Chapter 39
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Northguard's Grapefruit Tart
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The reception room of the Northguard Grand Duke's manor was bustling with guests.
Under the glittering chandelier, the suffocating scent of perfume mingled with laughter.
'So noisy...'
Gathered under the pretext of celebrating Kairun's impending enrollment at the academy were nobles from prominent families in the territory and heads of merchant guilds, swarming like hyenas.
Yet, it was orderly to the point of annoyance.
No one shoved or raised their voices.
They waited their turn according to an invisible hierarchy based on their family's prestige and influence.
Like well-trained beasts queuing up before their prey.
'Am I used to it? This greed, this flattery.'
That very orderliness turned his stomach.
It was revolting how they wrapped even primal greed in the veneer of etiquette with such practiced ease—like ingrained hypocrisy etched into their bones.
"Young master, my second son Lucas will be enrolling at the academy this time as well. It's nothing compared to you entering three years early as top of the class, but please take good care of him."
A baron with a bulging belly bowed obsequiously.
"This is a rare sword procured from the East. I thought it would suit the youngest swordmaster, so I brought it for you."
The guildmaster proffered a sword wrapped in silk, pouring out compliments.
Kairun rested his chin on his hand, looking down at them.
'No, I haven't even enrolled yet—what swordmaster?'
He swallowed his irritation inwardly.
'Disgusting... How can brother smile at scum like them?'
His stomach churned.
Their faces weren't unfamiliar.
Just a few years ago, when his brother Karl had enrolled at the academy as top of the class, these same people had clung to him, singing praises of the "Sun of Northguard."
But the moment Karl injured his leg and fell out of favor with their father, they turned to Kairun without a backward glance.
'It was only days ago that brother got an earful from Father... Have they already sniffed out the opportunity?'
It was laughable how they fawned over him as the "next Grand Duke."
If Kairun ended up like Karl, they'd abandon him just as quickly for someone new.
'I want to yell at them to get out right now...'
Kairun stopped tapping the table and took a breath.
'What would brother say? That in politics, suspecting your opponents comes first?'
What would Karl do?
He imagined it.
'No, even hypocrisy has its virtues... Even if their loyalty is fake, knowing how to use it makes a true lord—maybe that's what he'd say.'
Advice Karl might have given echoed in his mind.
'Teacher would say a true lord turns even such vulgar fools into people worth using. That purging them isn't always the answer. That it's a limitation.'
He recalled his teacher's lessons—the Eisen Baron.
Both voices flashed through his mind, but Kairun couldn't be sure.
Whether that was the right path or just an excuse to endure it.
'Fine. I'll hold back for now. Being an adult might mean... swallowing even this revulsion and knowing how to handle it.'
Kairun sheathed the sharp blade honed in his heart.
A gentle smile curved his lips.
"Thank you. I won't forget your sentiments."
"Oh! What an honor, young master!"
The nobles bowed their heads in.
His smile was always the same—lips raised to the exact same height for everyone, lowered at the same pace.
But as the tedious audience dragged on, even Kairun's patience was reaching its limit.
He fiddled with his teacup, clenching and unclenching his hand.
'My hand's itching.'
He wanted to swing a sword right then and there.
Before, sparring with Sesk—his swordmaster and guard—had been enough.
Sesk was strong, the goal he aspired to.
But everything changed after encountering "that man" on the borderlands.
Barg.
The overwhelming figure who saved him from being run over by a carriage, moving without hesitation.
A being who far surpassed the limits Sesk had shown.
'Too high... That's why...'
A ceiling perhaps too lofty to reach.
'I want to touch it.'
Ever since witnessing that strength, an unquenchable flame had burned in Kairun's chest.
Wasting time on this phony chatter was driving him mad.
Creeeak.
Then, the reception room door opened.
"......!"
The room fell silent in an instant.
A woman entered, the hem of her elegant dress trailing gracefully.
The Grand Duchess of Northguard—and Kairun's own mother—Karla von Northguard.
At the Grand Duchess's appearance, the nobles rose as one and bowed their heads.
"We pay our respects to Your Grace, the Grand Duchess."
Karla returned their greeting with a warm smile before heading straight to her son.
Tak.
She lightly tapped Kairun's table, then gently placed her hand over his restless one.
"Kairun. Mind your manners in front of guests."
"Ah... Mother."
Kairun flinched and straightened his posture.
Karla signaled to the maids.
Soon, a dessert on a silver tray was set before Kairun.
A plump grapefruit tart with a reddish hue.
"It's your favorite since you were little. Have some to ease your tension."
"Thank you."
Kairun picked up his fork.
Grapefruit tart.
The nostalgic snack his mother had made herself whenever he cried from their father's harsh training in his childhood.
Kairun absentmindedly gazed at his mother's hand as she set down the plate.
"......"
Her fair, porcelain-like skin.
But unlike that, red burn scars marred every joint of her fingers.
They were scars now, no longer stinging.
'Mother...'
Kairun's heart ached.
In the past, she'd summoned a patissier from Eisenguard to learn for him and Karl alone, burning her hands in the process.
