"Tsk. Watch where you're going. Or are your eyes just for decoration?"
'Hah. As if I don't know that he leaned ever so slightly into my path.'
It was a provocation disguised as an accident.
'What a cunning bastard.'
"I could say the same to you, Lord Roderick."
A scoff escaped him.
"Ha! Looks like this little mutt's grown a backbone."
He stepped closer with the lazy arrogance of a man too long unchallenged. He placed one gloved hand on Arthur's shoulder, not with force, but with presumption.
"It seems you've forgotten your place. How dare you speak in my presence without permission?"
'Haa... it seems he's still in his sweet dream where I was nothing more than a child.'
When Arthur was about four years old, his father had arranged for a playmate, an arrogant troublemaker.
Roderick Montague.
He was a boy far too cunning for his age. He would play pranks on young Arthur with his underlings, and every time he would manage to save his neck. But then that incident happened.
That incident referred to when Arthur had fallen into the ploy of his own playmate.
"You know what your mother and mine have in common? They never gave us even the tiniest bit of attention."
Arthur, who had already lost his mother in his previous life, was truly anxious at his words.
"I'm sure she'll have another child and you'll never be welcomed in her life ever again. After all, who would want to raise a child of the Ashbournes, who wouldn't even bat an eye as they murder someone?"
"What?!"
Roderick smirked at him, his gaze clearly showing malice.
"Ah. It seems you don't know, but the divorce has been finalized. Your mother will leave you soon because she has never truly loved you."
Arthur, who had already gone through this once, shouldn't have had any problem letting go of his mother yet again. But he didn't want to repeat the same isolated life.
"You think everyone is the same?!"
"Why...? Aren't they, though? I'm sure she despises you like my mother despised me and ran off with some random guy. My father said it was her secret lover."
"No. My mother isn't like that!"
"Are you sure?"
Arthur's mind drifted to the memory of him giving a flower to his mother, which she threw away as if it were some kind of poison.
"Don't ever give something like this to me!"
How she didn't even glance at him as she crossed by him through the hallway. How she wouldn't join him for meals, not even on his birthday. She wouldn't even give him a pat on the head, let alone embrace him.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this. After all, we are friends, aren't we?"
'Friends...?'
Arthur couldn't understand how he was so confident that Arthur would believe him.
"It seems she has already found a lover."
"What did you just say?"
"Why are you getting angry all of a sudden? Look over there."
Arthur turned to see where Roderick was gesturing, and then he saw his mother conversing with some gentleman.
"Who do you think is her lover among all those men? Because to me, all of them seem to be her lovers..."
Before Roderick could continue to spout that nonsense, he was hit by the young Arthur.
Wham!
"Urghhh!"
Roderick held his cheek after he was punched by Arthur, who was younger than him by five years.
"What? It's not like I told a lie?"
Wham!
Arthur hit him again in anger as the older boy fell to the ground.
"Shut your mouth, you bastard!"
Arthur, who was too riled up, struck him again and again until his own hand turned crimson.
"Why are you doing this? We're friends, aren't we?"
"Friends...?! Who's your friend, you damn bastard!!"
The blood dripped down his hand, and the pain made him tear up.
But then, someone stopped him.
"What are you doing?!"
Arthur turned to see the person, and it was none other than his mother, who looked at him with contempt in her gaze.
"I thought you were different from your father but... it appears I was wrong, after all."
'Wh-what?'
"N-no, Mother, I was just..."
When he turned back to look at the young boy, he was smirking, and Arthur realized that it was all planned.
The people looked at Arthur as if he were some kind of monster. The hostility was clearly visible in their gazes.
It was all done in order to paint him as a villain.
'Sigh... it seems he still believes that I'm that same boy who'd struck him.'
Arthur gave him a chilling smile as he said:
"You're the one who swore to never speak of that incident again. It seems my father was far too lenient with you. However, rest assured, for I've not told anyone about the secret of your mother."
