The Illusion of Blood and Tears

The Second Son sent out the startled knights. In a situation where no one dared to open their mouth, only Kyle Berinon continued to speak. He gouged at the wounds so relentlessly that if someone told me his tongue was actually an awl, I would have believed them.

“Do you hate hearing about Father’s infidelity? It’s a story most people already know. Why didn’t the child born to the ‘happily married’ Berinon couple look like his father or his mother? Where did this blonde hair come from? Why did Viscount Berinon sponsor a musician who had fallen into the brothels? Why, of all people, did that woman have blonde hair and blue eyes?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I slipped out of the Second Son’s hold and stood up. Berinon’s face, which I had previously found unreadable, was now overflowing with malice. He seemed blinded by the urge to hurt the Viscountess, unaware of the sheer nonsense he was spewing. I reached out and smacked him hard on the back of his head.

“Who do you think you’re venting your anger at?”

“……”

“What? Seriously, what? So what if there’s a secret about your birth? Do you think you’re the most miserable person in the world? I wondered what kind of grand tragedy you had to act like such a prick.”

Elliott nodded in agreement, and the Viscountess let out a groan as if she were about to faint. Surprisingly, the Second Son didn’t have much of a reaction. Since he usually treated me like a glass doll that couldn’t even walk straight—calling me an angel and all that—I thought he’d be shocked to hear me swear.

“You’re always loitering around the back alleys. Didn’t you see the kids there? Oh, or do you go to the slums just to get some sense of relative satisfaction, feeling like you’re actually someone important?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to hear that from you, Llewellyn, considering you’re carried around like a doll by your brother. What do you even know…”

“I know that you’re trash. You piece of trash, the problem is the way you choose to live. Why are you taking it out on an innocent person? Do you think I came here to see you act like this? I came to get a pathetic apology, and yet you haven’t said ‘I’m sorry’ once. Why are you so talkative all of a sudden?”

I snapped at him out of pure annoyance and walked out, leaving him behind. The Second Son took charge of the Viscountess. Irredeemable trash. A guy like that won’t change no matter what you say. It wouldn’t have been hard to threaten or browbeat him into saying sorry, but receiving an apology without a shred of sincerity only leaves a foul taste in the mouth.

I was an idiot for thinking there might be something more to him. Despite his foul nature, I thought he was at least young and clever with his head and tongue. To think he was just a moron drowning in self-pity. It was almost laughable how I had spent time worrying after unintentionally discovering his secret.

Since the Viscountess was in poor condition, we concluded it would be best to escort her to the residence first. As we walked down the hallway, I stole a glance at my brother and spoke bluntly.

“Aren’t you surprised?”

“Hmm?”

“That I swore.”

I should have just ignored him and walked out; nothing was going to change anyway. Embarrassment caught up to me a little late. I had played the part of the cute younger brother so perfectly in front of my siblings, putting on such an act. However, the Second Son was more “complete” than I thought.

“Why is it swearing to call trash ‘trash’?”

He had a point.

“Llewellyn.”

The Viscountess, who could barely walk, called out to me. Her already pale face was now bloodless and ghostly. Every time her long eyelashes trembled, the shadows beneath them deepened.

“I know I can’t make up for it, but I want to apologize first. I… I didn’t know. Sending you and Elliott with him was… I am so sorry.”

“On that part, it’s not as if we refused the offer.”

“No. I… I am sorry. I didn’t know he… thought that way… or that he knew. To put you in danger like that… if anything else happened besides this, that too…”

My heart felt heavy looking at her pale face. I couldn’t hold the late Viscount accountable, but I certainly wanted to curse him. There’s such a thing as basic decency. Bringing a child fathered elsewhere into the home and leaving the wife to raise it? And to think they maintained an image of a devoted couple to the public—it made my stomach turn.

Furthermore, after her husband passed away, the son she had poured her heart into raising turned crooked out of self-pity. I could understand even if her constant traveling wasn’t just for work. Perhaps she didn’t just “not know” about Kyle Berinon’s temperament; perhaps she wanted not to know.

I tried my best to comfort her, but eventually, the Viscountess burst into the tears she had been holding back.

“I feel like it’s all my fault…”

“The one at fault is that ba— I mean, Kyle. You don’t need to feel guilty, milady.”

