The Count tried to bring the glass back to his lips as soon as he had filled it, but his attempt was thwarted by Byron's grabbing the glass.
“Why, why are you doing this, Lord Byron?”
Whenever the Count fills a glass, he stops him from drinking. He even began to suspect that he was doing this because he felt it was a waste to drink all the alcohol he was given.
But fortunately, that wasn't the reason.
“Why are you so angry? What does it matter to you whether the Prince becomes Crown Prince or not?”
“Huh? What do you mean...?”
“Oh, oh, oh. Have you already forgotten I promised you?”
Byron had promised that if he ascended to the throne, Count Cenospon would be crowned King. Though no specific details were given, the Count's face lit up as if it had just occurred to him.
“Ahhh... there’s no way I could have forgotten that promise, right? I must have shown a bad side for no reason, right?”
He was truly simple and easy to handle, which is why Byron liked him.
Byron smiled, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. It was time to talk about the Count's son, who had dared to touch what belonged to him.
“I also have something to discuss with the Count.”
“What is it? Please speak freely.”
As Byron took a sip of his drink and opened his mouth, the Count lowered his posture as if he would listen to anything he said and asked.
“...Do you know that your son is picking on my dog?”
Byron asked with a gloomy expression. His voice was laced with a displeasure he couldn't quite hide.
“Huh? Your dog?”
Did he bring a dog? The dull Count seemed lost in thought for a moment, then realized he meant the girl he'd called his daughter, and he fidgeted nervously with his lips.
"Is that kid still like that? I clearly told him there was no need, no, I told him not to do that..."
The Count was about to say, "There's no need for that," but then realized his slip of the tongue and changed his words. But it was too late. Byron had instantly grasped the Count's intentions.
‘...It seems he coveted the position of the Emperor’s in-law.’
Wasn't he truly a man who revealed his true feelings so transparently? He didn't even know how to hide his ugly, lust-filled inner self.
Still, he might have mistaken Aila for Byron's biological daughter, so he decided to just laugh it off.
What was important was not what happened in the past, but how to discipline his son in the future.
“It would be better for your son’s future if you keep him under control.”
“...Of course, I will explain it well. I am sorry for causing trouble for you as a worthless son.”
The conversation with Byron quickly eased the tension he had been feeling over the Crown Prince's appointment, but the Count, who had other worries, drank his wine anxiously.
And, after returning home drunk after drinking with Byron, the Count woke up his sleeping son and sat him down in front of him, despite his wife's protests.
Gerald, wearing pajamas and with a magpie nest perched on his head, was still unable to grasp the situation, just yawning sleepily with sleepy eyes.
“...Gerald, didn’t you? Didn’t this father clearly say that you didn’t need to show off to the girl from the annex?”
Less than a day after saying, 'Be nice to that child,' he changed his mind and said there was no need to do so as soon as he heard from Byron that the child was not his biological daughter.
He couldn't figure out why on earth his son was still hanging around that kid.
"I heard you were throwing a tantrum, demanding to bake a new chocolate cake so you could share it with the kid. What on earth were you thinking?"
And Gerald, who had just woken up from his father's scolding, stuck out his mouth with a very upset expression.
"Father, you said, 'You don't have to do it,' not, 'Don't do it.' Isn't it my freedom to do whatever I want?"
It was a rather odd reaction. He was already a teenager, so his behavior was always odd, and it seemed he was quite offended when the Count woke him up and started yelling at him.
“...You, what kind of habit is that? Would this father make you do something bad? Just let go. She’s not okay!”
The Count's face, already flushed with alcohol, was now flushed with rage, ready to explode at any moment. It was fortunate that no steam was coming from his ears.
"Father, why are you acting like this? You keep going back and forth. Whose rhythm are you expecting me to follow? One day you tell me to look good, and then not even a day later you tell me I don't need to! You didn't even give me a proper explanation!"
But Gerald had no intention of backing down. He didn't even know who the "honored guest in the annex" was, but he told him to be kind to the girl, then told him that it wasn't necessary.
He was angry and frustrated because there were so many things he didn't know.
