Gon's Harem System
Chapter 30: I’ll come back in one piece mom

Chapter 30: I’ll come back in one piece mom

At the front door of the castle, his mother stood waiting, her figure framed by the grand stone archway.

Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her brow was furrowed, the lines on her face deepened by the weight of her thoughts.

She looked pensive, almost as though she had been wrestling with something unspeakable.

The moment she caught sight of him, her expression shifted, breaking into a mixture of relief and longing.

"My son!" she cried, her voice trembling with emotion as she rushed toward him.

Her movements were quick and unrestrained, the poise she often carried forgotten in the surge of maternal love.

Before Gon could respond, she was already before him, dropping to her knees to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Her grip was firm yet trembling, as though she feared letting him go.

He could feel her shaking slightly against him, her face buried against his chest, and he realized just how much she had been holding back.

"Why would your father sign you up for such a dangerous tournament without telling me?" she said, her voice muffled as her face remained buried in his shoulder.

Her grip on him tightened, as if she could shield him from the dangers she spoke of simply by holding him close.

Gon frowned, startled by her words. The tournament.

Of course, he knew it was dangerous—that much was a given—but he had assumed the Duke would have informed her, perhaps even reassured her of his safety.

Yet, from her reaction, it was clear she had only just found out.

He pulled back slightly, enough to look at her face, though her arms stayed locked around him.

Her eyes were wide with worry, her lips pressed into a trembling line.

He could see the storm of emotions flickering behind her gaze—fear, anger, and a helpless kind of concern that pierced his heart.

After all, it should have been a mutual decision between both parents.

Something as significant—and dangerous—as entering their son into the tournament required agreement, discussion, and planning.

Yet, it turned out the Duke had made the decision alone, wielding his authority without consulting his wife.

And worse, he hadn’t even bothered to inform her afterward.

It was no wonder she was so upset.

"It’s fine, Mom," Gon said softly, his voice steady as he tried to console her.

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, meeting her tearful gaze with as much confidence as he could muster. "Father enrolled me because he believes in my abilities. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise."

She shook her head slightly, her lips parting to speak, but Gon didn’t let her.

"I’ll be fine," he continued, his tone firm yet gentle. "I know it’s dangerous, but I’ll do my best. I’ll make him proud. And I’ll make you proud too."

His mother lifted her head from his shoulder, her tear-streaked face suddenly hardening with a resolve that made Gon pause.

"Nonsense," she said, her voice sharp despite the sniffle that followed. "If a single hair on your body is hurt, I swear I’ll give your father hell today. He won’t hear the end of it."

Gon almost chuckled at her sudden shift, her fierce determination cutting through the heavy air.

This was the woman he knew—unyielding when it came to protecting her family. "Seriously, Mom," he said with a faint smile, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ll be fine."

But even as he spoke, a flicker of doubt stirred in his heart. Would he truly be fine? The tournament loomed ahead like a shadowed mountain, its dangers hidden but undeniably real.

Still, he couldn’t let his mother see his uncertainty. Instead, he straightened his posture and smiled a little wider, hoping it was enough to convince them both.

"I’ll come back in one piece," he added, his tone softer now. "You’ll see."

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes scanning his face as if searching for any cracks in his resolve.

Then she sighed, brushing a hand over his cheek. "You’d better," she said quietly, her voice steady but full of unspoken fear.

Gon nodded and stepped through the doorway, his sandals scuffing lightly against the wooden threshold.

The courtyard stretched before him, bustling with activity. People were gathered in clusters, their voices blending into a lively hum.

Some leaned against the stone walls, chatting in hushed tones, while others gestured animatedly, their excitement palpable.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh earth and the faint metallic tang of weapons being prepared nearby.

Sunlight dappled the cobblestones, casting shifting patterns across the crowd as they moved.

Gon looked around, his sharp gaze sweeping over the bustling courtyard. Faces seemed to be everywhere, shifting like leaves in the wind.

People craned their necks, peering over one another to get a better view. Some faces emerged suddenly from around the corners of nearby buildings, curious eyes darting this way and that.

Others leaned over the high fence, their expressions a mix of anticipation and unease, as if eager to catch a glimpse of whatever event had drawn such a crowd.

The shadows cast by the fence stretched long across the ground, shifting as heads bobbed and moved.

Gon caught sight of a few children perched on the fence’s edge, their legs swinging carelessly as they whispered among themselves.

At one corner, a group of older men stood in silence, their weathered faces marked by years of experience, watching with a quiet intensity that added a weight to the lively energy around them.

Everywhere Gon looked, there was movement. People jostled for position, their murmurs blending into a low buzz that filled the air.

The sunlight streamed down unevenly, caught by shifting bodies and the occasional flutter of a loose scarf or sleeve, creating fleeting golden patches on the ground.

For a moment, Gon stood still, taking it all in—the sea of faces, the restless energy, and the quiet tension that hung just beneath the surface.

It reminded him of just how popular and important the tournament was.

This gathering wasn’t just a crowd—it was a testament to the event’s significance. The tournament wasn’t merely a spectacle; it was a tradition that had woven itself deeply into the lives of these people.