Chapter: 110
Life can throw us some real curveballs sometimes, but there are also moments where everything falls into place so perfectly that you can’t help but wonder if it’s okay to feel this good. Well, right now seems to be one of those moments. I haven’t even adjusted to the small joys yet, and suddenly, a big happiness, something I never dared to think about, comes knocking on my door. Could it be that Enen is showering me with her affection?
Getting invited to Carl’s personal residence might just be a tiny first step considering the life we’re about to lead together, but knowing there’s only forward to go from here made it a joy I could easily accept. Honestly, since I’ll be right next to Carl, there’s no need to rush.
But it feels like Enen might be scolding me for being satisfied with just that. It couldn’t be just that; there must be more to it.
I found myself in the territory of Count Tailglehen after receiving an invitation from Carl’s mother. It still feels surreal, like I’m in some sort of dream. I never expected to be invited by her instead of Carl!
‘We’re moving too fast!’
And honestly? I like it.
I left the room Carl had shown me and started wandering down the hall. I couldn’t just waste this opportunity, could I?
Isn’t this a positive sign? It must be, right? If that’s the case, then it’s only proper to go greet his mother first, right? After all, it’s only natural to thank the host who invited me!
So, I made my way to his mother’s room after asking a servant—
“Make sure to keep in touch and greet her more often. It seems Mother is worried about you.”
For some reason, I stumbled across Carl giving someone a good lecture.
Hiding to avoid interrupting, I listened in as their brotherly banter continued. To be honest, it sounded more like Carl’s one-sided scolding than a conversation.
‘Wow, they really don’t keep in touch, do they?’
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the distance made it hard to avoid. It turns out, the two brothers rarely communicated with their parents.
That felt odd to me. I’d had a strange feeling ever since I first met Carl’s parents in front of the mansion. It’s common knowledge in the social circle that Carl’s father is pretty gruff, which Carl has also mentioned a few times, so I thought nothing of it.
But something about his mother felt off. She wasn’t cold, but she wasn’t overly warm either. It didn’t seem like she lacked interest in her children—her gaze often lingered on Carl and Erich—but she also didn’t take the initiative.
I wondered what the deal was. Still, if I considered it a simple lack of communication, it made sense. I’d been worried that the mother-son relationship might be as stiff as the father-son one. It would be just too sad if that were the case for Carl.
‘Oh, so it’s just awkwardness, then.’
If it’s just a case of not talking enough, that’s a relief!
Our family has also had awkward moments due to lack of communication. You see, after my father retired and my brother took over with the help of my sister-in-law, they were always so busy, leaving little time for their kids.
“Have you ever cared about what I do?”
That’s how the heir of the Valenti family nearly went wayward! Luckily, after a heartfelt talk in what my father calls the ‘Room of Truth’, my brother and sister-in-law started to show proper affection to their children, and things improved.
So if Carl were to have a conversation with his mother, it should help clear the air between them. What’s more, he doesn’t even seem to hold any resentment against her.
Carl tends to be surprisingly honest about his feelings. If he really disliked his mother, he would have expressed his discontent long ago.
What should I do? Should I suggest to Carl that he talk more with his mother, or should I mention to her that he’s just a bit shy?
“The youngest should show some warm affection, you know.”
“I messed up, so please, just stop…”
Meanwhile, Carl’s lecturing intensified during my thoughts. But I guess that must just be his way of caring for his brother, right?
Watching Erich shrink a little more with each reprimand made me want to step in. He’s destined to be a lord; I should help him out a bit.
Cough, cough “Carl, Erich!”
“Mar?”
“Lady Valenti!”
As I appeared, Carl’s nagging halted, and Erich’s face brightened. Looks like you owe me one, young lord!
*
In the midst of my efforts to reform the mischievous son, Marghetta’s voice floated in from behind.
“I heard Carl’s voice and came over. What’s this all about?”
“Ah, I must have been too loud.”
Seems like I’ve only grown louder while being the Executive Manager in the Prosecutor’s Office. Spending time with the minister has certainly made me more vocal as well.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, I awkwardly smiled and snuck a peek at Erich. Now that the conversation had taken a turn, it was time to wrap this up.
“I was just giving some brotherly advice.”
“Did I interrupt?”
“Not at all!”
In a hurry, Erich answered for Marghetta, who was now tilting her head. I guess he’s worried I might go back to scolding him once she left.
Marghetta’s presence sparked another thought. The Valenti Dukedom is quite a big family spanning three generations, so wouldn’t Marghetta’s words about family warmth carry more weight? Objectively, I’m their unfilial son who left home and never sent a single message.
