Chapter 11: The Price of Favoritism

“……Is that what you were told?”

“You pushed Roquel as he was climbing the stairs? What if he had gotten hurt? The thought alone is horrifying!”

“Not only did I not push him, but it was Ro— who started spewing insults and kicking…”

“Enough! How dare you refuse to admit your mistake and only offer excuses.”

Even when strangers were involved in a quarrel, one would typically listen to both sides. Yet, despite both being her sons, the Duchess had chosen to believe one and condemn the other.

‘This, then, was favoritism.’

He belatedly realized how fair his own mother had been, raising three children without favoritism, scolding them all equally. ‘I should have appreciated her more when I had the chance.’ Recalling Haeseung’s memories, Heinzel felt a bitter ache in his gut as he understood his mother’s true worth.

“Apologize to Roquel.”

The Duchess’s skirt was so voluminous that Heinzel only then noticed Roquel, nestled within its folds. Roquel peeked his head out, smirking at Heinzel with an utterly detestable expression. Though Heinzel hated himself for getting angry at an eight-year-old at his age, he rationalized that it was only natural not to feel any affection for such a brat.

Rosie’s earlier admonition, telling him to listen quietly and refrain from talking back, vanished from his mind. She must have given such advice after observing Heinzel’s changed personality. However, by that same token, if she truly understood his new self, she likely didn’t have high hopes for him to follow it.

“Since we’re on the subject, perhaps you could also tell me what exactly I should apologize for and how. The only things I can think of are letting my younger brother insult his elder as a ‘lowlife’ and accepting his violent outbursts on others as a means of venting his frustration.”

Henzel paused, then continued, “Thinking about it again, I suppose I *did* make a mistake. A person whose character isn’t fully formed should be strictly educated from a young age.”

Henzel was confident he had done nothing wrong. As the elder, he could initiate an apology, but that was only appropriate when an error had been made. He simply could not comprehend what he was supposed to apologize for, having committed no offense.

If he *had* to pinpoint a mistake, it was perhaps turning a blind eye to the actions of someone with an underdeveloped character, simply because Heinzel was a few years older. Such a person should have been disciplined with a rod. His true error was kowtowing to this stratified society and being overly submissive.

“Far from showing remorse, you are utterly rude and insolent!”

“Isn’t that exactly what I told you? If something like this happens again, how can we guarantee young Master Roquel will be safe, just as he was today? My heart still pounds just thinking about what almost happened.”

The Duchess’s brow furrowed as she barked a reprimand. Seizing the opportunity, the woman standing beside her clung close, spouting nonsense with a loathsome expression. This was the same woman who had stood idly by when the brat tumbled down the stairs, only to glare at Heinzel as if to shift blame. Now, she fawned beside the Duchess, whispering malicious gossip about Heinzel.

Henzel thought that even though he was the Duchess’s son, she might dislike hearing her child slandered by others. Indeed, the Duchess’s expression grew even more severe. However, his expectation was slightly off the mark, as the target of her wrath remained Heinzel.

“The Duke, out of pity, allowed your name to be added to this family. But never forget your roots. Roquel is the heir to the Dukedom, carrying the blood of Defensio. He is fundamentally different from you.”

“Of course. My roots and foundation lie with my mother.”

While Heinzel didn’t know who his biological father was, his mother was a certainty. It was difficult to ignore the Duchess’s own connection to his origins when discussing the nobility of roots and foundations.

Henzel’s veiled meaning seemed to hit home, as the Duchess’s face cycled between crimson and pale. Her fingers scraped against the armrest of the sofa, a frantic sound. Then, the Duchess pointed a finger directly at Heinzel.

“Seize that wretch and make him kneel! He doesn’t know his place and only has a glib tongue. Drag him forward at once and force him to his knees!”

Immediately, the women who had been standing guard on either side of the drawing-room door seized Heinzel’s arms, dragging him before the Duchess like police apprehending a criminal. He was startled by the unexpected strength of these women. He was even more shocked by the Duchess’s words, commanding her own son to kneel and accusing him of not knowing his place.

“You ill-mannered wretch. We didn’t abandon a pathetic creature like you; we raised you and even allowed your name to be entered into the ducal family. Do you truly believe you are a genuine member of the Defensio Dukedom?”

A stinging slap landed squarely on Heinzel’s cheek, echoing with a sharp crack.

It was his first time being slapped by anyone. Yet, the accompanying dialogue was so dramatic that the entire incident felt utterly unreal.

‘It felt as if I’d become an actor.’ Had kimchi or pasta flown at him instead of a hand, he might have believed he was on a drama set.

Henzel’s mind, still reeling, conjured thoughts utterly unfitting for the situation.

“Make him kneel! Force his head to the floor and make him understand his wretched station!”

‘A man’s knees might be cheap, but they shouldn’t be abused like this.’ As Heinzel struggled against the women trying to force him down, someone called out, “Madam.”

