I Accidentally Saved The Male Lead’s Brother

 

A hug was more effective than holding hands, and a kiss was even more powerful than a hug in stabilizing the turbulent mana of a Rosito.

At this moment, simply holding hands wasn’t enough to calm Carcel’s mana. That meant…

Charlotte hesitated briefly before wrapping her arms around Carcel’s neck. His body radiated such intense heat that it felt as though she was being consumed by him.

Pressing her left chest against his, she focused her mana toward their hearts.

It wasn’t easy. Having never attempted this before, her mana scattered aimlessly instead of reaching her heart.

Charlotte closed her eyes and imagined her mana gathering around her own heart.

Please, let this help Carcel feel better.

As if responding to her earnest plea, her mana began converging toward her heart. Slowly but surely, Carcel’s trembling eased.

Sweat broke out on her forehead and back. Controlling his mana was no small feat. Feeling a faint pain in her left chest, Charlotte clenched her teeth.

Was this the aftereffect of overusing her mana, or was she sharing Carcel’s pain?

Whatever it was, it was nothing compared to what Carcel must have been enduring.

Charlotte focused even harder, imagining the unimaginable torment he must be feeling.

Finally, Carcel exhaled a deep sigh. His trembling subsided, and his breathing grew noticeably calmer.

Against her, she could feel his heartbeats—quick but steadier than before.

Only then did Charlotte realize she was holding him tightly. She gently laid him down on the sofa, covering him with a blanket. Kneeling beside him, she wiped the tears from his face.

The sensation of his tears on her fingertips stung as though she’d been cut by a blade. No, what truly hurt was the helplessness she felt watching Carcel suffer.

Carcel rested with his eyes closed, regaining his composure. Charlotte waited silently for him to open his eyes.

When his breathing steadied completely, Carcel finally opened his eyes. Charlotte smiled warmly and kissed his forehead.

He looked at her in surprise, and she let out a playful laugh.

“I feel like a princess waking up her sleeping prince. This isn’t so bad. I might even turn this into a story for Theo someday.”

“…”

“A prince who collapses after battling a dragon to save the princess’s medicine, and the princess who sets out to find him. What do you think? If Theo hears this, don’t you think he’ll start swinging a carrot sword, saying he wants to hunt dragons too?”

“…”

“Of course, if it leads to more carrot soup, I might struggle a bit.”

Carcel stared at her blankly before a faint smile spread across his lips.

“That’s… a good story,” he said, his voice hoarse and dry.

“And if the carrot sword breaks, I’ll somehow…” He paused briefly before continuing, “take care of it.”

Charlotte didn’t ask him what had happened. She worried that questioning him might force him to relive his terrible memories.

Instead, she simply ran her fingers through his damp hair and smiled.

Her actions seemed to puzzle him, and he spoke again, his voice strained.

“Why don’t you ask me what’s wrong?”

“I won’t ask. I’m sure it was difficult for you.”

Charlotte added, noticing his contemplative expression:

“But if you decide to talk about it, I’ll listen. I told you before—I’ll always be here to listen.”

“… Would you really?”

“Of course.”

“Even if it’s something absurd?”

“Absolutely. Even if you told me Theo is actually an angel from heaven, I’d believe you.”

Despite her playful remark, his expression didn’t lighten.

Charlotte squeezed his hand firmly to reassure him.

For a moment, she felt the heat of his hand—an indication that his mana was beginning to stir again.

Charlotte channeled her mana into his hand, calming it once more. When his mind seemed clearer, Carcel finally broke the silence.

“If so, would you hear my story?”

“As long as you’re ready to share it.”

There was no reason to refuse. If anything, Charlotte wanted to hear it.

If she could understand what had been tormenting him, perhaps she could prevent his mana from running wild in the future.

“Charlotte… I feel like I can tell you.”

Carcel sat up and gently tugged her hand, prompting her to sit beside him.

