* * *
“If the investments continue steadily and we can afford the mansion without taking out a loan, I think that would be the best time.”
“Martius, aren’t you even a little sad that your mother can’t throw parties at home?”
“Mother, even if we move into a bigger house, we won’t be able to host a party right away.”
To host a party, one had to be at least a count—one who owned a grand mansion in the capital and had significant wealth.
Some nobles lived in the capital while managing their territories, but most viscounts and barons there had inherited only a title without any actual land, barely keeping their noble lineage alive.
The Nerthian Viscountcy was no different.
They had consistently produced Alphas over the generations, but none had ever been remarkable.
With no particular achievements or financial prowess, they had barely managed to survive.
“But we have Sylvian. You can just ask him for a little help. You have no idea how well he listens to your father.”
The Viscountess stabbed her salad with a fork, thinking, ‘I really did a great job raising my child.’
“Martius, don’t waste your time worrying about pointless things. Just focus on getting promoted in the knight order. Leave matters of property and wealth to us.”
Her lips curled into a smile so wide it nearly reached her ears.
If everything went well, she would find Martius a proper Omega… or at least a poor girl who could be silenced with money.
She could bear a child, surely.
The Viscountess’s eyes gleamed like glass beads.
Even her husband didn’t know about this plan.
So no one could find out.
If all else failed, she would have to take Sylvian’s child and use it to continue the family line.
If the child carried the Duke’s blood, perhaps this crumbling viscountcy could finally rise.
Nothing was impossible.
That wretched Sylvian was living comfortably in the Duke’s household.
Why shouldn’t they have the same opportunity?
If he bore a child and returned home to recover, wasn’t it possible that the baby—if it took after Sylvian—could be weak and simply… not survive?
A sly grin stretched across her face.
“Mother.”
“I’ll take care of everything, so just trust me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
‘My child. My Alpha.’
A lineage she had crafted with her own hands.
The Viscountess glanced at her husband.
He still had no idea that Martius had initially presented as an Omega.
Hiding her chilly thoughts, she exchanged looks with her husband.
He, too, wanted to buy a house.
After dinner, she would secretly go check out some properties without Martius knowing.
Just imagining hosting guests every evening in a grand mansion that suited her son filled her with delight.
“It’s been a while. I should write to Sylvian, too. I haven’t checked in on him because I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Your health comes first. Sylvian will understand—he’s a good child.”
‘Was that really the kind of thing you’d call “good”?’
Martius forced down the now-cold soup.
Every time he came home, he felt suffocated.
Maybe he should’ve just spent his leave at the knight order’s dormitories instead.
He had no appetite, disgusted by how shamelessly his parents treated his brother.
Finally, he put down his spoon.
“I have some errands to run. I’ll be going out.”
“You just got home, and you’re already leaving without finishing your meal?”
“Yes, I made plans to meet some friends.”
Of course, he didn’t have a single friend. But he nodded vaguely at his mother’s question and left the dining room.
Once outside, Martius wandered the streets aimlessly, overwhelmed by frustration.
He needed to block his parents from contacting his brother, but he couldn’t think of a good way.
‘Should I just tell him not to read their letters?’
He was well aware of the rumors circulating in high society.
The Nerthian Viscount was living off the Duke’s money thanks to his well-bred child.
It was disgraceful—for both his brother and the family.
“So stupid.”
How could his brother be so naive?
After everything they had put him through!
“Marti?”
Martius turned his head sharply at the sound of his childhood nickname, spoken in a familiar voice.
“…Brother?!”
“It really is you, Marti!”
The very person he had been cursing under his breath stood there, looking delighted.
Even their mother barely called him by that name anymore.
Seeing his brother smiling so brightly as he said it, Martius bit his lip hard.
“You seem to be doing well.”
His brother was dressed in a neatly tailored black suit, with a white fur scarf draped around his shoulders.
Even at a glance, he looked like someone who could afford to buy several houses without a second thought.
“Do you have some time?”
Martius wanted to say no, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse when he saw the earnest look in his brother’s eyes.
The guards standing behind Sylvian seemed to say something to him, but they soon stepped back.
“Let’s go to a tea house nearby. It’s cold out here.”
At those words, Martius quickly stepped forward and grabbed his brother’s hand.
His hand was ice-cold.
Why was someone with such a frail body being made to wander around outside?
He scowled, thinking of the Duke.
“This necklace has warming magic on it, so I’m not that cold.”
“And yet, your hands are freezing.”
Ignoring his brother’s words, Martius searched for the nearest tea house and led him inside.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Hm. It’s strange to be in a tea house with my little brother.”
The lighthearted remark made Martius’s stomach churn.
Now that they were inside, his brother’s flushed cheeks and plumper face stood out.
He felt relieved—but at the same time, he wanted to scold him for always obeying their parents’ demands.
“Brother. You should have fruit tea—”
“Actually, I think white tea would be better.”
“…Really?”
They had never had a peaceful moment to drink tea together at home.
There hadn’t been any expensive tea there, anyway.
Martius had never really enjoyed tea.
“You should try it. It’s quite good.”
“If you say it’s good, then it must be.”
Sylvian ordered their drinks, smiling at his younger brother after such a long time apart.
He had been on his way to buy a gift before visiting the knight order, but when he saw Martius, he couldn’t help but call out to him.
“Why do you look so upset?”
“…Who, me?”
“Yes, you.”
Martius clenched his lips shut. Just like when he was a child.
“Did Mother say something to you again?”
“…No. Brother, why—”
‘Why are you so kind?’
‘Why are you so infuriatingly kind?’
Tears welled up in Martius’s eyes.
Why couldn’t he do anything to help his brother?
He felt pathetic.
‘I’m the disgraceful one, not him. I should have been the one to suffer, not him.’
“Ma-Marti?! Why are you crying?”
Startled by the teardrops falling onto the table, Sylvian hurriedly moved to sit next to him.
Thankfully, the tea house had private booths for conversations like this.
“Did Mother scold you again? I’ll go instead, okay?”
“…Sniff.”
“Why are you crying? My dear Marti, everything will be okay.”
He wanted to reject every word he heard.
But seeing the anxious expression on his brother’s face, his anger melted away.
Their parents were the ones at fault, not his kind brother.
“Don’t listen to a single thing Father asks you to do.”
“…What?”
That would be difficult.
Besides, even if Sylvian refused, Zeroth would still step in to support their father’s investments.
Sylvian clicked his tongue internally as he realized the reason for his brother’s frustration.
* * *
