“Tell me, what did they say?”
“They told me that my hair wasn’t the color of a Belisario’s,” I told him. “‘Whose kid even is the brat, really?’ That’s what they said.”
“They dared refer to the second son of a margrave as a ‘brat’? My younger brother? Even though none of them is anything more than the lowly son of a viscount?”
What? That’s what he’s mad about? At this point, even those boys had caught on that my brother was fuming, and they began looking at each other with expressions that said they knew they were in deep trouble.
“Yes. Oh, and they also said that mother must have cheated on father,” I added.
“Fascinating.”
Was that how someone of his age would usually respond? His glare was colder than ice too. He was seriously scary.
“That would fall under lèse-majesté. Capture them.”
“Huh?! Why?” cried one of them.
“That little brat’s lying!” yelled another.
“What did you just call him?”
“Oops...” The boy clapped a hand over his mouth.
“I have no time for this. Throw them in the prison.” Chris waved a hand toward the boys.
“Yes, my lord.”
Chris’s guards and one of his valets dragged the boys away without question. It all happened so quickly—I’d never imagined they would be removed with so little fuss.
“Write a letter to father. I will discuss with him how to deal with those boys.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The other valet left the room, leaving Chris alone, with none of his valets or guards. He clearly didn’t seem to care, though.
“Sit here, Alan,” he said.
“Yes, brother...”
I was cautious as I slowly walked toward my brother, who was lightly patting the space beside him with a smile. Why was I cautious? Because he looked like he was having fun.
“Shall I prepare some tea?” the remaining boy asked. He was the prospective retainer whom I hadn’t recognized.
“Please.”
Luther swiftly stepped in to stop the boy when he began to stand, ready to prepare the tea in his stead, but the boy continued what he was doing as he said, “This is Lord Chris’s room, so please remain by Lord Alan’s side.” His name was Lai, and he became Chris’s official retainer not long after that day.
“You talk quite well for a boy who is only two, Alan.” The moment I sat down, Chris wrapped an arm tight around my shoulders. “But of course, you are my brother. I should have expected as much. Was the reason you never spoke much to me that you were trying to hide it?”
“Um... Hide what?” I’d never been trying to hide anything. Since everyone compared me to Chris, I’d thought I was a normal child. Deir was most definitely unnatural, but I hadn’t considered that I might be odd myself until my brother said something about it. “Am I really not normal? Deir’s already at the stage where she can say my name.”
“What?! That’s not fair!” Chris leaped to his feet, ready to rush to her side at once, but then he stopped, clenched his fists, and groaned. “But this is more important right now!” He fell back down onto his seat again, placed his hands on my shoulders, and turned me toward him.
“Alan.”
“Yes?”
“Could it be that you alone don’t know why your hair color is different?”
“Huh?” my guard’s jaw dropped.
“What?!” cried Lai.
“It couldn’t be!” exclaimed Luther.
For some reason, everyone around us was getting all worked up.
“I don’t, no.”
“What?! Why did Lord Belisario never tell you?!” Luther yelled dramatically.
“He must have thought Alan was too young to understand. That, or he thought that someone else like Sebas would have told him. I myself thought that father had told him.”
Was the reason no one had said anything because they’d all thought someone else had told me? Was that it?
Chris turned to my valet. “Luther, could you call father here? A letter won’t cut it. This is a huge problem.”
“Yes, my lord. Right away!”
I was worried we would just be interrupting father since he should still be working at this time, but no one else seemed to think it was an issue as Luther ran at full speed out of the room—even though Sebas always got mad at him for running in the hallways.
“Alan, let me explain,” Chris said, turning back to me.
“Yes, brother.”
“The reason your hair is auburn is because you’ve inherited the hair color of the previous margrave, our grandfather.”
“Grandfather?! Why was grandfather’s hair auburn?”
“Grandmother only had a younger sister, which means that two generations ago, our family only had daughters. They had to have someone marry into the family.”
So the explanation was as simple as the fact that our grandfather wasn’t of Belisario lineage, and I had inherited my coloring from his side of the family. I was undeniably a child of the Belisarios and undeniably my father’s child. It was okay for me to stay here.
“I see.”
I’d been worrying about it for so long that suddenly having the answer caused my whole body to relax.
“It’s okay for you to be angry, Alan. Father, mother, Sebas, even Luther—all of them had the opportunity to confirm this with you and tell you about it, didn’t they? Why didn’t you ask?”
“Well, it’s just... No one was talking about it, so I thought it was something I shouldn’t bring up,” I said, tilting my head slightly. Chris hugged me close.
“You were trying to be considerate of us, huh? Were people saying all kinds of mean things about you?” he asked.