Arc-7 Ch-09

“Hah… hah… hah… hah…”

Forward. Just keep moving forward. I alternate my right and left feet, repeating my breathing in a steady rhythm. To reduce the strain on my body even slightly, I maintain proper posture and continue running relentlessly, emptying my mind as I go. The more unnecessary thoughts I allow in, the more fatigue steals my strength, like heavy lead shackles fastened to my hands and feet, dragging me down until I am forced to kiss the ground.

No matter how painful it becomes, I have no right to refuse. I am not permitted to cry, nor to scream. In this place, the only one who can help me is myself. The only way to end this painful time even a second sooner is to keep running.

The destination enters the corner of my vision. Just a little more, and I will be freed from this suffering.

But before that, there are a few things I must do.

After confirming that no one is nearby, I straighten my posture, wipe the sweat from my forehead, and arrange my expression into calm composure, as though nothing had happened.

I must not show weakness here. At the very least, as long as I remain the heir to the Earldom of Bartfort, such behavior is unacceptable.

Father once told me that weak commanders easily lose the trust of their subordinate soldiers.

No matter how thoroughly one searches, there should be no soldier in this world who would willingly entrust their life to a young gentleman weaker than themselves, one who leads a unit solely through family status without any practical experience.

“Young master, good work. That concludes the running exercise.”

“…Understood. What is the schedule after this?”

“Once everyone has gathered, we will enter rest time. In the afternoon, we will conduct shooting practice and hand to hand combat training before dismissal.”

“…How is Father?”

“The earl is currently training and holding meetings with the regular soldiers. Do you have business with him?”

“…No, it is fine. Then I will wait here until everyone arrives.”

“Understood.”

After briefly speaking with the training instructor, I slipped into the shade of a tree, out of sight, and sank to my knees. I dislike being watched by others. It always feels as though the people back home are appraising me with their eyes. Even when training alongside new recruits who joined the feudal army this year, there remains a sense of distance between us.

Fatigue crashes over me all at once. Sweat pours from my entire body, and I finally abandon my composed expression, collapsing onto the ground in an unsightly posture, like a crushed frog. Although floating islands are said to have lower temperatures than the surface below, it is still early summer. Even a small amount of exercise causes sweat to seep out, soaking my undergarments and draining my body of moisture. I desperately regulate my breathing and cling to my fading consciousness. If I rest for a while, I should be able to endure the afternoon training.

“Good work. You were pretty late.”

“Why are you participating too, Ariel?”

Turning my head toward the voice feels exhausting, so I track its owner with my eyes alone. My twin sister sits atop a thick tree branch, smiling cheerfully. With that casual call, Ariel lands lightly on the ground, as though gravity itself holds no authority over her. Unlike me, drenched in sweat and utterly spent, Ariel is dry, her breathing calm and steady.

Standing beside her makes the notion that women are weak seem utterly absurd. The gap between us is so vast it feels less like a difference in gender and more like a biological disparity, leaving no room even for envy. Within the armies of the Kingdom of Holfort, enlistment is fundamentally restricted to men.

Whether in the royal army directly under the crown or in the feudal forces governed by nobles, nearly every rank, from supreme commander to apprentice soldier, is composed of men.

There have been exceptional cases. When a lord dies under certain circumstances without a male heir, or when the saintess serves as the spiritual symbol of the temple, wives or daughters may act as provisional lords or oversee military forces.

There are also stories of commoner families subject to conscription, lacking sons, disguising their daughters as boys, though such cases were quickly exposed and punished.

Even during the pre war era of female superiority and male inferiority, and later when the status of lower noble men was secured, female lords and commanders existed only as special exceptions. Not a single confirmed case of a female common soldier exists in the history of the Kingdom of Holfort.

“If I stay in the mansion, Mother will chase me around.”

“…That is not what I meant. I understand accompanying Father. What I do not understand is why you are participating in the training itself.”

