Wicked Husband-Chapter 135 - 134

He stood there for a moment, simply gazing down at the instrument, before he reached out. As his fingers brushed against the piano lid, he froze, as though caught in the act of something forbidden.

With a forceful breath, Leon lifted the lid, revealing the neat arrangement of black and white keys. He sat down, and as his fingers hovered over the keys, a shiver ran through him—a sharp, subtle fear flickering in his chest. To shake it off, he pressed a key. The note rang out clearly, filling the room. Encouraged, Leon pressed more keys, slowly piecing together a simple melody. His confidence grew as he moved on to a piece Cesare often played.

Though his fingers, stiff from disuse, stumbled over the keys and missed notes, he kept playing. He barely registered the mistakes. All that mattered was the act of playing.

Leon had always longed to play the piano, but he had chosen the violin instead, knowing that Cesare’s talent was unmatched. He had convinced himself that it was better to accompany his brother on the violin, rationalizing that Cesare’s longer fingers made him more suited to the piano.

Watching Cesare play filled Leon with pride, and every compliment directed at his brother felt like a reflection of his own worth. Cesare, capable and perfect, was his pride and joy. Yet, beneath this genuine pride, a different, quieter emotion stirred—one he had tried to bury long ago: a sense of inferiority.

Leon had long managed to suppress these feelings with brotherly love, redirecting them to care for Cesare, who had grown up without a mother’s affection. In return, Cesare had given him boundless loyalty and devotion. Together, they had risen to rule Traon—Leon on the throne, Cesare by his side as Grand Duke. It was rare, almost unheard of, for siblings in the imperial palace, where fratricide and betrayal were common, to hold such titles and work together in harmony. People often spoke of them as rare siblings, bound by a love deeper than politics or power.

But despite this outward harmony, they were never equals. Leon had always known that he stood in Cesare’s shadow, and others sensed that unspoken hierarchy as well. He’d never questioned it—how could he, when Cesare was godlike in his perfection? It was only natural for a mere mortal like him to fall short.

He was content to be the one who knew Cesare best, his twin. That alone should have been enough. So why did this nagging dissatisfaction persist?

"Haa... haa..."

By the time the last note faded, Leon was drenched in cold sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were wide, staring blankly at the keys, his hands still resting motionless on them.

A blemish had appeared on his once-flawless brother.

What had started as a minor flaw had grown impossible to ignore. Cesare, it seemed, was merely human after all—vulnerable to irrationality, to mistakes, to the sway of trivial emotions. Leon’s irritation simmered, a storm waiting to break.

Had Cesare chosen the Lady of the House of Farbellini, a match befitting his station, instead of marrying beneath him, perhaps none of this would have happened.

Perhaps he should have stopped Cesare when his younger brother first proposed such an unlikely match. When Leon had cautiously raised the issue in the past, Cesare had dismissed it, claiming he had no interest in the woman. At the time, it had been a relief. But now, things had changed.

Leon glared at the piano, his eyes bloodshot. After a long moment, he rose from the bench and left the room, his footsteps quickening as he walked through the palace corridors, almost as if fleeing from something.

The sunlight streaming in from behind cast a long shadow that stretched before him as he slipped into the darker hallways of the palace.

As he rounded a corner, he froze.

There, standing directly in front of him, was a figure with hair as black as the ebony piano.

"Brother."

Cesare’s voice was soft, even. Leon’s lips parted slightly.

"...Cesare."

A flicker of curiosity appeared in Cesare’s eyes as he took in Leon’s disheveled, sweat-soaked appearance. Only then did Leon remember the state he was in. He quickly wiped his face with a handkerchief, forcing a smile.

Cesare watched him in silence, his gaze steady and unreadable. Finally, he spoke.

"I heard piano music."

"Oh, I thought I’d play for a change... It gets lonely without you here, so I thought I’d give it a try." Leon deflected quickly, trying to mask the turmoil behind a casual tone. "It’s a shame to leave such an expensive instrument unused."

