Chapter 57
“…Why did you leave me alive?”
Franz, his limbs bound in restraints, asked in a hoarse voice,
The night before, Carlos had summoned the family doctor and had him treated, despite the fact that simply leaving him to his wounds would have been enough to kill him.
And the prison he was now held in was no ordinary prison. It was a place meant for high-born offenders whose crimes were considered minor, like a temporary holding space. Not large, but clean, well-lit, even furnished with a proper bed. It was, by all appearances, entirely unsuited for someone accused of such grave crimes.
Carlos answered lightly.
“Because you’re my brother. I can’t just kill the only blood relative I’ve spent fifteen years calling family.”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean. You’re the type who’d twist the neck of even your own child without hesitation if it meant getting your hands on Brunhilde.”
“Well, that’s not wrong.”
The boy’s pale face broke into a bright, innocent smile, as if they were exchanging a harmless joke. The dissonance between that expression and the truth beneath it sent a chill through Franz, tightening his nerves.
“But if I’ve already obtained Mother, then there’s no reason to kill you, is there? After all, you’re still my only blood kin.”
“……Have you violated Brunhilde?”
Cold fury settled over Franz’s face. Carlos shook his head, letting out a soft laugh.
“No. Not yet. Right now, Mother is resting. She went through a lot yesterday. She’ll need time to recover her body and mind.”
As he spoke, the exaggerated cheer drained from his face. By the end, his lashes lowered, casting shadows over his eyes as a faint, ambiguous expression surfaced—one that suggested he was indulging in some dark fantasy.
Franz recognized it all too well. It was the same twisted desire he himself had once harbored.
“She won’t give herself willingly. How do you intend to force her?”
“I’m still thinking about that. Ideally, I’d like her to accept me without resistance…”
Carlos trailed off, looking thoughtful. Then abruptly changed his tone, as though shaking off the subject.
“But before that, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”
“The reason you didn’t kill me?”
“Well… you could say that.”
The boy gave a vague affirmation and straightened. Then, as if recalling a long-forgotten tale, he began.
“Sometimes, I think about the day Father and Mother were married, the one that happened before I was even born.”
His voice flowed on, soft and even, like a lullaby.
“Mother was seventeen when she was sold off as Father’s second wife. Hinz Brandt was already sixty-four at the time—an old man whose strength had begun to fade. They say he took his young bride to their chamber and didn’t leave for days… and then he died. That he exhausted himself, burning through his desire.”
His tone remained calm, almost nostalgic—like he was reminiscing about a peaceful day.
“But when I imagine Father panting in that dark room, indulging himself with a young bride… I can’t help but wonder what you were doing back then, Brother—treated as a half-blood bastard born of a foreign woman.”
“……”
“When Mother married into the family, Father still had a legitimate heir, one that is not you. He intended to pass the house on to that child, not to a bastard born of some foreign woman. But then, by sheer coincidence, Father died in the bridal chamber… and not long after, the only remaining legitimate heir died as well. Thanks to that, you—despite being a bastard—became the only adult of Brandt blood, and thus gained control of the family.”
Carlos let the last words linger, his tone strangely unhurried. Then he looked at Franz through the bars.
“Do you really think that was all a coincidence, Brother?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“Then let me elaborate.”
A carefully crafted smile returned to the boy’s lips.
“As I was saying, you went from a neglected bastard to the man who held all authority in House Brandt. But there was still one obstacle left before you could become the true head of the family.”
His violet eyes darkened beneath the shadow of his lashes as he paused.
“The child born to the second wife Father took in late. A legitimate heir—born of a formal marriage between Hinz Brandt and the princess of Shelburg. That child had a rightful claim. Which meant that once he came of age, you would have had to relinquish your position.”
Carlos lifted his gaze fully now, looking straight ahead at Franz. Then he returned Franz’s own earlier question to him.
“Brother… why didn’t you kill me?”
“……”
“You could have done to me what you did to the previous heir. Killed me while I was still young and secured your complete control over the family. But you didn’t. Why?”
Franz said nothing.
But both of them already knew the answer.
“And by pure coincidence, you’ve been sleeping with Mother for a very long time. Since before I even turned five. Long enough that you never even bothered to marry anyone else.”
Carlos’s voice lowered slightly.
“And that’s when I started to wonder… was Hinz Brandt really my father? Or perhaps…”
At last, the story reached its inevitable conclusion.
“Brother.”
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
“No… Father.”
“……”
“Do you—who killed your own father, Hinz, and took Brunhilde for yourself—really have the right to tell me not to desire her?”
Franz clenched his teeth, saying nothing.
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