The Affairs of Those Noble Brothers Chapter 1

He’d failed again.

Irodel let out a deep sigh in front of the passers’ notice board. This time, he’d truly been perfect. He hadn’t shown the sensitivity that always got him called out, and he’d made a conscious effort to hide his fondness for poisonous herbs. He’d thrown himself into playing the bright, passionate student of the herbal medicine faculty—so why had he failed? Of course, he’d ignored the interviewer’s repeated request to state his name right up to the end, but that was a truly trivial issue.

“Irodel, did you make it?”

A dim-witted classmate of his came up and spoke as if they were close. Irodel ignored him coldly. Normally, he might have at least answered, but that bastard had passed today.

“Don’t be too discouraged. You’ve still got one more chance before graduation, right?”

He’s probably sneering at me on the inside while saying that. I’m already sick of counting how many times I’ve failed. Even in the reserve medical corps, where they say just about anyone gets in if they submit the paperwork, it was clear he was an unwanted presence.

The pass/fail announcement should be for the people who passed. His temper made him want to kick the notice board down, but he held back. Today, making a scene wouldn’t do him any good.

“Thanks.”

He desperately managed his expression. Even a single frown would become gossip. Instead of kicking the board, he hurried up to the library and locked the door behind him. Everyone else was crowded around the notice board, so there was no one inside. There might be students who came to the library later, but who cared. Let it all fall apart.

Irodel’s eyes flashed like a madman’s, and he roughly shut books that someone had left open while reading. He swapped a bag draped over a chair with another, and turned over chairs that had no bags on them. Even that didn’t quell his anger, so he stomped around huffing and puffing until he wore himself out and collapsed onto the floor with a thud.

Damn world. He wasn’t asking for much. Anywhere would be fine as long as it wasn’t that suffocating family home, but there was nowhere that actually needed him. The reason was clear. It was because he was Irodel Lockperth. Because he was the second son of House Lockperth, and a beta.

In a damn world, there are damn families too. He didn’t care how highly they valued bloodlines, but the Lockperth family was famous for consistently producing only alphas. He was the sole beta. It was obvious that one of his parents had experienced some unusual and thrilling deviation, or that something had happened. Honestly, that would have been better. If he were a bastard, he’d have a legitimate reason to strike out on his own. But Irodel, whether you looked forward or backward, inside and out, was undeniably a blood relative of House Lockperth.

Die. You bastards. All of you, just die. As Irodel curled up tightly, muttering curses directed at who-knew-whom, a shadow loomed over him.

“What’s up?”

Irodel rolled only his eyes to check who it was, then dropped his head back onto his knees. Black hair and blue eyes, the hallmarks of House Lockperth. He knew they’d been born on the same day and time and that they looked somewhat alike, but nonetheless, Tibane Lockperth—a person whose very existence made his brain refuse to acknowledge their sibling relationship. Across past, present, and future, this was the face he least wanted to see.

“If you’re done throwing your tantrum, can we go? I’m busy today.”

“Get lost.”

“It’s not like this is your first or second time failing, so why are you having another hysterical fit? No one expected you to pass anyway.”

Where the hell did this bastard even come in from? Irodel’s gaze, darting around, caught sight of an open window. The library was on the third floor, and he’d climbed up the outer wall. Disgusting, spider-like bastard. Irodel dodged Tibane’s reaching hand and sprang to his feet. With him around, he couldn’t even wallow in self-pity in peace. So where should he go? It wasn’t even a question worth pondering. He just had to go somewhere Tibane wasn’t.

“Hey, where are you going now!”

As Irodel strode off without a word, Tibane hurriedly grabbed him by the shoulder. A sharp smack echoed clearly through the library. Tibane, who had unexpectedly received a slap on the hand from Irodel, felt his temper flare and clenched his fist.

“That’s it.”

“What, going to hit me? That’s the only thing you know how to do, isn’t it. You uncivilized bastard.”

