The Clueless Younger Brother - 2
At my declaration, Zenobia fell into stunned silence.
Then she blinked. Her lips parted. And silence claimed her again.
"…Pardon?"
Only after hanging there, vacant, for a long moment did she finally manage a dazed murmur, as if she could not quite grasp what she had just heard.
I understood. Zenobia and I were not awkward with each other, but neither were we close. Ours was the purely ceremonial acquaintance of people who exchanged greetings when they happened to meet and sent polite notes of congratulations or condolence when occasion demanded.
Of course, from Zenobia's point of view I was her prospective brother-in-law, so she treated me with every possible courtesy — but the reverse had never held true. I had never publicly endorsed her one-sided affection, and she surely knew it.
"I said I'd help you marry Erich."
And yet here and now, Zenobia's common sense had come crashing down. The future brother-in-law she was supposed to win over had volunteered, of his own accord, to help her. Joy aside, the shock was probably the stronger of the two.
"Y-you… you truly mean that?"
"Yeah."
Still, the fact that she checked whether it was true before asking what I meant told me joy was already winning out over bewilderment.
It hurt to see. How desperate, how burned raw inside, did a person have to be to seize so hard on a sudden, out-of-nowhere chance? Because of my hopeless little brother, this older brother could not lift his head.
"There's a condition, though."
Even so, I had to say what needed saying. I spoke flatly, and tension tightened across Zenobia's face. I could guess what she was thinking. She was probably fretting that I might demand concessions from the Hiden family.
Honestly, when a silent future brother-in-law suddenly steps forward offering to help with a marriage, it does look like a political move. I would have thought the same in her place.
"Don't fight with Sera. Accept her as the second wife."
But no. I had no interest in politics, or family interests, or any of that.
I was doing this for the mother who was almost certainly soaking her pillow with tears by now, and for the nanny who had surely lost her mind fretting over her only daughter's romance.
"……."
"……."
"…Is that all?"
"Yeah."
Zenobia's face went blank again, but I was entirely serious.
If the two of them joined hands and fought the good fight together, I could not have asked for more.
Wanting a lover's affection all to oneself is a natural desire. It is hardly even greed — it is a primal instinct, one even nobles raised on political marriages, polygamy, and polyandry cannot fully suppress.
Yes, I knew that perfectly well. Odds were high that both Sera and Zenobia wanted to be Erich's only wife. Being told to join hands and fight side by side might well sound like complete nonsense to them.
But what choice was there? If they turned on each other instead of joining forces, mutual destruction was written all over the future.
A fight over love isn't a match with a fixed roster of contestants.
If — purely if — the only women in the world were Sera and Zenobia, they could fight it out to the bitter end. One of them would survive, so going all the way would not be so bad.
But half the world is men, and half the world is women. There was no guarantee some other woman would not make a play for Erich while Sera and Zenobia were busy settling their hierarchy.
Unfortunately, I had seen something very much like this before. The pitiful reality of people who spent their time checking and sniping at each other, only to lose to someone else entirely — the tearful ending of being beaten by a player they never even saw coming.
The Baking Club.
The club members of the '77 season had been the protagonists of that little tragedy. Infatuated with Rory, they had thrown check after check at one another — and never even managed a proper confession to her. Meanwhile I, who had stayed out of that idiotic free-for-all, became Rory's lover.
That was why I could see the future. I could see Sera and Zenobia becoming the '77 season members all over again — no, simply becoming the Set and Jet of the '79 season.
And Erich is prime goods on the marriage market.
Ultimately, if Erich graduated from the Academy without a partner, he would end up on the political-marriage route — and a man of Erich's caliber was treated as an absolute prize on that market.
Still of marriageable age, handsome face, decent personality, strong in a fight, excellent family, a titled noble himself even if only a baron — and my little brother. There was not a single flaw to pick at.
"If you join forces with Sera, you can secure half. Keep going the way things are now, and you might not even get half. Or a third party might snatch him entirely."
Talking about my brother like property left a strange taste in my mouth, but I meant every word. If Zenobia insisted on a monopoly, things were going to get messy—
"Very well."
The answer came more cleanly than I expected.
"If I am first, I don't mind. It is uncommon for a lower-ranking noble to take multiple wives, but for Erich… it is possible."
