Chapter 97

Walking wherever his feet carried him, he soon found himself in a secluded alley.

And there, in the dim alleyway, he felt a gaze directed at him.

“……”

Following the stare, he spotted a shabby-looking child.

The child wasn’t extremely filthy nor dressed in rags, but overall, he seemed poorly cared for.

Ianharte, staring at the child, stepped deeper into the alley.

Flinch—

The child, who had been staring at him, hurriedly tried to stand as Ianharte approached.

But his thin legs, stiff from crouching too long, wouldn’t move as he wished.

Thud—

Falling with a smack, the boy bit his lip and slowly got up again.

Ianharte simply looked down at him.

Messy dirty-blond hair, and then…

“Sorry.”

The boy lifted his head slightly, and when their eyes met, he quickly looked down again—revealing his red eyes.

His features weren’t fully matured yet, but already distinct.

And faintly, from his chest, Ianharte could sense an aura.

Confirming his suspicion, Ianharte tilted his head slightly.

“What are you sorry for?”

“…For staring.”

Caught off guard by Ianharte’s question, the boy stammered awkwardly.

“What’s your name?”

“…My mom told me not to tell strangers.”

The boy hesitated, watching Ianharte, before mumbling a late reply.

It was only natural for a child to be wary of strangers.

Just then—

Growl—

A loud rumbling sound echoed.

The source was too obvious.

The boy, startled, clutched his stomach, his face reddening.

He seemed embarrassed that the sound had come from him.

“…Are you hungry?”

At Ianharte’s question, the boy, still staring at the ground with a flushed face, slowly nodded.

Immediately after, his stomach growled again.

Once you notice hunger or pain, it always feels worse.

The boy’s face grew redder and redder, until he looked like he might cry.

At that moment, a bright red apple was held out to him.

“Uh…”

Caught off guard by the sudden food, the boy looked up quickly.

Ianharte pressed the apple into the boy’s hand.

Then, he sat casually on the ground where the boy had been, gesturing for him to sit beside him.

After some hesitation, the boy shyly sat down next to Ianharte, clutching the apple carefully in his hands.

“…Can I really eat this?”

“I gave it to you to eat.”

But even with that answer, the boy didn’t immediately bite into the apple.

Judging from his question, it wasn’t that he couldn’t eat it.

Maybe he was worried there might be something bad inside?

“There’s no poison.”

“I know.”

The boy nodded matter-of-factly.

But what was he trusting him on, and if he trusted, why wasn’t he eating?

“Then why not eat it?”

The boy’s reply was soft.

“…I want to give it to my mom too.”

He explained that while he had at least eaten some bread, his mother hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch.

Seeing that he would just keep holding the apple no matter how hungry he was, Ianharte sighed and opened his spatial pouch.

Taking out three or four more apples, the boy’s eyes went wide as saucers.

To him, seeing large apples come out of such a small pouch looked like a miracle.

It wasn’t wrong to call it a magical artifact.

“There are more, so eat.”

As soon as Ianharte said that, the boy eagerly began eating.

The apple was quite large, but he quickly chewed it down to the core.

Ianharte naturally placed another apple into his hand.

For a while, the alley was filled only with the crunching sound of apples being eaten.

After that, the boy seemed to lower his guard considerably, answering Ianharte’s questions as he chattered away.

“Your house?”

“It’s over there.”

The boy pointed toward a side alley just around the corner.

So his house must be inside there.

“Family?”

“…I live with my mom. She leaves for work in the morning and comes back at night. She never has a day off. She’s always working…”

Though he said it simply, the boy knew the real reason his mother never rested.

It was because of the medicine he had to take.

“Is she sick?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes she gets a fever and collapses… The doctor who lives down the street said she has a weak body and needs medicine.”

Though his mother worked day and night, most of her wages went to buying medicine for her frail son.

“I was supposed to stay in bed today too, but I came out anyway. There’s nothing to do at home.”

The boy forced a smile, pushing away the gloom, and after a few more words, hesitated.

“Um… brother.”

“Yes.”

The word brother felt strange, but Ianharte answered briefly without showing it.

The boy didn’t know, but there were two meanings hidden in that word.

“….”

The boy opened and closed his mouth, struggling to speak.

At last, he whispered—

“My name is Petches. Petches Torca.”

The boy had introduced himself.

Ianharte’s half-brother bore the name Petches Torca.

So it had been, in the past.

A chance meeting with his half-brother, born from a string of coincidences.

Ianharte briefly summarized the story to Riana, starting from when he had met the old man selling apples.

Hearing the shortened tale, Riana pitied Petches.

“And after that, Your Majesty helped Lord Torca and his mother, right?”

She had unknowingly reverted to calling him Your Majesty, but didn’t notice.

Ianharte chuckled at this and nodded.

“You could call it sponsorship. Not long after, Petches also showed talent in alchemy.”

Though it was a hassle to hide things from the late emperor, fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he died never knowing that Ianharte had taken in his illegitimate child.

“Then did you also meet Lord Torca’s mother that day?”

“Yes. She had been dismissed from her job and was on her way home early.”

“Ah…”

It was quite the coincidence.

That on the very day Ianharte left the palace, Petches also left his bed and wandered into that alley.

“When you think about it, fate must really exist. It’s a good thing Lord Torca met you.”

Riana, moved by the story, spoke with a slightly flushed face.

Ianharte gave a faint smile and nodded vaguely.

“At the very least, he was able to live without poverty. So it wasn’t a bad thing for him.”

It was agreement, but not quite the blessing Riana had meant.

Riana lightly tapped his arm.

“I meant it’s lucky he had a brother like you. Beyond money, having family who gives you affection and care is a blessing.”

“……”

“Don’t deny it. I could see how much you cared for him.”

She spoke softly, and Ianharte fell silent for a moment.

Affection.

A cherished sibling.

When he first met Petches and his mother, Ianharte had already guessed what had happened to them.

An emperor who loved the empress.
An empress who not only didn’t love him back but hated him.

So the emperor sought physical comfort with other women.

And the next day, those women were always pushed away.

Sometimes merely outside the palace.
Sometimes beyond the capital.
Sometimes… forever.

As if flaunting that his lust was fleeting, never once did a woman remain beside him longer than a single night.

Ianharte found such behavior repulsive, but the empire belonged to the emperor.

All he could do was secretly provide aid, enough to help them settle where they were cast away.

He didn’t feel guilt for acts he hadn’t committed. But he did feel faint pity and sympathy.

So when he had recognized Petches as his blood at first glance, Ianharte had simply acted as he always did.

…Perhaps with a little more care.

“See? I was right. No one treats a half-brother that well unless they care. You can tell just from how much Lord Torca respects you.”

Riana smiled, recalling how Petches had looked at Ianharte—with respect, trust, a hint of loyalty, and deep gratitude and affection.

“…He is my blood, after all.”

In the end, Ianharte’s answer was a vague affirmation.

Not exactly I care for him or I watch over him with affection, but it contained both.

Perhaps, for this aloof man, that was the best he could say.