MLRLM 06

Chapter 6….

The Menez Daughter and the Dog

Timeo Volreban sometimes thought that Marcel Volreban’s very existence in this world was undoubtedly a mistake of God.

It didn’t even require Timeo to try recalling how innocent and beautiful Marcel had been; the Volreban estate itself remembered. Whenever Marcel went out to play in the garden, it seemed as though the sun, the grass, and the wind loved him. When, unfortunately, he had to lie in bed all day, the grand Volreban estate—one of the largest in Comper—almost seemed to shrink itself to Marcel’s eye level. His cheeks, pale as if powdered, always carried a rosy glow, and because he didn’t have to run about due to illness, he always smelled pleasantly. Everyone praised his thick, light golden hair that floated like daffodils in the field. But that wasn’t all. Marcel knew how to show what he had. He was kind to the servants, pressed his cheeks against his parents’ knees in turn, and being intelligent, quickly learned to read and write. —The duke and duchess often held outdoor reading sessions for children of similar age, just for their clever son— even young Timeo thought his brother was quite wonderful. He was like a sugar sculpture carefully crafted by a master artisan in the capital. Truly, among the noble children, no one could compare to Marcel.

If only he hadn’t been so damn spiteful…

Marcel, older by just one year, treated Timeo as an inseparable half when in a good mood, but when displeased, he would mock his younger brother in front of others or force him to stand in the hallway all day. He openly revealed Timeo’s mistakes during reading sessions, and at night, when Timeo had fallen asleep from exhaustion, Marcel would pluck his hair strand by strand to wake him. He repeatedly trampled on Timeo’s feet, pushed him from heights, and all the parental attention that should have gone to the second son because of the hereditary illness went entirely to Marcel.

Yes, hereditary illness.

All Volreban children inevitably suffered from it.

To explain this illness, one would have to detail the vile ways the Volrebans had preserved their bloodline. As a core family of the Comper royal house, the Volrebans were conservative and insular. They considered the dilution of their precious blood over generations more horrifying than war. They wanted the great “Volreban” to remain intact for the future.

Who in their right mind first thought of mixing blood with their own siblings…?

Yet, as this custom persisted for generations, there was little choice. They preferred having boys and girls born each generation and, if one gender dominated, would trace collateral lines to bring in Volreban blood. Timeo’s grandparents were cousins, and his parents were also, unfortunately, related.

“Timeo.”
“Hmm?”
“If you had been a girl, you probably would have married me.”
“No way…!”
“You fool. You’re a boy now. I don’t want to live as a husband with a deficient child like you either.”

Perhaps because of the unholy custom, Volreban women were particularly frail. Timeo’s mother’s health rapidly declined after giving birth to him, confining her to bed for long stretches. Marcel often locked Timeo in an empty room or closet, claiming their mother’s health worsened because of having given birth to someone like him. Even while Timeo was trapped, his mother’s body became frail as winter twigs. It was a disease—muscles slackening and eventually wasting away like kindling.

“Timeo, go hug Mother.”
“But she’s so weak… if I hug her, I might break her…”
“Is that all?”
“Huh?”
“She’s sick. Doesn’t she smell bad or scare you? If she closes her eyes while holding you, you’d become the first child to embrace a corpse…”
“That… that’s…”

Marcel, embracing Timeo gently, asked in a honeyed voice, as if whining to his younger brother. Timeo was about to say it didn’t matter because she was his mother when…

“…Louise! Did you hear that? Timeo says he’s too scared of Mother to hug her.”
“What? Even though he’s so young, how could he say that, Timeo! Our lady is so weak because of someone like you…”

Marcel’s accusations were endless, and eventually, young Timeo became exhausted. Such slanders and beatings became routine. Once, he resisted strongly, asking why his brother tormented him so. Marcel, with his usual innocent face, said, “When Mother conceived you, God gave me the mission to make you my toy, so it can’t be helped.” Horrified at such words coming from an eight-year-old, Timeo wanted to confirm the truth from his bedridden mother. But Louise, the lady’s maid who adored Marcel, wouldn’t let him in. Even until their mother’s last breath, she was kept away…

Then, in the summer of his ninth year, shortly after the mother’s funeral, a guest arrived at Marcel’s reading session. The only daughter of the strict and obsessive Marquis Menez, Phyllis Menez, whom the marquis had kept hidden in Banuole because he valued her so highly, appeared in Brjul.

That year, the latest trend between Marcel and Timeo was dog play. When the large white dog the duke had gifted for his sons bit Marcel, he ordered the dog removed. It wasn’t only Marcel’s dog, but Timeo’s opinion didn’t matter. The dog was quickly replaced. With something soft, white, and delicate, like the dog.

Timeo, having received the dog’s collar as a gift, crawled through the summer underbrush on hands and knees under Marcel’s orders. His knees turned red from the shorts. The servants, initially shocked by Marcel’s excessive pranks, were persuaded that it was just their private game and turned a blind eye. Timeo followed every command—putting his hands out when told, burying his head in the dirt as if smelling tree roots, rolling through the underbrush.

Phyllis Menez’s visit to the Volreban estate had been unplanned. While Timeo rolled through the underbrush, sweating like a dog, Marcel greeted Phyllis with his usual neat and polished composure. Instead of responding to Marcel politely, Phyllis locked eyes with Timeo, leaning against a tree and panting, showing no intent to hide the leash.