Elliott stepped in, but the atmosphere didn’t shift. After crying silently for a long time, the Viscountess began to stumble through her story. I knew what she needed was stability and rest, and I had no desire to hear Kyle Berinon’s life story, so I wanted to escape the moment—but I couldn’t pull my hand away.

The Second Son led us to the inner quarters. He mentioned he was using the Commander’s office while the Commander was away.

The four of us sat awkwardly around a deep navy sofa. It didn’t seem like she would get any peaceful rest even if we sent her home like this.

“It’s true that Kyle isn’t the son I gave birth to. I… I was infertile. I didn’t deceive my husband. I didn’t know, and when I told him after finding out, he said it was fine. That a family isn’t only ‘complete’ if there are children. Philip was a kind man.”

“Uh… then Kyle is…”

“Clarie gave birth to him. I… I was sponsoring her.”

Her tear-soaked lashes fluttered, casting shadows on cheeks that still looked as delicate as a young girl’s.

“She was a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.”

Elliott muttered, “Surely that ‘Clarie’ doesn’t refer to Clarissa Orintea, does it?” As if picturing the distant past, the Viscountess, with a hazy look in her eyes, hurriedly added:

“Philip didn’t commit adultery. That… really. I don’t know why he found out about it like that…”

The truth the Viscountess revealed was a story that would put weekend soap operas to shame. My imagination had been a bit lacking.

Clarie, the beautiful pianist sponsored by the Berinons. Just as she began to gain attention in Robenus for her radiant looks and talent, she became pregnant. She claimed she didn’t know who the father was, but it was likely a lie. Clarie enjoyed her freedom in romance, but that didn’t mean she had a scandalous private life.

The Viscountess speculated that Kyle’s biological father was likely a noble staying in Robenus. Clarie probably thought it was better not to reveal who he was rather than being tied down as a mistress with an illegitimate child. After much deliberation, she gave birth, but Clarie chose her future and guaranteed success over the child.

“I told her to do so. She was… too precious a person to let her career end like that.”

“And you decided to raise the child, milady?”

“I had just been thinking that I wanted a child. I never thought about it before marriage, but being told I couldn’t have one made me want one even more. It wasn’t that I initially planned to raise Clarie’s child as my own. But the moment I saw him, I fell in love. I thought he was an angel. He was so beautiful…”

With the words that she convinced her husband to raise him as their own, the tears that had barely stopped began to flow again. I let out a sigh.

Knowing the full story actually made my blood boil even more. While that idiot Kyle Berinon was going astray, firmly believing he was the product of the Viscount’s affair, the Viscountess was raising a boy without a single drop of her blood as if he were her own.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t guess why Berinon was angry.

He must have gone through much denial and confusion before accepting the “fact” that he was an illegitimate child born of an affair. The process of confirming that possibility must have been violent, too. Since Berinon didn’t have anyone he could really call a friend, the fact that he obtained that much information meant people around him were gossiping.

The rumors circulating among adults likely reached the ears of children, who then spat malicious words at Berinon. You could guess as much just from Blodgett, who, even if it was a “mistake,” mentioned his birth specifically to insult him.

The Viscount, who should have been the target of his resentment, was already dead, and the woman presumed to be his biological mother never came looking for him. So, the arrow was redirected toward an easy target. Those shitty pranks were probably his way of hiding a crushed and mangled ego.

Of course, I’m saying I understand—not that he was in the right. I loathe morons who can’t repent for their own mistakes and just blame their environment.

But…

I looked at the Viscountess, who was just letting her tears fall. She was wearing an evening dress, showing how hurried her arrival had been. The way her tears silently soaked her cheeks and fell from her chin was nothing short of piteous. She seemed embarrassed to be crying in front of children the age of her son and knights she’d just met, as she was clearly trying to suppress her sobs.

Inside me, two voices were fighting. One said, “So what? It’s better to just cut ties with that guy!” while the other said, “Still, he’s young, so there might be room for improvement!” Rationally, the former was the obvious choice. As I sat there lost in thought, letting the Second Son tuck up my sleeves for me, Elliott’s eyes turned sharp.

“Don’t you dare think it.”

“Think what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking right now.”

He had the instincts of a damn shaman.