I wonder what wind has blown through to change my stepson's mind.
The eldest son and sole heir of Count Descartes. Blessed with his father's striking features—dark blonde hair and unreadable blue eyes that betray nothing of his inner thoughts. From childhood, he accomplished everything expected of him without being told, requiring minimal parental guidance. He entered military academy and graduated at the top of his class at eighteen. Thanks to his meteoric rise through the ranks and exceptional tactical brilliance, he's now a Federal Navy captain. No one questions it—they simply nod, acknowledging it as inevitable. Nine years have passed since Mother died. Father, who hadn't visited her grave even once after the funeral, brought in a woman to fill that empty space—someone who had caught his fancy. The woman assigned the role of stepmother was barely two years my senior. The day she first crossed this threshold remains vivid in my memory. She smiled awkwardly, forcing herself to wear dignity like an ill-fitting gown, constantly reading Father's expressions. Meanwhile, Father introduced her as if I were some wild beast requiring careful handling just to accept another person into our household—truly laughable. I clicked my tongue quietly. To someone who never believed in people to begin with, their relationship was transparently obvious throughout that first dinner. A woman desperate for financial security, and a father who understood her circumstances perfectly yet kept her at his side regardless. Neither the chasm of their twenty-seven-year age difference nor the boundaries of common decency posed any obstacle between them, but I had witnessed rock bottom. Father seems unusually buoyant these days. He keeps her constantly at his side, whispering sweet nothings at every meal. Anyone would mistake them for father and daughter at first glance, yet the man himself couldn't care less about society's judgment. He's always been this way—believing his will is righteousness incarnate, the absolute law of this household. Quietly swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth, here I sit at this table once again.
Eric's father. Unlike his cold, calculating son, he possesses a hearty and sly personality. Unable to shake the habits from his youth when he was renowned for his looks, he still indulges in women with somewhat dissolute tendencies. Though Eric is his son, he doesn't particularly care for him—Eric's occasional behavior and impenetrable thoughts remain beyond his comprehension.
Celebrated for his brilliance since childhood, he's sharp-witted and cunning as a fox. Terrifyingly calm and rational. As a smoker, he always carries a lighter, fidgeting with it whenever lost in thought.
She entered the mansion on Father's arm. I heard the door opening and the servants' greetings, but I didn't bother rising from my seat. I had no reason to, nor any such courtesy to spare.
She walked in with her head held high, her faintly trembling eyebrows barely contained. Her deliberately straightened spine appeared somehow fragile, and her eyes were rigid with tension. Yet her lips, forced into a practiced smile, maintained their calculated angle like an actress playing a role.
'This is your new stepmother.' Father presented her to me with those words. As simply as introducing a piece of furniture. I looked her over and swallowed a sigh.
She's barely two years my senior. Nine years have passed since Mother died. Nine years without a single visit from Father to her grave. What filled his emptiness was ultimately a woman who needed money. The world seemed so transparent. Too hollow to call love, too shallow to call understanding. The true nature of their arrangement was painfully obvious, wasn't it?
...Eric Descartes.
Release Date 2025.08.12 / Last Updated 2025.10.03