A feeling swept over him that he had never experienced before.

Was it sympathy or compassion?

A morbid curiosity or a wicked sense of superiority?

Despite having patrolled the estate countless times with his mother, he had never encountered anything so precarious. The Lawrence estate was always perfect and pristine, thanks to his mother’s obsession with upholding the family’s honor in place of his father.

Even the orphans were raised with care by the caretakers at the orphanage run by the Lawrence family. At least, that was how it appeared to him, though he wasn’t certain of the reality.

He lived in an isolated world. Words like love, happiness, and joy were things he dared not possess, and even dreaming of them felt like a sin.

Unable to resist the intense emotion pulling at him, he decided to take the child with him.

If he had known, he would have brought a cloak. It was a choice he had never considered, and the thought made him chuckle.

He reached out to the child instinctively. Just before making contact with that coldness, he hesitated. His wet tunic might cause the child to freeze.

After a moment’s pause, he tossed aside his top. The warmth directly from his body would be better.

The scabs stuck to the thin fabric tore off mercilessly. Just because he healed quickly and was naturally strong didn’t mean he felt no pain. Even though he lived with various pains as part of his existence, it was always agonizing.

For now, he was too focused on the small child in front of him to feel the pain.

He bent down and carefully slipped his arms beneath the rotting leaves on the dirt floor and the rough sack. The motionless child twitched slightly. Leopold unconsciously held his breath.

Through the barely open eyes, he saw a translucent purple. So, there were eyes with such a mysterious color… He had seen something similar in the White Forest—a unique flower that bloomed in late autumn and blossomed like spring flowers in winter. It resembled the color of that flower.

The child, who seemed on the verge of stopping breathing, murmured weakly.

“Jayden… is waiting…”

“Who is that?”

“My… brother…”

“I’ll bring him, so don’t worry and get some rest.”

The child’s body temperature was so low that he turned his horse back toward the mansion. Once the child was somewhat revived, he would send them to the orphanage and find the sibling as well.

The distance that usually felt short seemed unbearably long that day. The small life that radiated no warmth kept burrowing into his arms. For the first time, he was grateful for his fevered body.

As expected, he was greeted by his stern-faced mother when he arrived at the mansion.

Tense and ready to explain about the child, Leopold was startled by his mother’s increasingly bright expression.

“Where did you find this child? No, it doesn’t matter. Peter, send a letter to the headmaster immediately.”

Speaking as if to herself, she snatched the child away without even looking at Leopold. It was the first time he realized his mother could genuinely appear happy.

At Sarah’s request, Isabel quickly arrived at the mansion. She, too, couldn’t hide her excitement upon seeing the child.

What on earth was this child?

Unable to hide his curious gaze, Isabel taught him for the first time about the symbols and types of power. Due to her concerns, information about extraordinary powers had been thoroughly withheld from Leopold, who possessed such powers himself.

The shimmering silver hair and brilliant purple eyes were not traits just anyone could have. In other words, the child he had brought was not just anyone. His mother saw hope in the child that she might walk again.

I thought you were like me, but in the end, you’re different. Destined to live in that other world.

Here, it was still just me, all alone.

He couldn’t understand why he felt a sense of regret and bitterness over something that seemed to be a good thing.

It amused him that such indescribable emotions arose regarding a young child, so Leopold decided to avoid looking at the child as much as possible.

Fortunately, the mansion was large enough that he didn’t have to consciously avoid the child, and soon the child was enrolled in the academy.

***

He placed a single flower on his desk.

A richly scented purple flower that resembled the eyes of the child he had met at the start of winter, blooming even in the snow.

It was called a stock flower.

His sense of taste, lost after a childhood accident, never returned. Instead, his sense of smell became more acute. He could easily distinguish people by their strong natural scents.

Perfumes, the aroma of mouth-watering food, the clear and refreshing air of nature, and the gentle fragrance of flowers were all overwhelmingly intense for him.

Yet, for some reason, the scent of the stock flower was the only one he could tolerate. He didn’t know why, but it felt acceptable to have at least one beautiful thing in his bleak world.

