Published: August 15, 2025
New chapter begins!
In this chapter, we delve into Cyrus’s past and deep psychology. It’s quite heavy, so take your time!
【Prologue】
Mother was crying.
Just a moment ago, she had been smiling gently. Holding Father’s hand, they chatted about trivial things. Father’s voice was faint and hoarse, but mother leaned in close, catching every word, replying loudly.
Their topics were mostly old stories—about the roughly thirty years since they met, and about the time since I was born. They talked of quarrels and many joyful moments, always with smiles.
But the moment Father fell into his ninth sleep today, mother broke down in tears.
“—Hey, Cyrus. How many more times do you think he’ll wake up?”
She murmured something like that.
Immediately after, she suddenly lost all strength as if a thread snapped. I hurriedly held her shoulder and found she had fainted... no, was sound asleep. I wonder how long it had been since she last rested. Could it be that ever since coming to the Duke’s mansion, she hadn’t slept at all? If so, after losing Father, I might lose Mother too.
I cradled Mother and moved her to a larger couch. Ideally, I wanted to carry her to the bedroom, but she would refuse. I wanted her to stay in the same space until the very end.
After settling Mother, I straightened up and felt a slight dizziness. I hadn’t been sleeping properly either. I needed to rest a bit.
I left the room and closed the door behind me with my hands behind my back. Before I could take three steps, a voice called out.
“Ah, Count Cyrus. I see you have come to the Duke’s mansion.”
A nasal, pretentious voice. Turning around, I saw a familiar man. I bowed slightly. I couldn’t manage a smile but tried to appear as calm as possible.
“Marquis Dario... thank you.”
“Well, well, thank you for coming all this way. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
He said with a cheerful smile, and I raised one brow.
... ‘Welcome’?
This Duke’s mansion is where I was born, only a few days by land from Granado Castle where I live.
Meanwhile, Marquis Dario resides in the neighboring country Sphain, about two weeks by sea. Clearly, he is the one far away—and right now, my biological father is critically ill.
“...Lord Dario, you are related to Father only by marriage and usually see him only at ceremonies. Thank you for going out of your way to come.”
I said, testing him with some pressure, but Marquis Dario just sniffed disdainfully.
... Still as rude as ever.
Dario Alfonso, Marquis of Sphain. A noble with lands and a castle in the neighboring country, and the husband of the Granado ducal family’s eldest daughter—my half-sister.
He is in his mid-forties, a bit older than my sister, as I recall.
I have only met him a few times, but he’s always loud and flashy. He layers fabrics of various colors and patterns excessively, making his noble clothing voluminous around the shoulders. Even considering the Sphain people’s love for flamboyance, it’s overly gaudy. What bothered me most was how terribly outdated it looked. So many heavy buttons—something you only see at ceremonies these days. Plus, they’re made not of silver but of cheap lead, obviously fake.
Our trading company, Granado Trading Company, deals in the latest fashion. I have many opinions about his taste, but more than that—
“Marquis, before visiting your ailing father, please proceed to the guest room. We will provide you with a change of clothes.”
“Oh? Is this outfit inappropriate? In my country Sphain, funerals are meant to be splendid, to mourn the deceased.”
I clenched my teeth.
“Father—”
“Father is not dead yet, Dario.”
To my surprise, a voice came from beside Dario.
A noble lady with a tall frame like Father and sharp eyes resembling Mother, Lady Laura. She wore a simple dark one-piece dress. Her cold, piercing gaze was fixed on her husband. Dario clearly faltered and stammered.
“S-Sophia...”
“Your words earlier were much more offensive than your choice of clothes. Apologize to Cyrus and Father.”