Chapter 52
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“It’s not my blood. There’s no need to worry, my dear. This is…”
“You went to see my brother, didn’t you?”
“…!”
Shock flooded Brunhilde’s face as she fumbled for an excuse. Carlos, watching her, slowly raised his hand. His fingers brushed over the dark bruises along her neck as he said quietly,
“Did he force himself on you again?”
“W-what are you saying, Carl? Your mother would never—”
“You don’t have to lie for my sake. I already know. About how you and my brother have been… together every night.”
The words fell from his lips so calmly that it made her head spin.
Brunhilde clung desperately to what remained of her composure. When did he find out? How? Why?
But no answer came. The more she tried to think, the more her thoughts dissolved into chaos.
Carlos’s hand moved higher, cupping her jaw and cheek, gently tilting her face so their eyes met.
“Mother.”
“Carl…”
“Did you stab Brother?”
“….”
She couldn’t answer. She could only stare into his eyes, those violet eyes that resembled her own, not the Brant bloodline.
He had already figured it out.
His gaze, faintly dazed yet eerily calm, told her as much. There was no point denying it anymore. At last, she nodded.
“…Yes. Just as you said.”
She confessed everything—that she had tried to drive a blade into Franz’s heart, that she had failed, and that she had returned only because she had been told to.
Carlos lowered his long lashes, murmuring softly,
“…My poor mother.”
“You don’t need to worry, my dear. This is entirely my doing. If I alone bear the punishment, you can still—”
“Shh. Don’t say another word. You’re trembling.”
Warmth wrapped around her.
When had he grown so much? Only now, held in her son’s arms that were so much larger than her, did she realize how badly she was shaking.
“You don’t need to worry about anything, Mother. I’m here.”
“Carl…”
“Brother will forgive you. The fact that he let you go without touching you, without holding you accountable—it proves as much.”
“…You really think so?”
For a moment, Brunhilde almost laughed. How innocent Carl still was.
Even if he knew of the forbidden nights between her and Franz, he couldn’t possibly understand the full truth of their relationship. Perhaps he imagined something else entirely—something closer, deeper, more mutual.
And she didn’t want to shatter that illusion.
“Yes… Mother hopes so too. After all, we are family. Surely, for the sake of what we once were—”
“Exactly. For the sake of what we once were.”
He echoed her words softly. But as he held her, his hand began to move. It slid up her back, fingers trailing through her dark hair, then down again slowly.
There was something… off about it.
She flinched slightly as his thumb traced the line of her neck, then moved lower—over her collarbone, into the deep curve of her neckline… further still, to where her b*****s began.
A flicker of unease shot through her. She tried to pull away, but his grip held her tight.
His palm pressed against the blood-stained fabric clinging to her chest, fingers following the soft rise beneath as he spoke,
“You have been sleeping together all this time… how could he just let go of you?”
“C-Carl—ah!”
A startled cry escaped her as his finger pressed down against her.
Only then did she realize—her soaked clothing had revealed everything beneath. There was nothing shielding her body. His fingertip circled slowly over her n****e, and he whispered near her ear,
“I would have done the same. I understand Brother’s desire.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“Perhaps our desires burn with the same intensity. A craving this desperate… it’s not something you abandon over a mere wound.”
“Your mother would never—ah!”
His breath pressed hot against her neck.
She shuddered as his tongue traced the sensitive skin there. His hands moved with unsettling skill. It was gentler than Franz’s, yet no less persistent, no less invasive.
“I should have done this sooner.”
“Ah—ngh…”
“Instead of holding back all this time… I should have just taken what I wanted.”
“Stop this—!”
The touch of her son, who had held many women over the years, was skillfully adept beyond his age. Gentle yet persistent, unlike when she had been with Franz. Carl, who had been trailing kisses up her nape, finally reached her lips. He parted his mother’s resisting lips and plunged inside.
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