Episode 175
“Mother, why don’t I have a father?”
A young, innocent Llewellyn had once asked Duchess Asta.
He regretted it instantly.
His mother, just returned from the war, stroked his hair, her face filled with a sadness he had never seen before. Llewellyn, flustered by her vulnerability, fidgeted nervously.
Duchess Asta, seeing his discomfort, chuckled softly and asked,
“Are you curious about your father?”
“…Yes.”
Llewellyn, always curious, nodded eagerly. Duchess Asta smiled.
“Then you should see him.”
She led him to the library and pulled back a heavy curtain, revealing a portrait Llewellyn had never seen before.
A man with gentle features held a baby in his arms, smiling alongside his mother.
“Is that Father?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I not there?”
“You weren’t born yet.”
“Did Brother see Father?”
“Yes, he did. And you saw him too, though you were too young to remember.”
Llewellyn stared at the portrait for a long time.
He hadn’t felt his father’s absence before, but seeing the portrait, he wished his father was alive. Because…
“Llewellyn, watch out!”
“…!”
Elonia’s shout snapped him out of his reverie.
But even though he knew it wasn’t his real father, the sight of the approaching corpse, bearing his father’s face, paralyzed him.
“Llewellyn!”
Elonia pulled him back.
“Ow!”
“Sorry, Young Master.”
Lucius tried to dispel the phantom Duke Asta with his Holy Power, but,
“N-no!”
“…!”
Llewellyn, sprawled on the floor, grabbed Lucius’s leg, causing his aim to falter.
Lucius’s Holy Power wasn’t destructive, so it didn’t damage the room, but everyone stared at Llewellyn, stunned.
“Young Master, what are you—”
Llewellyn, his face filled with desperation, shook his head.
“Please don’t…”
Elonia, Lucius, and even Alberich were taken aback.
They had never seen Llewellyn so distraught.
The arrogant young master, who never lowered his pride, was clinging to Lucius’s leg, pleading desperately.
Elonia realized she had never considered Duke Asta’s absence. Duchess Asta and the brothers had never mentioned him, so she hadn’t felt his absence either.
‘…Even I would react like this if my dead parents suddenly appeared.’
But it wasn’t real.
It was a phantom created by Tristan. Just as Elonia steeled her resolve and reached for her sword,
“Elonia, please…”
Llewellyn’s pleading gaze stopped her.
She knew it wasn’t the real Duke Asta, but the resemblance was uncanny.
He was gaunt, sickly, but it was undeniably his father’s face.
Elonia’s hand began to sweat.
[Ugh… Argh…!]
The phantom Duke Asta, seizing the opportunity, lunged towards Lucius.
Elonia made her decision.
‘I’m sorry, Alberich, Llewellyn, but I have to…’
Just as Artius had once chosen to bear the burden of resentment to protect her, Elonia closed her eyes and made her choice.
Just as she raised her sword,
Slash!
A blue blade, faster than hers, cut through the phantom Duke Asta.
Elonia stared, forgetting to blink, at the owner of the sword.
“Alberich…?”
Lucius and Llewellyn also stared at Alberich, stunned. They hadn’t expected him to strike down his own father’s phantom.
Llewellyn, his face contorted in anger, jumped up and confronted Alberich.
“What did you do, Brother?!”
“What did you do?!”
“…!”
Alberich’s sharp rebuke silenced him.
He was genuinely angry.
Llewellyn, shocked, couldn’t even breathe. Alberich, looking at the dissipating black mist, asked Lucius,
“Young Master, would you mind taking care of the rest?”
“…Yes.”
“N-no!”
Llewellyn tried to stop Lucius again, but Lucius was faster this time. A bright light flashed, and the black mist vanished completely.
Llewellyn stared blankly at the now-empty space, like a child whose favorite snack had been snatched away.
Alberich stepped in front of him, blocking his view.
“Get a grip, Llewellyn.”
He scolded him, his voice cold and sharp, his expression unfamiliar.
Everyone was taken aback by Alberich’s harshness.
He was usually stoic but kind, especially towards his younger siblings. They had never seen him this angry.
Llewellyn, still in shock, stared up at him silently.
Alberich sighed and turned to Elonia.
“Your Highness, please go ahead.”
“…Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His curt reply reassured her somewhat, but she was still worried about Llewellyn.
Lucius, sensing her hesitation, offered his hand.
