Chapter 14
“I have something I’m curious about, too. The Duchess—she also lost her divine power a long time ago, right? So… how is she still, um, fine?”
As soon as I said it, I realized it sounded like ‘Why isn’t your mother dead yet?’ and panicked a little.
I quickly added, “I mean, not in a bad way—just genuinely curious.”
Brinnen replied calmly,
“Because we didn’t care what means we used.”
“…What do you mean…?”
“Exactly that. My father tried everything—anything that could help my mother recover, no matter what it was or how much it cost. He didn’t care. Because of that, he was sometimes tricked by frauds.”
Hmm. So even the Duke tried everything… yet still avoided using apothecaries.
Brinnen continued,
“Actually, I don’t know the details myself. I was raised by Count Ivan, my father’s relative, so I don’t know what methods he used.”
‘Count Ivan. I knew that man very well.’
The Duke, too obsessed with his wife, entrusted his son to his younger brother, Count Ivan.
But Brinnen grew up under abuse and manipulation.
Because of that, even when he came to love Hanez, he didn’t recognize it as love, stumbling through pain and mistakes for years.
Did Ivan ever pay for what he did?
Of course not.
He lived comfortably, eating and drinking well—along with his cruel daughter Melody, who tormented Brinnen relentlessly.
Come to think of it, that foolish Duke still sometimes sent Brinnen to stay with Ivan.
Maybe that’s why Brinnen looked so tired lately… and why he’s been having nightmares.
“…What kind of person is Count Ivan?” I asked.
“He’s just a count,” Brinnen answered plainly.
Not harshly—but without warmth, either. Like he was describing a stranger, not family.
“Do you have any friends your age?”
“He has a daughter. Melody Ivan.”
“I see…”
Something about it bothered me.
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason…”
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
That pained look Brinnen had when he woke from nightmares… I could still picture it vividly.
Lately, he’d looked so tired all the time—it made sense now.
***
Brinnen’s days were always the same.
Every week, at his mother’s request, he visited the Count’s estate to spend time with Lady Idette, his so-called childhood friend.
And after every visit, he reported what happened.
There usually wasn’t much to say, but his mother always seemed delighted.
“Lady Idette is healthy enough to go on walks now?”
“Yes. She hasn’t had a fever for a whole week.”
“That’s wonderful.”
His mother’s smile was genuine, full of simple joy.
“How?”
His father, who treated his wife’s health as life or death, immediately demanded details—then stormed off to question the Count directly.
His mother chuckled softly and shook her head.
“That man never changes.”
But her smile looked tired, and Brinnen understood—it was time for him to leave.
“Then I’ll come again next time.”
“But we hardly got to talk.”
“I’ll come tomorrow too.”
She looked a little sad but nodded, closing her eyes.
He could feel it—her waking hours were getting shorter every day.
Brinnen quietly watched her sleep, then stepped out.
No one paid him any attention.
Everyone’s eyes were on his mother, as always.
He didn’t even feel sad anymore. It had always been like this.
He returned alone to his room—cold, silent, untouched.
No servants had been there. Dust gathered, lamps were burnt out, and the room felt abandoned.
What good was a large room when it was filled only with emptiness?
That day, when he’d embarrassed himself in front of Idette—it was the same day he received a letter from Count Ivan.
The first one since returning to Sheaird.
He hadn’t dared to open it.
He’d shoved it in a drawer, too scared to look—but the nightmares kept coming, as if punishing him for not replying.
In the end, he opened it.
And after reading the first line, he let out a bitter laugh.
[You worthless, parasitic worm. You’re so shameless that even after being raised by me, you don’t have the decency to write first. I had to be the one to contact you. Disgusting creature.]
Nothing had changed.
Ivan always called him worm, parasite, useless.
And he managed to fit all of that into the very first line. How could Brinnen not laugh?
[I’ll be visiting soon with Melody. I plan to bring you back to the family then. Behave yourself.]
That last line was worse.
After reading it, the nightmares became even more unbearable.
Even now, he dreaded sleeping.
He often gave up on sleep altogether.
But strangely, on the days he met Idette, it wasn’t as lonely.
They didn’t talk much, but just seeing someone, just being around her—it helped.
Most of all, the look of genuine concern on her face stayed with him.
That day, she had said,
“If you’re still having nightmares, you should try drinking warm milk before bed. It might help you relax. If that doesn’t work… here, take this.”
“What’s this?”
“I used to hug it when I couldn’t sleep. Oh, it’s mine, so it’s a bit used—maybe I should give you a new one when you go back.”
“I’ll take this one. If you don’t mind.”
“…It’s fine.”
And that’s how Brinnen ended up taking home the white, fluffy rabbit plush that had been by Idette’s pillow.
It was soft, warm—and somehow, it looked like her.
He hugged it lightly and smiled for the first time in a long while.
It was the first gift anyone had ever given him.
It meant something.
“…She worries about me,” he murmured.
Then he thought—
I can’t wait for next week.
Idette might think of it as a “polite, superficial friendship,” but for Brinnen…He was truly looking forward to seeing her again.
***
Idette sighed deeply as she looked at her father, who had gone so far as to go on a hunger strike in protest.
“Do you really have to go this far?”
“I’m only doing this because I’m worried about you. An apothecary? Absolutely not!”
But no matter how much he objected, Idette had no intention of backing down.
She knew now that treatment was possible—even if it was difficult.
She couldn’t ignore that.
“I’ve gotten much healthier, haven’t I?”
“That could just be temporary. What if you get worse again?”
“Worse? There’s nothing left to get worse. I was practically terminal already.”
“Idette!”
Her father shouted, as if the very words were forbidden.
But no matter how much they avoided saying it, it didn’t make the truth go away.
“I just want to try something. Brinnen said the Duke of Sheaird tried every possible method for his wife’s recovery.”
“And did that include using an apothecary?!”
“I don’t know—but if he didn’t, then I can try it.”
Her stubborn words made the Count groan and collapse weakly back into his chair.
Then suddenly, Idette had an idea.
A very good idea, in her opinion.
“Father…”
She called softly, but the Count covered his face with one hand, clearly not wanting to talk anymore.
“Alright.”
“Hm?”
“I’ll stop taking the medicine. And I won’t meet the apothecary again.”
“Really?”
At that, her father immediately sat up, full of joy.
“Yes, yes, my good girl!”
He hugged her tightly, crying with relief.
But Idette… had no intention of actually surrendering.
She just smiled quietly, already planning her next move.
