Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 22

Chapter Title: Not a Defective Product

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"Oh my God..."

Lea clamped both hands over her mouth upon seeing the whip marks so dark they were nearly black.

Henri turned his head away from the duke's icy gaze. The corners of his stubbornly pursed lips trembled faintly.

"I hate liars. Especially if they're my son."

"......"

"Speak."

"......"

"Henri!"

"No, Daddy!"

As the duke's voice grew menacing, I let out a shriek and squeezed between them. I clung to the duke's arm, squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head wildly.

"Henwy scawed. Duke scawwy to Henwy too."

And I was scared too.

I wanted nothing more than to turn tail and bolt.

Am I insane? Clinging to a monster who channels mana without incantations.

It'd be less terrifying to crawl right into a lion's mouth.

Just as terror made my whole body shake uncontrollably...

The tension drained from the duke's arm like melting ice.

Finally released, Henri ground his teeth and bolted out the door.

I scrambled after him.

I barely grabbed his clothes and hung onto his waist, but Henri shook off my hand.

Eek!

I nearly tumbled from the sudden shove.

I hurriedly called out to him again.

"Henwy not defective. I scawed of spiky things too. Scawed of fwoogies. Having scawies not bad."

"......"

"I pwotect you. So wet's go to Duke."

"Who asked you to do that?!"

Henri's shout echoed sharply down the dim corridor.

I froze in shock, and Henri glared at me, teeth clenched.

"Why are you butting in? Who are you?!"

"......"

"You think getting added to the family registry makes you my real sister?!"

"......"

"Don't make me laugh. Who treats a bloodless orphan like family?"

Henri spat the words venomously, then smirked crookedly.

"Mind your own business. You're bad luck."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Stubborn brat.

I stood there alone, watching him go.

People asked me about events in Henri's stead since he'd holed up in his room, and I told them the truth—omitting only that I'd deliberately lured Duke Teramore into a trap.

"...So when I go to study, Henwy get hit. It hurt-hurt."

Nos and Viscount Dubos grew furious at that part, spewing vicious curses.

"That bastard deserves to die."

"Filthy dog-!"

Nos's face fell grim as he muttered,

"Why didn't Young Master ever mention this...?"

"He's still just a child. He must've been scared it'd lead to even bigger trouble."

Viscount Dubos sighed deeply.

"What shall we do, Your Grace?"

"Lock Teramore in the underground dungeon. Have the viscount handle the interrogation."

"If the council hadn't pushed that scum as his tutor, none of this would've happened. We should hold them accountable for everything Young Master endured."

"Keep Henri's long-term abuse under wraps."

"Pardon?! N-No, today's incident alone warrants killing Teramore, but why keep the past a secret?!"

Viscount Dubos looked flustered, but the duke dismissed them.

Once outside the room, Viscount Dubos and Nos spoke in low voices.

"He won't disband the council."

"Indeed. Doing so would spark civil war."

"I understand the reasoning, but as a father with children, it's too cold-blooded."

Everyone shook their heads, saying the duke had no affection for his sons, but I saw it differently.

The duke had carried out the late duke's perilous orders without complaint until the very end.

That was surely because the late duke held his three sons as hostages.

With his children captive, he'd even charged at the front lines in dragon subjugations, risking his life.

And he's hiding how long Henri's been abused.

If the council were disbanded and civil war erupted, it would eventually sort itself out, even if it took time.

But he was passing up the chance to eliminate that thorn in his side to keep Henri's weakness hidden.

He noticed the trauma from his father.

Children of powerful figures with weaknesses are always in danger, so he had no choice but to forgo the opportunity.

"Shall we go, Little One? I've prepared some warm milk."

I stared blankly at the duke's door before taking Lea's hand.

Henri's room.

Nos, there to check on the boy, turned to the elite guards (Duvered's finest troops) after confirming he was asleep.

"See to it today's events don't leak. Issue an alert and bolster castle security."

"Shall we station guards by Young Master's side?"

"Do it. It'll ease his mind amid the scrutiny."

The guard with deep indigo hair shrugged.

"Fair enough. Teramore'll be tortured till he drops, and they've even summoned the council chairman at night. Who'd dare harm Young Master now?"

"Watch your mouth."

Another guard scowled.

Soon Nos and the guards left the room.

Alone with the sleeping child, the room sank into thick darkness.

