WFMW 42

Chapter 42

“Do as You Usually Do”

---

---

Blinking in disbelief, I froze, and Cid, looking a bit embarrassed, nudged my back first.

“Now that it’s just the two of us, let’s talk seriously.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Did you know Grisha before?”

“We studied together at the academy to become mages.”

“Oh, I see.”

With such a nonchalant reply, Cid covered his mouth with his hand. It felt like he wanted to talk to me but couldn’t find the right topic.

I blinked and took a closer look at his face again.

His handsome, somewhat rigid features were given a touch of life by a small scar on his chin.

‘Even the color of his eyes, silvery-gray, is mysterious.’

People often feel uneasy when someone’s eyes have a metallic hue like gold or silver—it looks unnatural.

‘But it suits Cid perfectly. He is a swordsman, after all.’

His strong appearance combined with those silvery-gray eyes seemed to symbolize a sword in itself.

‘He doesn’t resemble Grisha at all.’

Even their black hair was slightly different. Grisha’s straight hair flowed softly, while Cid’s looked stiff.

Tilting my head and searching for any resemblance, I asked curiously,

“Are you really Grisha’s older brother?”

Finally, Cid relaxed a little and gave that usual cynical smile.

“Is there such a thing as a fake brother? Of course, there are some relationships worse than strangers.”

He had a habit of answering everything with sarcasm. I shrugged.

“Grisha never talks about his family. Even when I asked about his last name, he never answered. I didn’t know he had a half-brother.”

“You don’t look alike at all, right?”

“No.”

“Honest.”

Cid brushed his hair back. Even a simple gesture highlighted the muscles of his thick arms, moving like dominoes.

“I resemble my father. Grisha resembles our mother.”

“I see.”

Since I had met Cid’s mother before, I guessed he took after his father. I nodded.

‘Grisha’s mother must have been very beautiful, too. Perhaps a delicate beauty, like Grisha.’

I was beginning to form an impression of the Duke of Grenite, whom I’d never met.

Cid rubbed his eyes wearily and explained,

“You probably guessed, but Grisha and I are competing for the dukedom. So there’s no way we can get along. My mother visited last time because Grisha returned home after graduating from the academy.”

“Oh.”

I had wondered why an assassin would be sent now, instead of waiting until I was fully incapacitated. It was probably because Grisha’s appearance made them anxious.

‘Of course, that doesn’t explain everything.’

Even if someone’s anxious, killing people indiscriminately would leave no one alive in the empire.

But there was something in his anxiety I couldn’t quite understand. I asked, tilting my head,

“Is it possible to compete? Your mother is the Duchess of Grenite now, and you’re the heir, right?”

It’s unusual for a firstborn to face competition, even in a noble family like the Grenites, though not impossible. Cid wasn’t incompetent.

He answered succinctly, like giving a memo:

“I’m the illegitimate child.”

“Oh…”

So that beautiful, terrifying lady stomping the door with her heels before was the mistress? And the illegitimate child is older? So he had a child with another woman before marriage?

I could barely imagine the situation, so I just pressed my lips together. I added one more detail in my mind: the Duke of Grenite, whom I had never met, was quite the libertine.

‘Ah, that’s why Lady Briar was furious when Cid said he didn’t want the dukedom.’

Even if he had been the illegitimate child, Lady Briar was now the duchess, and Cid was an officially recognized swordmaster.

He finally had the dukedom within reach, yet he was willing to cede it to his half-brother—no wonder she was upset.

‘But that’s Briar’s frustration, not the siblings’ relationship.’

I still couldn’t understand why the brothers didn’t get along.

“You said you didn’t want the dukedom. If you tell Grisha sincerely, wouldn’t he understand? You’re the only siblings; it would be nice if you got along.”

I cautiously asked, wondering if there might be yet another half-sibling.

Cid sighed through his nose.

“There’s a lot of history tangled between us.”

He cut me off firmly, leaving no room for argument. I nodded. As an outsider, it wasn’t my place to intervene.

“And what I want to talk about now isn’t about me.”

“Really?”

Cid had started the conversation but hesitated for a long time. I wondered what important thing he was about to say. After blinking and waiting, he finally, with slightly flushed cheeks, spoke:

“Is it true… that he’s someone you can trust and rely on?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… someone you can trust. Is it true?”

“You mean me?”

“Not me! Grisha!”

“Oh.”

I shrugged—he was getting frustrated at his own ambiguous phrasing.

“Grisha is the one who helped me enter the incapacitated state. Without him, Diana might have already killed me.”

“…I see.”

Cid seemed to understand the trust between Grisha and me, but he still hesitated as if he had more to say.

I whispered softly, wondering why he kept stalling:

“You can go to the bathroom if you want.”

His eyes widened like I had never seen before. Then his face turned red like a tomato, and he shouted,

“No! Don’t mention the bathroom to me!”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. Everyone goes to the bathroom.”

“I said no! I’ll handle it myself, so don’t even mention it to me!”

I pouted but kept silent, knowing his rant could last forever.

Even after I stayed quiet, he muttered “I can’t believe it” several times, scratching his head.

“You made me forget what I wanted to say.”

“Geez.”

“I said it was your fault! Don’t look at me with pity!”

“Should I raise my hand and apologize then?”

“You…!”

I covered my mouth with my hand, worried he would make me kneel and raise my hand immediately. Cid sighed deeply and turned his head.

Though he tried to act nonchalant, his flushed face showed his complicated feelings.

I patted his shoulder, as if to say, I understand everything without you saying it.

“I know your situation. I understand it’s delicate, so I’ll be careful when I speak from now on.”

Cid sighed again and, brushing my hair with his large hand, said casually:

“Fine. You said you’d be careful, so just act as you usually do.”

“…Even though if I speak, you’ll probably get angry again like before.”

“Exactly why it’s better. And I’m not really angry with you; I just get flustered and embarrassed, so my voice gets loud.”

His face was red again, and I smiled.

“Cid and Grisha do have some similarities, huh.”

“What? Where?”

“That’s a secret.”

I decided to keep it to myself until their issues were resolved.

“You just wanted to say Grisha is your half-brother and I don’t need to worry, right? That’s it for today? I’ll go upstairs now.”

So now I could finally go do my own things. I was normally introverted and tired from talking to someone for so long.

‘I could go a few days without speaking.’

At that, Cid raised his eyebrows and muttered,

“This woman, really…”

“Eeek!”

Suddenly, he started messing with my hair!

“My hair’s completely ruined!”

He snorted.

“It’s always messy. You never brush it.”

“Still…”

I quickly combed my hair. How did he know I never combed it?

“Anyway, I’ll stop now…”

“So, are you planning to ask Grisha for help?”

“Huh?”

Cid cut me off and asked in a lowered tone. I widened my eyes. He rubbed his chin awkwardly.

“I’m asking if you’ve made up your mind.”

Why now, of all times?

There was only one likely reason Cid asked.

“…Are you telling me to leave the house immediately?”