Chapter Text
“... Oh my.”
Violan let out a rather surprised huff upon seeing the ruffled forms of her knight and the oldest young master of the Henituse estate.
It had only been a few hours since she left with the territory lord to his office to discuss their affairs, and the two figures before her looked so incredibly battered.
“Papa!!” Cale greeted happily, seeing Deruth appear after quite some while. “Father, the old man said he would be teaching me!!”
“Teaching—?” Deruth looked as if his head was spinning, trying to gather all the strings of information he could, but ultimately being unable to knot them together. “Teaching, what now? Who?”
Violan met Edro’s gaze, and the older man merely shrugged, a small grin on his face that looked casually resigned. She knew her knight well, however, and Violan didn’t miss the veil of honest interest in Edro's gaze, the same one she remembered seeing back when he had been in charge of training the newer knights of their brigade, and he found a rookie he would particularly like to bully into achieving their full potential.
“Hilsman keeps getting injured when we fight!! There’s no one to teach me right now, so—”
Cale grabbed Edro’s sleeve and dragged him towards his father. Violan couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, seeing the sight before her.
“—I want this one!!”
“'This one,’” a second voice chimed in, almost mocking Cale’s tone.
Exasperated, Kim clicked his tongue.
“You sound as if you’re at the stables picking a new favourite horse to go on an excursion with.”
At that, the two brothers simultaneously looked up at Edro’s broad figure, still impressively sturdy-looking despite his age. Cale, particularly, at his height; and Kim, slowly, at his muscles.
"....." Nudging his brother’s side, Cale mumbled, “If I ask him to carry me on his back, do you think he’d say yes? ”
"Well," Kim smirked. But before he could say anything, a foot kicked him on the back of his knee, staggering him lightly.
“I will take my offer away right this instant if you say whatever it was you were planning on saying,” Edro stared at him pointedly.
Kim merely clicked his tongue.
"I think," Violan cut in just then, and from the look in her eye that had been going back and forth between her knight and the boys before her, it was clear she had been considering many things. "It would be a wonderful thing."
She smiled then, a rather rare thing for her frosty demeanour, and turning her head, she called for her son who was still sitting a little further away on the sidelines, Hans accompanying him in their little spectator's corner.
"Lord Deruth and I have struck a deal," she smiled softly at her son, once he had trotted his way over to latch back onto her skirt. "We still have many things to discuss and plan alongside his vassals, so I would frequently be visiting. I believe it would be convenient for Basen and Sir Edro to accompany me to the Lord's Castle for our business before they could head off to the Henituse Estate where they can meet with the young masters."
"With the young master," Kim hurriedly corrected. "I will not be subjecting myself to any of that... torture."
Cale stared at him with a truly pitying gaze.
"Not that you would be able to stand a minute of it anyway..."
And before he knew it, Kim could see similar expressions be directed his way. He opted to ignore them, however, mostly for the sake of his own pride, though he ultimately found himself unable to deny his poor excuse of health—especially when his father and Cale's gaze were dangerously close to going crazed at the prospect of him pushing his body to do anything too strenuous. He has only just recently been able to walk for more than a mere minute, after all.
A silent chuckle made itself present in the faint mirth of Violan's blue eyes.
"Then I believe you would get along splendidly with my dear Basen, young master." She quirked a minuscule smile. "He once told me that you've previously encountered each other at Sir Billos' tea house, once, on one of the top floors with all those books."
Deruth made a displeased face upon hearing Billos' name be brought up again, but it quickly dissipated upon catching on to what Violan was about to imply.
"You can become friends," Deruth said, a small mutter at first, before his voice filtered out in a way that sounded particularly, breathlessly excited and—
Relieved.
Kim's chest itched unexpectedly at the sound of his father's voice taking on that tone.
"My boys don't have many friends, Madam Violan," Deruth smiled, a gentle wisp of happiness cloaking his every word and action. "Our family is close to a few other noble households in the Northeast's Neutral Faction, but since Kim and Cale had been born twins, we didn't necessarily push for them to form especially strong friendships with the other children when they appeared so content with each other, although… ever since..."
Deruth paused slightly, there. His smile dropped just a fraction's bit, but it quickly washed over with a sheepish, more reserved expression.
"I… Sometimes I wonder if my boys might be lonely.."
He gently placed his hand over Cale's head before the boy could stubbornly refute, gently running his fingers over the boy's red hair.
