust me, it’s not that big of a deal. Come inside."

They followed, exchanging wary looks.

Once indoors, the entry hall spanned out in polished parquet floors and intricately panelled walls. A large chandelier—currently unlit—dominated the vaulted ceiling overhead. Dust motes swirled lazily in the beams of light streaming through tall windows.

The air had that new-house hush about it, though not entirely empty—someone had obviously cleaned and furnished the basics as part of the sale. The estate agent’s courtesy, presumably.

Meredith’s eyes roamed over the elegant furnishings with a critical air. "You’re sure you’re not overcompensating for something?"

Richard let a small smile grace his lips. "Am I that insecure?"

She shrugged. "I’m just trying to figure out what’s prompted this." She motioned at the large foyer, the sweeping staircase, the corridor that disappeared into who-knew-how-many rooms beyond. "Yes. We all know that you have... money, but this is still a huge leap."

Andrew touched a carved banister post, his fingers lingering on the polished wood. "It’s lovely," he murmured, a hint of pride warming his tone.

Then, turning to his son, "But you can’t blame us for being startled. You only just came back into our lives, and now—"

"—buying a mansion," Margaret finished gently. "It’s a big step, Richard."

Richard rolled his eyes with a faint sigh.

"Look, I’ve been cooped up with you for too long. I wanted a place of my own. Somewhere private."

Meredith gave him a long, searching look. "And you decided on a massive manor in a high-end neighbourhood? Very low-key, Richy."

"Not as suspicious as you’d think," he retorted easily.

He led them deeper inside, passing through a corridor lined with tasteful sconces and an occasional framed painting.

The footsteps of the Blackwoods echoed on the hard floors until they reached a spacious living room. Here, a gleaming fireplace with marble surround anchored the space, flanked by plush armchairs.

Margaret and Andrew perched themselves on a sofa tentatively, as though unsure if they might scuff the pristine upholstery. Meredith, arms folded, remained standing, her expression sceptical.

"So," she said pointedly, "what’s your grand plan, dear brother? Invite all the novices for a dinner party? I can’t imagine how anyone will question a brand-new E-rank living in a manor that cost a fortune."

Richard let out a short, dismissive snort. "It wasn’t a fortune. Well—" he caught sight of his mother’s weary gaze, "—fine, it was expensive, but not that expensive."

A faint laugh escaped Andrew, equal parts relief and disbelief. "Five million or so is hardly pocket change, son."

Richard shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at Meredith. "Look, if I’d spent that much on brand-new gear—from some legendary blacksmith—that would raise eyebrows. Because that would obviously be tied to my status as a hunter... or a mage, in this case. But a house?"

He waved a hand, as if swatting away the thought. "Loads of people own houses. In big cities, property is pricey, but it doesn’t scream I’m super-powerful. It just means I can afford it. Nothing more. People will think I’ve got family money or I’m irresponsible with an inheritance. They won’t connect it to my rank, they won’t try to dig deeper."

Meredith’s features softened ever so slightly, though her voice remained cautious. "You do realise that some nosy caretaker, or maybe a Guild official, might poke around if they suspect anything out of place."

He inclined his head. "Let them. My purchase is entirely above-board. I have a legitimate bank account. There’s nothing to find. Honestly, it would be far more suspicious if I were strolling about in diamond-studded armour or brandishing a six-figure wand that I couldn’t even use to its potential."

A thoughtful silence settled. Andrew exchanged a glance with Margaret, who brushed an imaginary bit of dust off the sofa cushion, a pensive look on her face.

Meredith exhaled, finally stepping forward to sink into an armchair. She surveyed her brother through narrowed eyes. "At least you’ve thought about it. I suppose that’s good."

A wry grin curved Richard’s lips. "Of course."

Andrew cleared his throat, his voice gentle. "We’re not judging you, son. We just... we worry. That’s all. The world you’re moving in right now is more dangerous than ever. We just want to be sure you’re safe."

"And not painting a target on your back," Margaret added softly. She reached out and patted her son’s hand, her earnest eyes brimming with motherly concern. "We lost you once. We don’t want—"

Richard squeezed her hand in reassurance. "Mum, it’s all right. I promise, I’ll keep a low enough profile. This manor is more of a retreat than anything else. A place I can rest and... maybe have Nadia over."

His family’s eyebrows rose in unison at the mention of Nadia, but Richard pretended not to notice. He’d have to introduce them properly at some point, but that was a conversation for another day.

Meredith snorted, then rose to her feet. "Give us a tour, then. Unless you’ve only seen the parlour and front hall yourself."

With a slight flush, Richard admitted, "I’ve barely looked around. Just the main rooms and the bedroom upstairs. I only found the house a few hours ago..."

So they roamed the house together, the group wandering through corridors that seemed to stretch on. Margaret’s eyes misted whenever she came across a charming nook or a sunlit spot that might house potted plants. Andrew stroked his chin thoughtfully, enquiring about upkeep, property taxes, and whether the roof tiles needed checking. Richard tried to answer his father to the best of his little knowledge. If his father’s expression whenever he opened his mouth was anything to go by, he wasn’t entirely happy with the suddenness of the purchase.

Eventually, they ended up on a broad balcony overlooking the back gardens, which were an overgrown sprawl of hedges, old roses, and a neglected fountain.

Standing there, Richard felt a subtle sense of peace. This wasn’t just a thing he’d bought—he was building a new life for himself, piece by piece.

Margaret leant on the balcony’s iron railing, letting out a contented sigh. "It really is beautiful. I can imagine setting up a nice greenhouse back there, if you’re interested in growing your own herbs."

Andrew nodded, looking more at ease. "Yes, and you could host a barbecue or two. If you can figure out how to start the grill without resorting to Fireball spells, that is."

Meredith rolled her eyes, but a trace of a smile curved her lips. "Just be cautious, you big show-off. You’re a novice mage, a little E-Rank, remember? Don’t overshadow that little detail by furnishing the place like the palace of an S-Rank."

Richard snorted softly, meeting her gaze. "The estate agent told me this was actually modest compared to some of the big villas near the city outskirts. So no, not exactly a palace."

She nodded slowly, acknowledging his point. "Maybe you’re right. A house is just a house after all and my own place isn’t that small either."