The Fault in Our Bloodlines

I was worried, but Leopold offered some trash-tier logic: “I have more people below me than above me, so it’s fine.” If I were his subordinate, I would have grabbed the back of my neck in frustration, but since I was his brother, it didn’t matter. However, once I heard how he managed to get from the capital to Robenus in such a short time, I realized this guy was truly out of his mind.

I understood the part about not having time for a train and activating a direct magic circle. But I was floored by the fact that the “direct magic circle” in question was a military-grade one, authorized only for Grade 3 emergencies or higher. Was that something you could just use because you felt like it? My question was answered quickly.

“From His Highness the Crown Prince?”

“Yes. His Highness granted permission.”

The voice adding that he was “truly grateful” was quite chilly. He had already been on edge because the Crown Prince kept summoning me. Even if he hadn’t fully grasped the Prince’s intentions, it seemed he had caught on to the fact that his superior held a certain fondness for his little brother.

“It’s a relief His Highness treasures you.”

“He said that because you talk about me so often, he feels as if I’m his own younger brother.”

The Crown Prince hadn’t exactly acted “sweet” in front of me, but it was true that I had received a great deal of help from him—both when I came to Robenus and when the Second Son came rushing down. I decided to take the Crown Prince’s side before any unfortunate incident occurred where Leo, blinded by brotherly devotion, might glare at his own boss. Being a man with a normal moral compass who believed sexual attraction toward family was an impossibility, the Second Son softened immediately at the word “brother.”

The subject soon shifted to the other siblings. He said he hadn’t told the Eldest Son separately, but he likely already knew, and Abel was reportedly on his way. It was a relief the Count didn’t know yet.

Leopold’s temper didn’t come from nowhere. Since the late Countess was said to have been a very quiet, gentle, and beautiful lady, this was definitely the Count’s DNA. The eldest, Cale, was no different; they all received evaluations like, “As expected of an Edwill.” Back when the Count was rolling through the political scene, he had a supreme talent for ruining opponents with his tongue instead of a blade.

“Holy shit.”

Leopold, who had escorted me to the room where Elliott and Berinon were being detained—no, “protected”—set me down. Elliott, who had been rushing toward me, stood with his mouth agape once he saw the state I was in. Berinon was the one who should have been serious, but Elliott looked even more grim. His eyes wouldn’t budge from the marks on my neck as he glared at Berinon with murderous intent.

As for Berinon… well, it seemed Elliott had worked very hard on him. The left cheek I had struck was badly swollen, but the right side was worse. His right eyelid was swollen half-shut, and the bruising on his cheekbone looked nasty. Berinon tried to smile out of habit but stopped, trembling from the pain in his torn lip. We could only see his face right now, but I bet it was a disaster under his clothes too.

It’s not like Elliott learned the sword like I did. I knew he just exercised with the mindset of a student’s parent—believing one needs physical strength to work and study hard. Is it really possible to beat a kid that badly? I looked at Leopold suspiciously. You said you hadn’t touched him yet? He whispered back with his usual smiling face.

“If I had touched him, he wouldn’t be walking.”

Berinon flinched at the whisper, which was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I feel like I’m going to die even if I’m the one being hit.”

“I can’t let that bastard go.”

Elliott was firm. It seemed Berinon hadn’t just taken the beating quietly, as Elliott’s lip was also burst. Still, the rest of him looked fine, which was a relief. Out of the three, the biggest mess was Berinon (beaten by Elliott), followed by me. Elliott, whom I thought was lost deep in the alleys, was perfectly fine aside from a few signs of a scuffle.

I felt a surge of resentment for having run in there so frantically.

I brushed off Elliott’s hands as he tried to turn my body around after inspecting my face and neck, and I sat on the sofa. Leopold followed quietly, sat next to me, and lifted me onto his lap. The arm wrapped around my waist was as solid as a theme park safety bar. Once I gave up on escaping, I felt more at ease.

“What exactly happened?”

“What else? He started flapping his gums.”

Whether it was because he knew he was in the wrong or because of the Second Son holding me, Berinon kept his usually agile tongue still.

