Side Story: A Certain Boy’s Likes and Dislikes
Claude disliked being called :
the son of a newly wealthy commoner.
He had lived in the royal villa for about six years after being born, because his mother served as Prince Ruben’s wet nurse.
The adults around him who used that term to refer to him always looked down on him with disdainful eyes.
Even from a very young age before he could read, he vaguely sensed that the word “commoner” was something not good. It seemed that he, a commoner’s son from birth, would be forced into a lower and weaker position in this society.
If he couldn’t study well, his tutor would insult him with that word. Those who knew what shady business his father was involved in would give him cold looks.
Claude also disliked being indirectly referred to as “that man’s son.”
Perhaps that’s why Claude eventually developed negative feelings toward his father.
Though Claude hadn’t asked for it himself, his father refused to have his blisters treated, saying it would toughen his skin. He made Claude keep running even with burst blisters and keep swinging knives. Though a nobleman wouldn’t have to do such things, Claude was put through martial arts training every single day once they left the villa.
Claude thought about running away many times, and actually did sneak out of the house at one point.
But in the end, there was nowhere for him to run to. The only place to return was the cold, demonic home.
And then someone would say to him again – “It’s so pitiful that you have that father.”
“Claude. Greet him.”
“…I offer my greetings to you, Your Highness. I am Claude Or Rezaia.”
On a spring day when he turned seven, the person Claude hated the most, his father, dragged him against his will to the royal palace filled with nobles who usually looked down on him.
Pushed forward, Claude flatly recited the greeting he had been forced to practice many times.
For the first time, he bowed his head and humbled himself before a boy his own age.
The clothes he had been properly dressed in to meet the prince. The top button of his shirt choked his neck with a constricting sensation.
“I am Ruben Ank Roseberg. Thank you for coming to see me today, Claude.”
And hearing the mature tone from Ruben, whom he hadn’t seen in a year, Claude was struck as he looked at the boy.
The large azure eyes of the prince, whom Claude had avoided making eye contact with, gazed straight at him as if seeing through everything. The first-person pronoun “watashi,” unbefitting for a seven-year-old boy. Words of gratitude spoken in a soft voice tone that was not at all overbearing. Claude’s own name.
Had Ruben really been such a noble, refined child the last time they met? He was like a completely different person.
Dumbfounded, Claude could only stare back at him as he reintroduced himself.
“In just a year, you’ve become the spitting image of Bard,”
King Gaius standing next to Ruben laughed amusedly.
“Your Majesty, are you tired? He clearly takes after my wife,”
Claude’s father answered the king’s question without hesitation.
Startled, Claude looked up at Bard. A man completely unlike himself, with brown hair slicked back and freckles under green eyes.
“Ah yes, I’m well aware. He’s the spitting image of your beloved wife. I’ve heard it enough times for donkey ears to form.”
Claude didn’t know that Bard, who chose to be by this man’s side over his mother’s, thought of his mother in such a way.
The gentle-looking Ruben was the opposite of the jovial Gaius, who perfectly fit the description of a golden lion as he laughed while gazing at Claude, causing the boy to swallow hard.
While he had been told many times he resembled his mother, this was the first time anyone had said he took after his father.
Even if it was the king of this country saying it, Claude was still just a child. A puzzled expression slipped out, causing Gaius to smirk.
“The same look as when I scouted you by chance in that dungeon – ‘Why do I have to serve a nobleman?’ How nostalgic.”
“…!”
Having the very thought in his heart voiced aloud, Claude flinched and shuddered.
“…My apologies for the lack of guidance.”
“While your loyalty is admirable, it seems your beloved wife confined to her chambers will soon file for divorce.”
“Your Majesty…”
Gaius laughed heartily as Bard frowned.
Claude had never seen his father being talked down to like this before.
The accumulation of unexpected events he had never experienced left him dazed.
“You’re both still children. Don’t be so stiff, get along well,”
Gaius looked between Ruben and Claude, his choice of words not allowing a ‘no.’
“Nice to meet you, Claude.”
“…Yes.”
All Claude could do was nod in response.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
After reuniting with Ruben, Claude’s days of being dragged to the royal palace by Bard continued.
Though raised like brothers until age six, the one year apart had created an indescribable awkwardness between the two boys. Having had their respective roles instilled based on their family’s policies, they had come to understand the difference in their social statuses.
From the start, Claude had no intention of trying to become Ruben’s attendant. In fact, he was opposed to the idea.
But that began to change about two months after he started going to the palace…
“You don’t have to force yourself. Unlike me, Claude likely doesn’t need to become an attendant, right?”
It was during tea brewing practice. Those words decisively spoken by Ruben awoke something within Claude.
He could run away if he wanted to. But Ruben, being a prince, could not escape his fate – this obvious truth hit Claude, leaving him stunned. They had been raised as true brothers until age five, but unlike Claude who resisted, Ruben had accepted his destiny.
No matter what he did, he would always be bound by the words “because you’re a prince.”
“…Don’t you hate that, Your Highness…?”
The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he immediately regretted it.
Ruben hummed thoughtfully, folding his small arms, then after a while seemed to find his answer and smiled as he told Claude:
“What I hate more is running away.”
That was likely the first time Claude truly recognized the feeling of respect.
What he disliked wasn’t the fact of being a commoner’s son. It was that cold gaze and prickly tone when called that, and his own cowardly inability to say anything back despite not accepting it.
(He’s…so cool…)
Those words from Ruben that day would be forever etched into Claude’s memory.
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