This chapter is brought to you by Headlock by Imogen Heap.

Edited by: bafflinghaze

---

It was winter when Leotine met his younger brother.

Elliot was tiny for a ten-year-old—scrawny and thin, with pale cheeks and little hands.

The Butler and Housekeeper called his weight into question due to their concerns of neglect—concerns of which should have been shared by Father, though Leotine couldn't quite wholly blame the man.

(His melancholia had grown more severe over the years and completely erased his joys, leaving behind a hollow shell of the man he once was. Even the smallest pleasures he used to cherish—like the aroma of his favorite tisane, or the presence of Leotine beside him—were distant and meaningless by this point.)

"He's a picky eater," Astella explained.

This statement was proven true when Elliot refused to eat during their first meal together as a family.

"His food shouldn't touch," Astella instructed the cook. "And no meats. Or raw leafy greens. Clear bone broth with a side of bread and boiled spinach should suffice. He is sensitive to texture."

"Is that typical?" Leotine asked one day, watching Elliot happily ignore the more heartier and fancier dishes in favor of his soup and bread.

"For the moment. He will grow out of it once his palette is less sensitive," Astella assured as if this was normal.

Besides his eating habits, Leotine found that Elliot was also prone to tears.

He had a healthy set of tear ducts that could rival the many waterfalls of Candor Island.

He often cried whenever Father was around. Perhaps to gain his attention. Perhaps so he could have his sympathy and affection.

After all, children were often insecure little creatures who sought out protection and love from those they deemed their guardians, and Elliot was clever enough to realize that by technicality, as the Earl of Moores, Father was the one he needed favors from.

It was quite sad to see his endeavors end in failure, as Father no longer knew how to fully love a child without burdening them with his own sadness.

His crying would cause Father to excuse himself so he could also fall into a state of tears in the privacy of his bedroom.

Elliot would slowly learn that Father could not be the loving and affectionate parental figure he was expecting.

Leotine took pity on him, but it wasn't like he could do anything.

Tears would stream down Elliot's face whenever he approached him, usually in view of Father or Astella.

It didn't help with the tension in the manor, which was palpable since Astella arrived to become the new Countess.

Servants were whispering between corridors and Father's manic episodes were also increasing as time went on.

Life felt rather unbearable for Leotine.

"Did you do something to your brother?" Father asked one day.

His eyes were watery and red from what was likely a morning spent reminiscing about Mother.

On this particular day, they were out in the garden.

Astella recommended that they go out and sunbathe since the weather was nice.

Leotine had attempted to hold Elliot's hand, small tiny hands that were no bigger than a cat's paw, but Elliot suddenly stumbled and fell.

He fell, and then he cried, and Father was soon alerted of what had happened.

"I just wanted to hold his hand," Leotine explained calmly.

Father shook his head and sighed something so exhausting and heavy from his lungs.

He crouched down and scooped Elliot into his arms, and started petting his hair absentmindedly like how one would pet a stuffed animal and not his youngest son.

Leotine felt a twang of apprehension shooting through his body the moment Elliot was lifted off the ground.

"... Okay," Father whispered, awareness already fading from his eyes. "Just play nice."

"Yes, Father," Leotine answered warily, though his gaze was solely on his little brother.

It wasn't Elliot's fault for being unaware that their father was not holding him out of parental affection.

Alas, he was prepared to catch his brother in the case that he was abruptly dropped.

But then, he saw it.

Hidden from their father's view but apparent to him, he saw a mischievous smile.

Oh.

He stood there, frozen, taking in the sight before him.

All the puzzle pieces fell into place.

The crying, the tears.

Elliot was doing this on purpose.

Leotine had thought his younger brother was a helpless thing. Prone to tears, nervous, skittish, and clumsy.

But...

He realized he had made a mistake in his initial assessment.

The smile directed toward him could have been a mocking sneer.

How had not noticed the greed and ambition his little brother harbored?

And at such a tender age, too.

Elliot had the heart of a thief.

A thief with the makings of a white-eyed wolf—who would take from him, or at the very least, try to.

The pitiful tears and the aggrieved expressions were part of an act, and Leotine allowed himself to be pulled in without realizing the role he was meant to play.

This child wanted to take from him.

He wanted everything he had.

And wasn't that so very ironic?

A boy with no appetite for the fancier and heartier dishes on the table was hungry, instead, for a higher station—and the first opponent he chose to go against was his older brother who just so happened to be the heir of a Comital.

The classic utilization of rumors, good vs. evil underdog tropes, and intrigue was all there.

Formulaic, but traditional.

His little brother was quite clever, albeit lacking in experience—

Right then and there, Leotine knew he was doomed.

The unspoken "quirk" of his bloodline reared its head at this very moment to push him down into the abyss of no return.

He stared at the arms holding his little brother, the hands petting his soft ash-brown hair with the absentmindedness of someone who had already emotionally detached himself for the day—and he wondered.

