The Affairs of Those Noble Brothers Chapter 11

I think I had dozed off for a moment. I was dimly awakened by a gentle hand brushing through my hair. A firm, cool hand was peeling off the bandages on my head. Had Tibane come back? He must have been planning to sneak a look at the bump on my forehead while I was asleep. That wicked, devious bastard.

“You… where did you go, and you’re just coming back now?”

My words came out slurred because I was still half-asleep. Irodel rubbed his eyes and rolled over. Then he stopped breathing. The person quietly looking down at him was not Tibane, but Logan.

“Brother…?”

Logan had just come in, it seemed, still in his formal uniform adorned with a splendid golden insignia. It was as if cold water had been thrown over him—Irodel came wide awake in an instant. He hurriedly sat up and straightened his rumpled clothes.

“Oh, when did you get here?”

He hadn’t said anything about coming. Most of the family always gave notice before coming home. It was rare for someone to show up suddenly like Shebon did yesterday. Logan looked down at him without a word. Darkness settled around them, so his expression was hard to make out. Irodel glanced around uneasily, then fidgeted with his clothes again and brushed back his hair. As he did, the medicinal herb that had been stuck to his forehead fell onto his lap with a soft thud. Irodel jumped as if he’d been hit by a spark.

“Ah, this is, well, I got, I got a bump on my forehead, so.”

“Irodel.”

At the calm call of his name, Irodel held his breath. Quiet, yet heavy pressure pressed down on him. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d been letting his guard down these past few days. Acting this flustered wasn’t like him. He was supposed to act as if he weren’t in pain even when hurt, as if he weren’t startled even when surprised. And on top of that, he’d been roaming around the house in pajamas and walking around with a bump on his forehead—even he thought he’d been doing ridiculous things. It was all Tibane’s fault.

“You’ve… come back, then.”

“Yes.”

He barely managed to calm himself and greet him, and a gentle reply came back. Irodel let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

“How’s your injury? Should I call the physician?”

“I’m fine. It’s gotten a lot better.”

He hadn’t actually checked, but that’s what he said. The physician made him uncomfortable. He acted as if it were his mission to examine both the outside and inside of Irodel. And the results of those examinations were compiled into thick documents and reported to Logan. He’d barely managed to hide his impotence, but there was no telling when that might be discovered too. Naturally, he wanted to avoid him unless there was a particular reason.

Logan brushed Irodel’s bangs aside. A cool, unidentifiable fragrance swept over him. They say that alphas and omegas commonly have pheromones, though they can’t be seen with the eyes or felt—but with Logan, it truly seemed to exist. Irodel relaxed his shoulders and slowly closed his eyes. The hand stroking his head felt pleasant.

“I heard you had lunch. What about dinner?”

“Not yet. Will you stay and eat?”

Irodel asked with wide, sparkling eyes, and Logan gave a faint smile. He could already guess what answer was coming.

“I can’t. I just came by for a bit.”

“Right….”

Of course. The Emperor rules the world, but it’s the nobles who build it. As the eldest son of the Grand Ducal house, the foremost among them, he couldn’t just drop by home to eat at all hours.

But that didn’t mean the second son could wake up at noon, eat, laze around in the study, and then have dinner either—absolutely not. If he had been born an alpha too, he would probably be devoting himself to developing cutting-edge weapons like Logan, or racking his brains over ways to locate the barbarians’ strongholds like Tibane. At the very least, if only he had been born with a good head. Every time he confirmed his own position—good for neither this nor that—he felt as if something invisible was pressing down on his shoulders.

“Today’s difficult, but let’s have lunch together tomorrow. I took a day off for the first time in a while.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Irodel, who had been swaying somewhere between gloom and resignation, suddenly snapped his head up. Having lunch together—not dinner—was a rare occurrence that might or might not happen once a year. Logan stroked the hair of Irodel, who was beaming broadly, and caressed his ear. His gaze lingered on the ear in a strangely deep way. A brief, tender moment passed, and then Logan’s subordinate approached from behind and whispered.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s almost time.”

