Noblesse Oblige
“By His Majesty's order, in accordance with noblesse oblige, every noble house must send one heir to enlist.”
The emperor's command, delivered by our father the moment he summoned all three of us sons to his study upon my return.
It was nothing less than the kind of forced conscription you saw all the time back in Korea.
“Then why not just adopt someone and send them in?”
My eldest brother, sharp as ever despite his lack of manners and constant disdain for me.
His scheming mind was shining through once again.
“Normally, yes, but His Majesty himself is overseeing this one. Try any tricks, and you won't even leave bones behind.”
“But why go that far...”
Tems, the family's top heir apparent, started trembling.
“Who am I to fathom His Majesty's intentions? If I had to guess, it's probably about enforcing discipline under the banner of noblesse oblige.”
“Th-then...”
“It's not all bad. Just participating in this war will give you massive political leverage once you become head of the house.”
Broad locked eyes with Tems.
No one could deny it—the conscript was decided, with no room for escape.
I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips.
Yeah, bro. Have a safe trip.
When I first heard the news, I'd thought the youngest—me—would be shipped off. Luckily, it was just paranoia.
I've already done my 21 months of bullshit back home. Can't do it again.
If human rights meant anything, this would never happen.
“I... I don't want to go.”
Tems took a step back, shaking his head.
“It's what you must do to inherit the house. No refusing.”
“Send the second or third son. It doesn't say it has to be the heir.”
Whoa, trying to shit on me now?
I'd denied reality myself once.
But the military? You can't dodge it.
Celebs back out with depression claims or whatever.
Exceptions aside, my big bro was deep in denial.
“You think His Majesty would sit idly by while someone who fought in the war gets passed over for heir?”
Father, a graduate of the Lior Imperial Academy—our world's Seoul National University—had logic airtight.
Bro, just go. I've done it. It's not that bad.
Dogshit.
Makes you suicidal.
Life feels miserable.
But time passes.
Just painfully slow, shredding your mind and body along the way.
“Th-then I won't be the family heir!”
What... the fuck?
Tems's sudden bombshell stunned us all. He'd always lusted after the head seat—father and I gaped in shock.
“You insolent fool!!!”
Father exploded, slamming to his feet in maximum rage.
“Scared of a little war, so you'd abandon the family?!”
“If I'm risking my life, I'd rather run a small trading company and live peacefully.”
No, you can't do that. We're a count's house, not some baron's.
He's lost it.
“Bro...? Who else if not you?”
Edmon, sensing something off, grabbed Tems's shoulder.
“You've got you. Weren't you always greedy for it?”
“Ah... no, that's...”
Edmon's voice shook, eyes darting.
“Useless brat. Too scared of war to give up everything? I'm truly disappointed.”
“Sorry, Father.”
“Enough. You're not the only option. Second son, you'll inherit the house.”
Next up: Edmon.
Father went straight to the point now.
The reward's damn good, though.
Come back alive, and you're the count.
Head of the Oclo Trading Company—one of the empire's top ten.
Just say you'll go, please.
No matter the payoff, it's war.
Die, and you lose the company, the lands—everything. Worst gamble ever.
No way I'm wasting my hard-earned second life like that.
“N-no... I don't want to. War means dying. I don't wanna die.”
Classic cowardly second bro.
Hands shaking, head wagging.
Sigh, this is insane.
I'd seen it coming.
Smart guy, but can't kill a cockroach alone.
“You little...”
Father's face twisted worse than anything I'd seen in this life.
“Palan.”
“Yes...! Father.”
“These useless brothers are dead weight. You go and inherit the house!”
“Me...?”
I was prepped to refuse, but his words ended in a period, not a question.
An order. No choice for me.
“F-Father, sending a guy like me would just tarnish the family name.”
I resisted desperately to escape this nonsense.
But Broad's mind was set.
“Enough. You're far better than these two worthless idiots.”
No, I don't wanna go either. What the fuck makes me better? Fuck!
Listen to me, damn it.
You shitty father.
“How can I be heir over my two brothers...?”
“If that bothers you, I'll strike these two from the family register.”
“Father!”
“F-Father!”
The bomb made both brothers jump.
“Shut your mouths! Your voices alone make me want to kick you out right now.”
The vibe screamed he meant it. They shriveled up.
Just go already! Why refuse?!
Military's 21 months of forced labor for peanuts.
Offer CEO of a conglomerate? You'd say “thank you” and go.
