For Rebecca's Honor
I must have looked utterly pathetic—so thoroughly swept up in someone else's love life that I had, for a fleeting moment, completely forgotten the nightmare of my own situation.
"Brother... are you in your right mind? No—have you actually lost it?!"
The pure, unfiltered, hundred-percent-proof insubordination—bordering on outright profanity—had already left my mouth before my rational mind scrambled to clean up the mess.
Sworn younger brother or not, the man in front of me was the master of this territory, the Grand Duke of the North who held the sovereign's right of life and death over every soul within it. And right now that man was steeped in a decade of erectile dysfunction, marital discord, and the crushing self-loathing of an unwanted one-night stand—so brittle that a single careless touch might shatter him completely.
"Huk... I-I'm sorry, Your Grace. No—Brother. I momentarily doubted my own ears and spoke out of turn..."
I bowed at a perfect ninety degrees on pure reflex, offering an immediate apology.
"I will take it that the ordeals you endured in the capital have left your body and mind so exhausted that a slip of the tongue escaped you. Please, I beg you—retract what you just said."
Yet Gareth, half-sunk into the sofa, showed not the slightest spark of anger. Instead he dragged both massive hands down his face and released a long, heavy sigh.
"No, Bale. You have every right to curse me. I know full well how grotesque and childish the words that just left my mouth truly were."
So the bastard knows?
The Grand Duke's hoarse voice filled the empty reception room with a crushing weight. Between the fingers covering his face, his red eyes trembled.
"...No matter how hard I tried to deceive myself, to cover my eyes and stop my ears... in the end I could no longer deny it."
"Pardon? Deny what, exactly?"
Gareth slowly lowered his hands and fixed me with unfocused eyes as he began to murmur.
"In my heart... a seed of suspicion toward my own blood brother, Gawain, has begun to sprout."
"...!!"
My eyes flew wide open.
Holy shit—finally!
At last this max-level pushover of a Northern Grand Duke was starting to face reality!!!!
But why the hell did that lead into an NTR confession just now? Ah, so it really was a slip of the tongue. Fine—let's hear him out.
"The secret will my father-in-law left behind... and the curse-laced resentment Rebecca poured out on me today... Even though I lost my temper with her, defended my brother, and in doing so inflicted a wound on my wife's heart that can never be undone..."
Gareth's fists trembled violently atop his knees.
"...an equally irreversible hole has been torn open inside my own chest. And into that hole of suspicion, every kindness and every tender gesture Gawain ever showed me has begun to crawl back in, one by one, wearing entirely different faces."
He dredged up the past as though each memory cut him open.
"It was right after Veronica was born. Claiming the northern cold had damaged my body, Gawain began sending the finest tonics from the capital every single month, prepared with the utmost care. Moved by my little brother's devotion, I drank that bitter medicine without missing a single day."
I swallowed hard.
"And yet... from the moment I started taking those tonics, my function as a man began to wither away. At first I blamed simple fatigue. But not a single renowned physician in the capital could find the cause of my affliction. The only variable... was the medicine Gawain sent. Why has it taken me ten years to realize that?"
...Holy fucking shit. He was dosing him right out in the open?!
"And that is not all. Did he truly think I never knew that Gawain had secretly yearned for Rebecca back when she was still a young lady? On the day I married her, the look of resignation in his eyes..."
Bloodshot veins began to crawl across Gareth's red irises.
"And the decisive blow—the assassin who stabbed me in the back at the Wall a year ago. You remember him, don't you? The standard-bearer. That man was, in truth... a knight Gawain had once taken in from the slums, raised, and sponsored. Afterward they had no public contact, but..."
Crrrk—
The leather armrest of the sofa burst under the force of Gareth's grip.
"Haa... that I... that I would ever doubt my own flesh and blood, the love of my only brother. What a wretched excuse for an older brother I am..."
Even as he spoke the words, Gareth was crumbling beneath the weight of evidence too clear to ignore.