“If I join the training, I get to move my body and shoot guns, right? If things go well, they might even let me pilot armor.”

“….”

“Lionel, finishing slower than me is pathetic. Has your body grown dull from those lukewarm upper class lessons?”

“…What are you talking about? You arrived much earlier than I did.”

“Talent difference, perhaps.”

I do not understand her. I truly do not understand my twin sister’s interests or preferences. The Kingdom of Holfort has long been regarded as possessing a powerful military compared to neighboring nations. Its founding ancestors were wandering adventurers, and the fastest path to success lay in dedicating one’s achievements to the royal house.

Among adventurers were many sky pirates, and whenever unrest arose, domestic security deteriorated. This repeated cycle led to the formation of strong military forces to suppress them. Because of this history, Holfort excels militarily, yet is despised by neighboring countries as a nation descended from barbaric adventurers. However, nearly all figures who shaped Holfort’s history were men. Even during the era of female superiority, those who moved politics and risked their lives in war were men.

If one asked present day citizens to name great women of history, they would likely cite the first saintess, her second generation successor, the current queen, and the contemporary saintess Olivia. Only the queen, a princess from another nation, and the saintess of commoner origin who protected the kingdom are women recognized as having changed its future. Even my exceptional mother merely pioneered the remote Bartfort territory and established friendly relations with neighboring lands.

For noble wives and daughters, expectations are limited to assisting husbands, brothers, or sons, bearing children, continuing the family line, and strengthening connections. For someone as active as Ariel, such a world must feel suffocating. She is clearly not the type to enjoy embroidery or tea parties, nor to devote herself quietly to a husband.

“Father is thoughtless for setting the military academy entrance requirements to men only.”

“It is not as though Father alone decided those rules.”

“Even a weakling like you can enter if you pass the exam, yet I am turned away at the gate simply for being a woman. And without doing anything, I will someday be married off to some noble I have never even met.”

If she had been born in a different era, or not into a noble house, or if our genders had been reversed. Surely Ariel could have become an adventurer whose name was etched into history.

But adventuring talent is not what is expected of a noble lady. No matter how favorably the Kingdom of Holfort treats adventurers, in this regard it is no different from other nations.

“Hey, you two were here.”

At the sound of a familiar adult voice, I hastily rose to my feet and saluted. There was no need for excessive formality, but even among close relations, basic courtesy is required, especially when the other party is a lord of the Baldfalt clan and territory.

“It has been a while, Uncle.”

The man who appeared was imposing, broad shouldered and muscular even in military uniform. He was my father’s elder brother, Viscount Nicks Fou Bartfort. Father maintains a well trained physique for a titled noble, but Uncle surpasses even that. Incidentally, the largest man in the Bartfort clan is our grandfather, Balkas. At times I wonder whether I am truly Father’s biological son, as I inherited neither the clan’s black hair nor their robust build.

Even Ariel, who usually neglects formalities with family, behaves obediently before Uncle, as though she were a different person. When Father is often absent from the territory due to capital affairs, Mother and Uncle cooperate to manage Bartfort’s administration. The places Ariel sneaks off to and finds refuge are always Grandfather’s or Uncle’s homes. Ariel becoming a physical monster is unquestionably their fault.

“Did you need something?”

“Can I not come see my nephew and niece who have returned after so long?”

“No, we should have come to greet you.”

“Skip the troublesome etiquette. My men have been waiting eagerly for the earl house twins to return.”

“It has been a while, Uncle Nicks.”

“Oh, are you well, Ariel?”

“I am glad to see Uncle is healthy as well.”

“Haha, sturdiness is my selling point. I have not even caught a cold.”

I envy the ease with which Ariel exchanges greetings with Uncle. I have always instinctively tensed up around him. I know Uncle is a good man who genuinely cares for us. Still, the reason I have struggled to deal with him since childhood is not simply an uncle nephew dynamic, but the delicate balance between the earl house and the viscount house.

“Big Sister!”