“Young Master Heinzel must recuperate. You know this, do you not?”

“Vant. But he is so reckless and insensible…”

“His memory has not yet returned, and though he appears fine, other symptoms could manifest later. If unnecessary pressure is placed on his body, it may become difficult to assess his condition properly. Therefore, please exercise restraint this time. …Even if it’s for young Master Roquel’s sake.”

Was this some gathering place? Even Vant, the family physician, was present. ‘At least he’s taking my side because I’m a patient.’ Just as a tiny, chick-tear-sized drop of gratitude began to form within him, the softly added phrase, ‘for Roquel’s sake,’ grated on Heinzel’s nerves.

‘Tolerating this situation was for Roquel’s sake? Not for Heinzel, the patient?’

He couldn’t understand why the Duchess, who had struck him, was being asked to show restraint instead of Heinzel, the victim from beginning to end. Nor could he comprehend the reason, “for Roquel’s sake.” What made it even more absurd was that Vant’s words actually softened the Duchess’s fierce demeanor.

“This time, I will overlook it, as your body has not fully recovered. However, if you dare to act insolent and rude like this again, I will personally request the Duke to strike your name from the ducal family. Mark my words. Your continued presence here is solely because you will have much work to do for Roquel in the future. Let this be the last time you forget your place and behave so arrogantly.”

The hands gripping Heinzel’s shoulders released him. His shoulders, which had been held tightly, ached. Without a word of farewell, he exited the drawing-room, ignoring the Duchess, who had turned her head away as if she couldn’t bear to look at him, and the women whose gazes urged him to leave. Behind him, he heard a displeased click of the tongue.

“You should have just kept quiet. Why did you talk back and get yourself hit needlessly?”

Rosie chided Heinzel, who stood dazed after leaving the drawing-room. Her tone was reproachful, yet it held a hint of pity, which made him chuckle.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been slapped.”

“You may not remember, but it’s not your first time.”

It was hardly comforting, yet he found solace in her blunt retort. Having been by Heinzel’s side for so long, Rosie possessed a unique, sensible way of offering comfort.

“I feel like I’ve just been doused with cold water.”

‘Was this similar to being suddenly dragged off the street by strangers and thrust onto a theater stage?’ Everyone around him seemed to be acting, while he alone stood bewildered, unable to grasp the situation. His current circumstances and feelings mirrored this perfectly.

“Please go to your bedroom. You’ve been exposed to a sudden chill, and the shock might make you feel unwell.”

Still dazed and disoriented, Heinzel was led by Rosie toward his bedroom.

He had considered himself fortunate to have transmigrated into the Duke’s son, rather than a servant or s*ave, in this stratified society. Yet, he had never dreamed there would be such a strict hierarchy even among the children. He had even thought of trying to get along with the body’s mother, but now Heinzel shuddered, realizing that notion was utterly misguided.

****

“Are there any other discomforts you’re experiencing?”

“No.”

“And are you eating well?”

“Yes.”

Henzel stared intently at Vant, the Duchess’s personal physician, who visited daily to check on his condition. Despite Heinzel’s mechanical replies, Vant continued his questions as if only the answers mattered. Heinzel pondered why he had to hear and answer the same questions every day, but he found it difficult to guess the reason.

“Does your body feel different from usual? Perhaps you’ve noticed strange changes… Even something very small or trivial would be fine.”

‘Of course my body feels different from usual; it’s changed! And not in a trivial way, but profoundly.’

Henzel narrowed his eyes, a flicker of suspicion rising that this man might know something. However, the phenomenon of a soul transmigrating was difficult to believe even for the person experiencing it, let alone an outsider. Thus, Heinzel pretended ignorance and replied smoothly.

“I don’t quite remember what my body was like before… What kind of changes should I be looking for? If you suspect anything, please tell me.”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing like that. I merely meant that if you’ve experienced any discomfort unlike before, however trivial, you should feel free to mention it. I momentarily forgot that your memory is incomplete, Young Master. My apologies.”

While it was a physician’s duty to monitor a patient’s improvement or deterioration, Vant’s clear demeanor felt less like a doctor and more like a researcher observing a test subject. This left Heinzel with an unsettling sensation.

“Vant.”

“Yes, Young Master? Are you feeling pain anywhere…?”

“No, I’m not in pain… But what does my health have to do with Roquel? Why is my recovery for Roquel’s sake?”

“Pardon? I’m not sure what you mean by that…”

“You said it before. When the Duchess slapped me. You told me to endure it because I was a patient. To endure it, even for Roquel’s sake.”

“Th-that’s… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

‘Did he really think I couldn’t hear him from such a close distance? Or did he assume my amnesia also came with damaged hearing?’ Vant’s feigned surprise at his own words, spoken directly to Heinzel’s face, was ludicrous. Yet, it only served to further fuel Heinzel’s suspicions.