As Expected, the Capital's People Are Fucking Shitty (001)
The Capital City's air was as stuffy as ever. This damn carriage had zero cushioning worth a damn. After rattling around in this piece-of-shit metal box from the backwater Parne Territory for days, my back felt like it was about to snap in half.
Gleaming marble buildings and rows of gold-leafed carriages flashed by outside the window. So this was the empire's almighty heart, the Capital City, huh?
Screeech! Before the carriage even came to a full stop, I lost my patience and kicked the door wide open with my foot. Bam!
"Ow, fuck! My back."
Before the coachman could rush over to open it for me, I leaped out and stretched like I was putting on a show. Crack, pop—my joints screamed in protest, loud enough to turn heads. I didn't give a shit about the stares around me. After being cooped up in that cramped cage, I finally felt alive.
I smacked the shoulder of Thomas, the coachman gaping up at me in a daze. "Hey, Thomas! You see that cornering back there? The drift was pure art. Schumacher himself would be sobbing."
"Pardon? Dri, dri... what? Who's Schumacher...?"
Thomas blinked at me like an idiot, but I just grinned and rummaged in my pocket. A handful of heavy gold coins. Part of the emergency stash I'd swiped from Dad on the sly.
"Let's grab a bowl of beef soup sometime! Here's your tip. Picked it up on the road."
I dropped the coins into his callused palm with a clink. No way he'd know what "tip" meant, but his eyes went wide at the glint of gold.
"Y-Young master! This is too much!"
I waved him off casually and scanned the surroundings. Nobles decked out in flashy dresses and tuxedos were glaring at me like I'd tracked shit on their carpet. Ladies hiding smirks behind fans whispered away, while the prim-and-proper young lords tsked in disapproval.
'Having to share space with a barbarian like that... the air feels dirtier already.'
Yeah, that was probably their vibe. Predictable as hell. I loosened my tie and ran a hand through my hair.
"Look at these pricks staring just 'cause a country bumpkin showed up. The Capital's people really are fucking shitty."
The hallway in the Parne Mansion was oppressively quiet. The carpet swallowed even my footsteps. Portraits of our ancestors lined the walls, all staring down like, 'This guy's my descendant? What a disgrace.'
Sue me—go raise better kids if you're unhappy. I loosened my tie some more and stopped in front of the door. Knock knock.
"Come in."
A deep, gravelly voice. The moment I opened the door, the scent of premium leather and aged paper hit me like a wall. And there in the center, sitting like the king of darkness, was my father—the head of our house and the empire's Palace Count, Corinth del Parne.
He furrowed his brow deeply and set down his quill.
"First thing you do is treat the coachman like a buddy? You're a disgrace to Parne."
News traveled fast, as expected. Dealing with an intel family was a pain in the ass. I ignored his piercing glare and flopped onto the sofa in the corner of the study, sprawling out with my legs crossed.
"Nah, Dad, good driving deserves props. You should've seen that corner."
"Sit properly. If you'd taken after your brother even halfway, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"Bro's perfect, that's the problem. Why compare him to a loser like me? Anyway, why'd you call me? Potato harvest season's killing me back home."
"Shut it. Don't mention potatoes."
Corinth pinched his temples and sighed. He looked worn out—almost tugged at my heartstrings by a gram.
"Noble factions in the Capital are getting ugly. Messes tied to Louis de Leopold are piling up. Your brother's swamped with territory management and official duties—no time for intel gathering."
"And?"
"So I need you."
"Me? The family disgrace?"
"Shut it."
Dad fixed me with a dead-serious stare.
"That weed-like affinity of yours. You're the only one in the family who can survive the nobles' hypocritical social scene and dig up info."
"Don't sugarcoat it. You just need expendable manpower, and I'm the only spare."
"Good that you get it."
Way too blunt, dude. I pouted and shook my head.
"Pass. Can't I just go back to the countryside and farm? I've got real talent. Didn't you hear about my double corn crop last time?"
"No."
"Why not! What's wrong with a noble farming? Don't you get the sacred value of honest labor?"
"Say that after you fulfill your noble duties. Shut up and enroll in the Imperial Academy."
I nearly jumped off the sofa.
"What? The academy? You want me to go to school? I'm too old for that shit!"
"Twenty. Perfect age."
Oh right—this world let you into the academy at 20. Son of a bitch. This summons was all calculated.
"My soul's that of a retired geezer! And those academy uniforms are notoriously dorky. How am I supposed to wear those tight-ass pants? Too embarrassing!"
"Enrollment's already done."
"Dad!!"
My wail dragged up memories from my past life: hellish entrance exams, GPA juggling, group project nightmares, corporate drudgery. The one good thing about this isekai was my chill farm life—and now he was yanking that away?
Dad couldn't fathom my hatred for Capital life, the place everyone else killed for.
"Why do you hate the Capital so much? Others would die to get here."
Why? 'Cause I've already done one full cycle of Seoul hell.' The miseries of a Busan country boy in the big city still burned fresh after twenty years. Newbie honeymoon wears off quick, then it's endless hell. So I answered from the heart.
"Back home, I live free without prying eyes. Here? Everyone's judging."
"Talk like that in front of your father?"
Yeah, fair. If my kid pulled this, I'd disown him. That's why I'm childfree—no backstabbing spawn for me. No kids, no holds barred.