Occasionally, he received bothersome letters from the academy.

The once messy handwriting had become more elegant over the years. He could tell how hard the child was studying just by looking at that.

The letters always began with “Dear Mrs. Lawrence,” and ended with a note asking about his well-being. Even though he never replied, they always arrived. At some point, the child started sending two letters—one to his mother and one to him.

Even his controlling mother never touched the letters. For the first time, he had something entirely for himself.

The content was always similar, starting with trivial matters and concluding with polite greetings. Wishing the Duke good health, expressing gratitude despite never having met, and hoping to treat him to a meal someday if they earned enough money.

These weren’t just words; they came with homemade energy boosters or stamina enhancers. Though he didn’t need them, having begun using magic secretly from Isabel, he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.

Sometimes, the child sent cookies they had made. They sat on his desk for days until the oil soaked through the packaging paper. Since he couldn’t taste them, he never considered eating them.

The child’s gifts piled up in one corner of his library. Looking at them gave him a strange feeling.

For the first time in his life, he felt the desire to “keep” something.

***

He spent the year as if it were a single day.

His routine was so monotonous that, without the changing seasons, it was hard to tell the passage of time. He expected his life to continue without much change. However, a passing comment from his mother set him deep in thought.

“Hazel has graduated from the academy. Don’t you think you should see her?”

“No.”

“You’re so indifferent. We’ve arranged a room for Hazel at the estate, just so you know.”

“…Okay.”

They could easily get a separate house in the capital.

But he couldn’t persuade his mother. She was excessively sensitive when it came to Hazel.

It was like a precious artifact bestowed by the royal family—cherished immensely but rendered useless the moment it was scratched or broken.

Thanks to the affection directed toward Hazel, his mother’s anger toward him gradually diminished, and the corporal punishment ceased entirely once he became an adult. Although her indifference sometimes stung, it wasn’t entirely negative.

Immediately after hearing his mother’s words, Leopold began organizing his library. The empty shelves felt hollow, but that was all.

After all, there was nothing he could truly call his own. He felt like a being that shouldn’t exist in the world to begin with.

He stopped searching for the flowers he used to place when the season he met the child returned. He made sure to instruct the staff to ensure that Hazel never crossed his path.

The employees of the duke’s residence were competent, and fortunately, Hazel was also good at following instructions.

Still, just to be safe, he spent most of his time at the capital residence rather than the estate. It was much better to endure a little inconvenience than to risk an unexpected encounter.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he wanted to avoid her so much.

Of course, he didn’t feel inclined to ponder it deeply.

The time he thought would flow unchanged faced an unexpected challenge due to the “capital.” Invitations to parties arrived almost daily.

It was understandable, as twenty-seven was not an unusual age to be married with a couple of children. As he sent numerous polite refusals, he suddenly found it strange.

Why hadn’t his mother, who was so obsessed with the family’s honor and his father’s legacy, ever pushed for a marriage?

There had been a few formal marriage proposals, but she had turned them all down.

In truth, he had no intention of forming a family with anyone. To him, family was cruel and tedious, a shackle that couldn’t be removed by choice.

So he hadn’t thought much of it.

One day, his mother, who had come to the capital, sought him out, saying she had something to discuss. With a delighted and excited expression, she announced, “I’m planning to make Hazel my daughter-in-law.”

So that was why. That was why she had never pressured him to marry.

He found his mother’s ambition laughable, but Leopold had no right to refuse. He was merely a substitute for Macallan Lawrence and had no decision-making power.

All he could do was follow, as the son who had killed his father and crippled his mother’s legs. Even dying required her permission.

Marrying Hazel was no different.

It wasn’t a demand or pressure, just a gentle suggestion, but he knew well that saying “no” was impossible for both of them. The relationship, built over years of indoctrination, was like a fortress that had withstood the test of time.

—
T/N: Not me sitting here and becoming depressed about Leopold losing his sense of taste. Why must you do this to me! (；′⌒`)