Elliott’s explanation wasn’t far from what I had expected. When things were delayed because I was talking to Luxtil, Elliott had pressured Berinon, and Berinon told him where to find a place selling drinks—which was on the way back anyway. Naturally, Elliott and I missed each other. While Elliott, who hadn’t memorized the alleys, wandered longer than expected, I arrived. Finding me there in his absence, a spiteful Berinon had told a lie.

A sigh escaped me. It was a bluff, just as I’d suspected, but because the matter was so serious, I hadn’t been able to discern it properly. That was my mistake, but Berinon had crossed the line. He seemingly hadn’t expected me to actually dive into the alleys, but what if I hadn’t thought to change my clothes and hair? What if I hadn’t memorized the layout? What if I hadn’t met Luke? If even one of those variables had gone wrong, I might not be sitting here.

“The beating is one thing. Dammit, you almost died because of him! How can you say you can’t hit him anymore even after seeing that?”

“I said I wouldn’t hit him; I didn’t say I’d just let it slide.”

The agitated Elliott looked ready to tackle Berinon and throw punches until his anger subsided. Elliott wasn’t exactly mild-mannered, but he wasn’t a violent kid. It seemed he had been shocked into aggression because I had been put in danger while his animosity toward Berinon was already high. Even though it wasn’t the time for it, I felt a little touched.

“Where is the Viscountess?”

“I summoned her.”

The quiet Second Son informed us that he had already sent someone. I felt a bit complicated thinking about how shocked Lady Berinon would be—a woman who undoubtedly believed her son was a timid, angel-like boy. I had planned to tolerate Kyle Berinon’s pranks to some extent if he just stayed quiet for the remaining few days. If I had intended to expose his true nature to the Viscountess, I would have done it from the start.

Hearing that she was coming, Berinon started to say something, then shut his mouth and turned his head. It was hard to read his expression through the bruises and cuts, but he looked petulant.

Escorted by the knights, Lady Berinon covered her mouth at the sight of her son and staggered when she saw me. A nearby knight supported her. Elliott also looked uncomfortable, unable to hide his guilt at the sight.

“Just… what is all this…”

How could I explain the whole story without shocking this frail woman further? As Elliott was agonising over his words, trying to soften the situation as much as possible, Kyle Berinon, who had been silent the whole time, spoke up.

“Why did you come?”

His voice and words were cold, as if he had decided to drop the act of being shy in front of his mother.

“You left saying it was urgent. That it was important. So I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You crazy son of a…”

Elliott forgot about softening his language and spat out a curse. Actually, it was more like an exclamation of awe. I almost blurted out “He’s insane” myself.

“It’s not like things will change just because you’re here, Mother.”

Lady Berinon, who likely couldn’t believe reality even after hearing the general circumstances, was losing her grip at her son’s unfamiliar demeanor. She made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a groan, unable to catch her breath. Even if she wanted to deny reality, she couldn’t. I couldn’t imagine how she felt, never having had a son like that. Anger, sadness, disappointment. Emotions amplified by repeated denial and realization must be swirling within her.

The knight sat her down, worried she might faint. Elliott and I didn’t have any particular grudge against her. The fault lay with Kyle Berinon.

“How can you say that? How could I not come…?”

“Is that so? You’ve always valued work so much that I thought you’d do the same this time. I suppose the name Edwill carries quite a bit of weight. I didn’t know you’d come running like this.”

Kyle Berinon continued to spit venom, seemingly blind to her piteous trembling. Elliott looked like he couldn’t grasp what was going on at all. What is this now? Seeing his gaping mouth, I finally caught on.

A half-blood. Blodgett had called Berinon that.

“I came because I heard Llewellyn was in danger, of course, but also because this involves you. But how could you do such a…”

“How kind. I suppose one has to be that kind to raise a child that doesn’t share a drop of their blood.”

“Kyle!”

I wondered which side it was; apparently, it was the Viscount’s side. If I, who had a hunch, was this taken aback, Elliott must be even more so. His face, which was usually indifferent or smirking, was now hanging open so wide his jaw might drop off.

I was also flustered by the sudden revelation of the Viscount’s infidelity dropped by Berinon. The plot was turning into a weekend soap opera. Why the “secret of birth” all of a sudden? No. Stop it. Is this some kind of “Male lead who looks mean but is actually secretly hurt” cliché?