How could his father not love a child like Elliot?

How could he not see how precious he was?

Elliot was like an unruly kitten with milk teeth and tiny claws.

Life had, at that moment, become much brighter.

The dynamic started to shift.

Following the incident, Leotine soon found himself 'caught' in Elliot's various 'traps.'

Tears would fall from his brother's eyes the moment Leotine entered the room, and he would let out the most heartbreaking sobs at the sight of him.

Of course, Leotine was fully aware that Elliot was trying to imply something regarding their relationship.

Perhaps that Leotine had been unkind to him behind closed doors, or that he despised his baby brother's very existence.

But whatever it was that he was trying to convey to the general public didn't quite matter. All that mattered was the fact that it was always in view of visitors, seasonal workers, and tutors.

So, eventually, the rumor of the Moores Heir abusing his illegitimate brother became a sensational topic.

As logic would follow, Leotine should have been more concerned that an illegitimate sibling like Elliot was now actively challenging him for heirship—however, how could he harbor hatred for a child as adorable and conniving as Elliot?

Elliot had no flaws.

"I'm so sorry."

The apology was unexpected and had come from Astella one day out of the blue—nearly a year after she first arrived.

They were in her office.

Leotine had been invited for tea.

He observed the room curiously from where he sat, observing all the papers scattered about.

There was a faint scent of roses coming from somewhere. He saw a vase of them on the study table and momentarily wondered how Astella had managed to get them this time of year.

On one side of the room, there was a makeshift laboratory slowly forming on top of a tall long table, filled with notebooks, textbooks, glass objects, bottles, and herbs.

Leotine shifted in his seat. Across from him, on the opposite end of the round coffee table, Astella sat stiffly, sipping on a cup of tea.

A tiny green hummingbird darted forward and nuzzled its little head against Leotine's cheek, and he chuckled at the ticklish feeling of feathers against his skin.

His stepmother had brought these little creatures with her when she first moved in.

Curious things, they were. Small, but with sharp beaks that could pierce through skin. They followed her everywhere.

"Let me guess," Leotine said, holding out his hand. It—she?—landed on his palm. "Holly. Did I get that right?"

"Hollyhock," Astella corrected.

There was a moment of silence that passed between them.

But then, she put her cup down and met his eyes.

"I should have paid better attention to what he was doing."

There was no need to say who he was—as they both knew the person in question that was about to be discussed.

Leotine picked up his own cup of tea—it smelled like a mix of herbs and warm spices—and observed his stepmother's complexion.

She was pale and looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

His stepmother hardly had time to rest, too busy playing head of house and Countess of Moores 2.0.

Father's conditions had grown worse as time went on and he preferred to be left alone more and more. Astella was the only one he was willing to see, nowadays, and even then, it was because she needed to deliver his nutrient potions, mood stabilizers, and sleeping draughts.

Rather than calling their marriage strictly platonic, it was more like his Father had hired himself a lived-in healer.

Leotine had calmly reassured her regarding Elliot's behavior. "It's cute," he admitted, trying not to smile too wide for fear she would get the wrong idea. "I think he's just trying to find somewhere to belong."

Astella didn't look convinced. "We used to live in the Eastern Slums, but it wasn't suitable after he turned seven. We were constantly on the move, but he has never struggled to adapt."

Leotine mulled over her words for a bit, and then said, "Father... he's not the father, is he?"

She blinked in surprise.

Again, he tried not to smile, only because he knew she would take it the wrong way.

It was quite obvious from the start that Elliot wasn't Father's. Father would never betray Mother, no matter how deeply he grieved her.

When she died, a part of him died with her. There was nothing in this world—not even Leotine—that could bring him back from that state of deathless death.

Leotine could only conclude that there was a reason Father welcomed Astella to their home, and it was certainly not because she bore him a child.

Astella fiddled with the teacup some more. Her body language was open. She was stalling on purpose, basically admitting the truth.

"He is—according to the paternity document."

His suspicions were confirmed at that moment.

After all, the results of paternity tests provided by the Church only showed that the father was related to the child.

He shrugged his shoulders, deliberately playing nonchalantly. "I'll take what I can."

She tilted her head. "Do you like Elliot so much? I was led to believe noble children disliked their half-siblings due to competition."

This time, Leotine smiled. Yes, he was rather overly fond of Elliot, but it was not for the reason Astella suspected. It was not merely an older brother caring for his younger brother.

Their connection transcended beyond just that, for Leotine had claimed Elliot as his own.

If he could bring down storms and rain at his request, collect the stars, capture wind and sky, and even die for him—he would do so without any hesitation for Elliot mattered more to him than the world, itself.

"I've always wanted something to call my own," Leotine admitted after some thought.

In an instant, Astella seemed to turn to stone. She stared at him in disbelief.

When you look at me, who do I remind you of? Leotine wondered as he observed her reaction.

Having lived together for a year, he noticed Astella had a peculiar habit. She would often stare at him, and then be lost in her thoughts.

