The Duke's youngest son is Unbearable

The Study Room

Sometimes, people suddenly become interested in things they once found completely unremarkable. Things they never thought could catch their attention before.

This was the thought running through Asher's mind as he stared at the walls of the study room, his gaze shifting over the shelves and the covers of countless books. Had the patterns on the wooden panels always been so intricate? Had the gold-embossed spines of the books always gleamed under the soft candlelight like that?

It was funny. Books. Walls. Furniture. All of them had become incredibly fascinating—especially now that he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking at the two people sitting across from him.

"Asher."

A voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Looking ahead, he saw Arthur, his older brother, standing beside their father. His posture was stiff, his face a perfect mask of calm. But his crimson-red eyes were locked onto Asher like a hawk sizing up prey.

"Asher." Arthur repeated, voice cool and measured. "Father asked you a question."

Asher blinked and turned his gaze to his father. He put on his most polite, gentlemanly smile.

"Hello, Brother."

Arthur's lips twitched ever so slightly.

"Asher," he said again, tone sharper.

Still, Asher ignored him and instead addressed his father with a bright, almost too enthusiastic voice.

"Ah, Father! How have you been? Is your health well? Have you eaten? If not, should I have the maids prepare a healthy, delicious meal for you?"

Asher suddenly found himself deeply concerned about his father's well-being. How could he have been so neglectful? He had a duty as a son, after all! He needed to make sure his father was properly cared for!

So, naturally, Asher rose from his chair, fully prepared to rush out and personally summon the maids—

"Stop."

The deep, commanding voice halted him mid-step.

His father had spoken.

Asher froze, feeling the weight of that single word press down on him. Slowly, he turned back toward the Archduke.

His father, Emroy Crimson, sat with his usual rigid posture, his sharp crimson eyes unreadable. His expression was composed—stern, as always—but if one looked closely, his lips twitched ever so slightly.

"Sit back down."

Asher obeyed without hesitation, lowering himself back onto the chair.

His mind raced.

Did I get caught? But how?

He had been so secretive, so careful! So how had they noticed?

He gave his father the most innocent look he could muster.

"Is something the matter, Father?"

Arthur rubbed his temples and let out a long, slow sigh. Secondhand embarrassment radiated off him in waves.

Their father cleared his throat, his voice calm yet firm as he spoke.

"Stop your nonsense and tell me what happened in the dungeon."

Asher hesitated, scratching his head.

"...Do I really have to?"

His father's eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"Fine, fine." Asher sighed dramatically. He sat up straight and folded his arms. "You want the truth? You'll get the truth."

Then, with a shameless grin, he declared—

"It was my fault."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Arthur's expression finally cracked. His brows furrowed in confusion. "...Your fault?"

"Yeah." Asher nodded, his grin turning sheepish. "I, uh… I wanted to duel Elvin. But he refused. So… I got angry and…"

His voice lowered, and he glanced away, suddenly finding the study's floorboards incredibly interesting.

"...I might have threatened his family."

"What?!" Arthur's voice shot up in disbelief.

The air in the study grew heavy.

Emroy Crimson's expression darkened, his gaze piercing into his son.

In the Crimson family, threatening someone was already frowned upon, but threatening their family was something unacceptable—especially when it was completely unnecessary.

But there was something else…

His father's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of his chair. His mind worked quickly, piecing things together.

Elvin was an orphan.

That much, he knew from reports.

So then—who was Asher referring to?

His voice was sharp when he asked, "Was it Elvin?"

Asher nodded meekly.

His father's eyes narrowed further. "And who did you threaten him with?"

Asher shifted uncomfortably.

"...His mother."

A long pause.

Arthur's brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

"...Isn't Elvin an orphan?"

Asher blinked.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "He has a mother."

Arthur stared at him, his expression unreadable.

"...How do you know that?"

Asher opened his mouth—then hesitated.

He furrowed his brows.

"I… don't remember," he admitted. "I might've heard it somewhere. But I can't remember when or from whom."

A strange silence filled the room.

Arthur's eyes slowly widened.

His mind was racing now, replaying the reports they had on Elvin. They had thoroughly investigated him. If Elvin had a living mother, they would have known.

And yet—Asher claimed he knew.

But he didn't remember how.

Arthur's crimson eyes flickered toward his father.

Their gazes met.

They were both thinking the same thing.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Emroy leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze locked onto Asher.

"Explain everything to me," he said. "From start to finish."

Asher sighed in defeat.

"...Fine."

And so, he began.

---

As the room filled with Asher's explanation, Arthur and their father listened intently.

Arthur's expression shifted several times—at first irritation, then disbelief, and finally, sheer exasperation.

So, it was all because of a girl.

Arthur's fingers twitched, barely resisting the urge to rub his temples.

His father let out a long, measured breath, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Asher, meanwhile, sank deeper into his chair.

Then—his father's voice cut through the silence.

"Isn't it… odd of you to threaten his family?"

Asher opened his mouth—then paused.

Something clicked in his mind.

Wait.

Now that he thought about it…

Why did I do that?

He had always thought about this situation from the perspective of someone from Earth.

But when he thought about it from the perspective of Asher Crimson—

It didn't make sense.

He muttered under his breath, confusion flickering across his face—

"Why did I do that?"

----

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