"They meet the other Northeastern children from time to time when they invite us over for birthday celebrations or social gatherings, though often than not, it's better to not attend parties with households from the other political factions—especially considering how wealthy our family is. It would be best to avoid allowing other houses the opportunity to try and..." He smiled, then. "Suck up, if you would pardon my more crass language."
Violan smiled. She may have been a noble in title, once, but she had spent years in the merchant world since then and formalities didn't exactly mean much to her.
"But, still.." Deruth's brown eyes shifted over to Hans, who immediately straightened his back at the attention—though he eased up with a small fluster when Deruth sent him a warm, rather grateful smile. "Thankfully, Hans is here to accompany them from now on. Though I believe," and he looked at Basen this time, smiling softly when the boy subtly inched back behind his mother's skirt, "young Basen would get along rather well with my boys. I heard he likes reading?"
"When we saw each other at the tea house," Kim slowly spoke up. "He was reading a book."
Records of that day flickered before his eyes.
"....." He looked at the young boy. "..... I've read it."
Basen's stoic face lit up minutely.
"You've.. read De statua?"
"..... De pictura and De re aedificatoria, too."
If the boy looked pleased before, he was positively glowing now. Just like his mother, he didn't make a show of smiling that often—or perhaps that was just the way his facial features were constructed—but from the sparkle of his eyes and the flush on his cheeks, it would be hard to not see his growing excitement.
"You've read Elbarti's three treatises on art..!"
"... He's an interesting enough guy." Kim looked at Basen, before slowly mentioning, "Besari's Le vite de' più eccellenti pittori, scultori, e architettori, has a biography section on him and other artists from the Eastern Continent, though I would recommend his second revised edition. If you're interested."
"I am! In De re aedificatoria, his concept of con— connicit— intas—"
"Concinnitas," Kim corrected, not unkindly. Basen seemed to flush at his being unable to properly enunciate what sounded to be a pretty simple word now that he was hearing it, but Kim merely huffed, dismissing the boy's embarrassment that looked as if it was nearly about to overtake him. "Don't worry about not being able to pronounce a single Eastern word when the fact that you're able to comprehend such advanced subjects and even be genuinely interested in them is a much more impressive feat."
Isn't he just 6 years old? Kim's eyebrow faintly twitched. Crazy bastard…
"I- I, well…" Basen was stammering rather heavily over his words now, but the light in which he regarded Kim never once faded. "I don't understand everything… but, it. It's fun.. One day, I wish to be able to read it in the original language..."
Kim merely hummed at that, unperturbed, because while the prospect of such a young willingly reading what some would typically consider boring books was impressive, it also didn't surprise him for that very same child to still have some difficulties in reading them.
It was only through a stroke of luck that Kim just so happened to look up and catch the gaze his father was sending him—eyes soft and squinted with pride and mirth as he watched the exchange of the two young boys before him.
Kim couldn't help but wonder what sort of absurd thoughts were swimming around his father's head at the moment, but at the revelation— pride, he knew, and fondness, and he was only able to recognize it because his foolish father was always so transparent in his emotions—he couldn't help but flush, feeling a small fluster overtake his actions.
"I can help you understand," he nearly stammered, just barely able to keep his voice without wavering. He felt like he was out of his mind, doing this. "—the next time you visit."
Both Deruth and Basen's faces brightened even further, and Kim was suddenly overwhelmed with the oddest sensation of embarrassment he had ever felt in his entire life so far. He didn't understand why he was feeling this. Father knew he often read all sorts of various books, and Basen was but a mere child who probably hadn't had anyone to share common interests in, in a very long time. Their reactions shouldn't be surprising, and yet—
Kim's gaze fell to the ground, and unable to help himself, he gripped tightly at the back of his neck, clicking his tongue to redirect his attention away from the small burst of heat flocking his cheeks.
He hated his body. His feelings. Emotions were so, so very strange.
"... I didn't know the young master was interested in such subjects."
It was Violan who spoke up, this time, staring curiously at Kim.
"... When your territory happens to be the closest to what there is of an artistic center point for the Northeastern Territories, I believe it becomes inevitable for one to become interested in such affairs." He cleared his throat quietly, immediately ridding himself of his cluster to take on a more casual demeanour. "Sculpture, in particular, is rather popular in our territory, after all, Madam Violan."
