༺ Duty ༻
With their respective missions in mind, 100 noble sons participated in the engagement competition of the Northern Duke’s family.
In this competition, where status and rank were irrelevant, and merely being of noble blood sufficed, nearly a thousand applications were received. Among them, 100 were selected through a screening process to compete in the preliminaries and mains over a fortnight.
And tomorrow, the final evaluation begins, concluding the 15-day cohabitation and determining the ultimate winner.
With a 25% chance.
Someone will prove their worth, become hope, or serve as assistance.
Just 15 days.
Survive 15 days, and a new history will be written.
A shining, new history.
Therefore, withdrawing from the final evaluation was unthinkable, even in imagination, and a decision one could only make out of madness.
And seeing Elden Rapellion, who had made such a mad choice, as a lunatic was the natural reaction.
Silence ensued amidst minor tumults.
The first to break it was Kyle, the eldest son of the Count family.
“…Forfeiting? Have you been drinking during the day? Making such jokes in front of esteemed guests is excessive.”
“Ha-ha. Exactly. Eating in such a hurry as if it were your last supper?”
Blund joined in, dismissing the declaration of forfeiture as a joke.
To them, Elden Rapellion was not a competitor.
He was merely a tool for a favorable evaluation.
As always, at the Academy.
Elden’s declaration of forfeiture was bad news for them.
A public good meant to be exploited was disappearing. Since he was never a target of their competition, his departure did not affect their chances of winning.
Deron, who had been silent, asked with interest.
“…The reason?”
“How could someone wicked like me possibly become a candidate for the Duchess’s husband? I realized my place too late.”
Clank.
Deron placed his spoon on the plate and wiped his mouth.
“Understanding one’s place… I didn’t know you were so weak as to give up the race with the finish line in sight.”
“I’ve lived a life stepping on others. Too impure a life to become part of the noble Northern Duke’s family.”
Elden said, addressing everyone.
Though he was providing a hint, to those unaware of the Duchess’s identity, it was merely self-deprecating introspection of a villain.
Naturally, those pricked by the pointed introspection had something to say.
Blund finished his meal and swirled his wine-filled glass.
The wine, like blood, swayed heavily.
“…Everyone gets hurt and hurts others in life. The world admires those who stand on others, not those who are trampled upon. You know that much, don’t you?”
Elden smiled, a detachment befitting someone who had renounced worldly desires, along with a bitter laugh directed at the noble admiring wicked deeds.
“I am aware. I simply find it repulsive to be evaluated as noble while having caused others to cry tears of blood.”
His slightly sharp voice echoed again amid the beautiful cadence of the orchestra.
“A secret doesn’t stay hidden forever, does it?”
A sharp critique of misdeeds and a chilling warning to those in the know.
While carrying a grave message, Elden felt the age-old saying “The guilty party blames others” all too keenly as Deron’s blue eyes began to fill with rage.
“…It sounds like you’re targeting someone. Are you trying to atone now? As if atonement could clear the tears and blood already shed.”
As Deron, the group’s leader, expressed his displeasure, Blund and Kyle also showed agreement with crossed arms or furrowed brows.
“Elden, you’ve become quite toxic. No, rather, weak…would be more accurate.”
“Blood defines one’s nature. Nature cannot be defied, and to defy it, blood must be shed. I wonder if you’re prepared for that.”
Elden sighed softly.
It was the expected course of events.
Even after being taught a lesson in the latter half of the free chapters, they chose deception over reflection.
Now was the same.
They were doling out advice to someone pointing out their faults.
Treating self-reflection as folly and packaging their ideologies in eloquent rhetoric.
They aimed to benefit from using another’s introspection as a tool.
Yet, Elden understood them.
After all, they were characters created solely to be stepping stones in the narrative.
Hoping for reflection and reformation from merely scratching the surface was absurd.
And he was undisturbed by their use and condemnation of introspection.
As Blund and Deron said, appearing weak and fragile as a noble scion would indeed be a point deduction.
Such was an unsuitable demeanor for someone in the harsh lands of the Northern Duke’s family.
Moreover, as someone who had declared forfeiture, being targeted would actually be welcomed.
Mutual support, a good flow.
Elden offered a smile.
“Ha-ha, there was no particular intention. Please, don’t mind me. I was just sharing my personal sentiments when asked.”