I kept a solemn expression on the outside while inside I was barely restraining the urge to boil over.
You absolute idiot!! With that many red flags you should have been suspicious ages ago—do you even have a brain in there, or is it just a flower garden?!
He had openly fed him medicine. He had once loved the man's wife. He was even connected to the assassin—and yet Gareth had sat there packaging it all as deep fraternal affection.
And more than that—Veronica was born to Lady Rebecca, so why the hell would he suddenly start sending you tonics? That alone should have triggered reasonable doubt!
I wanted nothing more than to grab him by the collar, shake him until his teeth rattled, and drive a few dozen punches into his solar plexus. But I could not bring myself to berate a man who had been wounded so deeply precisely because he was too good-hearted.
And yet—
"Which brings me to my point, Bale."
"Yes, Your Grace. No—Brother. Please continue."
I answered as calmly as I could manage.
I had assumed that now that he had seen Gawain's true nature, we would start plotting a counterattack.
"How exactly do those suspicions... lead to asking me to share a bed with Lady Rebecca?"
When I finally voiced the question that was driving me the most insane, Gareth answered with a face of tragic resolve.
Get this.
"For Rebecca's honor."
"Excuse me?"
"The nobles in the capital are tearing into her for failing to produce a son. They clamor for me to take a concubine. Unaware that my own function is broken, they lay every scrap of disgrace and responsibility for the lack of an heir solely at Rebecca's feet—and they are choking the life out of her with it."
Gareth squeezed his eyes shut.
"I need a son. A sturdy boy who will carry the Arteta bloodline and stand as a firm pillar protecting Rebecca's place. Ordinarily, in cases like this, the custom is to ask a brother of the same blood—Gawain—to act as proxy and preserve the family's seed. However..."
"...Don't tell me."
"I can no longer trust Gawain. If I were to place his seed in Rebecca's womb... I fear I would come to regret it."
Gareth's eyes snapped open and locked onto mine.
"And so I am asking the man I trust more than anyone in this world after Gawain—no, more than anyone at all—you, Bale. I am asking you to embrace my wife."
"..."
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open.
What the hell is this insane plot twist?! Is this Double Flower Point?!
A scene from an old Korean film I used to enjoy flashed through my mind—the king who could not sleep with his woman, ordered his most trusted bodyguard to take the queen instead, only for the two to fall for each other, after which the enraged king castrated the guard and everyone went down in flames together!
This is fucking terrifying! Am I currently in the 'castrated bodyguard' position?!
My cushy freeloader life was transforming in real time into a death game where my lower half and my actual life hung in the balance.
I forced out the most rational, composed voice I could muster.
"Brother. I understand the desperation of your position, but... first of all, Lady Rebecca's opinion has not been considered at all, has it?"
"Re-Rebecca..."
"If Her Grace learns of this, she will be wounded far more deeply than she already is. For a husband to push his own wife into another man's arms is an insult no woman can endure. I could never do such a thing to the Grand Duchess. I cannot accept this."
At my firm refusal, Gareth's shoulders visibly shrank.
But I could not stop here. I had to drive the stake home if I wanted to keep both my life and my balls intact.
"And Brother... the truth is..."
I scratched the back of my head as if embarrassed.
"Sir Karin and I... have confirmed our feelings for each other and entered into a deep relationship. I already have a lover, so I am even less able to grant your request."
"...What?"
In that instant, the eyes of the Grand Duke—who until a second ago had been mourning the fall of his entire world—went wide.
And then—
"Is that true?! You and Sir Karin?! When?! How?!"
"...Pardon?"
"Who confessed first?! How far have you gone?! No—how on earth did a woman like Sir Karin end up with you...! Ohhh! What joyous news is this!!"
The grave, tragic atmosphere of moments earlier evaporated without a trace.
Gareth lifted his hips off the sofa, leaned in close, and began firing off questions with sparkling eyes—exactly like an overeager older brother grilling his friend about a new romance at the neighborhood convenience store.
