Chapter 3.3

His existence was never a blessing.  

If there was someone in the world who should never be happy, Helio believed that person was undoubtedly himself.  

From the moment he was born, he had no father. Until the age of seven, he had never stepped outside his home.  

The fourth floor of a quiet, old mansion. To young Helio, that single floor was the entirety of the world.  

With no one around to compare himself to, he had never doubted that his life was different from a typical family.  

But he had many questions.  

‘Why can’t I go down those stairs?’  

‘Why can’t I even go out to the garden I see outside the window?’  

‘Why can’t I talk to anyone other than Mother and Aunt?’ 

There were so many things he wanted to ask, but at some point, he stopped asking anything altogether.  

Whenever he asked questions, the only response he got was his mother’s cold gaze.  

Young Helio often thought that maybe his mother didn’t love him.  

He wanted to ask this too, but he couldn’t.  

His mother wasn’t always entirely cold, but she wasn’t endlessly kind either.  

All the knowledge he had about history, culture, etiquette—everything he needed to live in the world—he had learned from his mother.  

Even so, there was a reason he came to think that way.  

As far as he could remember, his mother had never once looked him directly in the eye.  

No matter how much he called her, she never turned to look at him. Whenever he spoke to her, her gaze was always fixed on the floor.  

‘Why won’t Mother look at my face?’

He finally heard the answer to the question he had never been able to ask, one late night when he was around six years old.  

That night, he was unusually thirsty even while sleeping. He pulled the bell cord, but no one came.  

As he wandered the hallway looking for someone, he heard the sound of something breaking. It came from the room next door.  

“Mother?”  

As the slightly ajar door opened, the sharp stench of alcohol pierced his nose.  

Broken wine glasses and bottles were scattered across the floor, and at the center of it all was his mother, Justia.  

Blood continued to flow from Justia’s hand, likely cut by the shards of glass.  

“Mother! What happened?”  

Startled, Helio frantically tried to run to her.  

No, he attempted to run to her.  

“Ahhh! Don’t come! Don’t come near me!”  

At the very moment he thought their eyes had finally met, Justia let out a piercing scream.  

Helio froze in place, unable to do anything but watch as his mother convulsed in a fit of hysteria.  

Soon, the commotion drew people into the room.  

“Justia, what’s going on?”  

The first to arrive was the lady of the mansion and Helio’s aunt, Inoska.  

“Sister, sister, I’m so scared. Please save me. That person… that person is going to…”  

Curled up in extreme fear, trembling uncontrollably, Justia clung to Inoska’s skirt and pleaded.  

Her thin fingers, clutching her face, trembled endlessly.  

Her face, smeared with blood and tears, was plastered with strands of her long, jet-black hair. The grotesque sight made everyone watching hold their breath.  

“Justia, look carefully. It’s Helio. He’s your child.”  

“My… child…”  

“Yes, your child.”  

“…My, child…”  

Justia, half-dazed, repeated Inoska’s words. Her eyes reflected something far beyond mere drunkenness.  

“Yes, the child you carried for months, the one you named. Your son, Helio. Get a hold of yourself, Justia.”  

Inoska tried to speak calmly, but her trembling voice was already thick with tears.  

“My… child. Sob… I shouldn’t have given birth to him. I… I can never love that child. Sob. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… Sob.”  

Helio’s feet froze in place.  

The coldness that began at his toes slowly crept up his body, eventually freezing the heart buried deep within his chest. It cracked with a chilling sound.  

“What are you all doing? Take Helio out of here immediately.”  

Inoska scolded the attendants in a stern tone. However, by then, the child had already heard words he should never have heard.  

One of the attendants grabbed Helio’s hand and tried to pull him away, but Helio didn’t budge and remained rooted to the spot.  

After hesitating for a moment, the attendant, as if there were no other choice, lifted Helio onto their shoulder and carried him out of the room.  

Even as he was being carried out, Helio felt nothing.  

“I… I can never love that child.”  

Only Justia’s final words echoed repeatedly in his mind.  