He had fulfilled the minimum responsibility and duty expected of someone trying to escape.
Though it might have been noticeable, there was no need to concern himself further.
After all, they were rightfully destined to face the Duchess’s wrath in this narrative of vengeance.
Further interference would only hinder the heroine.
Elden set down his empty glass.
Now, he would leave things to fate and observe the flow, unburdening himself of any possessor’s guilt.
“And as for the forfeiture, I’ve only conveyed my intent. I haven’t received any official response yet. I merely wanted to inform you in advance, considering you more ‘colleagues’ than competitors.”
If they didn’t directly harm him, there was no reason to ostracize them.
If they did cause harm, that would be a different story.
At Elden’s words, Deron glanced at the evaluators before speaking.
“Well, don’t mind it. If that’s your opinion, so be it. Now, if everyone’s done eating, let’s conclude the meal.”
Blund and Kyle nodded, and the busy pens of the evaluators halted.
Thus, the first gathering of the final candidates came to an end.
**
Thud, thud.
I walked down the corridor with Rendler.
The first meeting was over.
Simpler than expected, and as uncomfortably as anticipated.
I had no intention of making enemies of the novel’s male leads.
That would be folly.
I lacked the almost saintly benevolence of Sister Theresa, and who knows, one of those three might end up as the final victor.
There was no need to cross any lines.
Now, all that remained was to wait for the great Northern Duke’s approval of my forfeiture, having fulfilled my duty as a possessor. It was time to simply observe.
Whether they took the hint and reflected, ignored it and continued with their regrettable actions, or survived this battle of revenge to engage with the duchess.
Leaving it all to fate, it was time to sketch my own future.
The problem was,
‘Where to start?’
What should a modern person, suddenly dragged into the medieval era, begin with?
Especially as a noble son from a declining house.
Thanks to the possessed character’s knowledge and memories, I didn’t need to start with learning to read and write, but finding a way to revive the family’s fortunes was beyond my capabilities.
The original Elden Rapellion might have sought to uplift his family through an engagement with the duchess, but sadly, I had no such intention.
Even in decline, it was still a count’s family.
As they say, a rich man’s wealth lasts three generations, so there was no need to cling to the engagement competition or fret over the family’s decline.
‘First, safely escaping the selection is key.’
Now was the time to navigate the immediate crisis.
Of course, being denied forfeiture wouldn’t necessarily lead to a crisis.
There were other ways to avoid the tearful selection.
I chose forfeiture as the cleanest, surest, and quickest method.
‘I just want to rest soon.’
As I hastened to my room, a sudden sobbing sound reached my ears.
From behind.
Curious about the noise, I stopped and looked back, only to see the old butler quickly turn away.
………
Turning back and taking a few steps forward, then looking back again, the butler turned away once more.
………
The slightly trembling shoulders, the hands rubbing the eyes, the sound of sniffles.
“Could it be… crying?”
Rendler shook his head.
“Heh, heh. N-no, of course not. Just got some dust in my eye, snuffle. That’s all.”
“Dust got in your nose, too?”
“Heh-heh. Darn dust.”
…Sniffle.
The signs were too clear for mere excuses, and after a brief wait, Rendler hesitantly turned around, his eyes moist.
Then, with an awkward smile, he bowed his head.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I suppose I’ve become too sentimental in my old age.”
“…Well, no need to apologize.”
“I was simply too moved by your words in the hall, showing such an embarrassing sight.”
..Ah.
Was that the reason for the unexpected tears?
I had merely spoken to warn my regrettable colleagues, inadvertently moving the old butler deeply.
Sniffle.
Rendler smiled brightly, tears still fresh in his eyes.
Then, blushing shyly, he added,
“Please, don’t stare so openly. It’s quite embarrassing.”
Swallowing the words ‘Your tearful reaction to a bit of self-reflection makes me uncomfortable,’ I turned away.
It seems he’s more emotional than expected.
Just one act of kindness might lead to a full-blown sobbing session.
‘I better be careful.’
With that thought, I stepped forward to turn the corner when,
“Kyaa!”
Thud!
I collided with a young woman rushing in my direction.
She was a maid in her mid-teens, wearing a uniform with the Northern Duke’s family crest.
