Chapter – 90
Carlyle was dazzling.
Wearing the Sigmund family’s uniform, he exuded an untouchable and overwhelming beauty.
Serdian realized something.
The man who stole everyone’s gaze was not himself, but the Northern delinquent…
“You’re here.”
“You called for me.”
Carlyle replied to Grand Duke Guntram.
“For someone who came unwillingly, you’ve caused quite the stir.”
“That’s all thanks to you, Father.”
“How is that thanks to me?”
“Well, you’re the one who gave birth to me with such a flashy face. It’s nothing but a nuisance.”
“Most people would be grateful for that, you know.”
“That only applies to those who enjoy attention.”
“……”
“I’ll put in some minimal effort and leave soon. An hour? That should satisfy you, yes?”
“…Do as you like.”
Grand Duke Guntram didn’t expect more.
Considering that the infamous troublemaker Carlyle even showed up to the Victory Commemoration Banquet, he was already more than grateful; he had nothing more to ask for.
“Fine, then enjoy yourself and go. Don’t cause trouble.”
“No promises.”
“……?”
“If you were worried about me causing trouble, you shouldn’t have called me here in the first place.”
“Sigh.”
Guntram let out a long sigh, then whispered into Carlyle’s ear.
“I’ve decided to accept your proposal.”
“You mean the replacement of fuel-grade mana stones with mana-stone coal?”
“Yes.”
“Good judgment.”
“……”
“I assure you, you won’t regret it.”
Leaving those words behind, Carlyle walked to the emptiest, most isolated table in the corner of the banquet hall and sat down.
It was so far tucked away that no one would notice it normally, but the moment Carlyle sat, every gaze in the room turned toward him.
What am I, a zoo animal on display?
Carlyle took a sip of the wine the attendant had set down and forced down his displeasure.
Half admiration, half curiosity.
Everyone’s stares felt suffocating—like sitting on a bed of needles.
Yeah, I’m that Northern delinquent. Take a good look.
He scoffed inwardly and tasted the wine.
It was excellent.
Bright acidity, full-bodied, and layered with a rich, complex aroma.
No doubt a Belvedere wine.
He didn’t need to look at the label to know the vineyard of origin.
The North didn’t produce wine, nor did Northerners enjoy drinking it.
The wine was most likely prepared for the various delegations attending the banquet—and certainly a top-tier bottle from the Belvedere family.
Belvedere had produced wine for centuries, and no one in the United Kingdom of the Alliance could rival their brewing craftsmanship.
The Sigmunds of the North were known for vodka; the Lorens for beer; and Belvedere for wine.
Not my taste.
Carlyle set the glass down, unimpressed, and reached instead for vodka.
As the liquid burned its way down his throat, heat rose from deep within his stomach.
Yes. That’s what alcohol should feel like.
He let out a faint snort.
Have I become Northern after living there so long? I’m starting to prefer vodka over wine.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a lovely young lady approached.
“Um—”
“Leave.”
“…P-pardon?”
“I said leave. Don’t bother me.”
The woman was chased away with a tearful expression—only for another to approach immediately after.
“Hello, my lo—”
“Go.”
“Yes.”
And so it continued. Many ladies approached Carlyle, only to be rejected and driven away.
Yet their attempts did not stop.
His face alone drew them in, but it was the aloof, mysterious aura around him that provoked both curiosity and the thrill of challenge.
What’s so great about that good-for-nothing gigolo that they’re lining up for him?
Serdian was losing his mind with humiliation.
Whenever he attended a banquet, he was always the main attraction.
Women flocked to him without him needing to lift a finger, and he was always the one who chose—not sought.
But today was different.
Today, the star of the evening was Carlyle.
Almost every lady was focused on Carlyle—watching him, admiring him, approaching him.
Meanwhile, none approached Serdian.
Though he was known across the continent as its most handsome man, when standing next to Carlyle, he couldn’t even compare.
Impossible. I refuse to accept this. I’m clearly better looking—so why is that bastard getting all the attention?
Serdian felt like he was going insane.
He couldn’t stand it.
So he approached Carlyle, determined to closely examine his face himself.
He had to see with his own eyes whether this man was truly more handsome.
“I am Serdian von Belvedere, first son of House Belve—”
“Leave.”
“……?”
“I said leave. Don’t bother me.”
Serdian was stunned.
Sure, Carlyle was a Sigmund, but he himself was the first son of House Belvedere. That alone commanded respect.
“How rude. Is that how you treat someone who approaches you?”
“Did I ask you to?”
“…What?”
“Did I ask you to approach me?”
“N-no, but—”
“Then you’re the rude one.”
“……”
“Now get lost. Don’t annoy me.”
“You really are the insolent brat the rumors say you are.”
Serdian’s smile grew icy.
A dangerous light flickered in his red eyes.
“Just because others praise your looks, you’ve lost all sense of fear, haven’t you?”
“What are you rambling about, ugly?”
“W-what!?”
Serdian was so shocked by Carlyle’s insult that his mind blanked.
Ugly?
He had never heard that word directed at him in his entire life.
If someone unimportant said it, he could laugh it off.
Serdian knew he was handsome—undeniably so—so he wouldn’t have cared.