For the first time, Irodel met Tibane’s gaze. His eyes said, Try it if you dare. They fought whenever they laid eyes on each other, but today was the day their mother and older brother were coming. If they found out they’d been fighting, it was obvious neither of them would let it slide quietly.

Tibane wore an expression that said he was genuinely itching for a fight, but even so, he kept glancing at his watch. He was probably telling the truth about being busy. Unlike himself, wasting time at an academy that didn’t appreciate him, Tibane was already a working man who’d secured a position in the military. So instead of wasting time here, he should go off and beat up some savages, like the savage he was. A savage catching savages—what a joke of a world.

“Knocking you out with one punch is nothing. I don’t have time to mess around, so just come quietly.”

In the end, instead of using the fist he’d so carefully clenched, Tibane chose threats. Either way, it was barbaric. This was apparently what happened when you tried to teach words to a savage.

∞ ∞ ∞

Tibane, who had been frowning the entire time even in the car, shoved Irodel into his room as soon as they arrived at the massive mansion.

“Just stay put in the house. Well, your beloved older brother is coming today, so you’ll probably behave anyway.”

“Get lost, get out of my room.”

“Even if you begged me to come in, I wouldn’t.”

The door slammed shut, and silence descended. Along with it came suffocation. It was a large room with an attached bathroom and sitting area, but to Irodel, it was no different from a prison. Even as a half-wit who couldn’t even get into the medical corps, there were people at the academy who acknowledged his skills. But once he stepped into this prison-like mansion, no one gave him any regard. The flaw in the family. The deficient second son. The unfortunate older brother who had everything taken by his twin younger sibling… though that was probably just his own assessment.

Perhaps it would have been better if Tibane had been the beta. Even if he was the youngest by only a few minutes, the sense of responsibility and duty would have been different. Of course, there was also the option of himself being born the youngest, but he didn’t want that. The very idea of having to treat a bastard like Tibane as his older brother was preposterous. That brat should be the youngest. And he should have been born a beta. If that had been the case, maybe he could have found him just a little bit endearing.

Irodel had always dreamed of becoming an alpha. A dream of being born an alpha, receiving the same education in royalty as everyone else, enlisting in the military, receiving a title, and then, when the time came, choosing a territory, taking a beautiful wife, and living sweetly together, just the two of them. Perhaps the fact that the ending was a bit more romantic than most ambitious alphas’ dreams was a limitation of being a beta, but either way, Irodel’s dream was both grand and modest.

“Lord Irodel. Dinner is ready.”

Irodel, who had been lying face down, lost all motivation and wallowing in fantasies, stirred and slowly lifted himself up. He knew it was impossible. As a child, he’d had quite sincere hopes, but in the end, the only thing left was his physician’s harsh verdict: he had been a beta for over twenty-three years and would remain a beta. So these days, he had started to dream a slightly different dream.

Irodel washed his face roughly in the bathroom and changed into neat clothes. Though his insides were rotting away, a sharp and polished appearance was essential for negotiations.

“Where are my brother and mother?”

“Both have arrived and are waiting.”

He followed the expressionless servant to the dining room. All the people in this household wore faces like that. The servants especially were all dressed identically, so sometimes he couldn’t even tell who was who. The only one who showed any semblance of expression was Tibane, but since Tibane was a person Irodel would rather not have around, it was more accurate to say he didn’t care whether he had expressions or not.

Irodel entered the dining room, which was reminiscent of a banquet hall. The two people who had been eating, with food laid out along the long table, looked up. Ironically, they were the people Irodel found most uncomfortable in the world yet felt the most intimate with: his mother, Herod, and his older brother, Logan.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry.”

Herod, seated at the head of the table, raised her hand, gesturing for him to sit. Irodel bowed his head and sat down next to Logan. A fresh fish steak topped with white sauce was served, and Irodel picked up his fork and knife as well.