Out of context, this was bad. Very, very bad. Politically, socially, physically, and psychologically, this would be bad—for every person involved.

But Leotine didn't feel as if the staring was inappropriate. He felt no discomfort or intention behind her gaze.

There was no... desire when she looked at him.

Rather, she watched him as if he was a living memory.

Leotine patiently allowed her to process his words. He was not in a hurry to explain his reasoning for claiming Elliot as his.

His baby brother was his person. The one he will devote everything to. What was there to explain when the words and motives were clear?

"My mother was father's person, and you... I assume you belonged to whoever fathered Elliot. Can't Elliot be mine?"

The question seemed to have stunned Astella. "... The two of you are not even brothers. He is a mere half-cousin."

And wasn't that just a damning admittance? Leotine mused with a quirk of his lips.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "A person... the person, is the most important thing in the world for a Moores. I would say Father was an outlier for marrying mother. There were all kinds of warnings of how a marriage bond would ruin us if death or betrayal happened. Father didn't heed the warning, and look where that led him. He is a broken shell of a man."

Leotine had no way of describing the nature of a Moores' bond with their person. Saying it out loud made him sound overly obsessive, but what other words would he use for a bond that transcended all bonds?

It was a connection that gave and gave. He wouldn't even care if Elliot gave back as long as Elliot accepted all that he could offer and more.

Astella was broken out of her stupor. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him warily.

"He is also of my blood. We are inherently selfish, greedy, and ambitious. Do you not fear that he will betray and hurt you in the end? Be the reason for your unfortunate demise?"

Leotine merely grinned, for he already knew the kind of devil Elliot was, and he still adored him in spite of all his scheming. "Even if he pushes me into an abyss, that is fine."

She frowned with disapproval. "You are foolish. Can you not see how he despises you?"

"I am my father's blood."

Pain clouded Astella's eyes for a brief moment. "Moores love and care too deeply."

And that was... an oversimplification of what Leotine just explained.

Was that what Astella perceived from him? That love and care were all that was needed for a bond?

"It's in our nature," he answered nonetheless, feeling perplexed.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Why decide my son is worthy but not anyone else?"

"He is my little brother," Leotine explained. "The moment he showed his true colors, I knew I would be powerless to deny him anything."

She squinted at him.

"You are a very strange child."

"Thank you."

"That's not a compliment."

"Thank you."

He accepted it, nonetheless.

Astella stared at him intently, observing him for any falsehood. It was like being studied by a bird of prey. Leotine felt like a rodent scurrying around carelessly in the grass.

"As long as he doesn't physically harm you, I will turn a blind eye," she said, her tone being one of defeat.

Leotine beamed.

Life continued on. His stepmother had fully taken over the administration side of the household and managed to weed out traitors and spies.

Elliot stopped crying at the sight of him (Leotine suspected Astella said something), but he liked to act pitiful whenever they were in close proximity to gain the sympathies of the household servants.

"Brother," Elliot called out one winter day.

Leotine had been taking a walk around the garden when he encountered him in his path.

It was cold outside, but according to Astella, some light exercise was good for his body.

So he had the servants dress him in layers and wrapped a scarf around his face—to avoid breathing in the chilly wind—and braved the freezing weather.

Then Elliot appeared, face pale and his whole body shaking like a sapling in the breeze.

He wore a thin coat with an open collar, revealing a woolen vest over a white shirt.

At a glance, it looked as if he had run out in a hurry to greet him, but how was that possible? Who in their right mind would come out in this weather without donning the appropriate layers?

Winter in the Capital was unbearably cold.

Elliot raised his hand, blew into his palm as if trying to warm them up, and rubbed them together while shivering pitifully.

"Brother, it's so cold."

Every move was carefully staged.

Leotine knew this—but oh by the gods, look how cute he was! His baby brother was so talented! At eleven years old, he had the potential to be a politician! Or an actor!

Elliot glanced at his scarf. He called out quickly, "Brother."

Leotine followed his gaze and touched the teal blue scarf around his neck.

It was obvious what he wanted.

"Master Leotine," his personal servant protested once he saw him removing the scarf.

"Don't worry. I'm planning to go inside soon. Elliot needs it more than me. Look at how he is shaking."

The scarf was large and warm. Leotine approached his brother with it.

A flicker of triumph crossed Elliot's face, and Leotine couldn't help but feel the urge to chuckle in amusement.

He wrapped the scarf around his little brother's neck.

It was much too large for Elliot, so he needed to wrap it around him thrice more times to keep the ends from touching the ground.

By the time he was done, the only thing peeking out from underneath the scarf was a pair of large charcoal-black eyes.

Elliot blinked.

Leotine smiled.

Then he shook off his jacket as well, despite his personal servant's objections, and had Elliot wear that, too.

It was much too large on Elliot's frame, but he looked adorable.

Like those waddling flightless birds native to the Northern Tundra.

