The Kind-Hearted Older Brother

And so, the tea party between Arthur and Rod began.

“Excuse me.”

The girl known as Maid Number Fifteen poured the tea with impeccable grace. Not only Rod’s cup but Arthur’s had also been freshly prepared.

Rod Pendragon—he was the First Prince of Britannia. The son of the First Queen and the older brother of Arthur, who also held rights to the throne.

Among the nobles, opinions were split between who should be the next king: Rod, of pure royal blood, or Arthur, with his overwhelming healing powers. However, most nobles supported Arthur.

Perhaps that was why Rod took every opportunity to confront his younger brother.

“I heard your steward, Greed, got arrested. You really ought to keep your subordinates in line… Clearly, you’re not fit to be king. Isn’t that right, Maid Number Fifteen?”

“Yes, as Lord Rod says.”

Rod sneered as he mocked Arthur’s so-called failure. It was true that, because of the incident, the faction supporting Arthur for king had lost a bit of momentum. It was a well-aimed jab—under normal circumstances.

But not this time. The opponent was too strange.

This was Arthur, the sheltered oddball who, in his previous life, had somehow ended up as first in line to the throne without even noticing. Sarcasm didn’t land on him the way it did on others.

“I see… You’re right, Brother Rod. But don’t worry—I never relied on a guy like him anyway. And there are plenty more just like him around me.”

“Guh…”

Arthur responded with a beaming smile, completely unfazed. In reality, he never trusted Greed and was focused only on ensuring his own survival. But Rod didn’t know that.

Hearing Arthur say he had plenty of replacements, Rod—whose faction was far smaller—visibly twitched.

“Hmph, sure, you have a lot of lackeys clinging to your healing powers. But don’t get cocky. The moment things turn against you, they’ll abandon you without a second thought!”

“Heh, you’re right, Brother Rod. As king, I’ll have to be careful about that.”

“W-what… You already think you’re king…?”

Rod was unknowingly speaking the truth from Arthur’s previous life, and Arthur, deeply impressed, nodded sincerely. Meanwhile, a vein pulsed on Rod’s forehead.

In truth, Arthur didn’t dislike Rod. Unlike others who pandered to him, Rod always spoke his mind. Since Arthur couldn’t detect sarcasm, Rod came off as a harsh but honest older brother who occasionally gave advice. And compared to Morgan, Rod’s bluntness was practically gentle.

So—feeling nostalgic—Arthur decided to repay that kindness with some advice of his own.

“You should be careful of betrayal yourself, Brother Rod. Try calling your servants by name. And… you might want to prepare a getaway route abroad. You never know what might happen.”

“Wh… What did you just say…?”

In the future where Arthur was chosen as the heir, Rod would also be executed. Worse, he’d be sold out by his own kin among the revolutionaries.

Arthur was genuinely trying to warn him—but…

“Hmph, mind your own business! Don’t get too cocky just because your healing powers are special! Someday you’ll be compared to the Saint, and you’ll weep in humiliation!”

“Compared to the Saint…?”

“Yeah! She’s also a healer, and she’s dignified and beautiful! I’ve sent her countless love letters! Someday, the two of you will meet. And when that happens, your true colors will—”

“That’s it!! Thank you, Brother Rod!!”

Arthur suddenly shouted and grabbed Rod’s hands. Then, smiling brightly, he rushed back to his room.

‘Hahahahaha! That’s right! All I have to do is show off my amazing healing powers when I meet the Saint! There’s no way I’d lose!’

So, convinced of his inevitable victory, Arthur set about devising a plan to “put the Saint in her place.”

“…What was that guy’s deal…?”

Rod watched Arthur dash off, baffled. Then, as he recalled their conversation, anger began to boil.

“That bastard! Acting like he’s already the king! And then telling me to run off overseas?! Who the hell does he think he is?!”

“Whoops… That was close.”

Rod hurled his teacup at his maid in rage. She caught it calmly without spilling a drop—an impressive feat.

The sight only infuriated him more.

“And what’s the deal with his cup?! I put laxative in it! Why isn’t it working?!”

Yes, Rod had spiked Arthur’s tea with a strong purgative in hopes of humiliating him.

He was jealous—furious that this bastard, a younger son born of a concubine, was being worshipped just because of his healing power.

So he regularly threw sarcasm and petty sabotage at Arthur—but nothing ever seemed to work. That only made Rod more desperate and his tricks more extreme.

“I followed your orders and laced the cup with poison…”

“Then why the hell is he still standing?! You’re not planning to betray me and side with him, are you?!”

Furious, Rod downed the leftover tea from Arthur’s cup himself.

“See? Nothing—”

Gururururu…!!

A thunderous gurgle erupted from his stomach. A wave of pain and urgent bowel pressure overwhelmed him.

“Ughh… Call for the antidote… quickly…”

“There is no antidote, Lord Rod. You specifically asked for a very strong laxative. I believe the effects will last all day.”

“Then fetch a healer! Someone discreet!! If anyone finds out about this, my reputation is ruined!!”

“There is only one person capable of healing something this strong…”

“Fine, anyone! Just get them! I’ll pay whatever it takes! If I soil myself here, I’m—”

The name the maid delivered was cruel.

“Understood. I shall fetch Lord Arthur immediately.”

“…You can’t be serious… No… UOOOOHHHH!!!”

Rod’s pathetic scream echoed through the courtyard.

What became of him afterward… shall remain a secret, for the sake of his dignity.