I Am the Hero's Immature Younger Brother

“The Heroes’ bodies are so strong that nothing works on them. Ordinary medicine can even become poison instead. You know about the Seven-Year War, right? When that terrifying war broke out, the Heroes suffered severe injuries, and many treatments were attempted back then, but every one failed. In the end, the only thing they could do was recover through their own strength. So please don’t worry too much. If things become truly dangerous, Lord Giselle will take measures.”

The servant spoke while constantly sneaking glances at Ren’s face.

“What do you mean, Giselle will take measures?”

“I-I can’t tell you that! Anyway, what I mean is, there’s no need to look so gloomy. There are a lot of interesting books here, so maybe you should read instead?”

Flustered, the servant hurriedly changed the subject. Ren was just about to ask again what he meant when the door opened and the physician returned. The servant jumped in surprise and quickly stepped away from Ren. Zenno carefully observed the two of them before sitting back down beside Verdi’s bed.

“Lord Ren. It is time for your meal.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go out and eat later.”

The servant withdrew without another word.

Giselle’s measures? Could he possibly have some kind of healing ability?

Wouldn’t it be stranger if none of a Hero’s powers involved healing?

That thought eased his mind slightly.

Wait. Then why not do something immediately? They said his life was in danger. Was that a lie? Or... what? Is there some other reason?

***

“Your Majesty, please do not do this.”

The servant collapsed to the floor beneath Ragniel’s knees.

“Get up. There is no need for that.”

“Your Majesty, you must eat.”

“What can I do if nothing will go down? Hmm? Come now, get up.”

Rising from his chair, Ragniel grasped the servant with arms thin as branches. Startled by the frail touch, the servant flinched violently, but Ragniel could not even withstand that small force and staggered.

“Your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty!!”

Fortunately, the hands that caught him from both sides kept him from collapsing onto the floor.

Ragniel barely regained his balance and sat back down.

“Do not make such a fuss.”

“Please at least eat some porridge.”

“Your Majesty... are you worried about the Heroes?”

“You! In front of His Majesty—”

“It is fine.”

Ragniel lifted his eyes toward the wide-open curtains. Beneath the vivid blue sky, warm sunlight sparkled beautifully, but his heart was in turmoil.

“Worried? Of course I am. They are my closest friends, my swords, and my people. Worry keeps me from sleeping.”

His words did not seem false. Dark shadows ringed his eyes, and his cheeks had hollowed noticeably. It was difficult to believe someone could become so gaunt in only a few days.

Yet there was still no news from the battlefield.

The crystal orb remained silent, reflecting only sunlight without a single message.

“The Heroes’ authority is practically invincible. What is there to worry about so deeply?”

“Invincible... If only that had remained true forever.”

Clouds drifted past, and the angle of the sunlight changed. A sudden flash stabbed into Ragniel’s eyes. Suppressing a groan, he squeezed them shut. The ringing in his ears, now so familiar, churned through his head. The servants’ voices—“Your Majesty? Your Majesty!”—echoed around him, mingling with his own.

“Your Majesty?”

Ragniel slowly opened his eyes. He had suppressed the pain so completely he had even held his breath, leaving the servants unable to notice. Still, his sudden closing of his eyes had worried them, and their faces were dark with concern.

“I will take a walk later and eat afterward, so leave me now. I wish to be alone.”

“Your Majesty, we cannot do that. Lord Giselle instructed us to attend to you with utmost care.”

“Should you not at least help me remain a king?”

“Y-Your Majesty, how could you say such a thing...”

The servant swallowed the rest of his words and lowered his eyes.

Ragniel said nothing.

Unable to endure the silence pressing down like stone, the servants finally withdrew.

Ragniel’s chest rose and fell heavily. Only after they left did he release a long breath and stand.

Three steps wherever his feet carried him...

Five steps along the designated path...

“What in the world...”

Ragniel swallowed his words.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in his office.

Even the space that usually felt comforting now seemed alien. Swaying unsteadily, Ragniel stopped before a long object. He grabbed the cloth covering it and pulled.

A cracked mirror was revealed.

The reflection staring back at him looked dreadful.

A face far too thin. Eyes blurred and dim.

How could this possibly be the face of a king?

“Ask Giselle... for help...”

The Ragniel reflected in the mirror moved his lips.

No sound emerged, but Ragniel could read them himself.

May Saint Leviantehnuk’s blessing—

It was the blessing he himself had proclaimed before the soldiers departing for war.