These guys are nuts.
But why make me go?
I'm the spare.
Do I have to spell it out?
“Bro, I don't have what it takes to inherit. You know that.”
No point arguing with Father. Pivot to swaying Tems.
But this bro was tougher than expected.
“No. Little bro, you've got talent. You'll rack up merits in the war for sure.”
You crazy bastard, you badmouthed me as a wastrel forever.
Peel that face, and a demon stares back.
“I'll support you from afar with supplies. Please.”
“Y-yeah, Palan. I'll cheer you on too.”
Second bro laid a hand on my shoulder, shoving me off the cliff.
You motherfuckers.
No way out.
Someone had to go.
I couldn't refuse.
My enlistment—pure denial on my part—was sealed.
“Ah, fuck.”
The curse slipped out like a breath.
They call my mouth foul? Try my situation.
Why the hell do I have to go?
This was the heir's spot.
And I'm the youngest, never once mentioned as successor.
Doesn't this defy all common sense?
“Young master... the carriage is ready.”
Aurora's voice from outside, tension lower than usual.
“Coming. Sigh.”
Deep sigh as I headed downstairs. The whole household was out.
“Son, you're doing us proud.”
Our shitty father front and center, loading my bags himself while spouting nonsense.
“Come back, and you're the next head. Survive, no matter what.”
Thump thump!
He clapped my shoulders hard, then stepped aside.
Next, the two bros—faces that made me want to curse.
Their expressions differed slightly.
“Uh... take care.”
First bro sounded pissed somehow.
I knew why.
Didn't wanna go at first, but now regrets ditching the prize.
Not enough to fight himself, though.
So probably hoping I die out there.
I'll survive and boot your ass first.
Classic draft-dodger bullshit.
“I'll lead us to glorious victory and return.”
“Yeah.”
Tems hid his irritation and left.
Handshakes with second bro and others followed. Last: a woman.
Sylvia Oclo, family matriarch and my mother, hugged me tight.
“Don't get a single scratch. Come back safe.”
Warm mother's embrace.
My mind didn't see her as real mom, but memories of her raising me lingered.
“Don't worry. I'll write.”
“Good boy, my son. When did you grow up?”
She pulled back, tears in her eyes.
“I'm off. Stay healthy.”
Bowed at ninety degrees, boarded the carriage.
“He's really going.”
As it rolled out, I saw Mother, Father, and servants waving.
“Fate's set in stone, huh.”
That message about making me a soldier? Spot-on bullshit.
“Think positive. Survive, and I'm conglomerate CEO.”
Risk of death, sure. But rewards dwarf Korea's by thousands.
Worth a shot.
Forced the injustice down.
“And officer, not grunt. Not that dangerous.”
My path: two-week wartime crash course, then second lieutenant commission.
After? TBD.
Assignment by training scores, so nail that first.
“Top scores, rear post—game over.”
Immortal position.
Then shitty army turns to vibrant military life, bright future.
“You got this. Second time's the charm.”
Sucks it's round two, but experience means I'll crush it.
Sigh, just sleep.
Nothing beats sleep for killing time and clearing head. Leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
Doze off, carriage sped nonstop to Adelph Military Training Camp on the capital outskirts.
“Carriages stop here. Enlistees, disembark and proceed on foot.”
Cut off at the gate.
Border to hell, apparently.
“Young master, what now?”
Coachman through the window.
“What else? Walk in. Thanks for the ride.”
“No trouble. Await seeing your healthy face again.”
“Yeah, say hi to Mother.”
Last words to coachman, grabbed my bag, stepped down.
“ID check.”
“Here.”
Twitch.
Handed over the imperial ID everyone carries. Soldier's brow twitched faintly—dunno why.
Did I fuck up?
Replayed actions—no mistakes.
“Cleared. Follow the yellow line on the ground.”
“Got it.”
Pocketed ID, shouldered bag, entered the camp.
Sigh, this mountain air. Fucking sucks.
My old five-week camp was like this.
Useless phytoncides.
Stupidly clear weather.
Hate it.
“Already pissed just arriving, and no carriage? You know whose house I'm from?!”
Tsking at the camp view, shouting erupted from the gate I'd passed.
“Regulations prohibit it.”
“You take responsibility? Think hard.”
Heated standoff.
Classic enlistment stress dump.
Others might bitch, but I get it. Bro.
This place? Hell.
Boys like me, dragged to hell.
Can't even whine that much? Pathetic.