"I am very well aware of that," Violan grinned, a particular glint in her eyes. "Young master Kim, if I may… Have you ever held an interest in the practice of sculpture—personal interest, rather than just that of merely getting to know the territory you and your brother are to inherit?"
"... I haven't."
But still, his fingers lightly twitched, and memories quietly filtered through his head, of himself as Kim Rok Soo who once had a few quiet passions in life before reality struck him with the realization that fleeting interests wouldn't get a mere orphan far in society, in terms of financially rewarding and secure careers paths.
Survival has always been Kim Rok Soo's main goal in life, after all.
His plan had always been to work hard and study hard, get a well-paying job and then retire with a hefty pension. It didn't matter if the job sucked, so long as it guaranteed his ideal retirement plan at the very end and he could wither the rest of his days in peace. He was going to enter university and pursue civil engineering after getting in on a scholarship—one that he had worked his entire academic life in between part-time jobs to obtain, especially when he had no family to rely on for financial support.
Of course, the second he started his twenties, the world had flipped over and life only became more difficult, but..
"Sir Edro, Basen and I are parting ways with the Hirschel Merchant Guild and caravan that I left under the care of my close cousin. For now, we are staying at an inn until we can get proper citizenship for permanent residence, but the place we have in mind has an adjacent room that will double as a studio for my own personal art projects. Currently, I've only placed a purchase offer for now, but I don't doubt I will lose to other buyers."
Violan's confidence was an admirable thing, truly, and Kim was quick to catch on as to why. For a second, he truly couldn't help but praise how true the phrase 'money is power' rang.
"It also has a decently-sized courtyard where Sir Edro would be able to practise his sword," she continued. "Once it officially becomes ours, if ever young master Cale wishes to have a change in scenery for his training, young master Kim could also tag along and visit my studio if ever he's interested or just wants to watch the craft at work."
Violan's smile was warm.
"I would truly be glad to have you there, even if it's just to watch. Sculpture is an artistic practice meant to be admired."
… And it startled him, reverberating until it scratched his core.
Kim didn't really know what to say.
It sounded troublesome, to have to leave his home and go all the way to the city for something like this, but a tiny, minuscule part of him found his resolve quivering.
Kim Rok Soo had never felt this. These emotions of wanting to pursue and explore such… small interests. He never had the time, energy, or desire to—but he wasn't truly Kim Rok Soo, either, was he now? The thin line of interests that they were made up of…
Until what point did they blur, coincide, or become distinctively, uniquely Kim's?
That person who spent his entire life trying to survive—it was natural for Kim Henituse to continue in the same antics. And he couldn't fault himself for it either, not when every time he closed his eyes, he could remember word for word, five volumes of a novel that dictated the ways of the world in the far future.
Tentatively, he opened his mouth—then closed it not a second after, before he took in a small breath, more steadily this time.
"I wouldn't mind."
The short answer seemed to be enough for Violan, because she looked delighted in the softest of ways.
"I think it's very admirable for the youngest master to be interested in the artistic affairs that are so deeply embedded into the culture of your Henituse Territory." She lightly bowed her head. "Do visit whenever you wish along with young master Cale. It would be an honour, and I'm sure Basen will enjoy the young lords' presence. I truly do hope you get along."
"... You are the person my father will be working with in the future." Slowly, Kim raised his hand in her direction. "It only makes sense for me to be on good terms with the people closely tied to you."
Violan stared back at him with her blue eyes, almost as if she was searching for any other deeper meaning behind his words before she finally let out a light huff of a laugh.
And as they shook hands, Violan's calloused palm large in his smaller one, Kim couldn't help but wonder if, in the end, she found whatever it was she was hoping to see.
"Every time I meet you, young master Kim, I find myself liking you more and more." Violan shook her head, sending Deruth the faintest of approving smiles. "Your boys are interesting, Lord Henituse. One appears to read art treatises in his free time that are far more advanced than typically expected for his age group, and the other appears so enthused about martial arts he even goes so far as to bite my old sword instructor."
At those words, Edro scowled, no doubt feeling a bit embarrassed at the revelation that his liege had seen the bite mark on his hand and had so quickly pieced the puzzles together.
Cale, on the other hand, merely smiled, eyes squinted from the rise of his cheeks—a perfect picture of fabricated virtue.
On his part, Deruth appeared to experience a bit of whiplash, quickly looking in alarm at his eldest son for answers, only for Cale to respond back at him in what would've appeared to be an innocent expression, if only it weren't for the smile on his face that was distinctively devious in the way only Cale Henituse was capable of. And turning to Kim was no better, because his youngest merely looked at him with the most exhausted gaze he had seen in a long while, practically begging for him to not ask any further question.