“That, that. It’s a secret even from this father...”
"If that's the case, shouldn't you at least explain it to me properly? If you don't want me approaching that brat, at least tell me why. Then you won't have to worry about whether or not I understand. I'm not a kid anymore!"
When he was young, he would obediently follow his father's orders without even knowing why, but now he had no intention of doing so, so Gerald crossed his arms and glared at his father.
At that sight, the Count felt the last traces of alcohol vanish and clutched his head. His son had been giving him a headache.
“...That’s enough of the reason, anyway! If I tell you to get away from her, get away from her!”
"No, I do not want!!"
It was a tense fight where they glared at each other for a long time and grumbled, with no one showing any intention of backing down.
And after a long period of silence, the winner was decided.
There's no such thing as a parent who always wins over their child. In the end, the count gave in.
“So... you’re saying that you’ll listen to me if I just tell you the reason?”
“Let me hear it first.”
The Count asked, shaking his head, and Gerald answered with his lower jaw jutting out. His face still looked sullen.
“...If your father tells you a secret, will you be able to keep it?”
The Count asked in a very low voice, and Gerald, who was tickled by the word 'secret', nodded without even crossing his arms.
“So, that’s...”
Count Cenospon began to explain, leaving out Byron's true identity.
He said that since she was such a precious guest, he wanted him to look after her in case he might marry the daughter of that house later, but in fact, he said that there was no need to do so because the child was not his biological daughter.
“...You can’t tell anyone about this. Even that girl doesn’t know, so don’t tell her. Understood?”
The Count made a gesture of closing his mouth, and Gerald nodded with a somewhat uneasy expression.
"Now you understand? Why you shouldn't get close to that girl."
The Count, having finished his story, asked seriously. "You must understand by now," he hoped. But that vague hope was shattered.
"No?"
It was because Gerald said this in a crooked manner.
“Why, why! What’s the problem again?”
“...What difference does it make if she’s not his biological daughter? I like that girl!”
Of course, Gerald's attitude had to change a little. The thought, "Why would someone who isn't even his own daughter be so expensive?" began to creep into his mind.
Perhaps it was a good thing. He had been cautiously approaching her because she was the daughter of a distinguished guest, but now that she wasn't his biological daughter, it might have been easier to play with her.
“Gerald, you little punk...! Are you really not going to listen to me?”
The Count shouted, his throat bloodshot, but Gerald picked his ear with an annoyed expression as if a fly had landed on it, then stood up.
"I'm going to bed first. I need to go to bed early to grow taller. I'm still growing."
One moment, he would get angry and say, "I'm not a child anymore," but then, when it was his turn, he would back away, saying, "I'm still growing up," and the Count felt like he was going to burst.
But at the same time, he felt so sorry for his late father that he wondered how he had wasted his youth like that.
“I have no idea where that thing came from.”
The Countess, who had been listening silently from the side, glared at her husband and spoke in a voice that seemed to know the source all too well.
Duke Roderick Weishaffen was pacing anxiously in front of the maternity ward.
There were still two weeks left until the due date, but labor had already begun, and the delivery room had been hastily prepared.
It wasn't his first child, so it wasn't anything new, but the tension remained. No, it seemed to have grown even more.
When his first child, Aila, was born, she was remarkably healthy, and her mother was young. Thirteen years later, despite the meticulous care of the sorceress Candice Eposher, the baby was small and weak.
From within, Ophelia's pained moans could be heard. At first, they were intermittent, but the intervals became shorter and shorter, and now they seemed to never end.
“Not yet?”
Roderick asked anxiously at his wife's shattered scream. He couldn't count how many times he'd asked this question.
"Calm down, Roderick. It'll be okay. I'm here for you."
Candice, who was waiting right next to him in case something happened, tapped Roderick's arm and said.
Certainly, Candice's presence was a comfort. Thanks to her magical aid in childbirth and the excellent potions she prepared, anything that went wrong for mother and baby was unlikely to happen.
Even so, his anxious feelings didn't go away easily, so Roderick buried his face in his palm and sighed.
