In contrast, Cyrus’s was thick, about twice the circumference of Cecil’s, demonstrating his growth similar to how his height tried to catch up to his father’s. It had bulging, bumpy veins. Additionally, the gl*ns was as big as a fist with very distinct ridges, giving an almost repulsive impression.

Not only that, but his pubic hair was darker than his head hair and extremely abundant, giving the impression of an already mature adult with a promiscuous aura.

The sight of these two penises touching had an extremely secretive and obscene aspect, partly because compared to his brother’s, the older brother’s looked like a child’s.

Cyrus’s g*nitals looked like those of a fully grown adult, making Cecil’s appear underdeveloped like a child’s in comparison. When that thick pillar roughly scraped Cecil’s p*nis with its veins, Cecil’s shoulders jumped suddenly.

“Ah!”

“Haah…”

Fluids overflowed from their touching g*nitals, becoming sticky and entangled, coating each other with saliva. Cyrus giggled with flushed cheeks at the obscene scene. He could clearly imagine how shocked their father Leira would be if he discovered this sight.

“Shall we kiss?”

“Uh, uh…”

Cecil seemed unaware of what he had heard or even how he had answered. Seeing his dazed expression, Cyrus snickered and firmly grasped his thick shaft, pressing his urethra against Cecil’s. From the moist tip of the gl*ns came sounds like “suck, slurp, slurp” resembling lips sucking and releasing.

The pulsating openings gaped, and the erupting s*men splattered everywhere, seemingly licking the holes. Cecil’s clean lower abdomen was splattered with cum, completely covered in s*men.

“Huu, huh, huuh…”

Cecil’s rib cage repeatedly expanded and contracted. Cyrus looked down at his brother. His two cheeks, which still hadn’t completely lost their baby fat, were vibrantly red with a youthful tinge, and his limbs were slender and long. His hands and feet were slightly larger than proportional to his height, suggesting he would grow more, and his facial contours were extremely delicate, appearing like glass or a vase that would break if touched.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

He was so beautiful that Cyrus wanted to forgive the innocence and cowardice of doing such things without exactly recognizing what they were doing. Cyrus finally couldn’t resist and embraced his brother, holding him in his arms.

“Brother, I like you.”

“Uh… me too…”

Tired, Cecil rubbed his forehead against the broad shoulder and responded halfheartedly. Annoyed by the casual response, Cyrus bit the black head of hair hard.

“Ow! Why did you bite me?”

“I’m annoyed…”

Having been bitten suddenly after pleasurably ej*culating, Cecil wore an expression of bewilderment. Cyrus, for his part, was quite dissatisfied. They had rubbed their penises together and ej*culated multiple times, yet he still didn’t properly understand what Cyrus was saying. When would his brother finally grow up?

“Why are you annoyed? Let’s get out quickly. Everyone will be looking for us by now.”

Not understanding why his brother was irritated, Cecil pushed Cyrus away dismissively. Since it was time to prepare to leave anyway, Cyrus, who was pushed away without resistance, narrowed his eyes and playfully glared at his brother.

Unaware that his brother was doing this behind him, Cecil hurriedly adjusted his clothes and stretched out his arm. His face, anticipating the swordsmanship lesson, was already excited like a foal released into a field. Seeing this, Cyrus muttered to himself very quickly and quietly.

“…Idiot.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

Cecil tilted his chin sideways with an expression of uncertainty about what he had heard. But Cyrus feigned innocence, holding both real swords they had recently started using in one hand, and pushed his brother’s shoulder.

“Let’s go. Lord Orsay must have arrived already.”

“You called me an idiot, didn’t you? Huh?”

Convinced that he had indeed been insulted, Cecil clenched his fist and grumbled, but his brother simply ignored him. Silently giggling behind him, Cyrus put his arm around his brother’s shoulder and went down the stairs. Below, Alesia, already dressed in training clothes and ready, was standing with a restless posture.

“Why are you only coming now? Come down quickly!”

“We’re coming!”

When Alesia frowned and urged them, Cecil hurriedly replied and ran down the stairs. As the lukewarm body heat suddenly disappeared from his arms, Cyrus stared blankly at his own hands.

Something needed to be done. A measure to ensure that nothing could carelessly steal Cecil’s attention away.

*

That day’s training was the worst. More precisely, it was the worst for Cecil. Cecil couldn’t concentrate on the training at all that day, and each time, he nearly got cut in various places by Alesia’s dangerous sword. Cyrus, who was watching, almost had his heart drop several times.

But Cecil, who wielded a flexible and graceful swordsmanship, narrowly avoided each time, and just as Alesia, growing more determined, was about to deliver a decisive blow—

“Stop!”

“Ah, why!”

“Are you trying to beat your brother to death or are you sparring?”

“Both!”

Alesia, who had boldly shouted, stamped her foot, complaining that she had almost won so why stop her. It was behavior closer to a troublemaker who had candy taken away than a noble lady.

