Rick could tell sothing was wrong with him.
Tristan was trying to maintain his composure, but the way he fidgeted betrayed his unease.
A mont later, he finally stood up.
"Excuse for a mont… I have a stomachache."
"A-Ah! Yes, Your Highness. No need to explain!"
That was definitely information no one needed to hear.
Does he have no sha? Why would he even say that?
As Tristan disappeared into the shadows, Rick absentmindedly chewed on a piece of at, his thoughts a tangled ss.
Now he was left alone with Arthur—a man just as difficult to deal with, albeit for entirely different reasons.
I do not want to hear even a single second about how you feel about Maria!
Desperately, Rick searched for a way to shut him up.
But it was too late. Arthur spoke first.
And it was a topic Rick hadn’t expected.
"Prince Tristan and Lady Doris’s relationship seems to be going well. Normally, I wouldn't discuss other people's affairs, but I think it’s important to clear up any misunderstandings regarding their bond."
"...Excuse ? Duke, are you close with His Highness, or with Doris?"
"Neither. But back in May, at the royal banquet, I had the opportunity to dance and converse with Lady Doris."
"And she ntioned her fiancé?"
What the hell was this about?
Rick nearly scoffed.
The royal banquet was a place where only polished words were spoken. Of course Doris would have spoken highly of her engagent, and this naive man had taken her words at face value.
But then, Arthur dropped sothing far worse.
"At the ti, Lady Doris was convinced that His Highness was interested in Lady Maria rather than herself. While we were dancing, she asked if I could help her win his attention."
"…What?"
"I heard it with my own ears."
Arthur's voice was unwavering.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Doris Redfield, you really said sothing ridiculous, didn’t you?
So it was out of obligation to your family that you tried to maintain this engagent, right?
But then Arthur continued, launching another verbal cannonball.
"She seed to genuinely like Prince Tristan. She said he was incredible, attractive, the kind of man every woman would turn around to look at… She praised him so much that even I started blushing."
"……."
"Even the usually reserved Lady Doris was passionate when it ca to love, enough to ask for help from soone she barely knew."
"Ah, you—"
"Haha, it's hard to imagine, isn’t it? I wasn't able to be of much help, but in the end, it seems like they’re doing well together, so I’m relieved."
Rick clamped his mouth shut.
What the hell did I just hear?
Doris… liked Tristan? She admired his looks?
Doris. You wanted Tristan's love that badly?
Arthur, completely oblivious to the existential crisis he had just inflicted, smiled warmly.
"That’s why I believe in the power of love. Love eventually brings everyone to where they belong, ensuring their happiness. So, as a friend of my beloved lady… Rick?"
"…Would it be alright if I drank this?"
Rick picked up the wine bottle.
There was plenty of alcohol left. But Arthur, noticing Rick’s troubled expression, hesitated.
"Of course, but… Rick, are you alright?"
"I’m absolutely fine. Yes. Perfectly fine. Nothing has changed. I just suddenly felt like having a drink."
"Uh… Rick, that’s not a glass you’re holding in your left hand. That’s a beer keg—don’t pour it!"
"……."
Rick stared blankly at the beer keg, now stained red.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing has changed, right?
The woman and the man had been engaged for years.
The man was destined to inherit Blue Atrium.
The woman loved the man. The man had proven his worth.
Perfect.
Any distaste for political marriages, any harsh realities of war—none of it mattered in the face of such a beautiful, perfect story.
"I’ll take care of this drink myself."
"It’s a waste, though. You really don’t have to—"
"Actually, this is exactly how I like to drink."
"Oh! There’s a certain charm to it, I see. I’ll have to try it soti!"
Honest and virtuous in everything, aren’t you?
Arthur continued talking, but Rick wasn’t listening anymore.
Instead, he tilted the keg and let himself drown in liquor.
He wanted to get drunk.
Doris wasn’t here to see him crumble.
Maria wasn’t here to worry over him if he slipped up and let his feelings show.
But before Rick could reach true intoxication, the keg ran dry.
As he took a step back, he noticed the ground around him was dyed red.
A crack in the keg, maybe? It must have leaked during transport.
