“Neigh!”
“Pffft-hrrrr!”
“...A dream?”
A horse was whinnying directly into his ear.
The low vibration of the animal’s call pulled Rest from his sleep and back into the waking world.
His bed was a shack tucked away in a corner of the estate gardens—the stables.
One of the horses inside the enclosure had nipped at his hair, tugging him awake from where he lay buried in the fodder.
“I know, I know. I’ll get the water right away. Just wait a second.”
Suppressing a yawn, he pushed himself up and brushed the stray straw from his clothes.
Sleep in the stable, wake up with the horses, and tend to the animals. This was his daily life.
He fed them, changed their water, and meticulously swept the stalls. Finally, he gave the horses a thorough brushing. They let out soft, contented whinnies as he worked.
“Feeling better now that you’re clean, Jenny? Lucy?”
“Whinny!”
“Yeah, I feel good too. I haven't seen Mom in my dreams for a long while.”
Recalling his mother’s gentle smile, Rest allowed himself a faint, peaceful expression.
It had been exactly two years since she had passed away.
A plague had taken her. Rest had worked himself to the bone to scrape together the coins for medicine, but he had been too late. Still, she had worried about him until her final breath. It was a small mercy that the medicine had at least allowed her to slip away peacefully, spared from a painful end.
Rest was twelve years old now. He had been ten when he lost her and was brought to this estate.
In this country, adulthood began at fifteen. Until then, he couldn't legally hold a real job. By law, he had to be taken in by a blood relative—in his case, the father who had abandoned him and his mother years ago.
(Though I’m sure that man didn't want anything to do with me...)
Rest narrowed his eyes coldly as he used a pitchfork to level the fresh fodder.
The feeling was mutual; Rest wanted nothing to do with his father. Had he been older, he would have struck out on his own, but a minor had no such luxury. His father had clearly looked for every possible excuse to turn him away, yet he had ultimately, begrudgingly, welcomed Rest into the mansion.
Rest had discovered the reason later. As a Court Mage, his father was constantly locked in power struggles with political rivals. The King was known for his virtuous character, and should word get out that an Honorary Viscount had abandoned his own orphaned child, his reputation would be ruined. To deny his enemies that opening, Lucas Ebern had taken him in—against his will.
(Still... making me live in the stables shows exactly what kind of man he is. Though I suppose the Madam is the one with the real streak of malice.)
“Well... it’s time. I’m off.”
“Snort.”
Rest gave the horse’s head an exasperated pat.
“Clean.”
He activated his magic as a finishing touch. Instantly, the air inside the stable shifted, the spell scrubbing away the lingering stench and bacteria. The two horses whinnied in delight.
(I wonder what look that man would make if he knew I could actually use magic... Not that I care.)
Shrugging his shoulders, Rest stepped out of the stable.
His early morning chores were finished, but the most grueling part of his day was about to begin. He had to face his father, his stepmother, and his half-brother for the first time that day. It was time to pay his respects to the family that despised his very existence.
〇 〇 〇
His father, Court Mage and Honorary Viscount Lucas Ebern, was a second-generation noble. His mansion wasn't particularly grand by aristocratic standards, but compared to the stables, it was like another world—clean, orderly, and imposing.
About ten servants worked on the grounds. Unlike the great houses where the children of lesser nobles might serve, this was a new noble house, so the servants were all commoners. Rest felt far more at home with them than with his own blood relatives.
“Good morning,” he said as he entered.
“...Morning,” the butler replied. “The usual again today?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I see... Stay strong. Don’t let them break you.”
The butler gave Rest’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
Rest made his way to the dining hall, greeting the other servants he passed. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and knocked. When permission was granted, he opened the door.
“Pardon me. Good morning, every—”
“Take that!”
“Ow...!”
The moment he stepped inside, something hard struck him. A stone the size of a palm caught him squarely on the forehead before clattering to the floor.
“Hahaha! A direct hit! Did you see that?”