Faint breaths sank into the silence, leaving only stillness afloat.

How much time passed?

Creeeak—

A soft scraping sound echoed.

Leblain slipped through the door into the room.

She struggled to shut the heavy door with a grunt, then tiptoed across the carpet to the bed.

"Sweepy?"

He'd refused the doctor's visit and barricaded himself away, apparently still out.

Leblain carefully rolled up Henri's sleeve. The bruise from earlier had turned a deeper purple.

She gently applied ointment to the bruise and cuts, but it stung; Henri stirred.

"Eep."

She clutched her pounding heart with tiny hands, then checked him again.

Good, he hadn't woken.

Time to go. He'll yell if he wakes.

As she tucked the ointment back in her pocket, a faint "...Hnn..." escaped him.

Leblain froze and looked at Henri. Then she gently patted the blanket over him.

"Okay now, baby. Okay now."

When she'd been beaten down by Duke Ballua, when she'd been tortured as Mina's would-be killer, she'd desperately wanted someone to pat her like this.

To say it was okay.

That tomorrow it'd be better.

She hoped it comforted Henri too.

Click. After Leblain left, Henri cautiously lifted his eyelids.

"Who you calling baby."

She'd chased after him despite his cold rebuffs—was she really just an idiot?

"Idiot..."

[Why are you butting in? Who are you?!]

He'd shouted.

[You think getting added to the family registry makes you my real sister?! Don't make me laugh. Who treats a bloodless orphan like family?]

Snapped so viciously.

Henri bit his lip hard.

His words to her weren't sincere. He'd lashed out from shame at his fear being exposed.

The truth was, he was terrified.

Every time Teramore swung at him, visions of his grandfather overlapped. The vision soon became his father, screaming.

Why couldn't he meet expectations?

A child with defects isn't mine!

Then father and grandfather swung swords at him.

Grabbed his fleeing hair and plunged the blade deep into his throat.

Just like grandfather had done to his uncle long ago.

So the truth was,

[I pwotect you, Henwy.]

It was salvation.

Henri buried his face in the blanket and sobbed quietly.

The castle was in an uproar.

Two of the three councilors who'd recommended Teramore lost their seats and territories.

The advisory body's creation—once so fiercely opposed by the council—passed without a hitch.

Teramore, locked in the underground dungeon, was a wretched sight. Yet he hadn't given up, thrusting his hand through the bars to beg the jailer.

"Tell the chairman... Tell the chairman I know the Child of Destiny's secret!"

If the chairman learned that wench was a demon, he could turn this around.

He'd held back before due to his council seat, but the chairman was different.

The jailer tsked and kicked his hand away ruthlessly.

"Delusions. Who'd believe a madman?"

"I'm not mad!"

"Only a madman lays hands on Young Master."

The jailer shook his head and continued.

"That chairman'd lop your head off on sight. If you wanna live another day, quit babbling—"

Then the dungeon door opened, and footsteps descended the stairs.

"Young Master."

The jailers bowed to Henri.

"......!"

Teramore's face lit up at the sight.

Heaven hasn't forsaken me!

He must've come out of fear his trauma would leak.

Henri ordered the approaching jailers.

"Guard outside until I call."

The jailers hesitated to leave him alone with Teramore but soon bowed deeply and exited.

Alone with Henri, Teramore gripped the bars and cried out.

"Quickly, get me out."

"......"

"I won't spill your trauma. Let me see the chairman."

"And then what?"

"Obviously, revenge on that wench—Gack!"

Murderous aura poured from Henri, throttling Teramore's throat.

"Wh-What are... Gurk...!"

Impossible.

Something was wrong.

Henri wouldn't dare look him in the eye, let alone choke him.

"Y-You defective... prod...!"

He spat the words that always drove the boy to the brink, but Henri gazed at him impassively.

"I'm not defective."

[Henwy not defective.]

Teramore paled ghastly and reached for Henri.

Normally, the boy would tremble at the sight of his wrinkled hand alone, but Henri casually swatted it away.

For some reason, he wasn't afraid anymore.

Thinking of this trash harming that small girl made something surge inside him before fear could.

Henri grinned wickedly and said,

"And my little sister isn't a wench. She's Leblain."

Fast asleep in her room, Leblain had no idea.

That she'd gained a loyal dog whose specialties were threats, whose hobby was tax evasion, and whose weapon was her beauty.

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