"There. Much better." Leotine stretched out his hands and cradled his brother's cheeks.

They were red from the cold.

He rubbed them slightly.

"Be good," he said.

Elliot seemingly tensed.

Before he could respond, Leotine turned and prepared to go back inside.

He ignored the sound of sputtering from behind him.

Elliot was adorably two-faced, Leotine found himself musing more often than not.

He was overwhelmed with affection for his baby brother, but alas, Elliot fought tooth and nail to prevent them from getting close.

There were quite a few instances during the winter months when he would be wandering around with only one layer of clothes, bumping into Leotine purposefully during his walks to steal his coats, scarves, gloves, and hats.

Where he was hoarding them, Leotine didn't know.

But again, it was awfully cute, even if Leotine occasionally ended up with a fever after giving up a layer or two.

Elliot never got sick once despite running around in summer clothes, which should be a testament to Astella's healthy genetics.

—But then Leotine's body betrayed him.

It started off slow.

He was feeling less energized. His breath came out short occasionally, and then more frequently. There was pain in his bones at times, splitting headaches and migraines throughout the day, and he often got chills during the night no matter how many warming charms were cast on his blankets.

At first, he thought he caught something.

Perhaps it was the common cold, or just his old childhood illness making a comeback.

Then the red dots started to litter his arms.

And they weren't fading.

Astella saw his arm one day.

Saw the way they speckled from his wrists to his elbows, marring his skin.

"Mother?" Leotine called.

She stood there in place, with an expression that conveyed... fear?

There was a haunted look on her face.

Ah.

Leotine understood.

He had once again reminded her of something.

Life was not as sweet as it once was when he became bedridden.

The scent of Scarlet Poppies filled his room. He was slow to recover as he collapsed more and more often.

"Everyone's worried about you."

Elliot, this wicked-hearted little devil, finally deigned to visit him one day.

"Is that all it takes to get their attention? Get sick?"

The comment, which Leotine knew was meant to hurt, was delivered with a stubborn pout.

My dear little brother, will you mourn for me if I die?

Leotine felt rather ashamed of his weakness, for he knew that Elliot's future would no longer be smooth sailing from here on.

"Come closer."

Elliot stared at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just come here."

The moment Elliot drew close, Leotine reached out and patted him on the cheek.

He froze.

"Be good," Leotine said, smiling tiredly. "I can't play with you anymore."

He had no strength to participate in Elliot's games. The ones in which his little brother would steal his clothes, or pretend to be a meek lamb in his presence while in front of servants and guests, or 'vie' for their father's attention.

"You need to be good now," Leotine said, stroking Elliot's cheek.

He swiped away a small tear near the corner of his eye.

The tight frown on Elliot's lips trembled.

Leotine felt equal parts happiness and sadness, for the expression Elliot made was one he had never seen before.

His brother cried an awful lot. He looked so pitiful when he shed tears.

But alas, they were crocodile tears, squeezed out for everyone to see.

In actuality, Leotine realized at that moment that Elliot was rather ugly when he truly cried.

His face became blotchy and red, and completely distorted. His nose was also dripping with snot, and he choked on a gulp of air while heaving out a wet and loud sob.

"You're being unfair..." he managed to mumble between hitching breaths, eyes shut tight in denial while his little hands balled into fists.

Leotine couldn't resist.

He scooped him into a hug.

"What are you—"

"I'm a sick patient. Comfort me," he said, tone teasing despite the reality of their situation.

Elliot stiffened in his hold for a moment.

Leotine could hear the cogs turning in that head of his, calculations flying through his mind at lightning speed.

He was no doubt parsing through every interaction they'd ever had, trying to make out a reason for why he was hugging him.

Eventually, Elliot seemed to give up on figuring out his motives and sunk into his arms. Leotine rested his chin on his shoulder.

There was a sniffle.

The air remained heavy of Scarlet Poppies, and his body felt so very weak and tired, but none of that quite mattered in comparison to Elliot being in his arms.

His baby brother.

Leotine knew with all his heart that Elliot was his; the special person he would give everything for until his last breath.

If he could turn back time, he would still love him, again and again. It didn't matter how, where, or when. In every lifetime and in every universe, there will inevitably be a Leotine who cherished an Elliot.

---

Elliot made friends at the Academy.

The Heir of Elysium, the Heir of Dartmouth, and surprisingly, the illegitimate child of the Odums.

It was quite a diverse collection.

Two children of Faction leaders and the next commander of the Silver Raven Division.

Leotine had been impressed when he first learned about it.

Alas, Leotine noticed the way Elliot was slowly changing.

No longer was he scheming and playing tricks, but becoming sallow and more taciturn as time went on—like bitter green tea leaves.

He also learned to be very gentle whenever Leotine showed weakness, though he was now more prone to anger and irritability as well—perhaps embarrassed by his newfound conscience?

When did he grow so big?