To be honest, calling myself a son feels a bit off because I’m not really their child. Yet, from a societal standpoint, I’m still a legitimate child. What a twist—here I am, the oldest “bad son” scolding my younger brother about filial duties!
“Carl?”
Ah, did I stare too long?
“Mar, how are you getting along with the Duke?”
“Uh, what?”
Marghetta’s eyes widened at my sudden question, and then she broke into a small laugh. Honestly, I felt a bit embarrassed for being so abrupt, but I was truly curious.
Wasn’t there a significant age gap between Marghetta and the Iron-blooded Duke? Still, I’ve never heard Marghetta describe interactions with him as awkward, nor him showing indifference towards her. If anything, they seem to share a close bond.
Their relationship feels more like that of a grandchild rather than parent and child, especially since there’s just a 22-year gap between Erich and their mother.
“Is there any reason not to get along? Spending time together will naturally bring them closer.”
“Really?”
“Even if separated, there are always communication crystals to keep in touch daily.”
That was exactly what I needed to hear. Yes, that makes perfect sense. Erich seems completely unaware of this!
“Parents will be delighted if their children do that.”
Now, it wasn’t just my opinion; Marghetta echoed this too. If Erich has any sense, he won’t fall short on communication from now on.
“The eldest doing it would surely make them even happier!”
And just like that, the conversation shifted.
Marghetta’s smile made me feel slightly awkward. It seems she sees both Erich and me as more or less the same.
“From a parent’s perspective, the eldest is a point of concern. And when the eldest takes initiative, the younger ones follow suit, much as it was in the Valenti household.”
“Absolutely true!”
Perhaps filled with newfound courage after being on the receiving end of Marghetta’s support, Erich joined in, adding a subtle touch.
Now, Marghetta, who once firmly backed me, has returned with a piercing strike. And to make it worse, she isn’t wrong!
“Of course, that held true for Valenti. Krasius has his own methods.”
“We’ve just been stumbling along without a clear method.”
“Heh, is that so?”
Seeing Marghetta chuckle behind her fan, my instant reaction became tangled.
I already knew this: if I took initiative, Erich would follow. But seriously, how could a brother be any different from his elder if he doesn’t take care of their mother?
‘If I didn’t know that, maybe there’s something wrong with my brain!’
But still, approaching Mother was nerve-wracking. It’s not just because she isn’t my real mother, but also because I’m not her real son. Acting like I am feels like a shameless deception.
She may not be the best at seeking out contact, but she cares for my marriage prospects and health. She even thinks about Erich’s potential partners—she’s willing to fill the role of a mother.
Deceiving someone like that doesn’t sit well with me. So, I’ve been leaning on memories from before possession, trying my best to maintain a distant relationship as the genuine Carl would have. I didn’t expect Erich would also build walls, so now I find myself trying belatedly to bring them together.
‘This is just… sad.’
I don’t want to do it, yet you must—what’s the difference? I thought that to myself, and it only became more embarrassing to hear something similar come from Marghetta.
“Speaking of which, I was actually preparing to visit your mother.”
Just when I began feeling a bit guilty lecturing Erich, Marghetta continued.
“As an invited guest, I should formally greet her.”
“Really? I bet Mother would be delighted to hear that.”
After all, she’s already having a tough time balancing royal and noble responsibilities; an invitation from another noble would surely bring her joy.
“Will you come with me, Carl? How about you, Erich?”
I hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded.
“Mother was in the rear garden when I last saw her. She might still be there.”
After all the advice I just spilled, running away would be a tad too cowardly.
Upon arriving at the garden, I found Mother and the head maid still there. The other maids had vanished, presumably leaving them to sip fresh air before heading back in.
“Mother.”
Mother turned around suddenly, having been staring at the flower beds with the head maid. It seemed the head maid was just as startled, likely not expecting to see the person who had just left return so soon.
Honestly, I didn’t expect to come back this quickly either. Meeting again after just parting felt awkward, and I’d rather she wasn’t here.
“Ah, the nanny is here too?”
Erich, trailing behind me, waved at the head maid, making her eyes widen even more.
“I brought them along since the guest wanted to greet you,” Mother said.
Taking in the scene, I shifted my focus back to Mother. She nodded, a bit bewildered, then cast her attention toward Marghetta standing behind me.
Noting Marghetta bowing her head gracefully, I ventured to speak again.
“The guest mentioned it would be okay for us to be here together. Is that alright with you, Mother?”
It took me more courage than I had expected, given the just-finished tea party.
“I’m not sure when I’ll come back to our territory, so I want to spend as much time with you as possible.”
At that, the head maid hurried off to prepare some refreshments.
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