"......... I apologize for anything my son might have done out of line, Sir Edro."
The laugh that Edro let out was nearly boisterous. A cackle that was short but no less powerful. "The kid showed me something interesting enough. There is no need for his lordship to apologize for the runty little actions of his brat who knows no better than to fight dirty."
"A brat—!"
Cale's offended gasp was immediately cut off by the sight of Edro's sharp grin.
"I will see you next time we meet, Student-nim. It won't be as easy as it was today."
A wave of conflicted emotions flickered across Cale's face. It was easy to tell that he wanted to either throw curses at the old swordsman, scowl, or beam at the new title he had earned—a direct confirmation that he now had a teacher who professed enough interest in helping him achieve the goal he silently carved into his own heart.
"Shall I escort you to the door?" Deruth smiled amiably.
Violan blinked once, before gratefully accepting. "We've finished up everything that needs to be done for today. I will deliver everything to my cousin and will ensure to regularly send updates for your order."
"Ah, perfect. Thank you, Madam Violan. You can bring me an update the next time we meet at the lord's castle for your project proposal, as well."
Violan paused minutely. "Ah. It's rather convenient, isn't it?"
A small huff of laughter escaped Deruth. "Truly convenient," he agreed, and the situation almost seemed to amuse him for a second before the look dissipated once he turned to his sons. "Boys, I will be sending off our guests now. Why don't you wash up so we can have our meal together?"
Cale, upon looking down at his clothes that were now fully covered in the remnants of dust of the hall's cold flooring, immediately grimaced, though, in a way that was characteristically him, he remained firm and stubborn.
"I'll wait until we send them off," he huffed, arms crossing, and all Deruth could do was send his son an exasperatedly fond stare as he watched the boy send a sharp glare over his pout (though he was sure Cale would deny it ever being a pout) at the old knight standing a little further away.
"Hans?" Deruth called.
"Ah! Yes sir?"
"Please tell our kitchen to prepare a meal. Of course, you can also pass the message over to Ron, as well. That's perfectly alright, too."
Hans brightened, his back straightening. "I- I will be sure to pass the message successfully!"
And as the ginger made his way out of the hall, for the briefest of seconds, Kim couldn't help but sneak a glance in Violan's direction.
Her expression didn't seem to be expecting anything else, merely clouded with the contentment that came after whatever fruitful conversation she must have had with Deruth during the previous hours—and nothing more. She looked ready as ever to call it a day and return back to her new home.
Kim turned to his father, quietly staring at him—waiting for him to make another move.
… Are you not going to..?
Deruth noticed his glance in an instant—ever so perceptive to the antics of his sons—and immediately sent Kim an apologetic look, no doubt misinterpreting the gaze his son had directed at him. Gently, he reached over to run his fingers over Kim's head, the action so familiar it was pretty much instinctive for Kim to lean into the touch.
"Ah, you must be hungry.. It will take a short while for the kitchen to prepare the food, so it would be best to take a bath to distract you from the hunger, hm? Kim-ah, hang in there.."
"Mh. No, that's not it.."
Kim prepared to open his mouth to speak his thoughts, glancing at Violan again, then at his father, before merely discarding the words at the tip of his tongue.
"Ah, of course, we can always ask the kitchen for some snacks, if you want?"
"No.. I'm telling you, it's fine."
The exasperation easily brought a smile to Deruth's face, and it quickly became clear to Kim that his father had been teasing him. With a huff, he averted his gaze, though in the end, couldn't help but sneak one last look in Violan's direction.
She easily noticed his stare.
"See you the next time we meet, Young master Kim, Young master Cale," she politely greeted, a short bow to her head in due courtesy. "I hope you enjoy your meal."
"... Mh. Thank you. You, as well."
Mirth swam in her icy blue eyes.
"Sir Edro is a formidable cook. One day, if you feel curious enough, do feel free to visit us and try his cooking."
"My," Deruth blinked, already walking away to lead Violan and her group back towards the entrance. Kim, unable to part from them just yet, followed him right by his side. "A knight and a cook?"
Violan beamed proudly up at her knight and old sword instructor. "Sir Edro is a man of many talents."
