Logan Fraser.

He is the sole heir of the noble Fraser family, who upheld the ideals of Joseph Fraser — a man who rendered distinguished service during the War of Foundation and played a pivotal role in the Empire’s growth in terms of civil governance and military power.

Born with blood unlike that of ordinary men, Logan was expected to be flawless from birth. Not because others demanded it of him, but because perfection was considered his natural state — something inherent and unquestionable.

James Fraser allowed no imperfections in his only son. Even the slightest mistake was considered foolish. Failure was not an option. In his father’s eyes, it simply did not exist.

“Nobles are those chosen by God. Commoners are nothing more than tools for the safety of the nobility. You must learn how to rule them, not feel compassion for them.”

“Mother said we are all the same—only our work is different.”

“That is the sort of nonsense spouted by businessmen who, once they’ve made a bit of money, start to believe they’re something special. Perhaps Her Ladyship has become sentimental towards those beneath her because she is involved in charitable work. “Do you really think we’re the same as people who hold filthy rags and scrub floors?”

The tutor assigned to Logan’s education dutifully carried out the duke’s instructions, shaping him into a seemingly perfect successor. Discipline was enforced through corporal punishment.

If these methods produced an unrivalled heir, the duke was not concerned with how they were carried out.

From an early age, Logan endured his tutor’s merciless beatings.

One night, as the wind cut through the air like a blade, he crept into the narrow space hidden beneath the stairs. Tears slipped down his face, born of the searing pain in his calves and the deep, wordless injustice he felt.

In front of the man who would not even allow him the dignity of tears, Logan had bitten down on his lip to silence his sobs. The skin was still raw and stinging.

If he went to his mother in such a state, she would surely ask what had happened. He did not want to worry her. Instead, he climbed the storage steps and crouched down in a cramped hollow behind them, barely large enough for a child to crawl into. It offered no shelter from the bitter winter cold.

Alone in that freezing darkness, Logan swallowed his grief.

“Mm…”

A suspicious sound came from nearby.

“P-please… help me…”

He turned towards the voice and saw a child stuck in the passageway.

It was Isabella, Henry and Maria’s daughter, whom he had met before.

Recognizing her by her chestnut-brown hair invading his personal space, Logan briefly considered pushing her out with his foot. Instead, he grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

He feared that if a servant discovered Isabella, they would find him too.

The cramped space, which was barely big enough for Logan alone, instantly became suffocating once the girl had forced her way in.

Robbed of his solitude, Logan spoke curtly.

“How did you find this place?”

“I saw you going this way, Young Master!”

Regardless of whether she understood his mood, Isabella appeared bright and cheerful. Perhaps her lack of tact was due to her supposed upbringing in the countryside.

“Then leave. I want to be alone.”

“Why?”

“I was already in a bad mood. You just made it worse.”

“I even brought something tasty for you…”

The girl’s spirits fell immediately at his cold dismissal. Pouting like a sulky little bird, she rummaged through the folds of her outer skirt, pulling out one item after another: ointment, biscuits, a piece of hardened bread, and a handful of small odds and ends.

He had thought she seemed slightly plumper these past few days. But once everything hidden beneath her skirt was laid out, the truth was revealed: Her thin, fragile frame was exposed.

Though only two years younger than him, Bella — who had been unwell since birth — looked much smaller and more fragile than her age would suggest.

“Eat.”

Isabella clumsily unwrapped the bread from its handkerchief and held half of it out to Logan.

He stared at the bread held out in front of him. Accustomed to impeccably prepared meals, he thought the bread she offered looked unhygienic.

“Mother was worried. She said you haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

Yet Isabella spoke as though such concerns did not matter in the slightest.

‘Do commoners eat things like this and feel nothing?’

He did not even know what might have touched it on the way here.

His tutor’s words resurfaced in his mind—that nobles and commoners were as different as heaven and earth.

‘I am a noble. I shouldn’t eat it. It would lower my dignity.’

“I said I don’t want it. Take it away.”

Logan turned his head sharply, ignoring the tempting scent of the savory bread.

Grrr!

However, his empty stomach betrayed his resolve by growling loudly at the sight of the food. As Isabella had said, he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Hunger gnawed at him mercilessly.

“Young Master, are you hungry?”

As if pride meant anything at all!

Unable to resist the enticing aroma of the bread any longer, Logan snatched it from Isabella’s hand before anyone could say a word.

“Hmph. I’m only eating this because of Maria—not you.”

He took a large bite, filling his mouth, and chewed loudly. The bread was stale and tough; it was almost like chewing on paper.

However, the longer he chewed, the more a rich, savory flavor spread across his tongue.

Logan’s eyes widened in surprise.

It was good — far better than he had expected.

Without brushing away the crumbs clinging to his lips, he took another bite. Under any other circumstances, eating cold, hard bread in a dusty hiding place was something Logan could never have imagined doing. And yet, it was not nearly as unpleasant as he would have thought.

Lost in a daze as he devoured the bread, he finally turned his head towards the persistent gaze he had felt for some time.

“…What are you staring at?”

“Were you very hungry?”

“What?”

“I’ll give you my share.”

When Isabella noticed that the bread had vanished, she held out the half that she had been nibbling on. The corner of her mouth showed small marks as though a mouse had nibbled it — her mouth must be tiny!

Logan pushed her hand away.

His empty stomach protested that half a slice was nowhere near enough. However, he was not so devoid of conscience as to steal, even from someone smaller than himself.

“It’s fine. Who gives away what they’re already eating? You eat it.”

“Yes.”

When he refused, Isabella did not press the matter. Instead, she simply started nibbling from the corner again.

She was holding it so carefully — was she really going to give it to someone else?

While waiting for her to finish, Logan pushed the items she had brought over to one side with his fingertips and threw them further away. Although he had ended up eating the bread out of necessity, he still felt that her other belongings were unclean.

“Young Master… were you crying?”

Isabella, who had been watching him tidy up, asked him a question.

It might have been an innocent question.

But to him, it felt as though she had pointed out his inadequacy.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Get out.”

His mood plummeted in an instant. One by one, Logan threw the items she had brought back through the hole.

‘Of course. What did I expect from a brat like this…’

He was just about to drive Isabella away when a small hand suddenly cupped his cheek.

Before he could push her away, her round, crumb-dusted face leaned closer and something warm and damp brushed the corner of his eye.

Peck.

Her lips touched him lightly, then withdrew.

With a faint smile, the girl lingered near him, gently blowing over the spot she had kissed as though trying to soothe it.

Logan froze. Then, in a flustered panic, he pushed her away.

“Ow!”

Overpowered by the clear difference in their size, the girl tumbled backward and landed hard on her bottom.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?!”

Logan covered his flushed face with the back of his hand, panting and shouting. His heart was pounding as if it would burst, and he could only manage ragged gasps for breath.

“Ow… Mama said if you kiss where it hurts, the pain will go away…”

The girl muttered as she rubbed her sore bottom, which made Logan feel even more embarrassed. His heart pounded wildly, as though something fragile inside it had broken.

“It’s only because I was startled.”

Yes — startled.

Despite sensing an inexplicable danger from a girl small enough to fit in one hand, Logan forced himself to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart.

“That’s enough. Go back. If Maria comes looking for you, I’ll get caught too.”

He waved his hand dismissively, shooing the girl away.