Eugene crossed his arms and nodded to himself, looking rather pleased. Golden hair — a world apart from bleached blonde — tickled at his shoulders. He was in the middle of running his fingers through it in a daze, marveling at the feel, when a knock came and the door opened a crack.
“Eugene, you’re already up!”
Through the cautiously opened gap, a man with a similar air to Eugene poked his head in. Brilliant golden hair paired perfectly with vivid blue eyes. Unlike Eugene, whose delicate features gave him a strongly androgynous look, this man was a sharp-featured, classically handsome type.
The only flaw — if one could call it that — was his oddly extravagant outfit, a mustache with ends curled up in a way that looked almost villainous, and a thick set of sideburns. From the very first moment Eugene had seen him, those patches of hair had been driving him absolutely mad. And yet, undeniably — he was a handsome man. Truly blessed genetics.
“Ivan.”
Eugene naturally greeted Ivan, the second son of the Primrose family. There was no sign of the person who had just been peering into a mirror muttering things like “damn, that’s something.” Honed by countless short-form content pieces, Eugene received his second older brother with perfectly aristocratic composure.
Of course, that hadn’t come naturally — it took deliberate effort. Like a youngest sibling for whom it was perfectly normal for his brother to wander in and out of his room. But if anything, it was Ivan who seemed uncomfortable.
“Ivan — right. Ha-ha… It sounds strange when you call me that.”
Inside his head, Eugene drew a big red line through the word hyung. He was doing his best to act like the real Eugene, but it wasn’t going smoothly. Still, no major problems. On the surface, Eugene had the convenient excuse that he’d lost his memories from the impact of cracking the back of his head open.
“So… what brings you by?”
“Just call me Ivan. When you say it like that, it’s like you’re a completely different person.”
I’ll try. I’ll try — but the words didn’t come easily. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, they say — but Eugene’s body was controlled by a soul from a country of Confucian propriety, where age and seniority mattered above all, and calling someone older than him, someone who was registered as his hyung, simply by his given name felt deeply wrong.
But if Ivan wanted it, what could he do? He’d just have to say it. He couldn’t afford to draw unnecessary attention and have people calling for the doctor again.
“Alright then, Ivan… what’s going on today?”
From the very first day Eugene had woken up, Ivan had come to see him every single day. Standing in for their parents, who were staying at the distant earl’s estate, and standing in for the eldest son as well, he came faithfully every day — asking how Eugene was, checking on the younger brother who had miraculously woken up. Even knowing Ivan had come today as always just to ask after his condition, Eugene asked out of habit.
No matter how hard he tried to act naturally, to be Eugene Primrose, the psychological distance slipped out of him unconsciously. And on top of that, Ivan was the person who knew the real Eugene best, at closest range. No matter how convenient the excuse of a cracked-open, broken head was, there was no way a medieval aristocrat would use an expression like “damn, that’s something.” Ivan’s visits were the thing that put Eugene most on edge.
And indeed — Ivan had once thrown a fit over Eugene refusing a servant’s help getting dressed, as though it were a sign of grave illness, and promptly arranged for an etiquette instructor to be brought in. It was a manservant who had previously attended to the now-absent eldest son, Kyle.
From this senior attendant, Eugene learned everything from how to use cutlery to what behaviors were unbecoming of a noble, as well as proper etiquette on top of it. The lessons weren’t particularly long, since his head wound hadn’t fully healed, but fortunately — perhaps because certain things were ingrained in the body despite the missing memories — Eugene picked it up fairly quickly. But that was as far as it went.
Eugene knew well that he wasn’t capable of handling too many things at once, and he didn’t want to invite any more scrutiny or pressure. As a result, whenever he was with Ivan, he found himself growing defensive without even meaning to. Whether hurt by Eugene’s reaction, Ivan smoothed the oiled, perfectly groomed ends of his mustache.
It wasn’t really a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but Eugene found that mustache absolutely insufferable. If it would just disappear from above his lip, the man’s face would look so much better. To keep himself from staring at the mustache, Eugene deliberately fixed his gaze on Ivan’s richly saturated blue eyes.
Blonde hair and blue eyes. The exact same colors as Eugene Primrose — but where Eugene’s gave off a cool, almost icy feeling, Ivan’s came across as remarkably warm. Looking at them was like looking at a golden retriever with eyes full of sunlight. A golden retriever with a curly mustache, that is. Ivan, who had been stroking his mustache with a slightly rueful expression, broke into an affable smile and played it off casually.
“Do the two of us really need a reason? I just came to see if my beloved little brother was doing alright today. Is a walk still too much?”
“Probably.”
“The doctor didn’t say anything new?”
“Just that it’s healing well and I should rest.”
Eugene gave a small shrug in answer to Ivan’s question and adjusted the bandage wrapped around his head. There was still a faint wound at the back of his skull. He got dizzy sometimes, and headaches and ringing in his ears came and went. Everyone in the townhouse was sensitive about Eugene’s health.
The family physician the butler had brought in made a fuss every time Eugene so much as touched his own head. And on the doctor’s recommendation, Eugene was refraining as much as possible from going out or doing much of anything, spending most of his time shut up in his room. His reasoning was that this wasn’t his own body, and he couldn’t afford to damage it carelessly.
As an added bonus — having worked himself ragged his entire life without so much as a single friend to show for it — he figured this was as good a time as any to rest like a noble gentleman of leisure. That petty motivation played a small part too.
“Hmm…”
“Is there something you want to say?”