“I lost. If we had continued, sister would have won.”

Unable to watch anymore, Cecil tried to console his sister with an embarrassed smile, but that seemed insufficient as Alesia sharply retorted for him to shut up, only to receive another scolding from her instructor.

“In my twenty years as a swordsmanship teacher, I’ve never had students as difficult to teach as you.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve never seen students as genius as us before? That’s really funny.”

“Sister…”

At Alesia’s impertinent, even rude tone, Cecil called his sister’s name pleadingly. It meant to please stop, but Lord Orsay didn’t seem to entirely dislike such behavior from Alesia, as he burst into hearty laughter toward the sky.

“Yes, I’ve never had students with such strong personalities before. How did the three of you become siblings? It’s amazing. And Cyrus, don’t ignore your teacher when he’s speaking. Your brother is not a child.”

Cyrus, who had been checking if his brother was injured anywhere regardless of what his teacher was saying in front of him, nodded. Seeing how he wouldn’t even mix words with the swordsmanship teacher he had known for years unless it concerned his family, Lord Orsay rubbed his forehead. It was astonishing how all three siblings had such unique personalities.

Especially the first and third children with strong personalities were completely opposite in temperament. The firstborn, Alesia, was naturally extroverted and uninhibited, with a somewhat ill-mannered side, but she often offset this with her inherent lovability.

And the third child, Cyrus, was always taciturn like now, focusing only on what interested him regardless of what others were doing in front of him, but unlike the firstborn, his sociability was unfortunately quite lacking.

And the second child, Cecil. This child had excellent social skills and was kind to everyone, which from an adult’s perspective seemed somewhat disadvantageous. Being sandwiched between the strong-willed first and third children probably intensified this personality.

Out of sympathy, Lord Orsay stroked Cecil’s head.

“Cecil. Remember that the only person who will take care of you is yourself.”

“Huh? Y-yes…”

As Cecil tilted his head with a puzzled expression, the knight clicked his tongue in disapproval.

Cyrus was watching this scene. His mood plummeted dramatically. Seeing his brother smiling comfortably while someone else touched his hand stirred up indescribable feelings that bubbled and rose within him.

The idea of allowing someone to touch him so casually was unimaginable to Cyrus. If anyone tried, he would refuse out of displeasure. But Cecil was different from Cyrus.

Cyrus had understood from a young age that it wasn’t easy for only one person to exist in someone’s world. That was only possible for people like himself or his father Edwin. For people like Alesia, Cecil, or his other father Leira, it was inherently impossible.

Was it their innate nature? If so, he had no desire to tear apart or destroy that nature. Cyrus loved Cecil exactly as he was and didn’t want to hurt him.

So he would stake himself instead. No matter what, he was someone precious to Cecil, so he would stake himself to ensure Cecil’s gaze wouldn’t wander.

Now, what should he do?

*

It was a few days after that incident. The day after it had snowed, the weather was extremely cold and chilly. The siblings, vulnerable to cold, were each spending time in a room with a lit fireplace. Cyrus quietly left the room while watching Cecil deeply immersed in a book. Then he slowly walked down the corridor, looking up at the ceiling.

This mansion had unusually high ceilings. Each floor was much taller than normal. The staircase was the same. Standing in front of those stairs, Cyrus looked down for a moment.

The staircase that had seemed dizzyingly long when he was young stretched before him. Heightening his senses, he confirmed there were no servants or anyone else passing by. It was the perfect moment to carry out his plan, and Cyrus didn’t hesitate.

…Thud!

It was a silent fall.

After confirming no one was passing by, Cyrus hurled himself from the top of the high staircase to the bottom. Though his physique had grown considerably, his still somewhat soft body made the floor resound with a thud as he crashed down.

Tremendous pain followed immediately, but Cyrus managed a faint smile even as blood from his split forehead ran into his eyes. Shortly after, he heard the first person to detect the vibration opening a door and coming out.

It was Cecil.

“What was that sound? What was…”

Cecil, muttering to himself seemingly searching for anyone who might have heard, stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs.

“Cyrus…”

Cecil whispered softly, appearing unable to process what he was seeing, wearing a dumbfounded expression that Cyrus could barely make out through his blurry vision.

“Cyrus!!”

Soon came the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs, followed a beat later by Alesia’s presence.

“Cyrus is hurt! Someone come quickly!”

Something fell onto Cyrus’s face along with the tearful voice. It was hot and wet.

“What do we do, what do we do…”

Only after Cecil called for help, unable to even hold him, did Cyrus realize what had fallen on his face. They were Cecil’s tears.

Don’t cry.

He wanted to say that, but no voice came out. Instead, he listened to Cecil’s voice calling for people while bursting into tears, and thought:

Brother, if you look away from me even after this, I won’t let it slide.

Cyrus had fractured his left leg and right arm.