Cesare continued to observe him closely, his expression soft but penetrating. Then, with a slight tilt of his head and a calmness that bordered on innocence, he spoke again.

"Would you like me to play? Anything you want to hear."

On any other day, Leon would have eagerly accepted Cesare’s offer, perhaps even joked about his own luck. But today, he didn’t want to hear his brother play. His fingers still tingled with a strange discomfort from the brief time he’d spent at the piano.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to steady himself as he approached Cesare.

"You must be tired. It’s fine for today." He paused, then added more seriously, "Is everything ready?"

"More or less."

After dealing with Marquis Menegin, the former president of the Upper House, Cesare had been quietly purging the ranks of influential nobles from the shadows. He had already removed those who could be eliminated without causing a public scandal.

Now, only the most formidable targets remained, and Count Bonapart was next. A member of the Senate and one of the most powerful figures in Traon’s political landscape, Count Bonapart was a target Cesare had merely informed Leon of, without giving much explanation for his reasons or methods.

At first, Leon had assumed Cesare was eliminating threats to the imperial family. But when Cesare began targeting loyalists, those who had long been allied with the throne, Leon had tried to intervene. Yet Cesare had continued his silent purge without hesitation. It was as if the brother he once knew was slipping further and further away from him.

"It will happen during the royal hunt, so be aware," Cesare said, his tone matter-of-fact.

A shiver of unease ran through Leon, but he forced himself to keep his expression neutral.

"Brother..."

Cesare stepped closer, his voice dropping to a quiet, probing tone. "Why did you do it?"

Leon knew exactly what Cesare was referring to—the unapproved visit he had made to see Eileen. Leon’s lips curled into a faint, ironic smile.

"I told you, didn’t I? I wasn’t even allowed to speak to her."

A pang of guilt and frustration twisted in his chest, and a surge of heat ran through him, making his pulse quicken.

He forced himself to steady his breath before speaking again, his voice sharp, the words slipping out with more intensity than he had intended.

"Let me ask you something, Cesare."

His brother looked at him, calm and expectant, but Leon could see the subtle tightening in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Are all these strange actions of yours because of her?"

He had hoped Cesare would say no—that there were reasons of his own he simply hadn’t shared yet. Leon had wanted his brother to deny it without hesitation. But no response came.

Instead, Cesare only narrowed his long eyes, locking Leon in his gaze.

Then, a sudden, thunderous realization struck Leon.

It’s all because of Eileen.

A twin’s instinct left no room for doubt. As his suspicion solidified into truth, Leon’s face stiffened. His voice turned sharp, laced with accusation.

"The feather of the lion... Why on earth? Why provoke the House of Farbellini for that worthless feather?"

Leon knew the royal family had arranged a marriage with the Farbellini, making Cesare’s late-night raid utterly incomprehensible. He’d heard that the Grand Duke’s house had initially antagonized the Grand Duchess, but such a public display from Cesare was out of character. Leon couldn’t understand why his brother would make such an uncharacteristic move.

Stealing something like the lion’s feather—an item that would appeal more to a child than to Cesare, who was usually so cool-headed and strategic—seemed beyond reason.

The memories of their mother’s relentless, grueling treatment still felt fresh. Cesare’s sudden interest in legends felt like a betrayal. Had he forgotten all they’d endured together? The hardships they’d survived by leaning on each other?

Dizzy from the storm of emotions swirling inside him, Leon barely recognized his own feelings. And as his frustration continued to rise, Cesare remained silent—watching him with unnervingly calm eyes, as if weighing Leon’s outburst on some invisible scale.

As he stared into his brother’s crimson eyes, an unsettling thought struck Leon—one he couldn’t ignore, no matter how absurd it seemed.

All the love he had poured into Cesare, even the way he had tried to transform his own feelings of inferiority into affection... Perhaps it had all been a survival instinct.