Blood gushing from his mouth interrupted his answer. He needed to say no, but before he could answer, the assault began again.

William Winston’s words could be heard.

“Know your place, how dare you covet above your station. Lover? Love? Don’t make me laugh.”

Crack, following his right arm, the bones in his right hand were crushed.

“It’s so insulting to my pride to lose to a bastard like you… Since when did a Winston lose to a commoner nobody… It’s ridiculous.”

Winston muttered as he removed his foot from the blood-covered hand.

“I heard you were planning to become a stenographer? Now that you’re crippled, I wonder how you’ll make a living. It might be better to just die.”

The jobs a commoner youth could do with only one usable hand were extremely limited. It would be difficult even to do gardening work like David. From the start, jobs requiring strength, that is, almost all jobs a young man could do, were out of the question.

Stepping on the hand that had lost all feeling, Winston cruelly spat out.

“Get away from Lian. Along with your parents.”

As his consciousness faded, the faces of his parents came to mind. His father who was proud of his only son, his beautiful mother who had high hopes for her son.

His mind was hazy. He couldn’t see well. There was a buzzing sound in his ears. He thought he faintly heard a woman’s scream, but he didn’t have the energy to recognize whose it was.

When he opened his eyes, he was at home. Instead of his unconscious mother, his father’s red-rimmed eyes greeted him.

* * *

Before a full season had passed since then, various changes occurred in Humming, the capital of Treven.

William Winston and Lady Berienne broke off their engagement. As soon as Treven declared defeat, Count Winston let go of Marquis Berienne’s hand.

Marquis Berienne took his own life. His two remaining daughters disappeared without a trace.

David Ren, who started driving a carriage to make a living instead of his son who became crippled, died in a bandit attack. In front of Renéee Ren, who had fallen into despair due to successive tragedies, Duke Chesterfield appeared and confessed his love.

Worried about the future of her son who could do nothing, Renéee remarried Harris Chesterfield. Harris repaid her love by recognizing her grown son as his heir.

And Izer Chesterfield never again mentioned the name Celian Berienne.

Until she appeared in his house under the ridiculous title of his brother’s tutor.

* * *

“Could you slowly make a fist? Yes, that’s good. Now slowly open it again.”

Izer carefully followed the instructions of the doctor, Dr. Caleb.

His right hand, which had been damaged, was now almost fully recovered. It was thanks to the top doctor provided by Duke Chesterfield, who couldn’t bear to see Renéee upset every time she saw her son’s hand.

Izer was the only patient that Dr. Caleb, who had announced his retirement and moved to the countryside, still maintained.

After finishing the examination, Dr. Caleb packed his bag and stood up.

“You shouldn’t have any problems with daily activities. Don’t lift heavy things. Keep moving your hand regularly to build muscle strength.”

Izer also stood up.

“I understand. Thank you.”

Every time he saw Izer Chesterfield, Dr. Caleb pondered a philosophical question.

Where is a person’s nobility determined?

It certainly wasn’t bloodline. The Young Duke of Chesterfield was more dignified than most nobles.

Then was it the education received later in life? Considering that habits are usually formed in childhood, it seemed the young duke had originally been of upright character.

Of course, no matter what, it must have taken the young duke’s painstaking effort for a commoner to digest noble etiquette as naturally as breathing.

Izer followed Dr. Caleb into the hallway and asked,

“Are you returning to the countryside right away?”

“I’m planning to see my son before I go.”

“Ah, you mean Dr. Owen?”

Dr. Caleb had introduced his patients to his son when he retired. This included Percy and Renéee Chesterfield.

Unlike Izer, who he only needed to meet once a month regularly, young Percy was often sickly. Renéee, who was practically bedridden, also never knew when she might need a doctor. They were patients difficult for Dr. Caleb to manage individually after moving to the countryside.

The doctor laughed heartily.

“Yes. I thought patients might confuse me with Caleb, so I told the boy to practice under his own name.”

Izer laughed along. Though he disliked the Duke of Chesterfield, he liked this doctor the duke had provided. He had insisted on keeping this departing man for consultations because he needed some breathing room.

“That’s harsh. Your son might want to benefit from your reputation a bit.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t let my son tarnish my reputation. Haha, of course, that’s half a joke, but I also thought my son needed to face the world on his own.”

Stand on your own two feet as Owen Caleb, not as Dr. Caleb’s son — this was how he expressed his affection for his son.

And it was also what David Ren had expressed to his own son. He had told his son that there was no need to follow in his footsteps as a gardener, but to make a living doing what he loved.

Once, Izer too had dreamed of becoming a soldier, like many young boys. He even learned to shoot from a soldier who frequented the marquis’s residence.

Then one day, his father called him. He said that Marquis Berienne had offered to arrange for Izer to receive formal training if he would move to the border on the premise of enlisting.

Looking back, it seemed Marquis Berienne had been wary of Izer from that time. He must have known that his daughter was chasing after the gardener’s son. Even if he couldn’t openly drive Izer away, he must have wanted him away from his daughter’s side.

He should have left then.

Izer smiled self-deprecatingly as he returned after seeing Dr. Caleb off. The kindness he had shown in front of the doctor disappeared, replaced by a twisted smile.

But even that was brief. A gentle voice stopped Izer.

“—Izer.”

“Mother, you’re up?”

“I heard Dr. Caleb’s voice. I thought I’d say hello, but has he already left?”

“Yes. I thought you were sleeping so I didn’t mention it, but I guess I should have.”

“He probably wanted to see his son while he was in the capital. You did well. When Dr. Owen comes for an examination, I’ll ask him to send my regards.”

“Yes. Would you like to take a walk?”

Renéee nodded. Izer offered his left arm. Although he could manage most daily activities with his right hand, he still primarily used his left.

This had been Izer’s habit for six years. Whether in eating, shaking hands, or even opening doors, he always used his left hand.

It was the same when signing documents or taking notes. Although he couldn’t produce as beautiful handwriting with his left hand as before, it was far better than the scrawl his crushed right hand produced.

The two strolled through the garden. The spring breeze carried the scent of lilacs. A smile appeared on her face, which showed clear signs of illness.

“The garden is so beautiful. The gardener must be skilled.”

“Probably not as good as Father.”

A look of regret flashed across Renéee’s face.

Izer often mentioned his birth father. Each time, Renéee got the impression that Izer was trying to distinguish himself from Chesterfield and her. As if he wanted to appear as the perfect Chesterfield outside, while denying that identity himself.

Noticing his mother’s discomfort, Izer changed the subject. After all, he hated his adoptive father, not his mother.

“It’s not just the gardener’s skill, the weather is also good to begin with.”

Water streamed from the fountain where a white statue stood.

In her mid-forties, Renéee still maintained the slender figure of her youth. Seeing them from behind, one might believe they were lovers rather than mother and son.

“Don’t stay in your room too much, take walks occasionally. I’d be even happier if you called for me.”

“I feel bad calling for you when you’re so busy. Even this time, your tour of the estate took longer than expected, didn’t it?”