“Your Highness, we can’t delay any longer.”
“…Alright.”
Elonia closed her eyes briefly, then nodded.
Lucius was right. Delaying further would only benefit their enemies.
She looked at Llewellyn, her heart aching, then turned to Alberich.
“I’ll leave him to you, Alberich.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Be safe.”
Alberich smiled faintly. Elonia returned the smile, then, with heavy steps, left the Imperial Princess’s Palace with Lucius.
Alberich and Llewellyn were left alone.
As soon as Elonia was gone, Llewellyn grabbed Alberich’s collar, his eyes blazing.
“Brother, how could you… Father…!”
But the words died in his throat. Alberich’s golden eyes, cold as glaciers, warned him,
“Don’t act like a child, Llewellyn.”
“…!”
It was the first time Alberich had spoken to him so coldly.
They had always bickered, but Alberich had always helped him with his assignments, always looked out for him. And now, he was furious.
Llewellyn’s grip loosened, and he slumped to the ground.
Had he acted so foolishly?
‘But that was… Father…’
No, was it really?
“Ugh…!”
The memory of his father’s gaunt, decaying face made him gag.
“Tsk.”
Alberich clicked his tongue and knelt down beside him.
“Llewellyn, Her Highness told you. That was a phantom.”
“…”
Llewellyn knew. He knew it wasn’t real.
But he hadn’t wanted to see his brother cut down his father, even if it was just a phantom.
He scratched the floor with his fingernails, his hands trembling.
Alberich forced him to look up.
“Llewellyn Asta, get a grip. Like it or not, you’re the second son of House Asta. Weakness is unacceptable.”
“I know, but…”
“Llewellyn, if you want to join Father, I won’t stop you. But.”
Alberich’s gaze was serious, stern.
“You can’t protect your sister with such a weak spirit.”
“…!”
“What if your actions jeopardized Her Highness’s mission?”
“Th-that’s…”
He couldn’t answer.
Holding someone back? Endangering Ravanta because of his weakness?
It was unthinkable.
Llewellyn finally realized how much Alberich had indulged him, how foolish he had been.
Alberich asked again,
“Did you want to be a useless burden, holding back Her Highness?”
“…No.”
Llewellyn lowered his head, mumbling softly.
He had been born into a family of knights, but he had no talent for swordsmanship. His brother, on the other hand, was a prodigy.
Llewellyn had always been proud, arrogant even.
Realizing Alberich could do things he couldn’t had fostered a sense of inferiority. Even after discovering his own talents, he had sometimes envied Alberich.
But now, he felt ashamed, more ashamed than ever before.
“…I’m sorry. I was foolish.”
He admitted his mistake. Alberich’s expression softened, and he gently stroked Llewellyn’s hair.
“If you understand, then don’t mistake those phantoms for Father again. It only strengthens them.”
“I know. Father wasn’t like that.”
The father in the portrait had looked kind and warm.
But the phantom hadn’t smiled like that.
It hadn’t looked beautiful or kind. It had looked resentful, trying to harm him and Alberich.
He couldn’t understand why he had mistaken it for his father.
The father Llewellyn longed for wasn’t like that.
Alberich, as if reading his thoughts, asked,
“Is it because of Mother?”
“…You knew.”
“Of course.”
Alberich chuckled softly. They might have different personalities, but they thought alike when it came to their mother.
Duchess Asta was a perfect person.
So perfect that no one noticed Duke Asta’s absence. Not even his own sons.
“When I was younger, I wished there was someone who could share Mother’s burden.”
“Me too.”
“You were the son who could meet Mother’s expectations. She must have been proud of you.”
“She was proud of you too. She was never disappointed in us.”
“I know, but…”
He still wished there had been someone to share the burden, someone to make his mother happy, like in other families.
That was why he had hesitated to harm the phantom Duke Asta.
Hoping, perhaps, that his father could return.
Hoping, perhaps, that his mother would show that rare smile again.
“I won’t be fooled again. Father is already gone.”
Llewellyn clenched his fists and lifted his head.
His large golden eyes shone with their usual arrogant and defiant light.
Alberich, relieved, stood up.
“Then grab a book or something. You can’t fight barehanded.”
“I know. Even a phantom would feel pain if hit by a book corner.”
Llewellyn retorted immediately, grabbing the thickest book from Elonia’s bookshelf. Its gold-embossed corners looked particularly sharp.