To him, his mother was a strong and upright person. She was always calm and never once showed any emotional vulnerability.  

But now, she was crumbling. As if she might vanish at any moment.  

There had been times when he doubted her love. However, the moment that doubt became reality was far heavier than he had imagined.  

For a six-year-old child, the realization that his mother did not love him was unbearably cruel and heartbreaking.  

Less than a year after that incident, another event occurred.  

Imperial guards stormed into Inoska’s mansion.  

Helio’s small, fragile world came to an end, and he was thrown into a far harsher one.  

* * *  

“I shouldn’t have given birth to him.”  

A blood-soaked woman, her frail body limp, sobbed uncontrollably.  

The scene quickly shifted, taking him to a pitch-black lakeside where even the moonlight could not reach.  

“If only you hadn’t existed. If only you weren’t here, I would… … .”

The sorrowful voice pierced his ears sharply.  

The long, wet strands of her jet-black hair clung to him, choking his neck.  

“I… I am grateful… that the Grand Duke… was born.”  

Amid the sharp, relentless words, a clear voice suddenly overlapped.  

“Ugh… Ah.”  

Helio jolted awake with a start, gasping for air as if his heart had stopped from the pain.  

The familiar sight of his office came into view.  

It was a dream. That dream again.  

His shirt was already soaked with sweat and clung to his body in a mess.  

He forced his heavy body to rise and stand. An empty wine bottle at his feet rolled across the floor with a clattering sound.  

Every year, as his birthday approached, he was tormented by the same dream.  

Perhaps it was a curse his mother had placed upon him. Perhaps it was a warning—never to think of being happy. That’s what he believed.  

And so, he tried not to sleep whenever possible. But after several sleepless nights and drowning himself in alcohol, not even his sturdy body could hold out any longer.  

After splashing cold water on his face to regain his senses, he changed his clothes and returned. That’s when he noticed the strawberry cake sitting in the corner of the table.  

For a moment, he wondered if everything had been just a dream, as his memories blurred. But that small cake anchored him, making it impossible to escape reality.

‘I made it myself. Could you at least try a little?’

Elena, as she spoke, clutched the cake plate as if it were her lifeline.  

The cake’s shape was presentable, but her fingers were not.  

It was clear that a young lady of a Marquis’ household had never made food before. Her fingers, wrapped entirely in bandages, revealed just how inexperienced she was.  

She had said she was happy he was born. She called the birth, rejected even by his own parents, a blessing and something to be thankful for.  

Helio had grown up not knowing that birthdays were meant to be celebrated—not until he was seven years old. Naturally, he had never received something like a birthday cake.  

His mother had never taught him about such things.  

After entering the castle, he came to understand his situation and realized all the more that his birthday was not a day to be celebrated.  

‘It’s the same for everyone. I’m genuinely happy about your birthday, Your Grace.’

Was he happy to hear those words? He wasn’t sure if he should say he was happy or if he just felt like crying for some reason.  

And so, he pushed her harder, disgracefully so.  

He still couldn’t deny the fact that he was someone who shouldn’t have been born.  

But perhaps… just once, he had wanted to hear it from someone.  

That everyone was the same. That everything born had meaning and was something to be celebrated.  

Perhaps, deep down, he had hoped for someone to acknowledge his existence. Without even realizing it, he might have wished for it.  

Helio stared silently at the cake, then used the fork beside him to cut off a small piece and stuffed it into his mouth.  

“It’s sweet.”  

The cake, made with precise measurements as taught by Gordon, couldn’t possibly be overly sweet to the point of being inedible.  

Yet, to Helio, it felt excessively sweet. So sweet that it made his mouth feel bitter.  

With a clink, he set the fork down.  

He intended to order it to be taken away. But then he hesitated for a moment and stared at it for a while.  

In the end, he picked up the fork again.  

Whether it was because he didn’t want the first birthday cake made solely for him to end up in the trash or for some other reason, even he wasn’t entirely sure.  

He simply continued to silently shovel the overly sweet cake into his mouth.