Ha… Haha! Why the hell does nothing ever go my way?
Rick let out a laugh.
No one paid him any mind—half the camp was drunk anyway.
Arthur had already left to handle the soldiers who had passed out.
A man with real battlefield experience didn’t just fight—he also managed his subordinates.
Arthur was adept at carrying unconscious n, moving with practiced ease.
I should go help…
But Rick didn’t move.
It was childish, but he was tired of being overshadowed by Arthur’s perfection.
Handso, kind, strong, noble—he was practically a divine gift molded specifically for Maria.
Yet instead of heading to his tent, Rick found his body moving on its own.
He cleaned up the plates.
He covered the dying fire with sand.
He gathered the leftover firewood.
His hands and feet stayed busy, working without pause.
A soldier passing by comnted.
"You’re working hard, man. You were going all out earlier when we were fortifying the camp, too."
"Haha, a young guy’s gotta use his strength while he’s got it. Need for anything?"
"You’re not getting extra pay for this, you know. Take it easy."
"Hey, who knows? Maybe so kind noble will decide to take on as a servant."
A joke. A twisted joke.
A long ti ago, when it was just Rick and his mother wandering from place to place…
Whenever the word father was ntioned, his mother would clam up like a locked chest.
But on the one night she had been truly drunk, she had let slip a single sentence.
"He was… a nobleman."
As a boy, Rick had treasured those words, keeping them like a secret fortune.
And he never asked about his father again.
Instead, he imagined.
A nobleman—his father must have been unable to go against his family’s wishes.
A tragic love story.
What kind of man had he been? Rick looked like his mother, but his broad fra must have co from his father. Maybe he was a knight commander.
So Rick worked diligently wherever he went.
He took on tasks that others avoided.
He treated everyone with kindness.
Because one day, his father might find him.
And when that day ca, Rick wanted to stand tall as a son his father could be proud of.
But ti was cruel.
And the world was unforgiving.
His dreams withered. His mother was consud by illness, worsened by poverty.
And before she died, she saw right through the hopes he had never spoken aloud.
"Never expect anything from your father. He was a bastard."
Whether it was a blessing or a curse, by then, Rick had already given up on the fantasy.
After his mother’s death, he lied about his age and joined a rcenary group.
He had talent with the sword and quickly proved himself.
By the ti he had grown used to that brutal way of life—
"Hey, kid… your mother’s na wouldn’t happen to be ‘Leira,’ would it?"
A ssenger from Count Braum had found him.
And from that mont, Rick’s life was thrown into chaos.
The father he had once hoped to et with pride turned out to be a disgrace.
A man who had seduced a maid, cast her aside, and only sought her out years later when he found himself without an heir.
And even after tracking Rick down, the bastard never t him in person.
Every word, every order was passed through ssengers.
"Mother, I think you actually understated how much of a bastard he was."
Count Braum wasn’t just a bastard.
He wasn’t even worthy of being dog food.
But Rick couldn’t just let it go.
He wanted to take everything he could from the man.
At the very least, he wanted to give his mother a proper burial.
…But the Redfield Count had interfered.
And Rick had been unable to attend the trial.
That was the end of it.
The mont his mission was complete, he quit being a rcenary and disappeared.
Count Braum would undoubtedly send so disgusting ssage telling him to keep his mouth shut.
Don’t worry. I never want to see you again either.
And so, Rick wandered.
Until he found a peaceful land.
And he t Maria.
And he learned what true peace was.
Even if he couldn’t stay by her side forever—
He could still strive for the peace she had taught him.
It had been five years. He had shed his rcenary past.
Even the na Blue Atrium no longer stirred his anger.
Now, all he thought about was finishing this mission and returning to the capital.
For now, let’s just clean up this feast.
But storms never announce their arrival.
As he stepped into the underbrush to dispose of the trash—
A voice stabbed into his ears.
"Well, well… Could it be? You’re Leira’s son?"
Rick turned slowly.
That voice.
It was one he could never forget.
Standing there was the very ssenger who had first delivered the storm that upended his life, five years ago.
Reviews
All reviews (0)