“…”

Logan’s hand stopped moving and slowly withdrew. At any other time, he would have been disappointed, but now he was simply happy. The word “tomorrow” was on a completely different level from vague promises like “next time” or “later.” There was no need to feel regret—he just had to sleep one night and Logan would come. Irodel rose from his seat and trotted along behind Logan.

“I’ll see you out. Oh, my hat.”

Since it was evening, the bump on his forehead probably wouldn’t be very noticeable, but just in case. Irodel hurried back, grabbed the hat he’d left on the sofa, and pulled it on. Logan, who had stopped at the doorway and was waiting, quietly looked down at Irodel as he approached. No—not just Logan, but even the subordinates standing behind him were looking at him cautiously.

“…”

What is it. Did I make another mistake? As Irodel stiffened, glancing around nervously, Logan’s hand reached toward the top of his head. In his hand was a single leaf. The kind commonly seen in the garden.

“An ornament I’ve never seen before.”

Logan smiled with an unusually playful expression. Irodel laughed awkwardly too. Not a child, but a pathetic wretch. Chasing after Logan as he turned away, Irodel swallowed a sigh without being caught.

When they came out into the corridor, servants were lined up densely, all bowing their heads. It was a scene you could only see when Mother Herot or Logan visited. Father thought all formalities were a waste of time, so he hated it when clueless servants stood around not doing any work. Conversely, his mother, the Emperor’s sister, was the type who couldn’t understand a lack of protocol, while his brother didn’t care what anyone did—though it was closer to the servants moving on their own accord. Well, he hadn’t told them not to, so perhaps it was only natural.

“Take care, brother.”

Irodel stood in the lobby where he had seen off Father Shebon and bid Logan farewell. His voice was cheerful. Logan, looking into those blue eyes that sparkled with more vitality than ever, touched Irodel’s cheek and seemed about to say something. He would have, if Tibane hadn’t suddenly opened the mansion door and walked in.

“What’s this?”

Tibane, confronted with a crowd of people seeing someone off the moment he entered, wrinkled his face. Irodel’s face wrinkled too. Even when he kept still he was an eyesore, and now in front of his brothers he had no manners at all.

“Brother’s leaving. Move aside.”

“Hmph! That’s all you have to say? Can’t you see I just got here?”

“So what? Move.”

Tibane bristled and glared at Irodel, then slowly stepped forward. But his destination wasn’t the side of the door—it was right in front of Logan. Logan’s eyes, which had been fixed on Irodel until that moment, shifted briefly toward Tibane.

“I see your rut isn’t over yet, but is it really alright for you to be walking around like this, Colonel? I don’t care whose life you ruin with those hands, but you shouldn’t be smearing semen-like pheromones all over and pawing at your little brother’s face.”

It seemed that bastard Tibane was a bit crazy today. Maybe he hurt his head when he rolled around yesterday? Irodel took off his hat, put it on the loose-tongued Tibane, and dragged him along. Caught off guard, Tibane was pulled along.

“Ah, hey!”

“I’m sorry, brother. The kid’s got a bit of a mouth on him… I’ll make sure to discipline him properly.”

“Discipline, what—do you even know what kind of bastard that guy is?”

Just, shut up for a bit. Irodel raised his hand and clamped it over Tibane’s mouth, which was about to keep rambling. He’d expected that due to the sheer difference in strength, he’d be shoved away or maybe even hit, but for some reason, Tibane fell quiet immediately. With one barbarian silenced, the lobby was plunged into silence.

“You, you must be busy, so go ahead. I’ll be waiting tomorrow.”

Logan’s gaze, which had been fixed on Irodel’s face, slowly drifted downward. Irodel hesitantly lowered his head to follow it. Tibane was docilely nestled in Irodel’s arms like a tranquilized beast.

“…”