Then, like a child seeking comfort, he leaned his head against her shoulder.

Despite his desire to speak, Carcel seemed hesitant to begin. Charlotte patted his back gently, silently encouraging him.

Finally, after a long pause, Carcel began to speak.

“I’ve been having dreams for the past few days.”

His voice still trembled, as though the nightmares had shaken him to his core. Charlotte instantly knew this must be the reason he had sought her out that night.

What kind of dreams could have caused him such pain? Had he dreamed of Theo dying?

Charlotte waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“In the dreams, I’m a child, maybe five or six years old. It’s hard to imagine now, but back then, I was timid and easily frightened.”

Contrary to his claim, Charlotte could easily picture him as a timid child. She’d already read about his past in the novel.

Born as a Rosito, Carcel struggled from a young age with the constant turmoil of his mana. His body often felt heavy and unwell, leading to irritability and sensitivity.

Moreover, by the age of seven, he still couldn’t properly control his mana. This only increased his anxiety and frustration over time.

While his parents understood him, the servants—unaware of his identity as a Rosito—did not.

Though loyal to the Heinest family, the servants were, after all, just employees. They tolerated the tantrums of a fussy child to his face but likely gossiped about him behind his back.

On the other hand, Carcel’s twin brother, Edgar Heinst, was perfect in every way.

Unlike Carcel, Edgar was healthy and gentle, adored by all the servants.

He was intelligent, gifted in swordsmanship, and widely regarded as the ideal heir to the family.

With Edgar by his side, Carcel must have seemed even more incompetent in the eyes of others.

Though only seven years old, Carcel must have felt the unspoken comparisons and the growing pressure. This likely deepened his insecurities and introversion.

He might have loved Edgar but also felt an unavoidable sense of inferiority.

“That’s just how childhood is for many,” Charlotte said, running her hand through his hair.

She didn’t say it out loud, but she imagined that period of his life must have been like a dark abyss.

Moved by her sympathy, Carcel continued, and what he said next made Charlotte’s expression freeze.

“In the dream, I was lying in bed with a boy who looked exactly like me. We were talking.”

Charlotte instantly knew who the boy was—Edgar, Carcel’s forgotten brother.

But why was Edgar appearing in Carcel’s dreams? He shouldn’t remember him at all.

While Charlotte struggled to make sense of it, Carcel’s story continued.

“In the dream, I was complaining to him about how I couldn’t control my strength. I said something strange, like… it was as if I were…”

A Rosito.

Though he didn’t finish the sentence, Charlotte could easily infer what he meant.

As a child, Carcel must have grown increasingly anxious about his inability to control his mana.

Meanwhile, Edgar, who was thriving under the family’s guidance, began stepping out into the broader world. Unlike Carcel, who was confined indoors, Edgar was blossoming.

Watching Edgar from the shadows must have made Carcel feel like he was losing his place in the family.

I need Edgar, but Edgar doesn’t seem to need me. Then who do I turn to?

These thoughts would have eaten away at him, leaving his spirit to fester.

Charlotte’s heart ached for the Carcel of both past and present. She pulled him into a tight embrace.

Carcel flinched slightly but soon returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

Thank you for enduring. Thank you for being here with me now.

She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud, so she whispered them silently in her heart.

“At first, I thought it was just a peculiar dream,” Carcel said. “I didn’t recall meeting a boy who looked like me, so I figured he was just an imaginary friend from my childhood.”

“…”

“But today…”

His breathing grew uneven, as though he were struggling to control his emotions.

“Today, I had another dream. This time, I was a child again. My parents were there. I was so happy to see them that I tried to run to them.”

Charlotte didn’t need to hear the rest to guess where the story was heading.

The reason Carcel had been more distraught than usual must have something to do with Edgar—and it couldn’t be good.

Her heart sank at the thought. Clutching Carcel’s shirt tightly, she felt his arms around her shoulders grow taut with tension.

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