"My lady flatters me too much," Edro shook his head, interjecting. "I only started cooking once we frequently began travelling on the road. Our household's head chef was too old to come with us and stayed behind to enjoy retirement, and the rest of the staff went to search for other means of employment."
"Then, if not talented, incredibly admirable to have taken up such a task when no one else would?"
Cale's grin was everything but honestly sincere.
"....... Just like your brother, you're truly a glib-tongued child, aren't you?" Clicking his tongue, Edro shot Cale an exasperated look. "Flattery won't make me go easier on you the next time we meet."
Cale grinned boyishly at those worlds, looking every bit of the gremlin that he was.
Absentmindedly, Kim could only follow his father and brother's steps, walking along the hallways of the manor he was much familiar with. Each corner, door, pillar, painting and wall were well-known to his mind, and everywhere they stepped, there wasn't a doubt that wherever Kim would go in this estate, familiarity would follow him like the aftermath wisps of an invisible cloak.
"Kim?"
The small, fuzzy bubble of comfortability frizzled out with the filtering of Deruth's voice in his ears. Looking up, he vaguely tilted his head, before his father made a nudge to Violan and her family.
"Kim, they're leaving," Cale reminded him with a small nudge to his side.
Only then did Kim notice they were standing outside—the cold January air brushing against his cheeks.
Remembering his manners, Kim waved goodbye to the departing group one last time. Basen especially reciprocated, a small rosy flush on his cheeks as he lifted his small hand, his lips mouthing words of farewell before he went back to clinging near his mother's skirt.
"So, what do you think?"
Kim blinked, his hand finally lowering after their carriage was out of sight.
"Of them?"
His father nodded, warm eyes patiently waiting for his answer.
"..... I think Hyung-nim will learn a lot under Sir Edro. And I don't think Madam Violan's son will be unpleasant to get along with." He shrugged. "And as I said before, it wouldn't hurt to be close to the son of the person you will be doing business with. I'm also interested in what Madam Violan proposed to you. We met previously at the tea house—I think an art gallery would definitely become beneficial for us on the cultural and touristic plan of things in the long run."
"It sounds like you like them," Deruth smiled, appearing to be relieved.
"I like them," Cale immediately interjected, before pausing, a contemplative and conflicting look on his face. "But Sir Edro…" He shook his head, as if to rid himself of his thoughts. He looked as if he were holding back both insults and praises from pouring out simultaneously. Deruth could only huff a laugh at the face his boy was making.
"I don't dislike them." Kim slightly tilted his head. "Why do you ask? Would you be so accommodating of them if we didn't approve of them?"
Not once did Deruth's smile waver at Kim's implying words. Slowly, he knelt before his boys, gently pulling them so that they could stand before him, side by side.
Deliberately, his hands lifted to gently ruffle his sons' hair.
"My sons are sharp boys," he said, with that soft tone of voice of his, the one that brought Kim astonishing amounts of warmth. "If there is anyone in the world you do not like, I will naturally be there to despise them with you."
Kim felt like laughing.
"Then, suppose I said that I don't want them anywhere near here," he spoke just as Cale made a surprised little noise at the back of his throat at the words his father just told them. "—That I don't want you talking to Violan Hirschel and anyone affiliated to her, that you should throw them out. What would you do?"
Kim didn't know why he was suddenly feeling this way. He has a feeling it was due to the novel he read, several years ago in a life he was never sure had truly be his own, but like everything seemed to be in his life, he was both unsure and the most certain he's ever been.
Violan Hirschel was meant to become Violan Henituse.
And yet this world wasn’t a novel, it was reality and Kim was a part of it and he had feelings that they were more than that of just a reader who omnisciently watched a fictional world unfold before his very eyes.
Deruth's answer didn't come with hesitation.
"I would have them be thrown out," he said, confidently—as if it was the only natural thing for him to do in such a scenario.
"You would listen to the impulsive words of a foolish child at the cost of business relations?"
A chuckle escaped their father's lips. And for all he knew of his son's astonishing intelligence, he knew that his son was also truly just that—a young boy. Rarely did it feel like Kim proved that to be true, and whenever moments he did, Deruth always cherished it.
"As if the Henituses' business opportunities will be lessened with the loss of a single partnership," he reminded, and his words were true. As simple as they appeared to be on the surface, Deruth and his predecessors made sure that they would be independently powerful. "Besides, what Madam Violan is suggesting is just that—a suggestion. It would be beneficial for our territory, yes, but she is not the only person in our lands that could help us follow through with such a project."
