Pendleton Revolution - Chapter 1.5

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“We must have sent too much money. Good God, I don’t even know how much an average commoner uses monthly. He said he decided to use it for extravagances after pondering how to return it. Do you know what he said afterwards?”

“I’m not curious.”

“Fine. I’ll read it for you.”

“I said I’m not curious.”

“‘To be honest, wouldn’t this money merely be a few pennies for you? I hope it is. Please view it kindly.’ He’s truly cute.”

The red-haired man with a thin, exquisite face crinkled the ends of his eyebrows and spoke cheerfully. His crimson locks that had been fashionably cut short were as distinct as burning flames, and his shining violet irises were curved roundly as they hung in impish eyes. He was the famed libertine from a famed, honorable house in the Capital, the current Baron Gustaf, Lucas Garebian.

Lucas read the letter in a most relaxed manner before lifting his gaze to catch a glimpse of the man who sat across from him, a black-haired man whose blue eyes were gloomily cast elsewhere, keeping his silence till prompted. Just as constant as his apathetic attitude was his gaze, which never parted once from the fireplace.

“Before that, he should have a proper set of training clothes and a sword so that he won’t be looked down upon because of his identity at the Academy, but since the size is wrong, it’ll be troublesome later.”

He was the Margrave of Creha, Roman Princelow. Not only was he the Grand Duke of Pendelton’s nephew, but he was also the fourth son of the Grand Duke of Roschman who protected the North. Although it was only known privately, he was the second cousin of Lucas Garebian.

“The error of a patron. It can’t be helped. I estimated that his size would be about that just from his portrait. Could it be that his physique is larger than mine? But then, I feel like it wouldn’t fit him because he looks so delicate…….”

Lucas Garebian, who had been idly talking, rubbed his chin before speaking once more.

“In any case, since the semester has already started, it’ll be hard to send another right now, so when the next chance to reply comes, we’ll have to subtly ask him his size. It would have been alright for him to just throw away clothes that don’t fit him and ask for more, but for him to store it away like some treasure, such a cute little bastard. I’m going to send a few more gifts.”

He was muttering with an expression that showed he was clearly looking forward to something like choosing gifts for the sponsorship. Even the Roman Princelow who had been silently gazing at the fireplace looked up at him.

“You look like you’re having fun, Lucas.”

“Of course. You know this is the only healing time I have in this foul business. Our ward is rather pure and kind-hearted for a child who’s already turned eighteen. Every paragraph of the letter is crammed with all kinds of cute thoughts. It feels like I’ve got a younger sibling that I don’t even have, so this personage is treating him cutely and preciously in my own way. Though we did say that it didn’t matter who’d receive the sponsorship, even we didn’t actually think we’d end up sponsoring a boy. We did hope for a ward who’d go into the military, but he was one hoping to become an officer instead of the usual boy looking for knighthood. It’s rather curious.”

‘Foul business.’

Though Lucas was chattering away wordily, Roman Princelow ignored all his other words and merely pondered on the phrase that Lucas Garebian used. Indeed. They were dealing with foul business.

“Do they all take up this ‘Secret Friend Daddy-Long-Legs’ shit because of this fun?”

As Lucas mocked in a clear voice, he folded the letter and placed it on the table.

“Bastards, seriously.”

The fireplace’s red warmth licked the envelope with its red tongue. Lucas Garebian dropped his gaze and shook his head.

“Was today the first day?”

Roman, who’d been carefully examining Lucas’s reactions, quietly asked as he turned his gaze and peered at his papers. Lucas’s expression crumpled and he nodded.

“Wish me luck. Just imagining having to go to some party filled with lusty, nasty old men is the worst. I don’t think my fashionable heart could stand such trauma.”