Suddenly, a black blur burst out from behind Uncle and lunged toward Ariel. Caught completely off guard, I could only track the movement with my eyes. Even Uncle froze in surprise at the figure leaping past him.

In stark contrast, Ariel remained utterly calm.

She shifted her body one step to the side, evading the charge with minimal movement, while deliberately leaving one foot behind. The shadow failed to touch her, instead having both legs caught by that planted foot, tumbling forward with its own momentum.

It was a cunning trap, executed perfectly so that Uncle could not see it from his position. The shadow rolled to a short distance away and lay still. Ariel watched coldly as Uncle hurried over and freed the fallen figure.

“Ugh… oww…”

The voice that followed was unmistakably a child’s, high pitched and not yet changed, making it difficult to tell whether it belonged to a boy or a girl. We all knew exactly who it was.

“…Ariel.”

“What?”

“That was a bit excessive.”

“I merely dealt with a ruffian who suddenly tried to hug a lady.”

“He is a younger boy.”

“Teaching him not to do that to other girls besides me is important, is it not?”

“Uncle is watching. You should show some restraint.”

“Good grief…”

Without concealing her irritation, Ariel approached the boy. His name was Andre Fou Bartfort, Uncle Nicks’s eldest son and our cousin, about five years younger than us. Usually gentle looking and closely resembling Uncle, Andre was now in a pitiful state, tears streaming from both eyes and mucus running from his nose.

From long ago, Ariel had often made Andre cry. Every time Ariel visited the viscount house, or when Andre was invited to the earl house, it was almost guaranteed that Andre would cry at least once. As children of the lord who ruled this land, we had very few friends of the same age.

Even when we tried to mingle and play with commoner children, they would shrink back in fear. Because the territory was remote, children of other noble houses lived far away.

Naturally, our playmates ended up being children from the same Bartfort clan. However, Ariel was not an ordinary noble lady. She was, after all, a storm-like young lady who rampaged even more wildly than boys.

She rarely played with our younger sisters. Instead, she always dragged along her younger brother Leah and our cousin Andre, stirring up disturbances throughout the territory.

Leah, who was close to her in age and gifted at physical activities, was one thing. Andre, however, was five years younger and constantly forced to keep pace with Ariel, inevitably ending up hurt or miserable. Despite crying and returning to the viscount house time and again, after a few days he would forget everything and once again chase after Ariel.

Why did Andre continue to follow Ariel, even though she always made him cry?

After watching them for years, I had come to vaguely understand the reason. It was likely that several people in both the earl and viscount houses had noticed it as well.

“I hate weak men. Especially those who cry loudly.”

“~~~~!!”

The moment Andre heard Ariel’s words, he bit his lip and desperately suppressed his sobs. Seeing the state of his son, Uncle wore a troubled expression as he looked at the two of them.

Between Ariel and Andre, there was a clear hierarchical relationship, almost like that of master and servant. Ariel stood above, Andre below. For Uncle, as the head of the viscount house, seeing his eldest son submit so completely to his cousin Ariel must have raised concerns about Andre’s suitability as an heir. That reaction was understandable.

However, all the heads of the Bartfort clan were men utterly at the mercy of their wives. Grandfather Balkas and Grandmother Luce. Uncle Nicks and Aunt Dorothea. Father Leon Fou Bartfort and Mother Angelica Fou Bartfort.

All of them enjoyed harmonious marriages, yet whenever conflict arose, only images of husbands surrendering immediately to their wives came to mind.

In that sense, Andre truly inherited Uncle’s blood. Imagining a future in which I, having inherited Father’s blood, would also be unable to stand up to my future wife made my head feel faint.

“Snot-nosed Andre finally stopped crying, it seems.”

“I-I am nooot cryiiing!!”

“Liar. Your cheeks are wet with tears.”

Ariel watched as Andre roughly wiped his face with his sleeve. I needed to stop her soon, or Uncle’s mood would sour. Why was it that even after returning home, only stomach-churning situations awaited me?