Kim observed his father's gaze, unflickering and steady, his stance on the matter so firm Kim found himself believing he could trust it.
Finally, he let his gaze drift to the ground, reigning himself back in.
"..... You know," Kim suddenly started, once he felt he had enough of the short silence that ensued, "I was really joking about wanting to have them be thrown out."
The cackle Deruth bellowed out was nearly enough for Kim himself to allow his lips to quirk upwards as well.
"My son is a softie," he grinned, pinching Kim's cheek—so light he hardly felt it. "I know he would never ask for such a thing without a valid reason."
I'm no softie, Kim scoffed inwardly. But with the way his father was staring at him, Kim hardly found it in himself to refute the image his father had of him in his head.
"... What about you?"
It was Cale who spoke up, this time.
"Hm?"
"Madam Violan. What do you think of her?"
Deruth blinked once, seeming to ponder a second before he shrugged. "She appears to be an intelligent woman who cares deeply for those close to her, as seen with her son and her knight. She also seems to have a deep passion for the arts, which I believe is a driving point to what prompted her to suggest the establishing of a grand gallery in the first place."
"When I was sparring with Sir Edro," Cale titled his head, almost curiously. "Did you have a nice talk?"
"Well.. As nice as business discussion could be," Deruth huffed in amusement, though it was clear that he was slightly tired after the affair. "But once we went over those, I believe we did have a rather friendly talk over tea."
Cale silently stared at their father, before briefly looking back down the road leading to the front entrance of their estate.
"... I think," and Cale took in the tiniest of breaths, though his voice held not a single hesitant quiver. "Mother would've liked meeting her."
The brown eyes of their father which had been unwavering so far had finally begun to shake—but not once did they leave the side of Cale's face.
Kim, as well, felt so absurdly shaken by the words his brother had just spoken.
Between all three of them, he was surprised it was Cale to say such a thing first.
How did his brother feel, saying those words? About mentioning the gaping hole in their chests that had just barely been smoothed over?
Did it hurt? Did it open some wounds that still needed some time before they could be touched again?
Cale was eight— nine years old, now.
Kim wouldn't know if he could forgive himself if Cale had hurt himself by saying those words that wouldn't have been spoken, had he not misjudged the benefits of proposing an invite to Violan Hirschel so early on in this story.
How long did people mourn? How long were people supposed to mourn?
Kim Rok Soo in his mid-to-late twenties only had a single funeral to mourn for people that were dear to him, before he was forced to pick himself up and pretend everything wasn't going bad, and that everything was alright.
But against nearly everything Kim had been believing this whole entire time, upon looking back up, he found himself stricken in the face of Deruth's smile—a small, sad, melancholic little thing, still soaked in yearning, mourning, and lingering love, from the small cupid's bow of his upper lip to the very edges of his mouth.
Frozen, Kim watched as their father slowly reached his hands towards both Cale and his cheek, gently squeezing as if attempting to grasp for the memories of his wife that was so incredibly prevalent in the existence of his sons who looked so much like her.
A small, tiny breath was let out between the three.
It was hard to tell who it belonged to.
"... she would have," Deruth agreed, and his voice was quiet, but not as weak as it would've been, had such a conversation happened a few months back
And suddenly, unexpectedly, Deruth let out a chuckle— A soft gasp, both amused and elated at a particular revelation that struck his mind.
"Your mother would've kicked me," he wheezed, almost breathlessly in mirth, "had she heard what I just said just earlier, about throwing guests and potential business partners out."
It was such a sudden, out-of-the-blue remark.
At that, Kim was unable to smother down a smile, a rather punched-out cough of a laugh escaping him so abruptly it was startling. He didn't know what overcame him to release such a sound, but something about this particular conversation, this moment, made him feel very happy for a reason unknown to him. He felt as if this was out of character, something he himself didn't know he was quite capable of, but ultimately felt he couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Mama would've scolded you for it," Cale grinned, subconsciously nuzzling his father's hand, his smaller palm lifting to rest over the back of his father's. "And only you, even though Kim brought it up first."
"Oh, our Jour…" Deruth grinned, eyes dripping in that sad mix of emotions that was nostalgia, remembrance and yearning. "She always loved picking favourites."
"If you asked her," Cale snickered, a devious little glint in his eyes that was so familiar to see. "She would've said that I was her favourite."