Elliot found freedom in new friendships—and within that freedom, he adapted.

Then the day came when he became the unofficial heir, with both Astella and Father's approval.

Leotine was quickly suppressed by his brother, much to the surprise of absolutely no one.

His personal servants were reallocated to other parts of the manor, and he was confined to his wing with the excuse of needing to rest.

One would expect Leotine to feel powerless in this situation; to be suffering from the isolation and lack of agency that came with being pushed aside, however...

While technically, he had by technicality lost all his authority as heir and firstborn, he was very much on board with being side-lined.

After all, Elliot needed a solid foundation, lest his position and power be disrupted. The commoners always loved to speculate on the competition between children of nobility, and by giving them an obvious victor, no one would call into question Elliot's legitimacy.

"You're not drinking it?" Astella asked, holding out a tonic in front of him.

They were sitting in her studies. There was paper everywhere and several empty cups of tea.

"Must it be so bitter? I'm not meant for a long life," Leotine joked, grabbing for the tonic.

"..."

Astella didn't reply.

"Mother?"

She took a deep breath.

"... Don't joke about those things. Drink it while it's hot."

Leotine drank the tonic in one gulp, the bitter medicine burning away his tastebuds.

His stepmother handed him a ginger candy, which he gratefully accepted.

"How long?" he asked without prompt.

Astella responded in the way she always did, blunt and honest.

"You may have until next spring if there is nothing to be done." She was carefully blank-faced as she delivered the grave news.

Yet, Leotine couldn't help but suspect that there was something more she wanted to say.

"Is something wrong?"

She pursed her lips and turned away, eyes focusing on a shelf full of little nests. Leotine was sure he spotted tiny eggs inside some of them.

"If you had a chance to live longer, what would you have done with your life?"

The question caught him off guard.

Leotine made a face. What was she planning?

It was strange that Astella was dabbling in the "what-ifs."

She was always keen on facts and data, and her speculations were always rooted in evidence rather than theorizing before the presence of truths.

He decided to humor her by listing off some of the things he would expect would happen if he had more time.

"Well, I imagined I would someday be the Earl. Maybe make Elliot my heir if I still have to die young. Have a stable rule over the Moores Territory—oh, I would love to take a tour through it. We're known for textile, you see." It was all rather by the book in this hypothetical scenario. "Ah, also, I would cancel the arrangement between Elliot and Lettuse Fleur de Lis."

Astella paused midway as she was about to take a sip of tea. She turned to look at him and snorted in amusement.

"What?" Leotine felt he should be offended. It was obvious she was judging him.

She hummed. "I'm just surprised. You were the one who pushed for an engagement in the first place."

Leotine shrugged.

He was well aware of how some might perceive him as a possessive sort due to his attachment to Elliot, but it wasn't as if he wanted to clip his brother's wings.

"He needs all the resources he can get to stabilize his position. The Fleur de Lis is mostly neutral and has the power to back him in the event that..." he trailed off with a grimace.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "It will be good for him once I'm gone."

Astella leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Her gaze was unwavering as she looked at him.

"You are so confident that you will meet your demise."

The corner of his mouth twitched—a hint of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"You said so yourself. I have until spring."

Astella's expression didn't change, but her fingers stilled, curling into a loose fist.

"Is that what you told Elliot?"

Leotine felt his jaw tightened for a moment, barely perceptible to the naked eye, though he could tell she had noticed by the way her expression softened.

He looked away, his gaze settling on the shelf with the little nests and eggs.

"I didn't want to give him hope."

Astella arched a brow. "That is logical. But you chose to reveal the news in front of the servants. Now everyone is talking about it."

He frowned. "Weren't you the one who sent Llewyn to spy on us? I thought you didn't trust him?"

"Llewyn has his uses," she said with nonchalance, though Leotine knew how much she despised the man. "It is better for the public to believe you are at death's door."

The implication of him being harmed by those connected to her past was there. Leotine's heart warmed at her concern, but he couldn't help but feel that there was something else Astella was alluding to.

"So when will I..." He wasn't sure if he could just casually say the word.

Astella watched him.

"I said you may have until spring. If we do nothing about it."

The words made impact before he could determine whether or not to trust his hearing.

If.

He had not known there was a possibility for an if.

Leotine didn't move for a moment, soaking in what Astella just said.

Slowly, he turned to her and stared.

"What do you mean by that?"

Leotine felt blood rushing to his ears. It couldn't be... could it?

Silence stretched and he didn't dare breathe.

"Exactly as what you're thinking."

Astella's eyes, stagnant silver pools, were glassy and calm. To be the receiver of such a gaze, Leotine felt as if she was looking at someone else, and not him.

"Tell me, lovely," she smiled, tired but beautiful, "do you trust me with your life?"

---

That was a week ago.

A week later, Leotine found himself sitting across from Nazareth Odum, the firstborn and illegitimate child of the Odum Ducal.

Elliot's former friend.