Arthur's fingers closed around his wrist and calmly lifted his hand from his own shoulder. He felt the muscles tense beneath his touch.
"And... I'm no longer the naive child you once looked down on. I am the acting head of House Ashbourne. So, know your place, a mere second son."
His expression faltered. Whether it was from rage or humiliation, Arthur couldn't tell. His lips parted, but no words came. His hands twitched at his sides, barely restrained.
'Ah. It seems I struck a nerve. Well… not that it matters.'
"Then I won't take up any more of your precious time. I'll be taking my leave."
Arthur turned on his heel, each step echoing sharply against the stone.
He didn't look back. Not once.
***
"Sigh... Honestly, it's really exhausting to deal with people all the time."
Before Arthur could have a moment of respite, the door to the terrace opened and someone entered.
'Now, what is she doing here?'
Arthur knew, even without turning back, that he was no longer alone.
He didn't need to guess who it was. Some faces, some names, remained etched in memory no matter how much one wished otherwise.
Her golden-blonde hair gleamed like sunlight, even beneath the shroud of night, while her turquoise eyes mirrored the fathomless depths of the ocean.
Adelaide Crowndale.
Princess of the Crowndale Kingdom. Marchioness of Granville. And once, Countess of Ashbourne.
A woman celebrated for her formidable intellect and unyielding will, she was as respected as she was feared. Stubborn to her core, Adelaide was not one to be denied. What she desired, she claimed, and the world often bent to accommodate her ambition.
A consummate strategist in the deadly waltz of politics, she carved her place among nobles with a blade sharper than steel: influence. Her reputation was one of elegance forged in discipline, of grace tempered by control.
And yet, for all that she meant to the Kingdom, she had once been something far simpler in Arthur's eyes.
His mother.
She stood still, her every movement exuding the effortless grace and authority she was known for. Her turquoise eyes settled on him.
"Arthur."
It was the same voice that he remembered, one that carried no warmth, only a distant civility.
He met her gaze with calmness as he spoke up:
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Marchioness?"
A subtle lift of her brow betrayed her awareness of the distance Arthur carved between them.
"Must a mother need a reason to visit her son?"
A mirthful sound slipped past his lips.
"A mother?"
Arthur tilted his head slightly, studying her through narrowed eyes, the way one might observe a stranger who dared speak with unwarranted familiarity.
"You flatter yourself, Marchioness. You've rarely graced your son with your presence, so that title… somehow, it hangs awkwardly on your lips."
After a moment of silence, with a gentleness that rang false in the stillness, she asked:
"How have you been, Arthur?"
The words slipped from her lips so naturally, so fluidly, that for a fleeting second, Arthur might have believed she genuinely cared.
'How have I been...?'
"Sigh... Let's not pretend you came here for pleasantries, Marchioness."
"I came to offer you a choice, Arthur. Now that your father is gone, why not come live with me at Granville Manor for a time?"
The audacity of her suggestion struck him as he replied:
"If that's all you came to say, then you've wasted your precious time."
Adelaide's voice sounded with urgency as she said:
"Arthur, don't be so hasty. I'm offering you an opportunity, a chance to start anew."
There was something almost indulgent in the way she spoke, as if she truly believed she was being generous.
'A fresh start?'
"Is that what you think will mend everything? Is it how you want to deal with the past?"
Arthur's fingers clenched tightly, as did his chest, as he continued:
"Do you want me to forget that you abandoned me and left me behind as I suffered under Father's teachings? And while I was suffering in that hell, you carved out a new life for yourself? While you were enjoying your life with your new family, I was learning what it meant to survive. Do you have the slightest idea what that did to me?!"
'And you want me to forget everything?'
For the first time, Arthur noticed that something faltered in her gaze.
"Arthur, you don't understand. I had no choice."
A sharp, humorless chuckle escaped Arthur, though it felt like anything but amusement.
"Ha! No choice...?! You always had a choice, Mother!"