Without even meaning to, Kim let out a scoff.
"You're such a liar, " he said, and his voice, while calm, was slightly rough with an emotion he didn't want to name.
"You know, boys," Deruth started, and suddenly he looked the happiest Kim had ever seen him glow whilst talking about their mother during these past few months. "When I was talking with Madam Hirschel, we crossed your mother's portrait in the hall and for a second I swear I saw the madam fall for her right there and then."
"No," Cale gasped, and puffs of giggles littered the air when Deruth merely sent him a just-as-equally baffled look, only prompting more laughter to fly.
"It was right out of the romance novels Kim occasionally reads," Deruth teased, poking Kim's nose and grinning even wider at the furrow that appeared between his son's brows, not unlike a cat when he went to swipe his father's finger away from him.
"That's a lie," Cale shook his head, shoulders quivering with mirth. He looked every bit a second away from bursting into giggles. "You're lying! Madam didn't even bat an eye at you or- or any of our servants, but you're telling us that only with Mother's portrait, of all things— "
"That's because Mother is much more good-looking," Kim smiled, a soft huff of a laugh escaping him. "Is it really so surprising?"
"Kim—" Deruth sputtered.
"Imagine if they had met in person. In an alternate universe," Kim singled out both his middle finger and his index to show to his brother. "We could've had two mothers."
"Ah.." A forlorn sigh escaped Cale. "It's a wonder how Mama managed to fall for him... He's a bit plain..?"
"—Cale??????"
The look Deruth was sending them both was betrayal at its a finest, but with a helplessly fond sigh, he shook his head, his hands leaving their faces with a light pinch—a reprimand, though it hardly felt like one at all when the defeat on his face was comical theatrics at most.
"Aigoo… my sons… they truly take after their mother with how much they bully me…"
"I'm very glad we take after her? She's much prettier."
"AHH!!!" Deruth cried, reaching out to ruthlessly tickle Cale's sides after his ruthless comment—though despite his grievances, it was impossible to ignore the pure happiness that had smeared over his expression in vibrant colours. Still, keeping true to his act as a slandered father, he whined over the sound of his unlawful son's peals of tortured laughter. "I know!! I know, ah, I know she's beautiful!! Do you know how anxious I was when we were younger??"
".. Anxious," Kim huffed another laugh, a little exasperated, a little amused, as he watched his brother wheezing to death beside him.
"It's true," Deruth smiled, his wide grin turning much softer this time. With a click of his tongue, he finally spared Cale's ticklish sides of his faux reprimand before his face was quickly overtaken with nostalgia dating back over a dozen years back.
"Have I ever told you about how popular your mother was during our Academy days?"
Kim and Cale shared a look.
It was a story amongst many others that their father had frequently told them in the past. Mother herself also had her extensive share of anecdotes to tell them. More often than not, the stories were so lovey-dovey that Kim—who found romance uninteresting and hard to particularly relate to because he honestly thought it to be a tiring thing for one to experience—began dozing off during many of them once they started retelling more than was necessary, especially when it became clear that couple seemed they were never going to tire themselves of reminiscing over the peak of their academy romance days.
Cale, on the other hand, was a child who, while he never really liked reading, always adored the eccentric retellings of their parents' love story back in their prime. Despite this, however, he also eventually got a bit exhausted over them, not being one to exactly understand how and why people felt attraction in the first place, though he supposed it sounded pleasant with how their parents made it out to be.
But still, in response to their father's words, one brother shook his head, feigning both interest and ignorance, whilst the other merely hid a huff.
"I don't remember," said the brother who could never in his life forget.
"So…"
Records flickered briefly before his eyes.
"... Tell us again."
And Deruth, whether he eventually figured out his sons were very much aware of the story he was about to (re)tell them or not, still swept both boys into each of his arms, and recalled a fun little tale of romance and teenage eccentricities that he, too, would never be able to forget.
Throughout it all, Kim's eyes rarely ever blinked—as if wanting to perfectly, without interruption, immortalize the entire memory until he no longer couldn't.
The faux fever he got at the end was worth it—even if it ended with both his father and brother fretting their lives over the possibility of him having caught a cold whilst they were standing outside laughing over old memories.
Kim endlessly cursed his weak body.
Though in the end, he managed to get them to calm down, though not without Cale promising he was going to find a way to kill the season of winter one way or another.
Frankly, Kim thought his brother was stupid.
(He wouldn't have it any other way.)
