The Affairs of Those Noble Brothers Chapter 9

No. It wasn’t just this bastard who was an alpha. All of his family were alphas, so why was he the only beta? He’d joked about Tibane being picked up or whatever, but actually, maybe he was the cuckoo’s chick. He was always anxious and afraid. On days when his family didn’t come home, he was gripped by the terror that he might have been abandoned.

But Tibane didn’t have the same worries. What worries? He charged down the path Irodel had yearned for like a runaway train. Irodel hated him. Envied him. Wanted to wound him. And when he did, and saw Tibane genuinely hurt, he felt good. It made him feel superior. But that feeling was brief, and in the end, all that remained was a bitter, miserable residue.

“And you? Have you ever tried to understand me? Of course not. What would a savage like you know!”

“When have you ever given me a chance to! You always push me away!”

“I push you away because you deserve to be pushed away! Stop bothering me! Just leave each other alone like we always have!”

“Why should you and I be strangers!”

“You’re worse than a stranger, you rapist!”

“You…!”

Yes, just hit me. Instead of my cheek swelling, Tibane gets invisible scratches. That’s all it takes. He and Tibane were suited for this. No need to spout silly talk about understanding each other. But instead of striking his cheek as he always did, Tibane shoved Irodel onto the bed. The bed, receiving the two of them as they fell roughly, let out a scream.

“Please… stop calling me a rapist. Every time you do, I feel like I’m really going to lose my mind. Huh? If that’s what you really want.”

You’re already a splendid madman. Irodel was about to snap that back, but he closed his mouth. Those blue eyes glaring fiercely at him swirled with an indescribable emotion. Tibane clenched and unclenched his hands, as if trying to suppress his anger. Those hands, with thick veins standing out prominently, trembled with something—whether rage or something else, it was unclear.

“You… looked at me like I was some filthy scum. My other half, who should understand me the most, looked at me like I was nothing but a rutting dog, not even human. Do you have any idea how miserable that felt?”

Had Tibane felt miserable back then? He wasn’t sure. The young Irodel had only been able to focus on reeling from the shock of witnessing the beastly intercourse between his detestable twin brother Tibane and his beloved tutor.

“It’s only you. Only in front of you do I become a rutting dog, a filthy beast. So, I’m starting to think maybe that’s fine. Now do you understand!”

He understood. So it meant that when he was in front of Irodel, he became a beast and wanted to hit him. If it was a fault to look at something sordid as sordid, then maybe it was. It still wasn’t within the realm of understanding, but at least he understood the causal relationship.

He’d called him a beast internally, but he never imagined he’d actually become like a dog. If he wanted to hit him, he was willing to take it. Just like always, get hit, and wound him back. That was all it was.

“…”

Irodel met Tibane’s threatening glare with a resolute look. That expression that said “try it if you dare” made Tibane’s face shift from anger to suspicion, from suspicion to frustration, and frustration back to anger.

What’s wrong with him, acting all alone like that? Irodel, thinking he’d seen it all by now, furrowed his brow. Then Tibane’s face contorted as well. It was then that a shout came down like a bolt of lightning.

“You, you idiot!”

“What!”

“You damned beta who doesn’t even know pheromones!”

“What are you talking about!”

Irodel, who could curse others but wouldn’t tolerate being cursed at, sprang up, and Tibane, as if glad, grabbed him by the collar. Irodel braced himself, expecting a fist to strike his face, and closed his eyes. But what came wasn’t a stone-like fist—it was something lukewarm and soft… lips.

“Ugh!”

Startled, Irodel’s eyes flew open and he pulled back, but Tibane wrapped his arms around his waist and pried his lips apart with his tongue. However, it was blocked by tightly clenched teeth, and instead, he lightly sucked on Irodel’s upper lip. A chilling sensation, like being electrocuted, ran down his spine. It wasn’t pleasure—it was fear. The kind of fear one feels when facing something unknown. It had to be. Irodel raised his stiff, creaking arm. And he grabbed the head of hair attached to the lips clinging to his own.

“Ow! There you go with the hair again!”

“You! You! My mouth!”

“Exactly! I told you! That I’d want to do this!”

This? What was this? Mouths met, and a tongue sucked on his lip. And if tongues intertwined, that would be a perfect kiss. A kiss? A kiss? That’s my, my brother, ki—

Just then, in Irodel’s dizzying vision, the brown glass bottle he’d placed on the nightstand caught his eye. Orbon’s poison, whose contents were unknown. Orbon. That’s right. He’d kissed Orbon too. A penalty in some crude game. That despicable savage bastard. Not content with hitting him with his fists, now he was trying to hit him with his mouth too. Yes, that had to be it.

“Get away from me!”

“What, now do you understand what kind of bomb you were touching?”

“Since I understand, get away!”

Only rough breathing echoed in the bedroom, voices gone. Irodel, who had been sprawled on the bed as if dazed, suddenly sprang up and grabbed the annex door. But Tibane was faster, and the two wrestled pointlessly in front of the door, tumbling outside as one tangled mass. In that brief moment, Tibane had pulled Irodel into his arms and rolled, then hurriedly got up.

“Hey, are you okay!?”

“It hurts…”

“Where!”

“My forehead…”

Indeed, whether he’d hit something or not, Irodel’s forehead was red. With fair skin, the swelling rate was also remarkable. Seeing Tibane’s flustered expression, Irodel raised his hand and touched his own forehead. A sharp, tingling pain spread. That spot was protruding—the texture was strange.

“What’s this?”

“A bump… you’ve got one. Want me to get an egg or something?”

An egg, he says. Irodel, experiencing a bump on his head in real time for the first time in his life, his eyes flashed. His hand grabbed an herb basket that had been rolling around nearby.

“Get lost! It’s all your fault!”

“What? Hey… don’t! You’ll fall again!”

“Shut up and disappear from my sight right now! You sav— you savage bastard!”

Tibane dodged as Irodel swung the herb basket around like a madman. Irodel threw the basket one last time, quickly slipped back into the annex, and locked the door. Not satisfied with that, he locked all the windows too, went into the bedroom, and hid under the covers.

What a relief. He didn’t know what it was, but it was a thousand times a relief.

Irodel clutched his pounding heart and trembled under the covers until the moon rose and dawn came.

∞ ∞ ∞

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

A machine moved with a steady rhythm. It was an herb-grinding machine. Since it wasn’t something available at the academy, he’d fumbled a bit at first, but once he got the hang of it, it was extremely convenient. If there was one thing good about being born a noble, it was being able to enjoy such new inventions. Even now, apparently, there were people outside the city who still rode horses or camels, but he’d never seen it, so he wasn’t sure if it was true.

After a moment, the machine stopped and a bowl of herbs was presented. Irodel carefully applied the finely ground herbs to his forehead and wrapped it in gauze. After finishing the treatment, the mirror reflected a seriously wounded man with a bandaged head, wearing a sullen expression.

That bastard Tibane had finally done it. Not content with raising his hand to his older brother, he’d even inflicted such a serious injury. It didn’t seem like it would settle down overnight, and in this state, he couldn’t freely walk around the house today, let alone go to the academy.

“Uncivilized savage bastard.”

As he muttered the same curse for who-knows-how-many-th time, there came a knock at the annex door. Irodel sprang up from his seat as if burned.

“Wh-Who is it!”

“Lord Irodel, I’ve brought your lunch.”