Clapping his hands in triumph was his half-brother, Cedric Ebern. Seated at the dining table, Cedric laughed as blood began to trickle down Rest’s face.
Though he was his older brother, there were only six months between them. While the legal wife had been pregnant, their father had seduced a maid—and Rest was the result.
(Even if we’re the same age, the gap in our treatment is a goddamn abyss.)
Rest pulled out a scrap of cloth that was little more than a rag and wiped the blood from his brow.
Three people were in the room: the master of the house, his wife, and their son. They were already midway through their breakfast.
“...Good morning. Master, Madam, Lord Cedric.”
“...Hmph.”
Without acknowledging the injury, Honorary Viscount Lucas Ebern let out a bored snort. He didn't even bother to scold his heir for the childish, violent prank.
“My, my. You’re just as filthy today as ever. I feel as though your poverty might rub off on me just by looking at you.”
The voice belonged to Liza Ebern, Lucas’s wife and Cedric’s mother. She looked at Rest with the same disgust one might reserve for a pile of refuse. She pointed a manicured finger toward the floor.
“A lowly child born of such a vulgar womb belongs on the floor. You should eat like the dog you are! Hurry up and take your feed!”
“That’s right! Eat up, you filthy-blooded brat!”
Cedric cackled, stomping his feet on the floor. It was an incredibly uncouth display for a noble’s breakfast table, yet neither parent uttered a word of reprimand.
“......”
Rest looked down. On the floor sat a plate piled with something brown and unidentifiable. This was his daily ritual. They demanded he crawl and eat like an animal.
“...Thank you for the meal.”
Swallowing his humiliation, Rest dropped to all fours and leaned toward the plate. He was forbidden from using utensils. If he didn't eat like a dog this way, he would be whipped across the back.
“Oh, how hideous! To think he’d sink so low just for a meal. I suppose when the mother is a gutter-cat, the kitten is just as base. Truly, the child of a thief!”
Liza watched him with a sneer.
“That woman, this child... it’s all so repulsive. I can hardly stand having such filth in the same room.”
Despite her claims of being unable to stand it, she summoned Rest to the dining hall every morning. She had never forgiven her husband’s infidelity, and since she couldn't take her rage out on him, she used Rest as her punching bag, trampling his dignity to vent her spite. It was her idea to keep him in the stables.
(A woman’s jealousy is a terrifying thing... If she’s that angry, she should take it up with the man who actually cheated.)
Rest finished the meal mechanically, his mind disconnected from his body. He felt a profound sense of pity for the woman's pettiness. His mother had been the victim here; Lucas had used his position to force himself on her. She had done nothing to deserve Liza’s hatred.
“I’m done! Right, time for magic practice!”
Cedric stood up, having finished his breakfast. As he moved toward the door, he made a point of grinding his heel into Rest’s back.
“Ugh...!”
“Hey, you’re my target again today! I’m going to change, so get out to the garden and wait for me!”
“...As you wish, Lord Cedric,” Rest groaned.
Cedric let out a delighted howl of laughter and strolled out of the room.
“My apologies, Master, Madam. Since Lord Cedric requires me for his training, I shall take my leave.”
“...Do as you like.”
“Fine. But don't you dare defy my son, or you'll regret it.”
“Of course. Excuse me.”
Rest scrambled out of the dining hall. In a way, he was actually grateful to Cedric; his brother’s arrogance provided a quick exit from that suffocating room.
(God, they’re arrogant. I honestly don't see what they get out of this.)
Rest touched the wound on his forehead and focused.
He used healing magic, and the blood vanished, the torn skin knitting itself back together instantly. To ensure no one noticed the miracle, he wrapped a cloth around his head like a bandana. These people were largely indifferent to him anyway; a simple bandage would be enough to deflect any questions.
Two years he had lived under this roof, and not a single soul suspected he was capable of magic.
“Right... let’s get this over with.”
With a weary sigh, Rest walked down the corridor and headed for the garden to play the part of a living target.