But for someone more handsome than him to call him ugly… that was different.
It was like a dagger plunged into his heart.
“You’re done talking?”
“Yeah.”
“And you think you’ll walk away unharmed after spouting that nonsense at me?”
“It must be hard to accept. But look in the mirror once in a while. Know your place. Understand?”
“Stand up.”
Serdian growled.
“I cannot tolerate this insult. I challenge you to a duel.”
“No.”
Carlyle replied instantly, as if it were bothersome.
“Why would I duel someone as ugly as you? It’d lower my standards.”
“You little—!”
Serdian was on the verge of losing all reason when—
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Serdian.”
“You—!”
Serdian turned and flinched at the sight of Selena and Frey.
“You don’t seriously intend to pick a fight with my brother at the Victory Commemoration Banquet, do you?”
Selena’s voice was frigid as she warned him.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll deal with you myself.”
And not just Selena.
“You’ll have to get through me first, Serdian.”
Frey’s tone was firm and provocative.
Normally, Frey was quiet and gentle.
But when a fight was imminent, the Sigmund blood showed—he transformed into a completely different person, and this was one of those moments.
“Quite the sibling loyalty.”
Serdian growled as he took a step back.
“You intend to band together to protect your brother?”
“Only Sigmunds may lay a hand on another Sigmund. You know that.”
“Don’t insult our brother in front of us again. That’s your final warning.”
Selena and Frey smiled coldly, pressing down on Serdian with their presence.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as people sensed the tension.
“…I’ll let this go for now. Fighting you here on such a fine day would only put me at a disadvantage.”
Serdian stepped down.
Even as the first son of House Belvedere, he could not afford to fight Selena and Frey.
He knew very well that even the youngest, Frey, could slaughter him in the blink of an eye.
“We’ll meet again, Sigmund’s rabid dog.”
“Ugly should learn to walk away.”
Carlyle hurled one last insult at Serdian’s back.
As soon as the situation ended, Selena began scolding Carlyle.
“What were you thinking? You picked a fight with the heir of House Belvedere at the Victory Commemoration Banquet of all places?”
“He picked a fight with me. I didn’t start it.”
“As if.”
Selena frowned, unwilling to believe such nonsense.
“Why would the son of House Belvedere have any reason to provoke you? He probably approached to greet you, and you acted rudely, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“Truly?”
“He bothered me so I told him to leave, he got angry, so I told him to stop bothering me and get lost, since he’s ugly. That’s all.”
“…That is picking a fight. Good grief.”
Selena sighed, as if she expected as much.
Frey beside her shook his head, as if to say, Figures.
“You shouldn’t treat someone like that when they’re trying to get along with you, brother.”
“I never said I wanted to get along with him.”
“……”
“Oh, look at you—talking back to me now?”
“When did I talk back? I was just—”
“Don’t push it.”
“…Okay.”
Frey shrank back immediately.
Too soft-hearted for his own good.
Carlyle shook his head inwardly.
Frey was ridiculously talented and in several years would even surpass Selena in strength.
Yet despite his overwhelming talent and power, Frey was gentle and polite.
He even treated Carlyle—Carlyle von Sigmund, the infamous menace—with proper respect as an older brother.
“Please don’t cause trouble today. Just stay quiet. Okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Can’t you see I’m sitting in a corner being silent on purpose?”
“True.”
“I want to leave as soon as possible.”
Carlyle rubbed his face tiredly.
People whispering about him was exhausting, and women approaching him was equally draining.
“Fine. I’ll stop nagging. Just behave today. It’s an important day.”
“Sure.”
“Did someone bother you?”
“Why?”
“Even if you are a troublemaker, you’re still my brother. I won’t let anyone bother you.”
Selena looked genuinely irritated at the thought.
“Brother, if someone bullies you, tell me first. I’ll straighten them out.”
Frey’s voice held the same conviction.
“……”
Carlyle didn’t know how to respond.
As someone who had been an only child in his previous life, and with no understanding of sibling affection, their behavior baffled him.
So this was what family was?
The strange warmth left him momentarily speechless.
So this… is what siblings are like?
As Carlyle wrestled with the unfamiliar feeling—
Clang, clang, clang!
The Crown Prince tapped his spoon three times against his jewel-encrusted golden goblet.
All attention turned to him.
“I trust everyone is enjoying the evening?”
The Crown Prince said with a benign smile.
“I too am honored to attend this celebration of the North’s victory. It brings me great joy. I extend my gratitude to those who—”
He continued with the usual, empty ceremonial speech.
Let’s see what scheme he’s planning now.
Carlyle watched the prince with contempt.
There was no way the Crown Prince would drag himself all the way to Decaron without an ulterior motive.
His prediction was soon proven correct.
“…At a time when we must unite for the prosperity of the United Kingdom of the Alliance, an unfortunate incident has come to our attention. Thus, on behalf of the royal family, I intend to mediate the conflict between House Sigmund and House Loren.”
The Crown Prince finally revealed his purpose.
“A few months ago, the true culprits behind the conflict between House Sigmund and House Loren were discovered to be… none other than the savages of the North.”
The moment those words left his mouth—*
Crack.*
The goblet in Grand Duke Guntram’s hand shattered into powder.