And at that moment, a baby's small cry flowed out from the delivery room.
“Why, why are you doing this, Lord Byron?”
Whenever the Count fills a glass, he stops him from drinking. He even began to suspect that he was doing this because he felt it was a waste to drink all the alcohol he was given.
But fortunately, that wasn't the reason.
“Why are you so angry? What does it matter to you whether the Prince becomes Crown Prince or not?”
“Huh? What do you mean...?”
“Oh, oh, oh. Have you already forgotten I promised you?”
Byron had promised that if he ascended to the throne, Count Cenospon would be crowned King. Though no specific details were given, the Count's face lit up as if it had just occurred to him.
“Ahhh... there’s no way I could have forgotten that promise, right? I must have shown a bad side for no reason, right?”
He was truly simple and easy to handle, which is why Byron liked him.
Byron smiled, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. It was time to talk about the Count's son, who had dared to touch what belonged to him.
“I also have something to discuss with the Count.”
“What is it? Please speak freely.”
As Byron took a sip of his drink and opened his mouth, the Count lowered his posture as if he would listen to anything he said and asked.
“...Do you know that your son is picking on my dog?”
Byron asked with a gloomy expression. His voice was laced with a displeasure he couldn't quite hide.
“Huh? Your dog?”
Did he bring a dog? The dull Count seemed lost in thought for a moment, then realized he meant the girl he'd called his daughter, and he fidgeted nervously with his lips.
"Is that kid still like that? I clearly told him there was no need, no, I told him not to do that..."
The Count was about to say, "There's no need for that," but then realized his slip of the tongue and changed his words. But it was too late. Byron had instantly grasped the Count's intentions.
‘...It seems he coveted the position of the Emperor’s in-law.’
Wasn't he truly a man who revealed his true feelings so transparently? He didn't even know how to hide his ugly, lust-filled inner self.
Still, he might have mistaken Aila for Byron's biological daughter, so he decided to just laugh it off.
What was important was not what happened in the past, but how to discipline his son in the future.
“It would be better for your son’s future if you keep him under control.”
“...Of course, I will explain it well. I am sorry for causing trouble for you as a worthless son.”
The conversation with Byron quickly eased the tension he had been feeling over the Crown Prince's appointment, but the Count, who had other worries, drank his wine anxiously.
And, after returning home drunk after drinking with Byron, the Count woke up his sleeping son and sat him down in front of him, despite his wife's protests.
Gerald, wearing pajamas and with a magpie nest perched on his head, was still unable to grasp the situation, just yawning sleepily with sleepy eyes.
“...Gerald, didn’t you? Didn’t this father clearly say that you didn’t need to show off to the girl from the annex?”
Less than a day after saying, 'Be nice to that child,' he changed his mind and said there was no need to do so as soon as he heard from Byron that the child was not his biological daughter.
He couldn't figure out why on earth his son was still hanging around that kid.
"I heard you were throwing a tantrum, demanding to bake a new chocolate cake so you could share it with the kid. What on earth were you thinking?"
And Gerald, who had just woken up from his father's scolding, stuck out his mouth with a very upset expression.
"Father, you said, 'You don't have to do it,' not, 'Don't do it.' Isn't it my freedom to do whatever I want?"
It was a rather odd reaction. He was already a teenager, so his behavior was always odd, and it seemed he was quite offended when the Count woke him up and started yelling at him.
“...You, what kind of habit is that? Would this father make you do something bad? Just let go. She’s not okay!”
The Count's face, already flushed with alcohol, was now flushed with rage, ready to explode at any moment. It was fortunate that no steam was coming from his ears.
"Father, why are you acting like this? You keep going back and forth. Whose rhythm are you expecting me to follow? One day you tell me to look good, and then not even a day later you tell me I don't need to! You didn't even give me a proper explanation!"
But Gerald had no intention of backing down. He didn't even know who the "honored guest in the annex" was, but he told him to be kind to the girl, then told him that it wasn't necessary.
He was angry and frustrated because there were so many things he didn't know.
“That, that. It’s a secret even from this father...”