If things continued like this, remaining at the academy during long vacations for self study would have been far more relaxing.

“It should still be rest time. Could you tell me about the academy?”

“Uncle graduated from the academy, unlike Father.”

“I attended the academy twenty years ago. The teachers and school rules from that time are completely different now.”

“If it is about the upper class, I can explain it more thoroughly than Ariel.”

“No, no. People tend to assume that back then any noble could enter the upper class, but I was in the regular class. As a point of comparison, Ariel from the regular class is more suitable than you from the upper class.”

From earlier on, Uncle had been forcefully steering the group to a different location while bringing Ariel and Andre along. It was probably because Andre had begged him. If Andre tried to approach the recently returned Ariel alone, she would likely refuse outright. There was a strong chance of harsh treatment or blunt rejection.

However, if Uncle intervened, even Ariel could not refuse completely. It would not be a private meeting, but it was far better than being rejected without even being able to speak. I could vaguely understand why Andre wanted to be alone with Ariel so badly.

Ariel, though a noble lady, preferred running through forests and fields over proper hobbies like embroidery or reading quietly in the mansion. She stood out sharply among girls her age.

Moreover, as children of the ruling lord, commoner children were forbidden by their parents from playing with us. Likewise, noble children from distant territories could not easily visit. As a result, our playmates inevitably came from within the Bartfort clan.

It would not be strange if a relationship that began as cousins playing together gradually changed into something else. However, whether Ariel noticed any of this was unknown. And Andre was the eldest son of the Bartfort viscount house. Deciding whom Andre would eventually marry rested with Uncle and Aunt, and the chances of a noble marrying the partner of their choosing were extremely low.

I had heard that Grandfather and Grandmother were mutually in love, yet he had been forced to take another woman as his official wife due to family circumstances. Our own parents’ marriage had been political. Since Uncle and Aunt were one of the rare cases of a near love marriage among nobles, Andre might unconsciously believe the same fate awaited him. I tried to follow Uncle and the others as they moved, but stopped when I sensed someone’s presence.

Someone was nearby.

Turning around, I saw a small shadow peeking out from behind the tree Ariel had climbed earlier.

The figure wore a brightly colored dress wholly unsuitable for a training ground, and her black hair swayed down to her waist. She was a girl I had known since birth. The way she timidly peeked out, trying not to disturb my mood, was age appropriate and endearing. She likely found it difficult to approach me, so I needed to speak first.

“It has been a while, Theresia. Have you been well?”

“I It has been a while, Big Brother Lionel!”

Her face flushed bright red, Theresia grasped the hem of her skirt and bowed politely. The mismatch between her facial expression and her stiff lower body movements almost made me laugh, but I barely restrained myself. Mother had repeatedly warned me that mocking a desperate young lady was unforgivable, not only as a gentleman but as a man.

Even without Mother’s admonitions, I was not base enough to laugh maliciously at a girl four years younger than myself. Especially when she was my fiancée.

“Theresia has grown quite a bit while I was in the capital.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Compared to ladies my age, it is quite impressive.”

A faint pain pierced deep into my chest. In truth, to calm Theresia’s nerves, I had compared her to students of the academy’s upper class. Those students were the elite among boys and girls of the same age in the Kingdom of Holfort. Even commoners entering the upper class were thoroughly trained in etiquette beforehand. None of them were crude in birth or upbringing.

Was I not trampling on others’ dignity simply to avoid hurting the girl before me?

Guilt weighed heavily in my heart. I felt like a despicable liar.

“….”

“Is there something unsatisfactory?”

“…Big Brother, exactly whom did you compare me to?”

“To whom? Well, students at the Royal Academy.”

“What kind of girls were those you compared me to?”