They were in the parlor, and Leotine listened as the boy recounted to him the most outlandish—yet believable—tale to ever grace his ears.

He felt faint.

Mother, what have you done?

He had known Nazareth Odum fell, but he didn't realize Astella was the culprit!

Leotine was nervous, though he dared not show it. He wore a carefully blank expression of ease and calm as he took in Nazareth's words like a sponge to water.

But wait.

Soon, the conversation diverged from listing out his stepmother's crimes to...

A treatment plan?

"—she will be back in winter, so we have now and then to get you started on drug therapy to kill off the mutated blood cells. Has the Countess ever requested blood samples before? Yes? Then we can start searching for a donor as well..."

Nazareth spoke to him in a way that reminded him of his stepmother. Clinical, blunt, and full of medical jargon.

Leotine understood the overall gist of what he was saying, however.

There was a cure for his illness.

He will live.

But why was he helping him?

"It is more efficient this way," was the boy's answer.

"..."

Nazareth looked at him as if his life and death were not hanging in the balance.

It confused Leotine.

Was he truly that confident in his abilities?

Leotine looked at him for a moment, contemplating whether or not he should be giving out confidential medical information to someone who broke his baby brother's poor heart and—only a moment ago—told him how his stepmother was the reason he was in a coma for the last several weeks.

Should he really be putting his trust in this boy—who spoke of things that sounded too good to be true?

(In all honesty, the most unrealistic part of all of this for Leotine was the fact that Nazareth didn't look as if he had been asleep for that long of a time. Besides the greyer pallor, bloodless lips, and some hollowness of the cheeks, he was surprisingly lively.)

He frowned, skepticism etched into his features. "You understand I am having trouble believing you."

Nazareth blinked. Then he nodded his head as if he was expecting this sort of response.

"You are under no obligation to undergo treatment," he stated in a perfectly professional tone. "But I advise you to take it, nonetheless. While the methods haven't been tested, we've calculated a sixty-seven percent chance of success and a seventy-eight percent chance of survival if the treatment is successful. If you want to look at the research and treatment plan in detail, I will send you a copy. Aunt Auria and Aunt Astella are still preparing the documents, and Duchess Elysium is willing to work with us during the initial diagnostics."

Leotine was thoroughly confused, because when did Astella become Nazareth's aunt? And who in the world was Auria? Also, what did the Duchess of Elysium have anything to do with all of this?

"So that's a yes?"

"Excuse me?"

Nazareth was staring at him with the seriousness of a boy who lacked emotional intelligence.

It was quite concerning.

Dear gods, Elliot. With the way you were mooning and sulking over this boy, I would have assumed he had at least some semblance of people skills.

"... Let me think about it a little more." Leotine settled for a neutral answer, only because he wasn't about to rush head-first into the unknown.

Nazareth nodded his head. "I will give you until Aunt Astella leaves for the Holy City. You should be able to speak with her in three days between the time after the court hands out their verdict and before she is sent out of the Capitol."

Again, very poor people skills.

Leotine wanted to sigh at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Even so, I don't think I should be putting my life in the hands of someone who cut ties with my brother."

"... Oh."

And that was largely the reason, wasn't it?

Nazareth made his baby brother cry.

Leotine wondered if he would ever receive a satisfactory explanation—if any—regarding that particular issue.

(Nothing could excuse Nazareth's decision to throw his brother away.)

He smiled wryly. "You see the problem?"

There was a crack in the boy's facade—his carefully blank expression faltering.

Leotine wondered whether or not it was from being called out on his actions, or because he truly felt guilty.

Judging by the stretch of silence and the way Nazareth couldn't recover from his words, perhaps it was the latter.

Leotine was curious.

What happened between Elliot and Nazareth?

For a brief moment, the boy looked down at his lap without saying a word.

But then, Leotine heard him speak in a small voice.

"I thought... it would have been better if I never appeared in his life."

A mixture of disbelief and frustration welled up in his chest at the admittance.

"That was not for you to decide," he said, tone sharp but not unkind.

Vermillion eyes met his gaze in surprise.

Oh, by the gods. This boy was so foolish.

"You were all he ever talked about. For a while, I was envious. He found you more dependable than me, and yet, you chose to throw him away without a second thought—with no explanation whatsoever besides a letter and an apology. You were his world."

There was silence.

Leotine couldn't believe how vexing teenage drama was—

"... I never wanted to be anyone's anything."

This little shit.

He was ready to fire back another sharp retort when his gaze landed on Nazareth's face—and his words caught in his throat.

Nazareth appeared... not quite in disbelief, but close to it.

Stunned.

That was the word.

His brows were slightly furrowed, and his lips were slightly pursed, which suggested his discomfort. It was as if he were trying to make sense of a puzzle—perhaps wondering why Elliot would hold him in such high regard.

"That... " he said, pausing—clearly trying to find the right words to convey whatever it was that kept him from properly communicating with people his intentions.

