Come and Cry at My Funeral - Chapter 107
If the shepherdess had come back to return his coat
Izar’s father had already suppressed the rebels once. They were a group of scum, unrecognized by the world. The types of scum were astonishingly diverse.
Those who would naturally not inherit property from their families, such as second sons or lesser, and those abandoned by their lands for failing in their duties. Those who harbored grievances against the just principles of the world.
Crushing such a group was not particularly difficult.
Sometimes, there were those who acted grandiose as if they wanted to leave a mark on the world, but Izar suppressed them without difficulty as well.
Yet, there were words deeply rooted in Izar’s mind that he could not shake off.
<My only child is the one born from him. He’s the only the child I wanted, and he’s the only child who’s mine!>
Love.
Izar heard that his birth mother had loved the leader of the rebels. Whether this relationship existed before he was born or sprouted accidentally within the castle, no one knew.
‘I don’t even want to know such a thing.’
What mattered was the very words the woman had uttered.
Somewhere, there existed evidence of that dirty sin. And fortunately, before the news could reach the Emperor or others, Arcturus had found the clue.
Could it be that those closely connected to the executed rebel leader survived back then?
The hideout they stayed in was found near the disturbance that attacked a declining noble family based in the countryside. They must have incited the disturbance and fled.
And it was clear that a not yet adult being had lived there. There were many books, suggesting study, and clothes of gradually increasing size, indicating growth.
As if calling for Izar to find it.
However, the most ridiculous thing was the writing on one side of the wall, as if written in blood. It wasn’t surprising that the knight who first discovered it was horrified.
Everyone anxiously watched Izar silently looking up at the wall.
After a hellish silence, Izar ordered them.
“……All of you, get out.”
“But, my lord.”
“Get out. Now.”
At Izar’s stern command, even though the knight was older, he swallowed dryly and retreated.
Eventually, only Izar remained in the cabin hidden by the trees. Though he had never heard it, a vivid voice mocking him echoed in the empty space.
Dear older half-brother, born of the same bastard blood.
Greetings from your younger brother, born of a blessed union.
Blessed.
Looking up at that word, Izar let out a sigh-like laugh.
“Ha.”
At ten years old, he succeeded the dukedom. In front of all the other nobles, the Emperor should have recognized and congratulated him.
<Son of a criminal.>
Spitting out that phrase like expelling phlegm, the Emperor stormed out.
Before following his grandfather, Riegel looked at the kneeling Izar with eyes filled with pity.
It inflicted more humiliation than eyes filled with hatred.
“Haha.”
At twelve, his arm was bitten by a monster for the first time. Naturally, he killed it, and though he fully recovered without aftereffects, it was painful.
“Ha…!”
Such things were repeated year after year.
Yet, the wretched bastard who shared half his blood was ‘loved’.
‘Love.’
He, who carried the weight of the noblest house on his shoulders, wasn’t given even a handful.
He kept striving, alone.
Laughing silently with his shoulders shaking for a while, anger boiled in his veins, and eventually, blood dripped from his nose.
Wiping the blood carelessly, Izar finally murmured in a hoarse voice.
“…I don’t need it.”
He should have felt ashamed for having such weak thoughts earlier.
He didn’t need such dirty and utterly useless emotions.
Those born of noble birth, especially, should be the farthest removed from such feelings.
‘It’s enough that Father made such mistakes.’
He wouldn’t feel such emotions, nor would he express them. His life was solely dedicated to regaining the perfect honor of his household.
He would grind away all trivial weaknesses, leaving only that one thing.
But as he resolutely made up his mind, that damned shepherdess kept coming to mind.
That ungrateful shepherdess.
Just before he could cut her image from his heart, he hesitated for a moment.
But it was only for a fleeting moment.
“…I’m done with it.”
He wanted to place something in the hands of that pitiful girl. However, nothing came to mind, so he thought of sweets first.
Feeding her sweets, making a suitable excuse for her to come again… Trying to find a plausible reason to keep her inside the castle instead of tending the sheep.
He had such worthless thoughts.
But there were far more important things in the world than that wretched girl.
So he vowed never to turn his head in her direction again.
Following his resolve, he stopped looking toward where the shepherd was whenever he felt at a loss. Sharpening his priorities and focusing only ahead made it easy.
However, very occasionally, when he turned his head, he felt as if the shepherdess was also watching him.
The woman who always stood on the twilight-tinted hill.
And each time, Izar briefly thought,
What would have happened if that woman had come back to return his coat?
