“Father, can’t you grant me an early inheritance?”

In Chamuka’s judgment, taking responsibility for Leti was something he had to do.
With Tan, whose intelligence was still akin to that of a beast, Gaien, who had left home, and Ferik, who was too busy with work, it was only reasonable for him to look after her.
However, since it was Ferik who had brought Leti here as a hostage, Chamuka needed to obtain Leti’s rights from him.

‘I have to inherit properly so everyone recognizes that she’s mine.’

At that moment, Chamuka blinked blankly. The heavy, sticky whisper vanished from his mind in an instant.

He tried to recall what he had just been thinking, but the moment Ferik spoke, he completely forgot.

“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Astrid said my assets are one of my charms. If I want to maintain a smooth marital life with Astrid, who is still disoriented after waking up for the first time in five years, it’s better not to diminish any of my charms.”

I don’t care about such things, but Astrid does.

When Ferik added this, Chamuka fell silent.
The longest conversation he’d had with his father in the last five years was about something like this.

“Father. Mother said she wanted to end that marital life.”
“She’s just confused for now. That won’t happen.”

Chamuka felt like he’d heard the same thing from his grandfather before.
His gaze rolled over to Astrid.

‘If I tell Mother that I’ll become the Grand Duke, imprison Father in the underground dungeon like when Grandfather divorced, and sign the divorce papers on her behalf, maybe she’ll agree to retire him.’

But unfortunately, if he did that, there was no way a ten-year-old Grand Duke could stop Ferik from rampaging once he found out he’d been divorced.

Chamuka turned his attention back to Leti, who was asleep with her head resting on Ferik’s thigh, and spoke again.

“Anyway, isn’t Mother’s favorite thing about you your face?”

Astrid was a wizard who carried on the lineage of geniuses from the Magic Tower.
She had more wealth than the combined fortunes of most noble families.
For someone like Astrid, who already had everything, her criteria for choosing a husband were his face and body.
And she didn’t exactly try to hide that fact.

“Argh! So frustrating! You! Hurry up and get ugly so I can leave you!”

Recalling Astrid’s frequent drunken rants, Chamuka thought there were too many disgraceful scenes in this household.

“If it weren’t for this face, you wouldn’t have been able to marry me. Sigh… How can someone’s face be this beautiful?”
“Just the face?”
“No, the body’s beautiful too… Come here. I’ll admire you…”

Stopping his recollection there, Chamuka felt somewhat queasy.

‘…I should focus on Leti. No weird thoughts.’

But Chamuka’s firm resolve cracked with Ferik’s response.

“That’s the problem. Astrid looks at the face, but now I’ve aged.”
“……”

Chamuka turned his lukewarm gaze to Ferik, who looked no different from five years ago.
As expected, he didn’t want to continue this conversation.

He felt an impulse to just take Leti and leave, but it came and went repeatedly.

Keeping Leti around these people didn’t seem good for her emotional development.

“You can always manage your face. It’d keep you busy, wouldn’t it, Father, especially while working?”

Chamuka, spouting words he didn’t mean, finally brought up his main point.

“You’ll be busy, so I’ll take responsibility for the prince. I’ll protect, care for, and raise him.”

Chamuka didn’t want to tell his father the nickname “Leti.”
After a moment’s thought, he realized it was probably because introducing a new nickname to someone who already called her “the prince” seemed inefficient.

“The prince is protected by the castle knights, cared for by his personal maid, and raised by Astrid.”
“But there needs to be someone in charge…”
“That’s Astrid.”

Chamuka, caught off guard by the unexpected answer, asked.
“Not you, Father?”
“Astrid said the prince is hers. So I let her have him.”
“……”

‘Why don’t you just give her the Basilinte Castle if she asks?’ A sarcastic thought flitted through Chamuka’s mind but quickly dissipated.

“She also said he’s essential for breaking the curse.”

No one in this era yet realized that the Basilinte bloodline seemed less insane due to their emotions being suppressed by a curse.
Even if they had known, with the once lush green fields now reduced to barren wastelands, it was clear they’d simply respond, ‘Let them live as madmen.’

“Wouldn’t it be inconvenient to have the prince around every time you visit Mother? It’d be better if I…”
“It’s not inconvenient.”
“…Pardon?”

Ferik stroked the head of the child sleeping on his thigh.
It was an ordinary action anyone could do, but coming from Ferik, it was extraordinary.
Ferik never even stroked his own son, Chamuka, unless Astrid told him to; he would just stare blankly at him.

“The prince resembles Astrid.”
“…? In what way?”

Astrid had sharp features with an air of sophistication, while Leti was a classic, textbook example of a beautiful young boy.
Objectively, they didn’t look alike at all.

For starters, Astrid had black hair and blue eyes, while Leti had blonde hair and golden eyes.

“Is your eyesight failing, Chamuka?”
“…Their colors are completely different.”
“They’re both beautiful.”
“……”

Chamuka was at a loss for words.

“There are plenty of beautiful people in the world. Just because they’re beautiful doesn’t mean they look alike.”
“Opposites attract, and when they’re this beautiful, they inevitably resemble each other.”

Chamuka glanced at Astrid, who was asleep, leaning against Ferik’s shoulder.

Objectively, Astrid did have a somewhat pretty appearance, but not to the extent of receiving such praise.

Honestly, regardless of preferences, Leti’s beauty was timeless, the kind that would be immortalized in portraits in any era.

“The prince is undeniably beautiful, but Mother… has an exceptional intellectual charm.”
“How do you plan to manage with eyesight that poor?”
“It’s not my eyesight that’s poor, Father. If you ask anyone, they’ll say they don’t look alike.”
“Astrid was delighted, saying she and the prince looked alike.”
“She meant their magical properties, not their appearance. The prince is undeniably beautiful, but Mother isn’t.”

Chamuka stated this bluntly.
Then Ferik, in a slightly chilling tone, replied.
“Astrid is undeniably beautiful to anyone who looks at her.”

“No. Being beautiful refers to appearances like the prince’s.”

Hallik, the butler, who had been bringing in a wagon of snacks, froze the moment he entered the room and overheard this bizarre argument between father and son.

Pretending not to have heard anything, he smoothly placed the snacks and tea down and made a swift exit from the room.

The Grand Duke, who was giving the prince a lap pillow he hadn’t even given his biological son Chamuka, was strange.
The first son, who was arguing that the prince was beautiful, was strange.

Hallik shifted his gaze to the prince, who was pretending to sleep, though his ears and neck were flushed red, his fists trembling slightly, betraying that he had likely overheard the entire conversation.

‘Yes. It must be humiliating.’

“And since the prince is Astrid’s disciple, he’s practically her child. That makes him my child too, and your sibling. Even without shared blood, he’s like a brother.”

What kind of nonsense was this?
A teacher and disciple are just that—teacher and disciple. Why bring family into it?

By this logic, would Lord Gaien claim that the burly, muscle-bound knights of the Basilinte Order he trained were also family?

No matter what Hallik thought internally, the Grand Duke continued his nonsense with conviction.

“It’s only natural for family members to resemble each other.”
“Family, siblings…”

Hallik barely suppressed the urge to shout, ‘That’s not true!’ at the first son, who seemed to be buying into this absurdity.

It was a testament to his patience as an excellent butler.