Philip blinked his eyes in surprise, clearly taken aback by Sylas's demeanor.
After a brief pause, he broke into a sly grin—a maddeningly smug expression that Sylas recognized all too well.
That grin usually signaled trouble.
"Young Master, could it be that you're curious? Are you worried about your little brother?"
Sylas drove his fist into Philip's gut, muttering that he should at least pretend to act like a proper subordinate.
How many times had he endured this same nonsense today alone?
It seemed every so-called aide in his household was a wild dog incapable of behaving appropriately, leaving Sylas perpetually drained.
Philip doubled over, coughing out a wheezy "kah!" along with something unpleasant from his stomach.
With teary eyes, he grumbled a complaint but eventually straightened himself, regaining composure.
Sylas resisted the urge to point out for the hundredth time that this was how Philip should behave from the start.
"As for the Beastman slave," Philip began, pressing a hand to his stomach as he spoke, "it seems Young Master Rocco has officially appointed him as a personal guard. In a way, you could say he protected the Beastman from being claimed by the main house."
Sylas froze, shocked into silence by this unexpected revelation.
So his brother had truly saved the Beastman slave?
No punishment for defiling the family's gate with his blood, no torturous interrogation, no cruel subjugation as a mere plaything or disposable meat shield?
Could it be that what had moved his young brother wasn't some calculated scheme but simply a naive, unyielding compassion?
That his brother's concern for the Beastman had been pure, straightforward, and sincere?
"Not only that," Philip added with an incredulous chuckle, "he didn't even put the collar on the slave or branding him with a slave mark. It seems that Beastman is already entirely devoted to Young Master Rocco."
Sylas sighed in disbelief.
The Beastman was nothing more than a creature akin to livestock.
It was common knowledge that to prevent such creatures from escaping, they were marked with a brand as a form of identification, and a collar of servitude was placed around their necks to ensure their loyalty.
No one would even question this.
But to overturn that, to treat the Beastman as though he were a human—no one could be surprised that the Beastman had become so devoted to him.
In fact, Sylas even began to suspect that his brother might have been aiming for that outcome all along.
Rocco Di Malvento… his younger brother, a direct descendant of his father.
From a distance, Sylas had felt an unusual stir in his chest when he first saw him, but perhaps he had been a little too carried away by the moment.
That child was dangerous. If everything had been calculated from the start, his brother could become the worst kind of enemy.
Sylas paused for a moment, then decided that it was better to go and observe the situation personally.
"I'll go to the backyard."
"Understood."
Philip, bowing his head, stepped aside as Sylas hurriedly left the office.
He wasn't concerned about his younger brother's well-being or whether the Beastman slave had bitten him and left him crying.
No, he was simply going to observe the situation.
He certainly wasn't worried about the trivial things.
With such thoughts, Sylas quickened his pace toward the annex—no, the backyard.
...
"It's so peaceful here, it's hard to believe this is the Di Malvento estate."
Sylas had been peering through the shadows of the trees at the garden of the annex for several minutes, and as he observed the unchanged, carefree scene, Philip murmured in surprise.
In the distance, he could see his younger brother relaxing in a vibrant flower field, looking completely at ease.
The Beastman slave was nearby as well.
There was no trace of the usual tense master-servant atmosphere—just a peaceful, calm afternoon.
What in the world was going on?
Sylas was completely bewildered.
"Ah, your brother is making a flower crown! How cute!"
Philip had already discarded his role as a proper aide.
His eyes sparkled as he watched his younger brother with complete enthusiasm.
The tense atmosphere that had been present until now had completely disappeared, and Sylas found himself aimlessly following Philip's gaze, unable to channel the last remnants of his caution.
Ahead of him, Sylas could clearly see his younger brother placing the flower crown on the Beastman slave's head.
The gentle smile on his brother's face lacked the calculating nature or intellectual impression typical of a mafia child.
Instead, he seemed like an ordinary child, with no schemes or ulterior motives in his actions.
If his brother was secretly orchestrating some major plot behind the scenes, Sylas would have no chance.
The child was truly frightening, and he sighed in exasperation.
"Your brother is so cute, sitting on the Beastman's lap," Philip continued, oblivious to Sylas's irritation. "Ah, he sneezed! Oh, I get it—he's probably snuggling up to the Beastman because it's cold. How adorable!"
Sylas watched as his brother, who had gotten the Beastman to sit cross-legged, crawled into his lap and nestled there.
The satisfied look on his brother's face made Sylas's chest tighten for some reason.
Was his heart racing?
Was it an arrhythmia?
But then, the sight of the Beastman, an animal at heart, holding his human brother in his arms made Sylas's blood boil.
From the situation, it was clear the Beastman was following his younger brother's instructions, holding him tightly.
But that didn't matter.
Even if it was the master's command, the Beastman should have refused.
Get away from my brother, you beast.
"...Disgusting," Sylas muttered under his breath.
"What? Why?" Philip replied, surprised. "It's so heartwarming! You really have no heart, do you, Young Master?"
Ignoring Philip's complaining, Sylas turned around and left.
The sudden surge of irritation was undoubtedly because his brother—someone he despised—had entered his field of vision.
If he could just leave this place and put some distance between himself and his brother, the frustration would surely fade away.
He repeated this to himself, urging his legs to move.
But, unable to resist, he glanced back for just a moment.
Sure enough, the sight of his brother playing with the Beastman made his anger flare up again.
There was no doubt about it.
All of this irritation, this unpleasant feeling, was entirely because of his brother.
Sylas's resentment toward his brother grew, and he quickly walked away from the scene.