***

“Grant them permission.”

“Yes, sir.”

The servant who had come to ask about Giselle’s intentions bowed and withdrew. As soon as he straightened, other servants approached.

“Please prepare me for an outing.”

“Yes, Lord Giselle.”

“Shall we bring the suit prepared last time?”

Giselle nodded. A quick-witted servant hurried away and brought the clothes specially tailored several days earlier.

A black suit.

Since it was not a color Giselle usually wore, the servants found it strange, but they kept their mouths shut.

The sun was sinking lazily toward the horizon.

A perfect time to finish something.

***

The carriage crossed the central streets of the capital.

“There are a lot of people wearing black today.”

Ren spoke while staring out the window. Jepeto nodded at his words.

“You’re right. Strange, isn’t it?”

At their conversation, Veron turned toward the window as well.

They were on their way to the Gannion ducal residence to attend Duke Gannion’s funeral. Since they had left somewhat late, only a few carriages were crossing the streets. But every luxurious carriage they saw was heading toward the Gannion estate. It seemed many people had come to mourn his death.

Secretly, Ren felt relieved.

Maybe the people on the streets were wearing black because of that too.

Even if they were not, Ren decided to think so anyway.

As he stared down at the white chrysanthemum in his arms, Veron spoke.

“It is probably because of Duke Gannion.”

“Really?”

He had hoped that was the case, but to think it truly was! Ren’s eyes widened.

“How? Did everyone know the duke personally?”

“I heard he was an exceptional and benevolent man. They say he always tried to reflect the people’s will even in matters of taxation policy. Doesn’t that make him a good man?”

“I see. He really was amazing.”

“Oh! Then even I would have worn black today. Really, there are so many tyrannical lords out there. Even the village chief where I used to live was unbelievably stubborn. Every single time he came to me demanding money...”

Ren let Jepeto’s chatter pass through one ear and out the other.

He kept thinking about Coco, who had said she knew nothing of family love and that there was no one she could trust. The only people she could rely on were a handful of loyal maids, Seton, and Hugh.

Did being a wonderful person to everyone else mean being unable to do right by your family?

What must Coco be feeling right now?

I’m going there to mourn someone. I shouldn’t be thinking like this.

Ren shook his head hard. Startled, Jepeto immediately fussed over whether he was in pain. With an exhausted look, Ren answered that he was fine and shoved away Jepeto, who kept leaning close to examine him.

On the surface, the atmosphere among them seemed peaceful and calm.

But it was not.

Jepeto simply could not bring himself to ask.

What exactly did it mean for Ren to be summoned by Giselle and ordered to stay by a Hero’s side for four hours every day?

Jepeto was only a physician. In the royal castle, he was probably nothing more than a man with a few useful tricks. Since there was nothing he could do anyway, he swallowed his questions rather than stir things up and leave himself troubled.

“We can see the ducal residence now.”

Even from afar, the estate looked magnificent, with endless carriages and people flowing inside.

“There are so many people.”

“They even allowed commoners to come in and observe. Though they cannot throw flowers, of course.”

The carriage came to a stop.

Thanks to the servant Coco had sent, Ren entered the estate comfortably. Following the servant’s guidance, he came upon a plant wall decorated with white flowers. Continuing onward, a massive garden revealed itself.

Nobles sat gathered in small groups there.

Young ladies, noblewomen, men in military uniforms, aristocrats with stiff high collars—it was packed with people. Young, middle-aged, elderly, all alike. Commoners stood gathered toward the rear of the grand garden, suppressing their curiosity.

All of them had come to mourn Duke Gannion’s death.

“You’ve arrived.”

“Thanks to you, we came comfortably. Thank you.”

As they entered the grand garden, Hugh greeted them warmly.

“Where’s Coco?”

“She will appear once the ceremony begins. I will show you to your seats. This way, toward the front.”

“The front?”

“Aren’t you Lady Coco’s one and only friend, Ren?”

Hugh spoke gently.

It was not incorrect. Sitting among the nobles felt slightly uncomfortable, but Ren had already experienced similar situations countless times in the royal castle.

In the end, he followed Hugh toward the front.

Jepeto, looking deeply uncomfortable, said he would rather stand in the back and watch, but eventually all of them were seated together in the very front.

Closer even than members of the duke’s collateral family.

Then someone’s voice rang out.

“And who exactly are you to be sitting here?”