While Rocco had been hesitating and wasting time, Sylas had endured an onslaught of insults from his mother until—finally—he collapsed, unable to take it any longer
But then, Rocco shook his head violently.
No, that's not right.
What are you giving up for?
Sylas hadn't fallen into the lake yet.
There was still time.
There's still time!
I can still make it!
Rocco thought with determination blazing as he prepared to act.
"──Brother!"
The smug confidence on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by raw urgency as he threw himself forward, running with everything he had.
From an outside perspective, he probably looked anything but cool—desperate, frantic, and clumsy.
But none of that mattered.
Rocco ran with all his strength, grabbed Sylas's arm, and pulled him with every last ounce of power he could muster to drag him back to safety.
Even when the momentum caused their positions to switch, even when it became an awkward scramble, Rocco refused to let go.
Somewhere in the background, Rocco could hear his mother's panicked shouting.
Her face had gone pale as she screamed something incomprehensible.
But none of it reached his ears.
All of his senses were focused solely on Sylas, whose normally stoic expression had cracked into one of pure astonishment.
"Why… ──"
It wasn't the cold, dispassionate voice Sylas usually used.
This voice was soft, childlike even, filled with genuine surprise and confusion.
Hearing that, for some reason, Rocco felt strangely reassured.
A grin broke across his face, and he replied with a confident smile.
"Because we're family."
For a moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion.
Rocco felt his body fall backward, dragged by gravity as he tumbled into the water.
With a loud splash, he hit the lake, the freezing cold stabbing into him like a thousand needles.
The shock of the icy water paralyzed him, leaving him motionless, staring upward as the lake's surface drifted farther and farther away.
Ragar, Georgio… either one of you… I don't care who.
Just hurry up and save me already!
Rocco thought absentmindedly, his mind slipping into a strange calm.
As his consciousness began to fade, the surface of the water suddenly exploded with a loud splash.
Someone had jumped in.
Rocco, barely aware, opened his eyes slightly.
For a moment, he thought it must be Ragar or Georgio.
But then…
In the brief second before he lost consciousness, he caught sight of something completely unexpected.
It's a pair of deep amethyst eyes that was looking at him with panic and desperation.
...
After Sylas's mother passed away, the light seemed to vanish entirely from the Di Malvento estate.
His father, who had once shown traces of gentleness, became a strict and unyielding man.
The fragile peace that had existed while his mother was alive crumbled away without a trace.
Now, the estate was filled with the stench of blood on a near-daily basis.
If his mother were still alive, she would have reprimanded the entire household for descending into such chaos.
But she was gone.
Since that day, everything had changed, and each change only served to disturb what little peace remained.
The worst of these disruptions was the arrival of his arrogant stepmother and the constant looming presence of a "younger brother" who never once showed his face.
The woman had suddenly appeared at the Di Malvento estate, exploiting Sylas's father's inability to stand up to her.
She would hurl insults at Sylas daily.
She claimed to have feelings for his father, but she clearly resented Sylas, the son of the woman his father had once loved so deeply.
If such a woman is his mother, Sylas thought bitterly, then this so-called younger brother must be the same type of person as her.
Arrogant, selfish, and an enemy whose very existence threatens his place here.
Sylas, who had never met this six years old half brother, imagined him as a vile creature.
In his mind, the boy would surely have the same twisted, ugly face as their stepmother.
Exhausted by the stepmother's constant harassment, Sylas began to nurture a deep hatred for the younger brother he had never even seen, constructing a monstrous image of him in his imagination.
Two Years Ago.
A turning point came unexpectedly two years prior.
The air outside felt unusually heavy that day.
Word had spread about a conflict between rival families, with a large number of casualties reported since early morning.
When Sylas's attendants informed him of the situation, he sighed, already dreading the trouble it would bring.
Reluctantly, he decided to head out and assess the situation firsthand.
By the time Sylas arrived at the scene, the clash had ended.
The rustic scent of blood hung heavily in the air, and the ground was a grisly tableau of carnage.
Looking over the devastation, Sylas sighed again, already imagining the thick stack of reports he'd have to compile for his father.
Turning around to leave, he paused to speak with one of the survivors.
According to them, there wasn't much left to worry about.
The most significant issue seemed to be that a Beastman slave.
He was used as a front-line fighter and had managed to escape during the chaos.
It seemed that the Beastman slave had sustained severe injuries and likely collapsed somewhere, unable to go any farther.
If that were the case, there was no need for an exhaustive search.
After all, a Beastman slave escaping was tantamount to losing a single weapon—an inconvenience, but hardly a crisis.
From the perspective of a user, searching for a broken weapon would be a waste of time.
With this thought, Sylas dismissed the matter and turned his attention to go back to his home.
It wasn't until Sylas was passing by the rear of the Di Malvento estate, near the gates of the annex, that he realized the issue hadn't resolved itself after all.
"...Young Master, it seems someone has collapsed in front of the annex gates."
The voice belonged to his attendant, Philip, who spoke while lightly wiping blood off his hands as they rode in the carriage.