"Are you sure you're all right with that? An Imperial Count as the wife of a mere baron already looks odd enough. If that baron takes another wife on top of it, people will talk."
The answer had been so bracingly clean that I found myself raising the negative points instead.
Undermining your own position while trying to persuade someone is not normally done — but she was being so cooperative I could not quite wipe my mouth and move on.
"You're the one who brought up a second wife, Brother."
"Well. That's true."
I had not expected her to accept so readily.
"And… it may not be my place to say this, but since I love Erich myself, I can understand Lady Sera's feelings as well. I simply never stepped back because if she became first, I would have no chance left."
Hearing Zenobia murmur that with a bitter edge, I thought I understood why she had agreed so easily.
Zenobia had never been aiming for a monopoly. She had set the first wife's place as her sole goal and absolute bottom line.
Of all people, she had to fall for Erich.
I looked at her with a complicated heart. Just as Erich was prime goods on the marriage market, Zenobia was a woman without shortage. No — considering she was a sitting Imperial Count, she was the higher-valued prize. And from the way she spoke of understanding Sera, her character and her shrewdness both ranked high.
And that woman had fallen for a man whose social awareness was an absolute catastrophe. What a lamentable state of affairs.
Lucky bastard.
I had no designs of my own, but Erich seemed to possess a fortune with women wildly out of proportion to his station.
I lay staring blankly up at the ceiling. Few things in my life were as familiar as lying in bed, yet just then what I felt was neither peace nor familiarity, but something else entirely.
I want to die.
I muttered it inwardly and quietly closed my eyes. Born sickly as I was, those words would invite misunderstanding, so I never even joked with them — but this time I meant them.
I truly wanted to die. My mother, eyes shining with expectation as she dreamed of my marriage to Erich. Myself, forced to tell that same mother that we were still nothing to each other.
I was going mad. Having to speak that cruel truth myself, and watching my mother's expectation curdle into disappointment — both were too much.
A whole year together, and there should have been some kind of progress…
Grief prickled my eyes with tears. It was so unfair. A whole year. An entire year of school life side by side. It was not as if Erich and I were strangers — we had already been close, and still we had spent another year stuck together. So why?
When Erich became Baron of Hardiner, I had actually let myself hope a little. That he simply never showed it, but that he might feel something for me. That we might slowly be drawing closer.
But no. My presence was among the reasons he had chosen the Hardiner barony, yes — yet the feeling at work had been friendship, not love.
What do I do?
I was beginning to worry about the future in earnest. A year together, and this was all I had to show for it. The remaining year did not look likely to be much different.
If I graduated like this, we would live in separate places again. Even if the territories were neighboring, the physical distance would inevitably be greater than sharing the Academy.
Then what? What happened then? I had failed to win Erich's heart even while we were close. If distance opened between us as well, what was I supposed to do? Was I never going to reach him? Would I never get to show him my heart, and would it simply end like this?
I don't want that.
I bit down hard on my lip and shook my head. I refused. I absolutely refused to accept that kind of ending.
But if I refused it — what could I actually do? What changed just because I said no?
I could just go to Erich's room and—
An extreme thought rose up, and I hastily shook it off. That was not the way. That would not be winning Erich's heart. That would be binding him with a debt of conscience.
Besides, even if I did go to him, I would lose on pure stamina. I would be subdued and sent packing in no time.
…Hm?
Just then, the communication crystal I had set by my pillow began to glow.
I stared at it a moment, dabbed at the corners of my eyes, and took the call. Whoever it was, I could not answer looking this miserable.
"Sera?"
"Oh — Brother?"
A familiar face appeared, and my eyes went round.
After a year together at the Academy and in the Baking Club, I could say I had grown fairly close to Brother Karl — but this was the first time we had ever spoken like this. We had never had private topics to discuss, and even if we had, we usually went through Erich.
Setting my surprise aside, I carefully pushed myself upright. I could not hold a conversation with my brother while lying down.
"Sorry to call out of nowhere — I know it must have startled you. I need to talk to you about something urgent. Is anyone near you?"
"No. I'm alone."
"Good. It would be a little embarrassing if anyone else overheard."
Brother nodded lightly, then his expression turned serious in an instant.
"…What?"
At those words, the hand holding the crystal trembled.
It was a question without context, and yet I knew exactly what he meant.
"If it's the first one… I can help you somehow."
There was only one thing Brother could ever help me with.