"Brother? Is that really what matters right now?!"
"Nonsense! My sworn younger brother has started dating—what could possibly be more important! So, where was the first kiss..."
He kept grinning and prying until I fixed him with a look of pure, icy disbelief. Only then did he finally shut his mouth.
Apparently he found himself thoroughly pathetic for having, even for a moment, completely forgotten the nightmare of his own situation and gotten so excited over someone else's love life.
"...Haa."
Gareth sank deep into the sofa once more, slipping back into the mode of the melancholy Northern Grand Duke. His massive frame seemed to shrink as he exhaled a long, hollow sigh.
"You're right... Something this grave cannot be decided unilaterally by a couple of men."
He nodded weakly.
"I will... somehow persuade Rebecca myself. I will convey my true feelings and, if I must, kneel to obtain her permission. So Bale—you persuade Sir Karin."
"Brother? I clearly just refused—!"
"Simply think of it as lending your seed for the sake of protecting the Grand Ducal house, as its benefactor! If Sir Karin understands the greater good, she will look the other way..."
"Brother!! I said I didn't agree either!! Why are you skipping my opinion entirely!!"
When I finally lost it and shouted, Gareth slowly rose from his seat. He fixed me with a gaze heavy with desperation he could no longer suppress.
"Bale. I am terrified and wretched for even speaking these words, but..."
His voice dropped low.
"This is an order."
"...!!"
"If I call it a request, you will refuse to the end... so as Grand Duke, and as your liege, this is my first and last command. Please... obey my order, little brother."
The weight of power that could not be refused—and the plea of a man hidden behind that power—closed around my throat.
...Fuck. The Double Flower Point route is officially locked in.
I pressed a hand to my forehead and let out a long, deep sigh.
I could not force a conclusion here and now. Gareth was standing on the edge of a cliff with half his reason already gone. I needed to buy time and redirect his attention somehow.
"Haa... Very well. If it is Your Grace's command, how could I possibly defy it."
When I nodded with obvious reluctance, relief flickered across Gareth's face.
I immediately set a condition.
"However—at the very least, return a measure of ordinary life to Lady Rebecca before you attempt to persuade her."
"Ordinary life...?"
"From the moment you returned from the capital, Brother, you brought that woman Helena into the house, tore the family apart, and have maintained nothing but official distance while avoiding everyone."
I looked him straight in the eye and drove the point home.
"Tomorrow is our Lady Veronica's birthday party. The day the young lady has been counting down to for an entire year."
Gareth's shoulders flinched.
To a doting father like him, the words "Veronica's birthday" carried more force than any political justification.
"At the very least, protect that precious birthday party from being stained by the adults' circumstances. Apologize to your wife with genuine sincerity first, and until the party ends safely tomorrow, do not let a single word of this absurd nonsense leave your mouth."
At my practical advice, Gareth stared at me blankly for a moment, then lowered his head with reddened eyes.
"...I understand. You are right a hundred times over. This worthless older brother has caused you far too much worry. Until the party ends tomorrow, I will remain nothing more than Veronica's father and Rebecca's husband."
And with that, the suffocating private audience with the Grand Duke came to an end.
I dragged my completely drained body out of the fourth-floor reception room.
The following evening.
The first-floor main hall and grand banquet chamber of the Northern Grand Duchy were packed wall-to-wall with vassals and noble guests who had flocked in to attend Veronica's tenth birthday party. Elegant music from the musicians filled the air, yet the man who should have been hosting the celebration—Grand Duke Gareth—was nowhere to be seen.
Whether he had taken my advice to heart or not, Gareth had left the evening's reception entirely in the hands of Head Butler Shepherd and, observing only the barest minimum of formality, had not come down from the fifth floor at all.
"Is His Grace unwell?"
"For the Hero of the North not to show his face even once... how terribly disappointing."
Among the guests, murmurs of discontent and disappointment over the Grand Duke's not-quite-snub began to ripple outward.