This was it. This was precisely why Theresia was frightening. Theresia, who had inherited beauty, intelligence, and an intense possessiveness toward loved ones from Aunt of the renowned Roseblade earldom, disliked me interacting with other women. Despite her quiet and obedient demeanor, her most obvious flaw was her obsession with me. Apparently, Aunt behaved much the same when Uncle was away on feudal business. Mother and daughter were truly alike.

“Doubting others so readily is Theresia’s bad habit. You should correct it.”

“I am Big Brother’s fiancée! It is natural for a wife to suspect her husband’s infidelity!”

“Oh? Then Theresia believes I am the sort of man who would cheat.”

“That is um…”

It was somewhat underhanded, but this was the most effective approach with Theresia, so I had no choice. Theresia’s image of an ideal lady was not her actual mother, but the current Countess of Bartfort, my mother. Mother, who had been rigorously educated as a duke’s daughter, excelled in courtly conduct and social etiquette.

Thanks to the backing of the Redgrave ducal house and Mother’s flawless support as a noble wife, the emerging Bartfort earl house had avoided being looked down upon by neighboring lords, earning Father recognition in high society.

That reputation spread, and Mother was often invited to teach etiquette to noble ladies of other territories. To Theresia, Mother, who devoted herself to her husband while prospering the territory, was the ideal she aspired to become.

As her son, I knew of Mother’s jealous true nature, but that was a secret better left untold.

There was no need to shatter Theresia’s dream.

“Because, Big Brother, even though I sent so many letters, you never replied.”

“I am sorry. I was busy keeping up with Royal Academy classes.”

“Even when you did reply, asking ‘What do you want?’ directly lacked consideration.”

“You were happy with gift sweets until last year.”

“That was in the past! I am growing every day!”

“I understand. I was wrong. Please forgive me for now.”

“…Then please stroke my head.”

Murmuring those words, Theresia lowered her head in front of me. Confused, I glanced around for help from Ariel, Uncle, or Andre. Their backs were already far away. Even if I shouted, my voice would not reach them. Perhaps Theresia had planned this from the beginning.

If she had asked Uncle to create an opportunity for us to be alone, and had Andre accompany Ariel to separate us, then she was a truly formidable schemer.

“Stroking a lady’s head does not seem very gentlemanly…”

“Since your fiancée approves, it is acceptable.”

There was no escape. Resigned, I gently placed my hand on Theresia’s head. Her black hair, smoother than the finest fur, slid between my fingers without catching, leaving a pleasant sensation against my palm. It was clearly maintained with high quality soap and hair oil. The comforting texture made me want to continue stroking it endlessly. As I did so, Theresia wore an expression of bliss, like a small animal being groomed.

From a young age, because she often clung to me and demanded to have her head stroked, Theresia was repeatedly cautioned by Uncle and Aunt, as well as by my parents, to restrain herself. As a result, our interactions were gradually limited to formal, ceremonial exchanges.

“You seem to have grown a little taller.”

“…As expected, Big Brother lacks consideration toward me.”

“Why is that? If you do not grow, you will never become a proper lady.”

“I do not want to grow big and muscular like Father.”

“I do not think you will grow to that extent.”

“If I grow taller than you, Big Brother, you will not be able to stroke my head. Having to bend down every time we kiss would be embarrassing for a lady.”

“I would not mind even if you surpassed me in height.”

“And also, my dream is to be carried by Big Brother at our wedding. But if I end up resembling Father, I might be the one carrying you instead.”

“That would be difficult even if I had a large build.”

“But I heard that when the earl was engaged to Aunt Angelica, he carried her and walked around the territory.”

“Did Father, in his youth, truly have no sense of shame?”

“Then you will do the same for me, Big Brother. This has already been decided.”

What on earth were my parents thinking?

Because of Father and Mother, I had been forced into an utterly unreasonable promise. In stark contrast to my confusion, Theresia smiled with complete satisfaction. She likely had no doubt whatsoever about a future in which she married me. When did I begin to feel that her affection was heavy?

