The Strongest Brother Lost His Memory-Chapter 122: Side Story

What if Julian had met Rosie earlier?

Julian would have run a small-town butcher shop, steadily saving every coin and raising Rosie with care.

Every morning, he would’ve walked her to the village school, and every evening, he would’ve brought home the best cuts of meat for their dinner.

If it were Julian, he would’ve lived happily, not caring one bit about the Temple, the Count Family, or the Imperial Family.

All those things he said, like “I know my place,” or how he always drew the line with “you nobles”...

“I know how to stay in my place.”

The Emperor felt oddly drained.

“Your Majesty,”

Her handmaid approached quietly.

“It may not be wise to meet with Sir Julian Noart so frequently in private.”

“What are you saying all of a sudden...”

“No matter how strong he may be, his low birth makes it hard for people to speak well of him. I worry Your [N O V E L I G H T] Majesty’s dignity might suffer.”

If her handmaid was bold enough to say it directly, Julian must have been hearing such things every time he came to the palace.

The Emperor didn’t even have the energy to be angry. She just sighed.

Julian was headed into a life-risking mission. She didn’t want to draw bad fortune with needless negativity. So instead, she spoke slowly.

“...Prepare a room in the palace.”

“Pardon?”

“A room suitable for a young girl. A place she can stay, if anything happens.”

“But Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager’s permission—”

“I am the Emperor. Are you saying I don’t have the authority to use one room in the Imperial Palace? I command, and you listen.”

“...Yes, Your Majesty.”

If Julian were to die, the Emperor truly intended to take Rosie in and raise her herself.

But that room would never be used. Before Julian even died, Rosie had already ended up in the Temple.

* * *

As Julian exited the Imperial Palace, Shulva was waiting for him at the gates.

“You’re here. Shall we head straight to the Count’s estate?”

“No.”

Julian’s eyes were cool as he replied.

“To Foroton Tailor first.”

“Ah, Foroton. Understood. It’s impossible to get in without a reservation, but I’ll name prices until they let us in.”

There was a gleam of madness in Shulva’s eyes.

Julian noticed the happiness hidden in Shulva’s voice.

Shulva loved situations like this—sudden, difficult, but ones where wealth could be fully flaunted. Especially since it wasn’t his own money being spent.

As expected, once they arrived at the Foroton Tailor, Shulva began negotiating with a determined look.

“I’ll purchase at least a thousand gold’s worth.”

“Of c-course, a thousand gold is a large sum, but...”

“Is it not enough? Then make it two thousand.”

“T-two thousand? B-but we already have a client with a reservation...”

“Give that person a Foroton gift voucher worth a thousand gold.”

“B-but that person isn’t exactly short on money...”

“Fine, five thousand gold.”

“They may not be poor, but they certainly wouldn’t refuse free money. I’ll contact them now. Or I could just say there was a fire.”

Thus, Shulva shamelessly wielded Julian’s money to bend the situation to his will, all while maintaining a blank expression. But Julian could tell just from Shulva’s back that he was glowing with glee.

They’d known each other long enough to understand one another without words, even if their current relationship was lord and servant.

Then Julian entered the Foroton Tailor with pride and began carefully selecting clothing. Of course, they were all outfits for Rosie.

“Why is our Rosierosie still so small? Should I feed her more...? Though she has put on a bit of weight lately.”

The tailor regularly visited the annex at the Count’s estate to take Rosie’s measurements, so Julian only needed to choose the designs.

“Hmm... I wish they had a catalog.”

“Pardon? The spring and summer clothes here are all we have for now.”

“I want to see winter outfits too.”

“...Winter? Already? We’ve only just drafted the catalog for next season. Prices haven’t even been set yet...”

At that, Shulva pushed up his glasses and spoke sharply from behind.

“That’s fine. He doesn’t look at prices anyway.”

It might’ve sounded like he was doing Julian a favor, but really, he just wanted an excuse to say that line himself.

In any case, looking through the winter catalog from Foroton, Julian picked out the most expensive fur coats without hesitation.

If he let Rosie choose, she would say things like, “Enough. I already have too many clothes. Kids grow fast, so there’s no need to buy so much. Are you ignoring my growth rate?”

So he had no choice.

“Oh, and one last thing.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

After selecting all the clothes for Rosie, Julian said expressionlessly:

“One adult male outfit. Right now.”

“Pardon?”

“One that fits me. Anything is fine. I just need something to change into quickly.”

Foroton was known for children’s clothing. Adult men’s outfits were practically nonexistent—and Julian was much taller than average.

“I got some filthy blood on me at the palace.”

Julian said it without the slightest change in tone.

“What if our Rosierosie smells it and gets scared?”

At that, Shulva frowned slightly and muttered:

“...There’s no smell at all though.”

“But after five piggyback rides, ten spins in the air, and twenty rounds of swing rides, she might catch a whiff.”

“Then wouldn’t it be better to change at the Count’s estate?”

“No time. If I leave now, I can arrive just as Rosierosie’s class ends.”

But Foroton had no outfit that would fit Julian except a clown costume made for a child’s birthday party.

It had been pre-ordered by a particularly devoted father.

Julian, however, expressionless as ever, said it was fine and paid double. After putting it on, he even clapped his hands.

“Rosierosie will be so happy. This is great.”

Then, still dressed as a clown, he spoke coldly to the tailor:

“Have the ordered clothes delivered to the annex of the Count’s estate, as always.”

“Yes, of course.”

“These accessories are ready-made, right? This, this, this, and this—wrap them up. I’m taking them now.”

“Y-yes, I’ll pack them right away.”

The tailor barely managed to hold back laughter as he answered.

Meanwhile, Shulva’s expression darkened slightly.

‘...He never buys a season ahead in case she grows taller. Is this mission going to take a long time?’

Julian always had secrets. So Shulva couldn’t bring himself to ask directly.

‘Or...’

Suppressing the growing unease, Shulva thought to himself:

‘Maybe this really is a deadly mission...’

Inside the carriage returning to the Count’s estate, Julian leaned on one hand, lost in thought.

“At this rate, the Temple could use her as a weakness against me.”

When the Emperor had asked why he opposed the Temple, Julian’s answer had been a lie.

In truth, Julian knew everything. About Rosie’s biological father. About Yuta’s plan.

“It feels like I’m sending you into the jaws of death...”

Just as the Emperor had said—this mission truly was a death sentence.

But if successful, it could give him a critical weakness in the Temple’s armor.

‘I told that priest to die for Rosie. So I should be willing to risk death too.’

Julian stared blankly out the window, remembering his recent encounter with Yuta.

Rosierosie.

He absentmindedly touched the copy of the map tucked into his coat.

If it’s for you, I can watch anyone die. Even if that someone is me.

Then, finally back at the Count’s estate, Julian headed toward the annex, his arms full of gifts.

And there, in the courtyard, Ethan was curled up, covering his head, having been kicked by Roystan.

Julian paused, his expression unreadable.

“Shulva.”

With a grim voice, he called to the servant walking behind him.

“Buy more protection magic stones and line the annex with them. I won’t always be around to stop things like this.”

Then he casually whistled as he walked past Ethan and Roystan without another word.

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