The Unseen Face Of My Mother

“Big brother, you’re in the way.”

A boy with fiery red hair inherited from their father and hazel eyes inherited from his mother glared coldly at Jonah.

It was Siegvald, the second son of the Langheim house and Jonah’s half-brother.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said you’re in the way because I’m about to start my training.”

“Ah, ahaha, right…”

Glared at by Sieg, Jonah forced a strained smile and left the spot with awkward movements.

As they passed each other, Sieg snorted.

The failure Jonah and the overflowing talent Sieg.

Always compared to each other, Jonah would rather not be near Sieg if possible.

On the other hand, Sieg also harbored resentment that Jonah—merely the son of the first wife and born only one year earlier—was considered an equal candidate for successor.

Sieg, who had no doubt that he himself was the rightful next head, naturally found Jonah an eyesore.

Jonah hugged his knees and sat at the edge of the training ground, watching Sieg’s training—whose attitude made no attempt to hide his disdain.

Despite being one year younger than Jonah, his movements were refined and without waste.

Even Moritz, who was instructing him, clearly appeared excited by Sieg’s talent—completely different from when he trained Jonah.

“…If only I at least had a normal body…”

After muttering that, Jonah suddenly shook his head.

He himself understood better than anyone that such a wish could never come true with his broken body.

That was precisely why he had learned ancient magic and, though imperfect, managed to move his body this far.

The words he had just spoken were tantamount to denying all his own efforts.

‘That’s right… If I just work harder and get better at controlling my body, I’ll definitely become normal. That’s why I’m not jealous at all.’

Jonah told himself that in his heart and clenched his fist.

“My dear… Sieg’s birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

During family dinner, Herta timidly spoke up, and Duke Langheim nodded while wiping his mouth with a napkin.

In just one more month, Sieg would turn ten years old.

The reason they had Jonah—who usually did not attend dinner—join them tonight seemed to be precisely to inform him of this.

However, neither of them mentioned anything about Jonah’s own eleventh birthday, which would come three days later.

That said, this was nothing new.

Sieg’s birthday was always celebrated grandly, while Jonah’s three days later was treated as if it simply didn’t exist.

All the invited guests would offer their congratulations to Sieg, while Jonah would merely stand alone in a corner of the hall, staring at the wall.

Such a birthday party was nothing but torture for Jonah.

“At Sieg’s upcoming birthday party, there will be an important announcement. Jonatan, Sieg—both of you dress appropriately.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes.”

Both nodded at Duke Langheim’s words.

‘I wonder what it is… Something about Father’s work, maybe…?’

In the past, Duke Langheim had used family events to pitch new business ventures to the invited guests—the nobles.

Assuming this time was the same, Jonah didn’t think any further about it.

Yet on the other hand, both Herta and Sieg had slightly flushed faces.

The servants around them also seemed somewhat stiff.

Unfortunately, Jonah—who hadn’t noticed the change—finished his meal as usual and then—

“Then, please excuse me.”

He stood from his seat and left the dining hall.

Dinner was one of the few occasions where even the busy Duke Langheim joined the family, yet there was no place for Jonah in that circle.

Understanding this, Jonah normally did not attend, and even when he was forced to be present, he quickly left.

The family of three never noticed this.

…Or rather, while the Duke might be oblivious, it’s possible that the second wife Herta and his half-brother Sieg never considered Jonah family from the very beginning.

Jonah walked down the corridor and entered the room at the very end.

“Mother…”

Jonah looked up and whispered softly.

In front of him hung a single painting.

It depicted a young Duke Langheim standing beside a beautiful woman with the same black hair and black eyes.

The woman in the painting was none other than Jonah’s mother—Marta Cornelia Langheim.

Marta had been frail and passed away shortly after giving birth to Jonah.

Duke Langheim had grieved deeply over her death, but under pressure from the imperial family and relatives that “it is unbecoming for the head of a great ducal house to remain unmarried,” he took Herta, the daughter of a marquis, as his second wife.

While the three of them dined together as a family, gazing at the portrait of his real mother in this room was Jonah’s daily ritual and his only sanctuary in the entire mansion.

“If Mother were still alive… would she have looked at me more…?”

Jonah had been alone ever since he could remember.

It was only natural for a child like him to yearn for the warmth of a mother he had never known.

Even so… there was no one here who could give him that warmth.

“I’ll come again.”

Jonah bowed deeply to the mother in the painting, then left the room and returned to his own.