I did not dislike Theresia. I genuinely wished for her happiness. Yet I could not tell whether what I felt toward her was familial affection, or romantic love between a man and a woman. My engagement to Theresia had been decided even before she was born.

A marriage between cousins served to strengthen the foundation of the newly rising Bartfort earldom. It was deeply entwined with the intentions of both the Redgrave ducal house, the leading feudal nobles who patronized Father and Uncle, and the prestigious Roseblade house.

In noble society, it was extremely rare for personal affection to factor into engagements or marriages. Being engaged while still too young to even know one another’s faces was far from unusual.

What I could not determine was whether Theresia’s feelings were truly her own.

Like imprinting, where a chick mistakes the first thing it sees upon hatching as its parent, had Theresia been conditioned to love me unconditionally simply because the adults around her taught her that marrying me equaled happiness?

Without any clear proof, I had allowed matters to drift until now. Once Theresia graduated from the Royal Academy, we would inevitably become husband and wife. Was that truly her happiness?

Or was it a happiness imposed upon her by the adults surrounding us?

“Theresia.”

“Yes?”

“Are you not being forced by Mother?”

“Aunt Angelica is strict, but she is kind. I will do my best to become worthy of you, Big Brother, as the next countess.”

“If you ever feel troubled, tell me immediately. There is no need to endure everything in silence.”

“…I do not quite understand what you mean, Big Brother.”

“If you have worries or concerns, consult me right away. I may be unreliable, but I want you to be happy.”

“Yes. I understand.”

As expected, Theresia did not fully grasp my meaning. The way she tilted her head in confusion looked perfectly appropriate for her age. Becoming the next Countess of Bartfort meant succeeding Mother. The standards Mother demanded, having been raised under the strict education of a ducal house, were extraordinarily high. So high, in fact, that even Ariel had escaped them countless times. At only eleven years old, Theresia must have been making tremendous efforts to meet the expectations of both Mother and Aunt.

I had spent my own childhood buried in heir training, watching my younger siblings play from afar. A nameless revulsion welled up from deep in my stomach, as though I were sacrificing my cousin’s life for the sake of the earl house I would someday inherit.

“Big Brother. It finally ended!”

Called suddenly from the side, I turned to see Leah approaching, drenched in sweat even more thoroughly than I had been after the run.

His training clothes were soaked as though water had been poured over him.

“Ah. I came in last.”

“That is to be expected. You are not even old enough to enlist, so there is no way you could endure adult training.”

“Oh, Theresia is here too.”

“Is it wrong for me to be here? As Big Brother’s fiancée, watching his training is also part of my duty.”

“Praise me a little. I am training among people older than me.”

“If you cause trouble for others, it means nothing. Do not get carried away just because you are the earl’s son.”

“You could acknowledge my effort.”

“The earl is a fair man who does not favor his own son. Before participating, curse your own foolishness.”

“Theresia, that is enough. Leah did well too.”

“Hehe.”

Leah puffed out his chest proudly and looked back at me. In truth, for a twelve year old Leah to complete feudal army training designed for those aged fifteen and above, even if he finished last, was an exceptional achievement. In the Kingdom of Holfort, enlistment in either the royal army or a feudal army was permitted from the age of fifteen, the same as admission to the Royal Academy.

After household registry checks and physical examinations, candidates were evaluated through written and practical tests. Today’s training was meant for new recruits who had joined this year, and I, as the lord’s child, had been scheduled to participate alongside my peers. Yet Ariel, who joined on a whim, achieved excellent results. I performed at an average level, while Leah participated despite being underage. The territorial soldiers responsible for instructing the recruits must have been thoroughly perplexed.

“I am Father’s son. I will grow strong enough to earn fame through martial valor.”

“Save that bravado for after you defeat Big Sister Ariel. You used to be her underling along with Andre.”

“That was only because Big Sister’s strength is abnormal. Even after she left, I train on my own every day.”

“And the result is last place. Still, I will at least praise you for not complaining.”

“Yes!”