"There is too much burden in that," he stated, turning away from Leotine's gaze. "I used to be so proud, but I never deserved his devotion. He mistook my ambitions for a climb to power and greatness, but that wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want to change the world; I wanted to burn it to the ground. If we had continued down that path—if he followed me all the way through—he would have been destroyed the moment I was gone."

Leotine found himself speechless, and a little in awe.

This kid just admitted to conspiracy in the most callous way possible.

(Oh Elliot, what in the world did you get involved with?)

But also, he had a rather bleak outlook on his future.

It was all rather baffling, really.

Here he was, telling Leotine to accept treatment for his illness, when he, himself, seemed to know with certainty that he was not meant for a long life.

This was the rumored infamous Scummy Troublemaker of noble society.

Leotine never thought all those ridiculous rumors were wholly true, but he had enough sense to know that some components rested on facts.

After all, the rumors had to have originated from somewhere.

(Things Leotine could confirm without seeing the evidence were the following: Nazareth Odum was a walking encyclopedia for poisons, and there were very likely bodies buried in his garden.)

But beneath all that... disastrous and catastrophic nature, he could see a young man trying to repent for all his mistakes.

It wasn't enough—gods, it was not enough. Knowing one's wretchedness and changing from it would never be enough to undo the damage already done—but it was admirable.

Hmm...

Leotine was starting to understand why Elliot found Nazareth so captivating.

He was like a carriage accident—compelling, chaotic, morbidly interesting... hard to look away even though one knew it wasn't natural to stare too closely.

"You are exactly the kind of person I would have expected Elliot to befriend."

"Pardon?"

Nazareth's eyes widened with surprise. His mouth parted, and then closed, and then parted, and then finally closed once more. It was obvious he didn't know what else to say.

Leotine found himself smiling at the reaction, feeling rather proud at being able to take him off-guard in such a manner. The boy was a bit too composed for his liking.

He let the silence drag for a few seconds and then went on to explain what he meant by his previous statement.

"Elliot spoke as if you were a lord of great prestige. I read between the lines and figured you were someone with little to no understanding of basic social conduct, with the worst of interests and hobbies, a temper that teetered between two extremes, and prone to causing misunderstandings around you."

"That..." Nazareth immediately shut his mouth. His gaze went down to his lap, and he avoided Leotine's eyes.

Well, at the very least, there was regret for his previous behavior.

Having found what he wanted to see, he swiftly changed the topic.

"You said Mother will be helping with the treatment?"

That gained his attention in an instant. Once again, vermillion eyes widened in surprise.

"You'll accept it?"

"Don't get me wrong," Leotine said, making sure to clarify. "I am not agreeing because I am trusting you with my life. With your track record, I doubt any patient would want you anywhere near them. However, you mentioned Astella's involvement in the treatment, and she has been my private healer for several years. That is the sole reason I am fully on board."

---

Neo found himself in an odd position, mostly because it felt as if he and Leotine Moores were talking about completely different people.

He trusted the Countess with his life?

In what timeline could that be possible?

It was a well-known rumor that Astella Moores nee Castas poisoned Lydia Moores to gain access to the Moores Family—and while that wasn't exactly true, was Leotine not wary of the woman who indirectly caused his mother's death?

"Is that what you believe?" Leotine's expression was oddly amused when Neo asked him about the rumors.

"Is it not true?"

"Depends," the man said with a casual shrug. "The Castas Family was responsible for her death."

"But...?"

Neo could sense there was more to the story—there had to be a 'but' lurking somewhere.

Leotine tilted his head thoughtfully, a soft hum escaping his lips. "What do you think happened?"

Neo blinked, taken aback by the question.

What did he think happened?

He thought back to what Astella had told him and combined that with the information his network was able to dig up.

Astella had attachments. She was selective in who she valued, and the family of Elliot's real father must have made it to the top of that list.

She had no reason to want to be the next Countess of Moores so that only meant...

No way.

She was known for her cunning and calculative personality.

There was no way the answer could be so simple.

Didn't that mean the rumors were overcomplicating everything for no reason?

"You mean to tell me she chose to pick up the pieces out of guilt?"

Leotine smiled grimly. "That, and also because she needed the influence of the Moores for her... side-hobby. It's mutually beneficial for all of us, or at least, that was the established agreement between her and Father. We talked about it before. She wanted no misunderstandings. I used to get sick all the time as a child and she was the one who took care of me. When I developed my current illness, she tried to ease the pain of it. I thought the disease was incurable, so I'm surprised she managed to develop a treatment for it."

Oh, she didn't.

They were plagiarizing through the power of modern medicine, foresight, and the apprenticeship Astella, Aunt Auria, and Duchess Elysium experienced in their youth.

(Neo was starting to suspect that this Wandering Healer may not be all they claimed to be.)

The true developer of the cure for Snow Blood Disease was a healer from the Polska Nation. As of right now, the medicine should be going through an experimental phase and would be released to the general public and imported into the Rhine Empire by next year.