“Well…”
He didn’t look like he’d simply come to check in, the way he usually did. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say.
“No. Your recovery comes first. It’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”
There were two surefire ways to drive a Korean person crazy, and the first of them was starting to say something and then stopping mid-sentence. Eugene didn’t even give the metaphorical sweet potato time to lodge itself in his throat before he downed the figurative cold drink himself.
“I’m already worried, so just say it. What is it?”
“It’s about Kyle. I figured you’ve probably forgotten that too, by now.”
The eldest son of the Primrose family. A person Eugene had only ever seen in the portrait, and now his name had come up. Everyone in the townhouse spoke with one voice when it came to their concern and affection for Eugene. Even without anyone spelling it out, it all came through — in the subtle shifts of their expressions, in the way they moved around him. Park Yujin, who had never once been on the receiving end of an affectionate touch, could feel it more keenly than anyone.
And yet — out of place with all of that — Kyle Primrose had not shown his face even once. On top of that, the reason Eugene had collapsed and injured his head was said to be his fault.
“That I got hurt because of Kyle? Is the reason Kyle isn’t at the townhouse related to that too?”
“Hmm, it’s not entirely unrelated. But to put it in order — it was because Kyle was gone that you collapsed, little brother.”
“What?”
“Let’s lie down first. How about you listen while lying down? I already have the experience of nearly killing you while telling this story once before, so I’m a little nervous.”
A chill ran through him. The family portrait — so beautiful it looked painted from a dream — suddenly flashed through his mind. He was left with an inexplicable, unsettled feeling. The warm, close-knit scene. The high-born family said to be among the wealthiest in the kingdom. The beloved youngest son of such a family. The blessed, almost sacred face.
He felt sorry for the real Eugene, but — he’d briefly entertained the thought, once, that perhaps God had taken pity on him for how hard he’d suffered and was giving him a chance to live the exact opposite kind of life. Well, honestly, he’d thought it this morning too. And just a few minutes ago, too. But now, watching Ivan dragging his feet and stalling, a bad feeling began to creep in.
Ivan gently laid Eugene down onto the bed. Eugene, with a vague sense of dread — thinking that if his head cracked open twice, he might never get back up — quietly went along with Ivan’s hands.
“You collapsed before I could finish telling you. To put it plainly — the eldest son of the Primrose family has left home.”
“Huh?”
“To head off any concern — it’s not a disappearance, not a kidnapping, not a trip. He eloped with a woman.”
“…What?”
“Only, it wasn’t just a mysterious woman named Camilla he left with — he took the family assets he’d been managing, and the investment funds for the new continent, along with him.”
“Elope… and the investment funds…?”
Lying on the bed with his hands folded neatly over his chest like a corpse in a coffin, Eugene listened to Ivan’s story — and found himself repeating the same words back, without even meaning to.
It might have looked flippant and unbecoming of a noble, but every single word coming out of Ivan’s mouth hit him with the stimulating force of a melodrama. Stimulating — but the kind that sounded like a riveting story about a complete stranger, one that had absolutely nothing to do with him. That’s what he meant.
Elope. Camilla. Investment funds. Family assets.
He kept nodding along with a blank expression, but his ears were more than pricked — his whole body had tilted toward Ivan. Words were flying past that would catch anyone’s attention, even if it were a stranger’s gossip. And this was the story of the Primrose eldest son — a man Eugene had now been forcibly made a stakeholder of.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.”
No, he wasn’t. But Eugene reflexively nodded, like a reader desperately craving the next chapter.
Next chapter, please. Author Ivan. Make it a satisfying reveal, not another cliffhanger.
“Thanks to all this, the engagement with the Chelsea family has fallen through, and Father’s mood is in turmoil trying to fill in the gap left by the missing investment funds. That’s why he couldn’t leave the earldom, even with you hovering between life and death like this.”
Eugene tried to picture what expression Count Primrose — a man he’d only ever seen in a portrait — must be wearing right now. The count was staying at the estate in his territory, and had sent a single letter upon hearing that Eugene had woken up. Whatever was going through his mind, by now his face was probably dark as a thundercloud over the disaster his eldest son had caused.
“So what you’re saying, Ivan — is that a brother whose face I can’t even remember properly ran off with some woman and took the family’s assets with him?”
“…That’s right. Are you alright, Eugene?”
“Yeah. And the Chelsea family?”
“The family of Kyle Primrose’s fiancée — his soon-to-be bride. Well, that’s impossible now, of course.”
“Hold on. Just — hold on a moment.”
Even lying down, Eugene felt dizzy. He couldn’t tell if it was a real dizzy spell or the disorienting shock of being struck out of nowhere by a bolt of lightning. He wanted to dig a finger in his ear. Maybe there was a wireless earbud in there, playing a melodrama on a loop.
The hand he pressed to his forehead felt the soft, bumpy texture of the bandage. At the sight of Eugene going pale and clutching his head, Ivan — who had been perched on the edge of the bed — shot to his feet. A face unmistakably related to Eugene’s was etched with worry.
“Oh no, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have waited a little longer.”
Then don’t go dangling it in front of me and then hemming and hawing about it! Eugene sat with the melodrama plot that had just been foisted upon him and tried to mentally digest it, to turn it over in his mind. In the middle of that process, his expression apparently became completely unguarded, because Ivan was fidgeting like a puppy that urgently needed to go outside.
“There’s nothing for you to worry about, so put your mind at ease. Eugene. Both Father and I are doing everything we can, and we’ll be able to fill the investment funds back in before the deadline.”