Leah’s physical abilities far surpassed those of his peers. At an age where even a single year made a dramatic difference, he likely ranked among the top. I lacked confidence that I could have achieved the same results at his age. The Bartfort clan possessed a long history, but they had only risen to titled nobility in my great grandfather’s generation. Before that, they lived half as farmers and half as nobles.

Because of their status as poor nobles, combined with the lord’s own labor, livestock rearing, and conscription, many men with strong physiques were born. Grandfather, Uncle, and Father all possessed large, well trained builds, earning rank and promotion through military merit. Among the children of the earl house, Leah inherited the blood of the Bartfort men most strongly.

Black hair, black eyes, and a blessed physique. Grandfather and Grandmother often said he resembled Father in his youth. Compared to me, who strongly displayed traits of the Redgrave ducal house, Leah and I hardly looked like brothers born of the same parents. Cheerful Leah, who resembled Father, was beloved by the territory’s citizens, especially when compared to gloomy me, who barely resembled him at all.

Above all, Leah’s godparent was Vince, the former Duke of Redgrave. The patron Redgrave ducal house serving as godparent to a child of the Bartfort earl house was naturally interpreted as the duke assuming guardianship over Leah.

Because of that influence, I had long sensed that some people considered Leah more suitable as the next earl than myself. Rather than an ordinary, gloomy eldest son who did not resemble Father, a bright and capable younger son who did seemed more fitting as heir.

Even in today’s training, the feudal soldiers kept a certain distance from me, yet interacted naturally with Leah. From the perspective of Father’s subordinates, once Father retired, his son would become the new lord. Naturally, they were inclined toward the one they felt closer to.

“Leah, Theresia. Stop arguing. Father and Uncle are waiting.”

“Understood.”

“Got it.”

There were other reasons why I hesitated about my position as heir. From my perspective, Leah clearly adored Theresia. Among the children of the Bartfort clan, the closest in age were Leah, the earl house’s second son, and Theresia, the viscount house’s eldest daughter. Leah, who kept his distance from other noble girls, actively approached only Theresia.

Conversely, Theresia, usually polite and reserved, used casual speech only with Leah. Were these two not remarkably compatible?

The affection Theresia directed toward me stemmed from the intentions of the adults around us. Perhaps it contained no genuine personal love at all. I could no longer remember when such anxiety had first taken root. Simply by virtue of being born the eldest son, was an unremarkable person like me truly fit to inherit the earl house?

Was it right to trample upon Leah's first love and marry Theresia?

Could Theresia truly be happy in an engagement imposed upon her from birth?

My thoughts circled endlessly, trapped in the same dead end.

“Big Brother, is something wrong?”

“Big Brother, are you tired?”

“…It is nothing. Theresia, come to the mansion during the vacation. I brought souvenirs from the capital.”

“Thank you, Big Brother.”

“Oh, those delicious sweets?”

“Leah, I already gave you your souvenir.”

To me, both my younger brother Leah and my cousin Theresia were irreplaceable family. Yet it felt as though I myself might be the one making my family unhappy. The weariness continued to throb deep within my chest, like a wound that would never heal.

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Authors Note

┻━⁠━━━━⁠━━⁠━━━⁠┻

This chapter features a troubled Lionel, Theresia who resembles Mother, and Leah who resembles his Father.

This love triangle is an homage to the original triangle of Leon, Noelle, and Colin.

It is not intended to be as tangled as the original. Instead, it manifests as Lionel’s persistent stomachache.

Lionel inherits the negative aspects of the original Leon, resulting in an extremely low self evaluation.

Theresia reflects the black haired image of Dorothea, while Leah is a slightly more handsome version of Leon.

Addendum. At the client’s request, illustrations were provided by Pizzashi and Suzuhara Shion.

Thank you very much.

Pizzashi- Pixiv

Suzuhara Shion- Pixiv

I would greatly appreciate your thoughts and impressions as encouragement for future work.