The Sweet Life of a Mature Youngest Son

I opened my eyes to a strange world. That single sentence was enough to explain the situation I was in. An unfamiliar ceiling, people I didn’t know, and a face in the mirror I had never seen before. Yes. As you might have guessed by now, I woke up in a new world as a total stranger.

Llewellyn Edwill.

I rolled the unfamiliar name, which felt naturally engraved in my mind, around my mouth as I looked into the mirror. A young boy with pale blonde hair moved in sync with my every motion. My purple eyes, trembling uncontrollably, spun around once as if denying reality before settling back in place. It wasn’t a familiar name for a Korean, but it suited the boy in the mirror—who had the chubby cheeks typical of a child—quite well.

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t flustered. Anyone else would have spent nights sobbing in that bed, which was so wide you could roll five times and still not fall off. Still, I pride myself on being a relatively fast adapter.

Sure, I did the cliché “Who are you?” thing and saw my father and brothers burst into tears, and I might have screamed at the sight of my own reflection, but aren’t those just minor episodes? Of course. Humans are creatures of adaptation.

My family blindly adored Llewellyn Edwill, the late-born youngest who had lost his mother at a young age. From my father to my three older brothers, they weren’t just devoted—they were obsessive. They hovered over me, anxious that I might blow away in the wind or shatter at a touch, desperate to give me nothing but the very best. Amidst this blind outpouring of affection and wealth, I complacently accepted my life as the youngest of the Edwill family.

Count Edwill, Llewellyn’s father, blamed himself for not being by his youngest son’s side when he first fell ill. He even quit his job in the capital and moved down to the estate. The family’s love was overwhelming, even more than I had expected. The problem was that it wasn’t just the Count; the brothers were the same.

The eldest, Cale Edwill, would fuss about, trying to cram one more thing into my hands before I could even speak. It felt like if I just said the word, he would happily hand over the position of the next head of the family and feel proud of it.

The third brother, Abel Edwill, was at the academy when I first woke up, so I didn’t meet him immediately—but it didn’t take long. Exactly two weeks after receiving news that I had collapsed, he escaped the academy and rushed to the castle, clinging to me and sobbing. When I awkwardly hugged him and patted his back, the tears he had nearly stopped started all over again. As he was eventually dragged back to the academy by the Count, he wept even harder at the sight of me waving goodbye. I doubt he would wail like that even if he were breaking up with a lover.

And the reason the story of the second brother, the second son, was saved for last is that he was so peculiar among the siblings that he is hard to describe in a single sentence.

“Brother.” “That’s not it, Llewellyn.”

Perhaps it was because he was a warrior. Despite having only just become an adult, the second son—who was larger than the eldest—repositioned me in his arms and spoke with a blend of tenderness and firmness. He seemed to think I was some sort of newborn fawn. He treated me like a baby animal that couldn’t even stand on its own wobbly legs. Whenever he came home, I never had to use my own feet. He carried me around more easily than one would carry a teddy bear.

To look at the reality that made only my heart heavy while not affecting him in the slightest: Llewellyn Edwill was only eight years old, but he was strictly of average height and weight. Furthermore, thanks to my brothers constantly feeding me like a baby bird, I had gained twice the weight I had lost while being ill. While one could hug me out of joy, I was not at a weight that was easy to carry around constantly.

The characteristic purple eyes of the Edwill family sparkled with anticipation. His delicate eyelashes fluttered as he urged me for an answer. I suppressed the feeling of indigestion and smiled as if I knew nothing. The eldest was definitely better than the second. The eldest was just anxious to give me something; he never demanded anything in return. I performed my role as the cute younger brother exactly as he wanted, wishing the second son would just hurry up and go on a business trip.

“Big Brother (Hyung-ah).”

Upon hearing the answer he wanted, he let out a “Kgggh” sound and writhed. It was humiliating. Even if my body was that of an eight-year-old, the soul inside was a perfectly grown man approaching thirty. Uttering a word like “Hyung-ah” while in my right mind made my chest sting. I don’t know if it was my conscience or my pride. Maybe it was both.

“Please put me down.” “Hmm?”

There was no way he didn’t hear me. He feigned ignorance as if he had no idea what I was talking about. Instead, he pressed his lips to my hair, expressing that he found me deathly cute. Damn it, seriously. He’s like this now because I’m young, but what is he going to do when I grow up? I thought about the relationships between the three brothers, excluding myself.