In his previous life, it was Aurelion and his group who managed to get the necessary medicines in time to treat Leotine's illness so that he could be the next Earl since curing Leotine would have prevented Elliot from gaining power through the Moores heirship, thereby putting a stopper to Nazareth's influences.

However, now that Neo had stepped down from his role of tormenting his little brother, there was no need for Aurelion to go to Polska with his friends in search of a cure.

Hence, it was decided for practicality's sake that he would work with his Aunts and Duchess Elysium to recreate the cure.

Between Astella's memories, which were far fresher than his own, his personal experience in Leukemia research, and the magic system of this world, Leotine had good odds.

Very good odds.

But back to the part about Astella's supposed guilt over Countess Lydia's death.

Neo found it bewildering that she had... not compassion, exactly, but morals...?

It didn't excuse her treatment of Elliot—gods know what living in Noble Society had done to Elliot—but the fact that she had good intentions when she married Earl Moores surprised Neo.

The rumors had seriously overcomplicated everything.

Neo was thinking deeply about what he had learned as he and Leotine settled on an agreement for the treatment plan.

Once that was settled, the man pulled out a pen and a piece of paper and started to write a note to Astella regarding his consent.

Neo promised he would deliver the note to her after her trial.

"Elliot won't like this at all," Leotine said offhandedly, signing his name and folding the note before handing it over. "You should talk to him."

It was less of a suggestion and more of a demand.

Neo knew he needed to speak with Elliot. That was his initial purpose when he decided to come to the Moores Manor while informing Leotine of a cure for his disease came second.

"I know."

"He should be returning soon from the Fleur de Lis'. How about I escort you to a waiting room?"

Neo couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Was he reading too much into it, or did it seem like Leotine was about to do something that would make Elliot not so happy?

He hadn't had the chance to figure out Leotine's personality firsthand—he'd never interacted with him in his previous life. Any impression he had of the man came solely from stories Elliot had shared, which did not paint him in a very flattering light.

"... Sure," was Neo's reply as he stood up and followed the man out of the parlor.

They stepped into a hallway and the first thing Neo noticed were the servants rushing around.

Some of them made brief eye contact with him before scampering away.

"We don't get many visitors of your rank, so they're tidying up," Leotine explained as they walked.

Ah.

It seems he would need to take a page out of the social etiquette rulebook once more.

"I apologize for not informing you earlier, Lord Leotine. The situation was urgent and I thought you and Elliot would want to know what is going on. You see, Countess Astella Moores has been arrested—"

"Please. Don't." Leotine cut him off with a shake of his head. "Elliot had that book memorized when he was thirteen and quoted everything from it for a year straight. I know exactly how this is going to go. You apologize for the unannounced visit, you explain the reason for your visit, and you state your purpose. I'm not requiring you to adhere to it in my presence so just... keep walking."

And keep walking they did, past portraits of previous Earls and Countesses, and even paintings of unrelated people.

The Moores Manor was more traditionally decorated than that of the Odum Manor, but the design appeared almost formulaic. There was very little personality to be seen.

It honestly reminded him of beige households.

"Here we are. Make yourself at home."

Leotine gestured to a door with an unreadable expression.

Opening it, the first thing Neo saw was a bed.

"This is...?"

"Elliot's bedroom."

What.

"He should be back in about thirty minutes, so feel free to rummage around. He has nothing of interest here."

Neo wasn't sure how he should respond to that statement.

"... Okay."

Leotine gave him the briefest of smiles, eyes gleaming with amusement, before shutting the door.

Um.

So.

Now that he was left alone in Elliot's bedroom—of all places, like, what the hell—the first thing he did was make his way to the bookshelf.

---

Step 56. Speak to the older brother of your former ally and convince him to undergo treatment for his incurable disease. Please inform him that you, with your unsavory history of poisoning people, will be involved in the treatment since that is important information to know.

---

The author has something to say:

Thank you, KaiK, for the loveliest and most gorgeous fanarts!

Raise your hands if y'all thought Leotine was the white lotus/green tea brother when he was first introduced.

Surprise, surprise. It was Elliot who went through that phase.

You guys know how in those fake young master bl novels there's always that evil green tea/white lotus sibling trying to ruin the mc's life? That's the dynamic between Elliot and Leotine when they first met. The only difference is Leotine loves it. Not because he knows he is going to die--keep in mind that he wasn't super sick when he first met Elliot--but because he is inherently accepting of Elliot's nature just for the fact that Elliot exists. When unconditional love meets dishonesty and distrust, one has to give. You can guess who won.

Now, is Leotine normal for being the way he is? No. I don't know what word to call the relationship between him and Elliot, but it is one of those exceedingly complex feelings that I can't put a name to, but can only describe. Why did I write him like this? I don't know. In the barebone draft, these two were meant to hate each other, and Leotine had the personality of a stupid white lotus cannon fodder.