The Affairs of Those Noble Brothers Chapter 4

Orbon smiled, his expression noticeably more relaxed. Irodel had expected as much, but it seemed he was indeed quite an uncomfortable presence for them. Feeling a little bitter, he drained his beer and looked for the drink pitcher, but Orbon brought it over and poured for him instead. After all, being served by others was definitely more comfortable.

“By the way, is your cheek okay?”

“Cheek? Ah…”

He’d been struck by the forepaw of a rabid beast. It hurt, but that was all. He thought he remembered it hurting the first time he was hit, but now he felt nothing at all.

“Does that happen often? Lieutenant Tibane hitting you…”

“Hitting me? Yeah, often. In the old days, I used to hit back, but now there’s a strength difference, so I just take it.”

Was it the alcohol’s effect? Words he normally wouldn’t utter slipped out easily. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a big deal. Nothing concerning Tibane was precious. He could just drag it all out, trample it to his heart’s content, and toss it away.

“But still, you’re twins. I hear twins have a connection and generally seem to get along well. Was there some reason you fell out?”

A reason. He’d thought about it briefly earlier, but he couldn’t remember exactly when or why they’d started fighting. Was it when he started setting traps in front of Tibane’s room? No, it must have been before that. He’d set the trap because Tibane had pushed him into a pond. Tibane had pushed him because he’d mixed poisonous herbs into his meal. If he kept tracing it back, more reasons would surface, but there was no end to it. His history with Tibane was nothing but conflict and contempt.

“I don’t remember. It’s pointless to think about it now anyway. And I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you’d fight like that if you really didn’t care…”

Orbon muttered, as if dissatisfied, and changed the subject.

“Speaking of which, have you started preparing your graduation thesis?”

Graduation thesis? He hadn’t even thought about it. Graduation was still far off, and more than anything, he’d only been looking forward to enlisting. For Irodel, whose bloodline was more formidable than academic background, graduation was a secondary concern as long as he could get into the military first.

“As expected, am I a bit early? When I ask around, it seems no one except me is doing it. Haha.”

“What’s it about?”

“Whether a beta can become an omega.”

He’d asked out of politeness, but the answer startled him so much that he sobered up instantly. He hadn’t pegged him as that type, but the guy was remarkably offbeat. It wasn’t a strange topic for a thesis, but it was certainly not something a herbal medicine major should be dealing with. When Irodel stared at him like he was crazy, Orbon gave a wry smile and shook his head.

“Don’t look at me like that. Actually, I got a proposal and was a little intrigued, so I started it, but… it ended up failing anyway.”

“Of course. If it were that easy, betas could become alphas too, right? Then no one would have to suffer.”

“Haha, right. But I did get one thing out of it.”

Orbon pulled a small brown glass bottle from his pocket. Was it poison? Irodel, who secretly harbored infinite affection for poisonous herbs, leaned in with sparkling eyes, and Orbon, startled, pulled back.

“Wait, this is dangerous.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s, um… ah, why did I even take this out.”

Orbon seemed to have had a bit to drink as well. Deeply self-reproaching, he tucked the glass bottle back into his pocket and pushed a beer toward Irodel, suggesting they just drink. Irodel clinked glasses with him halfheartedly, his eyes fixed on Orbon’s chest.

“Tell me what it is.”

“You know, sometimes… your way of speaking really is like a noble’s.”

That was only natural. Though he’d been born wrong, Irodel carried the blood of the noblest of nobles.

“He was like that too. Overbearing yet elegant, trying to manipulate people…”

“Who are you talking about?”

If it was “he,” it wasn’t himself, and he didn’t know anyone among his acquaintances who fit that description. Orbon didn’t answer, just drank his beer thirstily. It seemed the guy really was drunk, talking only to himself. His curiosity having faded a little, Irodel was pouring himself a fresh beer when Orbon muttered as if to himself.

“This is a poison that can bring down an alpha. If you get hurt because of this, I’d be done for. So… just pretend you don’t know.”

∞ ∞ ∞

As the pitchers emptied, the games became simpler and people’s pronunciation regressed to that of infants. Irodel didn’t participate, just watched the spectacle. Looking at the people chattering and messing around meaninglessly, his own thoughts faded away too. The feeling of relaxation was a little unpleasant, yet welcome. There were nobles who kept boisterous, noisy monkeys as pets because they found them cute, and at that moment, he could understand why.

The grandfather clock struck exactly twelve times. Midnight. It wasn’t that Irodel hadn’t thought about going home at all. Around ten, he’d briefly considered it, but after that, he’d simply washed away every thought with alcohol. In short, Irodel was drunk, and without even realizing it, he kept drinking.

“Stop.”

At some point, the surroundings had gone quiet. Everyone had drunk and played to their hearts’ content, so they’d probably gone home. What was so great about home that they were all forcing themselves to go back? True, he himself hadn’t been interested in commoners’ games, but once he actually enjoyed them, they weren’t bad. Their lodgings must be decent enough too, since they were returning. Honestly, he was a little envious.

For Irodel, home was always a place where he had to maintain his guard. Between his light-seeming but inscrutable father, his authoritarian mother, his warm but subtly walled-off brother, and his insufferable twin brother, there was nothing he could rely on. He had to think dozens of times before saying a single word, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the servants’ eyes, so not even a trivial secret was truly his own.

The only time he felt free was when he was confronting Tibane. In those moments, he could pour out all his negative emotions. Perhaps that was why they fought even more.

“Irodel, it’s time to go home.”

“I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

Because it’s more comfortable here. It was noisy, dirty, and cramped, but it was far more at ease. Irodel shook his head, saying he didn’t want to, and tipped his beer glass. Or rather, he tried to, but it was taken from him. Following the familiar-looking pale, firm hand up to its owner, he lifted his head to see Logan’s silhouette wavering in his blurry vision. Irodel blinked blankly.

“Brother?”

“Stop drinking. You’ll suffer tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not sure. Maybe you’ll find out when tomorrow comes.”

It really was Logan. As Irodel swayed and reached out, Logan firmly grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Even then, he couldn’t keep his balance and staggered, so Logan lifted him up as if carrying an infant. Of course, Irodel was no infant but a fully grown adult man, nothing but cringey, yet no one opened their mouth about it. Irodel, half-closed eyes, wrapped his arms around Logan’s neck.

“Why are you here?”

“To pick up my little brother who ran away from home. Prepare the carriage’s heating.”

“Yes, sir.”

One of Logan’s subordinates—what was his name again—he didn’t know the name, but it was someone he saw often, bowed politely and went outside. Irodel waved his arms as if to say take me too, and Logan caught them and placed them back around his own neck.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Why not?”

“Because when I go home, I’m alone…”

“I thought you said you wanted to live alone last time.”

“I want to live alone.”

Logan laughed softly. He probably thought Irodel was rambling because he was drunk. But it was the truth. When he went home, he was left alone. He had to bear the loneliness that could spring up at any time all by himself, and wrestle with his wounds alone while wearing a composed face. Instead of living abandoned in that vast place, he wanted to hide away in a small space where he could protect himself.

“I don’t want to go home…”

“Oh dear.”

When Irodel finally started to whimper, Logan seemed at a loss. He knew he shouldn’t do this, but once the tears started, he couldn’t stop them. Logan patted the sobbing Irodel, who was hiccupping, and then, seeming to think it wouldn’t do, gently proposed.

“Then shall we go to a hotel? You can sleep soundly, then wake up, enjoy the spa, and have breakfast. I’ll prepare all your favorite fruits.”

“I like cherries.”

“Alright.”

“I like mangoes too…”