Third-Rate Villain Of Fantasy Novel-Chapter 37: Mature Younger Brother

We were walking through the flower garden of Isilia Pavilion, the same place Elena and I had visited before.

The castle had several gardens, each carefully tended and beautiful in its own way, but hyacinths bloomed only here.

Their soft fragrance lingered in the air, gentle and familiar, as if the pavilion itself was holding onto memories it refused to let fade.

More than anything, Alphonse liked listening to stories about our mother when we were at Isilia Pavilion.

Whenever I spoke about her, his steps would slow, and his attention would turn fully toward my voice. I told him about the entries in our mother’s diary, one page at a time, recounting small moments and ordinary days she had written down with such care.

As I spoke, I found myself sinking into those memories as well, recalling scenes I hadn’t thought about in years.

This time, though, it was different from before.

I wasn’t merely drowning in nostalgia. I was sharing those beautiful days with my younger brother, who had never been there, who had never known that warmth. The realization grounded me in the present even as the past unfolded through my words.

Our conversation drifted naturally from our mother to myself, then to og Damian, and eventually to Alphonse. It surprised me how easily his story came up, especially since I had never paid close attention to his feelings before.

"I didn’t really care about my mother," Alphonse said quietly. "The only family I remember is my older brother and my father."

His words weren’t bitter, just honest.

"Then... at Isilia Pavilion..." I started, unsure how to continue.

"It wasn’t my father’s will that I came here without telling anyone," he explained. "I was just curious. Curious about who my older brother and my father were seeing when they looked at me."

He lowered his gaze, his fingers brushing lightly against the petals of a hyacinth as we walked.

"I wanted to know if they saw me as myself," he added, "or as someone else entirely."

Hearing that made my chest tighten.

Until then, I had always thought of Alphonse as the child who followed behind us, quiet and obedient, someone who didn’t think too deeply about such things. Yet through this simple conversation, I realized how wrong I had been.

My younger brother was far more perceptive—far more mature—than I had ever given him credit for.

It was difficult to believe that such thoughts could come from the mind of a seven-year-old.

The way he spoke, the way he chose his words, felt too deliberate, too heavy with understanding. For a fleeting moment, a ridiculous thought crossed my mind—that Alphonse might be a reincarnated person like me, someone carrying memories and regrets from another life.

That suspicion lingered quietly in my chest as he spoke, not because I truly believed it, but because it was easier than accepting the truth.

The truth was that pain forced people to grow up faster. And my brother had known loss long before he should have.

"After seeing the diary Mother wrote, and after hearing everything from you," he said softly, "I also wonder what she would say if she saw me now. I wonder what she would think of us."

His fingers clenched lightly at his side, though his voice remained steady.

"I want to talk to Mother too. I want to stand in the place that you and Father remember."

Those words struck deeper than any accusation ever could.

Perhaps Alphonse had learned more about our mother through that conversation—through the diary, through my clumsy explanations, through fragments of memory that were never meant for a child his age. Even so, after laying bare those fragile thoughts, he smiled at me.

"But I’m fine," he said. "I have an older brother who thinks about me like this. I have the strongest father in the world. And I have a pretty and kind older sister."

He looked up at me then, eyes clear and unwavering.

"So please don’t feel sorry for me. I’m a happy child."

No one could take the place of a mother who was gone.

That absence was permanent, carved into the family like a missing piece that could never be restored.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how warm the days became, there would always be a hollow space where she should have been.

But perhaps memories could be layered over that emptiness. Perhaps laughter, shared meals, and quiet conversations could soften its edges.

What unsettled me was not my brother’s resilience—but myself.

I was someone who should not have been here. Someone who, in another story, would have stood on the opposite side. An antagonist wearing the skin of a brother.

I wondered how my presence would change the future of this family.

Would I protect them, as I intended?

Or would I become the very fracture that shattered what little happiness they had managed to build?

I don’t know.

The Kraus family in the original work was good, except for Damian, but I didn’t know if they were happy. They were just supporting characters in a passing novel.

But now I was Damian, and I was the next head of the Kraus family and was also their family member.

I wanted my family to be happy.

As I recalled it, the anxiety about the future that I thought had disappeared began to pop up again.

I immediately opened my closed eyes and looked for Elena.

The scent of hyacinth tickles the tip of the nose.

When I saw her smiling with Alphonse, it made me feel relaxed as if to say, ’When did that happen?’

It was funny how just a few days ago, I was thinking about breaking up with her but ended up like this.

’Why am I trying to get closer to her even though I know that she will be far from me someday.’

I was not sure either.

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Author Note: 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Thanks for reading the Chapter, hope you liked it.