"If that's the case, shouldn't you at least explain it to me properly? If you don't want me approaching that brat, at least tell me why. Then you won't have to worry about whether or not I understand. I'm not a kid anymore!"
When he was young, he would obediently follow his father's orders without even knowing why, but now he had no intention of doing so, so Gerald crossed his arms and glared at his father.
At that sight, the Count felt the last traces of alcohol vanish and clutched his head. His son had been giving him a headache.
“...That’s enough of the reason, anyway! If I tell you to get away from her, get away from her!”
"No, I do not want!!"
It was a tense fight where they glared at each other for a long time and grumbled, with no one showing any intention of backing down.
And after a long period of silence, the winner was decided.
There's no such thing as a parent who always wins over their child. In the end, the count gave in.
“So... you’re saying that you’ll listen to me if I just tell you the reason?”
“Let me hear it first.”
The Count asked, shaking his head, and Gerald answered with his lower jaw jutting out. His face still looked sullen.
“...If your father tells you a secret, will you be able to keep it?”
The Count asked in a very low voice, and Gerald, who was tickled by the word 'secret', nodded without even crossing his arms.
“So, that’s...”
Count Cenospon began to explain, leaving out Byron's true identity.
He said that since she was such a precious guest, he wanted him to look after her in case he might marry the daughter of that house later, but in fact, he said that there was no need to do so because the child was not his biological daughter.
“...You can’t tell anyone about this. Even that girl doesn’t know, so don’t tell her. Understood?”
The Count made a gesture of closing his mouth, and Gerald nodded with a somewhat uneasy expression.
"Now you understand? Why you shouldn't get close to that girl."
The Count, having finished his story, asked seriously. "You must understand by now," he hoped. But that vague hope was shattered.
"No?"
It was because Gerald said this in a crooked manner.
“Why, why! What’s the problem again?”
“...What difference does it make if she’s not his biological daughter? I like that girl!”
Of course, Gerald's attitude had to change a little. The thought, "Why would someone who isn't even his own daughter be so expensive?" began to creep into his mind.
Perhaps it was a good thing. He had been cautiously approaching her because she was the daughter of a distinguished guest, but now that she wasn't his biological daughter, it might have been easier to play with her.
“Gerald, you little punk...! Are you really not going to listen to me?”
The Count shouted, his throat bloodshot, but Gerald picked his ear with an annoyed expression as if a fly had landed on it, then stood up.
"I'm going to bed first. I need to go to bed early to grow taller. I'm still growing."
One moment, he would get angry and say, "I'm not a child anymore," but then, when it was his turn, he would back away, saying, "I'm still growing up," and the Count felt like he was going to burst.
But at the same time, he felt so sorry for his late father that he wondered how he had wasted his youth like that.
“I have no idea where that thing came from.”
The Countess, who had been listening silently from the side, glared at her husband and spoke in a voice that seemed to know the source all too well.
***
Duke Roderick Weishaffen was pacing anxiously in front of the maternity ward.
There were still two weeks left until the due date, but labor had already begun, and the delivery room had been hastily prepared.
It wasn't his first child, so it wasn't anything new, but the tension remained. No, it seemed to have grown even more.
When his first child, Aila, was born, she was remarkably healthy, and her mother was young. Thirteen years later, despite the meticulous care of the sorceress Candice Eposher, the baby was small and weak.
From within, Ophelia's pained moans could be heard. At first, they were intermittent, but the intervals became shorter and shorter, and now they seemed to never end.
“Not yet?”
Roderick asked anxiously at his wife's shattered scream. He couldn't count how many times he'd asked this question.
"Calm down, Roderick. It'll be okay. I'm here for you."
Candice, who was waiting right next to him in case something happened, tapped Roderick's arm and said.
Certainly, Candice's presence was a comfort. Thanks to her magical aid in childbirth and the excellent potions she prepared, anything that went wrong for mother and baby was unlikely to happen.
Even so, his anxious feelings didn't go away easily, so Roderick buried his face in his palm and sighed.
And at that moment, a baby's small cry flowed out from the delivery room.
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