Even today, she'd stood by the oven just like back then.
Her rough, devoted love stood in stark contrast to the nobles' empty words.
The warmth seeping through those scarred fingers melted Kairun's prickly heart like snow in spring.
He took a bite of the tart.
Crunch.
Sweetness flooded his mouth.
The super-sweet version loaded with condensed milk and honey.
The exact taste from his childhood.
'Delicious.'
He glanced around suddenly.
There were the hyena-like nobles after profit, but true allies stood by his side.
His brother Karl, wise above all despite his frail body, who cherished even his half-brother.
His kind mother, who treated her own son and her predecessor's child as equals.
His loyal teacher, the Eisen Baron, and his guard Sesk.
And... the Wintersword couple, who—in their brief encounter—gave profound inspiration and saved him selflessly.
'Right. With people like this around, I don't need to worry about those treacherous flatterers.'
Even if Father was harsh to Karl now and the family frozen cold.
With these warm souls nearby, he believed Father would return to his gentle old self someday.
Kairun munched on the tart, recalling the restaurant incident.
'......'
When seated, he'd been eye-level with Mrs. Kara.
'But when she stood... I was way shorter.'
He'd shelved those feelings, but his male pride still stung.
At the academy, everyone would be near-adult age.
Enrolling three years early, he'd be even smaller than most.
'I want to grow up fast. Body and mind.'
Kairun looked at the remaining tart and asked,
"Mother. Did you give some to brother too?"
"Of course. Karl tasted it first."
"Then... I want to try what brother had."
"Hm?"
"I'm sick of the sweet one now. It feels childish. Give me the bitter one brother had."
A boy's petulant bid to act grown-up.
Karla burst into laughter.
"Oh, my young master has grown up, has he?"
She pinched his cheek—not hard enough to hurt—with a playful tone.
"Ow...!"
Kairun ducked his head, avoiding his mother's expression and the guests' gazes.
She'd pinched gently, yet his cheeks burned.
Karla continued in a slightly husky voice,
"Enrolling three years early—I'm proud, but it feels like you're leaving the nest already. Don't rush to grow up."
"Ah, Mother! People are watching!"
"And regrettably, the bitter ones are all gone—your brother ate them. I'll make more next time."
"......Understood."
Kairun felt embarrassed by the affection yet disappointed at missing the "adult" taste.
Then.
"Young master, a letter has arrived."
The butler brought a single envelope on a silver tray.
"Ah, right. It's from the Eisen Baron—he sent one for you."
"From Teacher?"
Kairun took the letter.
The envelope bore the Eisen family crest and his familiar teacher's handwriting.
'A congratulatory note for enrollment?'
Brimming with anticipation, Kairun tore it open.
But the contents were unexpected.
No flowery speeches or greetings.
Instead, pointed scoldings and advice for his soon-to-be academy student.
『Have you sufficiently mastered etiquette?』
『Swordsmanship under Sir Sesk eases my worries, but...』
『In politics, the sword is but a symbol—its only cry to rouse the crowd is the clang against the floor.』
And so on...
'Same as ever. Not a speck of flattery.'
He grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips.
Midway through, news that Barg and Kara were faring well with his retainers—and polite thanks for the clothes he'd paid for at the border—lifted his spirits.
No pandering words; it felt genuine.
Then.
His eyes halted at an uncharacteristically added P.S. at the end.
'Teacher with a P.S.? That's new.'
『Share your borderland experiences with your brother, Grand Prince Karl, to dispel misunderstandings about your new northern ally. That is a younger brother's duty in aiding the next Grand Duke.』
And the following line.
『A brother's time is not eternal. When he is near, share one more conversation laced with a touch of silence; when near, check his heart. That takes more courage than gripping a sword.』
"......!"
Kairun's hand froze.
'A brother's time...'
He recalled avoiding Karl lately—minding his sullen mood after Father's confrontation and using academy prep as an excuse.
'Teacher... knew all along.'
Even from afar, he'd pierced Kairun's deepest pain and the sibling rift he'd ignored.
As expected of his teacher.
And somehow, behind those words, he sensed another gaze.
Kairun shot to his feet.
"Mother, please dismiss the guests. I don't think I can greet them personally."
"Hm? Where are you off to?"
Karla asked, surprised.
Kairun tucked the letter carefully into his breast pocket, his expression resolute.
"To see brother. I have something to say."
"Now?"
"Yes. Right now."
No more delays.
Time to muster courage.
Kairun left the reception room without looking back.
Heading to the annex, to brother Karl's room.
Throb.
As he turned, sharp pain lanced through his knee joint.
'Acting up lately...'
But Kairun didn't furrow his brow.
He didn't falter or limp.
He simply straightened his back and strode on firmly.
Karla silently watched her son's receding, proud figure.
'When did he grow so tall?'
His shoulders had broadened.
His eye level had risen.
She was proud.
Her son, talented enough to enter the academy three years early.
Yet a corner of her heart tightened.
'I'm worried...'
Was it his departing back?
Karla's gaze wavered.
'Did Karl... eat all the tart?'