“What’s that?”

Calling a person “that”—she must be of the same type as Marcel.

“Not a pretty sight, huh? Embarrassing, but that’s my brother.”
“You look like each other, so I can tell he’s your brother. But I mean… why does he look like that?”
“Our pet dog was disposed of recently.”
“Are you saying your brother is its replacement?”

A faint embarrassment rose on Phyllis’s face as she looked down at Timeo. But that was all. Timeo didn’t want to show his condition and turned his head.

Soon, Phyllis pulled Timeo’s leash. Timeo had never been so close to a girl, so he kept his head turned. After removing the leash completely, Phyllis tossed it aside. She couldn’t throw it far, but it was enough to embarrass both brothers for different reasons.

“If you don’t resist hard, you’ll have to keep living as a dog… Do you like the food your brother gives you?”

Only then did Timeo raise his head to look at Phyllis. The sunlight behind her made her expression hard to see.

The Menez daughter, still wearing long sleeves despite a radiant early summer, claimed a singular presence, as she said she had a mild rash from measles. Watching the children at the reading session, she muttered casually to her nervous father, “It’s nothing, I’ll play alone.” Despite her calm face, Phyllis was very sociable. The marquis owned the historic Honore Theater, and Phyllis showed the children the program pamphlets without hesitation, earning their favor. Marcel, the pride of the reading session, sat as aloof as possible, back to her. But Timeo, knowing his brother well, noticed Marcel seemed eager to peek at the pamphlet.

“Do you want to see it too?”

When Phyllis offered the pamphlet to Timeo, he almost fainted. Thanks to Marcel branding him as a runt, the other children rarely spoke to Timeo. Being a Volreban son, they couldn’t ignore him entirely, so he was always subtly excluded. And yet, Phyllis offered the pamphlet to him first, not Marcel.

“Thanks, but Timeo can’t really read or write yet.”
“Really? But he’s part of the reading session too.”
“It’s my duty to guide Timeo. I brought him along so he could at least experience the atmosphere.”
“Oh, really?”

Timeo’s face instantly flushed. Phyllis thought for a moment, then grabbed his shoulder, which burned as if on fire.

“Timeo Volreban, you really can’t read? You’re only a year younger than us.”
“Only a year? There’s a gap of four seasons between me and you, Lady Menez.”
“If you’re still a foolish boy who can’t read at nine, I’ll never talk to you again.”
“Did you hear that, Timeo? Lady Menez says you’re a fool.”
“…Re.”
“What?”
“Honore Theater’s summer premiere… Ladies and gentlemen, you are invited…”

Even the children, focused on the lace-adorned pamphlets, looked up at Timeo. His voice, as pleasant as Marcel’s, carried clearly. Even the branches seemed to still as he read each sentence.

“You read well. I take back calling you a fool, Timeo.”
“Really?”

Marcel glared at him, so Timeo quickly tried to calm down. Phyllis, apparently uninterested in the Volreban brothers, had long gone back to the other children to ask about trimming the lace on the pamphlet.

“Timeo.”
“…Hmm?”
“Don’t get excited. You’ll look like an idiot.”

In truth, Timeo had been able to read and write around the same age as Marcel. He had secretly practiced reading alone in an empty room. He just didn’t understand Marcel’s constant insults calling him an idiot and planned to ask the nanny someday. From that day on, he liked Phyllis Menez. Unlike the other children, she paid little attention to Marcel. She knew a lot about theater and opera, and her gentle voice describing Banuole to children from inland was endearing. Marcel and Timeo’s blonde hair shone dazzlingly under the sun, but Phyllis’s black hair was the most striking color in all of Brjul.

“Our precious little suns… Lady Menez will be staying in Brjul for about half a month starting tomorrow.”
“Phyllis Menez?”

Marcel, irritably closing his book, gave the nanny a crooked look.

“Yes, she’s mature beyond her age.”
“I don’t like her, nanny. She’s got an oddly arrogant way of speaking.”
“Well… she’s the only daughter of Marquis Menez. Even his servants in Menez Castle rarely see her.”
“Does that make sense?”
“I don’t know their circumstances. Anyway… Our staff will treat Lady Menez with utmost care. Will you two young masters show her around the Volreban estate?”

Timeo nodded brightly. Marcel, leaning by the window, threw aside the book as soon as the nanny left. While Timeo clutched the back of his head in pain, Marcel’s foot was already in front of him.

“Do you like her?”
“Her?”
“You must be too dazed from hitting your head. Phyllis Menez, the black goat.”
“L-Lady Menez doesn’t look like a goat…”
“How would you know? You’ve never even seen a goat.”

Still, Marcel… Timeo just shut his mouth and glared at his brother’s foot. Marcel kept smirking, tapping Timeo’s knee with his toes, and began insulting Phyllis. Noble children in Comper were raised like livestock in hallways; she couldn’t possibly have never stepped outside Banuole, so maybe she isn’t even Marquis Menez’s daughter. Timeo wanted to retort but couldn’t speak as fluently as Marcel. And Marcel’s insults were exhausting to hear. Timeo just wanted to rest his eyes.

“But Timeo. If you truly like her, I’ll take her for myself.”
“What…?”
“Understand?”