"Well..."
As I groped for more words, Dad cut in, calm and ice-cold.
"Refuse this mission, and that potato field you baby? I'll burn every last one."
Thud. My heart dropped.
"...Pardon?"
"Think potatoes are all? That secret cornfield you're breeding, the hidden fishing spot in the back hills—I'll plow 'em under and turn it into a training ground."
"That's dirty pool, Dad! Abusing head-of-house authority like that?"
"Jealous? Become head yourself."
"......"
Checkmate. Total defeat. Holding my precious potatoes hostage? Brutal.
"That's low, Dad."
"Deal with it."
I deflated and sank deeper into the sofa.
"...I won't try hard, but I'll show up. Don't touch the potatoes. Geezer temper."
"Start with the Victory Day 98th anniversary banquet in a few days. Show your face. Skip it, and you're dead."
What the hell was Victory Day 98th?
"What's with arbitrarily tacking on these milestone events?"
"You know it well. Keeps the hosting from the emperor—goes to Crown Prince Louis de Leopold instead. Aimed at the young crowd."
Damn, Dad had it all plotted. Sneaky bastard.
"If I don't go?"
"Ah, fine! I'll go, okay? I'll stuff my face and come back."
I grumbled nonstop, thorns in my throat if I didn't. Dad's lips twitched in faint satisfaction amid my bitching. Asshole.
"Good. Just don't cause trouble. Dress properly—no embarrassing the family."
"Embarrass? I was a fashion icon back home."
"Work clothes as fashion?"
"It's called workwear look. What would you know."
I stood up. Lingering risked my sweet potato patch too. As I trudged to the door, Dad's nagging hit my nape.
"Oh, and Kasian."
"What now."
"Don't disgrace us."
"You just said that."
"Ten times over wouldn't cover you."
"......"
Then just ship me home for peace. I waved dismissively and yanked the door open. As I stepped into the hall and swung it shut—
Sigh.
Dad's sigh followed. Hey, I'm the one who wants to cry—why's he sighing?
Academy. Banquet. Sigh.
What luxury did I want from this bonus life anyway?
Once I was clear of the study, familiar faces appeared down the hall. Old butler Alfred in his stiffly starched tailcoat, and head maid Marie in her prim uniform. Both peeked nervously toward the door, probably fretting over potential shouting matches inside.
I grinned and approached.
"Whoa, Marie! Not a wrinkle in sight? Vampire much? Spill the skincare secrets—teach the aunties back home."
"Young master, still cracking jokes on arrival."
Marie chuckled and raised her hand like for a back-smack, then swung at air. Classic reunion for us—she treated me like a nephew, not just the young master.
I turned to the grouchy old man beside her.
"Alfred, straighten that back. You'll hunch for real. Cane later? Ruins the vibe."
"Young master, voice down. Master's already on edge—you'll give him a heart attack."
Alfred put on a stern face for his lecture. His back stayed bent, though. Lifetime of bowing to the family—forgot how to stand tall.
"Come on, that's filial piety. What more you want?"
"Filial? The second son digging potatoes in the territory?"
"Think about it. Look at other Capital nobles' brats—girls, gambling, drugs, total trainwrecks. Front-page scandals by the truckload."
I thumped my chest in protest.
"Me? Clean as a whistle. Breathe and money rolls in—that's the dream. Quiet mooch, no drama. True filial duty."
Alfred gaped, speechless at my gall. Wanted to argue but weirdly convinced. Marie stifled giggles beside him.
"Can't argue there. Other houses' servants lose hair cleaning up messes—ours is a saint by comparison."
"See? Marie gets me. Classy lady."
I flashed a thumbs-up and hammed it up.
"Starving here. Only ate some shitty meat pie at the rest stop."
"Shall I prep dinner? Any requests?"
"Meat. All meat."
Mouth tainted by mystery meat—needed real stuff to cleanse.
"Rare steak, dripping blood. Wanna tear into it like a savage—forks and knives just for show."
"My, full barbarian now."
"Country boy savage—what else? Big deal?"
Marie burst out laughing, eyes wide.
"Yes, yes. As you command, savage young master."
"Tell the chef: biggest, best cut. Well-done? Send it back."
Alfred shook his head, but a faint smile cracked his lips. Rare warmth in this vast, cold mansion. I hummed off to my room.
Maids I passed blushed and greeted shyly.
"Welcome back, young master!"
"How've you been?"
"Yeah, you too. Grab snacks from my room later—killer steamed corn from home."
No authority, but popularity? Nailed. Kasian del Parne, Parne second son survival style.
Door open: spotless room welcomed me. Bed called—I dove in face-first.
"Ahh, heaven. Thought that suspension-less ride would kill me."
Staring at the ceiling, Dad's words resurfaced.
'Show your face. Skip it, dead.'
Victory Day banquet. Shattering my NEET paradise.
"Ugh, don't wanna go. Really don't."
I rolled around rejecting it body and soul, but memories of my crops stopped me cold. No choice. Fuck.
Day after tomorrow: dumped into that battlefield banquet hall. What to do? Pfft, what else—hunch in a corner stuffing cake. Never, ever tangle with anyone.
"Stay lame, gather zero intel, just eat—and they'll ship me home, right?"
Shitty Seoul life. Guess even isekai can't escape it.