From the first to the third, the Edwill brothers were fulfilling their roles as children of a noble family: successor, knight, and student (I wasn’t exactly sure what the third was studying at the academy).

To be precise, they felt duty and responsibility toward one another, and while they had family affection, it was always within the bounds of etiquette. The eldest and second son respected each other, but they didn’t act casually as brothers. Even with the third, who had been the youngest until I was born, they would offer a greeting like “It’s been a while, Abel” and a light hug, but they didn’t rush to embrace him before he could even step out of a carriage like they did with me.

They clearly have a weakness for children. If they like kids that much, they should just get married and have their own; why are they doing this to their brother? I’m going to grow up fast anyway, and then the “cute little brother” won’t exist anymore.

Thinking about how my brothers would one day recall their affectionate displays and feel humiliated made me laugh, but also feel a bit sorry for them. That’s why I try my best to match their energy and play the role of the lovely youngest. It won’t last long anyway. Once boys hit their mid-teens, they’ll soon have a strong scent and smell like sweat.

It seemed the second son had no intention of putting me down today. I gave up and leaned quietly into his chest. Having a body that trained, his chest was certainly different. The sense of stability, which I couldn’t feel from the eldest or my father, made me feel like I could fall asleep.

The second son, Leopold Edwill, seemed very pleased by this and popped a dessert into my mouth. Hmm, a chocolate éclair from the capital. It must have taken three hours via magic stone, but since it’s still cold, they must have placed a preservation spell on it. They certainly are dedicated. I savored a taste different from the skill of the pâtissier employed at Edwill Castle and added a few points to the score of the overbearing second son. Of course, he had been in the negatives for a long time already.

“What flavor should I give you this time?” “Strawberry.”

A piece of strawberry éclair, about a third of a full one, popped into my mouth. It was a thoughtful gesture for a child who can’t eat much but wants to try a variety. Sweetness aids positive thinking. I buried my face in Leopold’s chest and made a vow. Fine. I only have a few years left. Let’s just enjoy it until then.

And so, I spent a leisurely childhood wrapped in the arms of family members who fussed over my every expression and gesture.

The eldest and second sons, who worked at the Imperial Palace, used expensive magic stones to commute home daily, and the third son achieved the feat of graduating as valedictorian. At least my father showed the dignity of a family head, but after witnessing him turn into a puddle of mush when I called him “Daddy,” or seeing him brag to the older brothers about the time he spent with me while they were at work, his image had long since crumbled.

Seriously, these people don’t have a lick of talent for parenting. What would have happened if I were a real child?

I probably would have lived like a king in Edwill Castle, where no one could oppose me. It would be fine if I only lived like that on my own estate, but if I grew up and acted like that outside, there would be no hope. Fortunately, I was a sensible adult who knew how to distinguish between “stubbornness that deserves a flick on the forehead” and “cute tantrums.”

I didn’t really have a plan for the future, but maybe I didn’t need one. My family has plenty of money and plenty of brothers. Even if I do nothing, it’ll work out somehow. My life, which had lost all sense of reality while being intoxicated by this affluent lifestyle, changed when I turned ten.

“The Imperial Palace?” “Yes.”

Right after my birthday, the letter the eldest brother brought bore none other than the Imperial Seal. It was an order to enter the palace as a playmate for the 4th Prince. Wasn’t that usually something you had to audition for? I thought I had seen something similar in my etiquette lessons, but it was so long ago I couldn’t remember clearly.

When I asked, “Am I really allowed to go?” the eldest stroked my head with a smile and handed me a pudding. Thanks to the “dessert war” between the first and second brothers, there was never a day my mouth was bored. I worried about gaining weight, but it was hard to resist the immediate temptation. While I was marvelling at the perfect harmony of syrup and pudding, he continued his explanation.

Count Edwill—my father—was a cousin of Lady Annette, a royal concubine, and they had grown up like siblings since childhood. Lady Annette wanted to see her lovely first cousin once removed, and after some thought, she came up with the “perfect” idea: invite her nephew as a playmate for the 4th Prince, the son of Lady Rowena, with whom she was on good terms. Naturally, that “lovely nephew” was me.