Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Bastard Son
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I am a bastard son.
I was a history student.
Why past tense?
Because I died.
BOOM!
That impact was the period at the end of my first life.
But when I opened my eyes, I was five years old.
Adrian von Krushtein, bastard son of House Krushtein.
House Krushtein?
A name that didn't exist in the history I knew.
A fantasy world of swords and magic.
It felt like the game I'd sunk hundreds of hours into during my previous life had become reality. At first, I was thrilled. No computers or internet, but real magic in the world.
Two sets of memories tangling together felt like my head would split open, but I still counted it as lucky.
Born the son of a duke. Even a bastard was still nobility. This life would be pure bliss.
...Or so I thought.
Until I learned it was a family where one of the siblings died in an "accident" every year.
I devoured books, studying this world's history.
Especially what happens when a bastard threatens the eldest son.
Examples overflowed in House Krushtein's chronicles and records of the Empire's other houses.
Talented bastards die young.
Getting hit by a truck and reincarnating was already a cliché. I sure as hell wasn't going to fall victim to another one here.
I made up my mind.
Live quietly.
Don't stand out.
Don't be a threat.
"Adrian, how's sword training going?"
It was the year I turned seven when my eldest brother, Ernst, asked me that.
Ernst von Krushtein. Fifteen years my senior, the duke's firstborn and the most likely next head of the house.
"Books are more fun than swords."
"...Really?"
Ernst looked surprised.
"Father might be disappointed."
"Father doesn't expect much from me anyway. He already has the perfect heir."
"...Haha, fair enough."
Ernst let out a hearty laugh.
I did some quick calculations in my head.
Learning the sword itself was dangerous.
Show talent?
I'm a threat.
No talent?
"What a waste of time for a bastard." And now I'm hated.
Either way, I lose.
Better to pretend I had zero interest.
A few days later, I put on a show for the sword instructor, pretending I couldn't fight off sleep.
"Young master! Pull yourself together!"
"Sorry... I was reading books too late last night..."
The results were a success.
A week later, sword lessons dropped to three times a week. A month after that, down to once a week.
Perfect.
But my love for books wasn't an act.
I was genuinely curious about this world's history.
Especially military history.
The Empire's century-long war with the Northern Kingdom. Trade disputes with the Eastern Alliance. Religious wars with the Southern Theocracy.
This is basically European history transplanted into a fantasy setting!
Studying medieval war history from games in the real world felt strangely surreal.
And that knowledge turned out to be surprisingly useful.
"Adrian, all you do is read books."
"Brother, history's just fun for me."
"History? What's the point of that?"
Ernst smirked. It wasn't mockery—just pure curiosity.
"Who knows. But Brother, do you know why tax collection fell short during the last northern territories inspection?"
"...What?"
Ernst's eyes sharpened.
He'd been furious about collecting far less tax than expected on that recent trip.
"It's the Ho Clan's influence."
"Ho Clan?"
"Yes. Fifteen years ago, when our house annexed the north, we failed to properly purge the old ruling class. They pay lip service to our family, but they hold the real power in the territories."
I explained calmly.
"Half the taxes the people pay end up in the Ho Clan's pockets. From the commoners' perspective, it's double taxation. No wonder life is hard and the whole territory is weak."
"......"
"So we need to purge the Ho Clan, Brother. Of course, doing it outright would spark backlash, so we should divide them first."
Ernst stared at me in silence for a moment.
And then...
"Hahaha!"
He burst into hearty laughter.
"You're right! Next inspection, we'll sort out those northern Ho Clan scum for good!"
He slapped my shoulder hard.
"I thought history books were useless, but they can help like this! Good—next time, we clean house."
Ernst nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave. I smiled to myself.
Knowledge that seems useless but occasionally proves helpful.
Not threatening, but impossible to ignore.
That was the position I wanted.
As Ernst reached the door, he suddenly turned back.
"Adrian, aren't you going to study magic? You like books, so you'd probably enjoy it too. I could assign you a magic tutor."
"I'm good, Brother. History's more fun than magic."
I shook my head.
"Still, learning basic spells wouldn't hurt..."
"Brother."
I looked him straight in the eye.
"If I start learning magic, some people might get the wrong idea."
"...Wrong idea?"
"That a lowly bastard like me is gunning for the head seat."
I said it bluntly.
Ernst's eyes widened.
"But Brother, I don't have any such ambitions. I just... want to teach history to students at the Royal Academy."
"...A history professor?"
"Yes. A quiet life—no swords or magic required."
Silence hung between us.
Ernst placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Adrian."
"Yes, Brother."
"You're a deep one."
He smiled softly.
"The other brats study swords or magic and swear, 'I'll use this power for you, Brother.' But that just makes them scarier. You never know when they'll turn."
"......"
"But you're different. By refusing power altogether, you actually earn trust."
Ernst ruffled my hair.
"Alright. I support your dream. History professor—sounds fine to me."
"Thank you, Brother."
Success.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
He was right.
Pledging "I'll use this power for you, Brother" just paints a target on your back.
Better to have no power at all.
The unambitious bastard.
That was the persona I'd crafted.
That evening, there was a small gathering in the family mansion's banquet hall.
It was to celebrate Brother Ernst's birthday.
I sat at a corner table, quietly sipping wine.
My kid body made the taste awful, but to avoid standing out at events like this, I had to at least pretend to fit in.
For the record, I wasn't popular among my swarm of siblings.
The reason? I was known as "Big Brother's rattle."
"Brother Adrian is just so adorable."
I looked up to see one of my half-sisters standing there with a mocking smile.
She'd been strutting around lately after catching some prince's eye at a court ball.
Standing beside her was another bastard.
Lua Nox.
The frontrunner among the dozens of us bastards.
"Like Big Brother's pet, right?"
He'd apparently aced the territory knight order training recently. His chest badge gleamed.
A few young nobles around them snickered.
I nodded and smiled.
"I just want to be helpful to Brother."
"Helpful? How's reading books and chattering gonna help?"
My half-sister snorted.
Lua crossed his arms and chimed in.
"Nobles speak with power. Can't wield a sword, can't cast magic."
"You're right, Brother. It's people as strong as you who bring honor to the house."
Lua nodded, pleased.
"Exactly. Show sword talent, and even Father will acknowledge you. Knight captain's mine! If I can do it!"
His voice brimmed with conviction.
Father will acknowledge me?
Knight captain?
If I can do it?
I snickered inwardly.
Fuck.
Where the hell does that confidence come from?
A world where skill rules above all?
Bullshit.
The strongest inherits the house, blood be damned?
Bullshit.
So bastards and legitimate sons alike can all dream big just because they're nobles?
Bullshit.
Brother Ernst's mother came from a proud count's family—one of the Empire's top prestigious houses.
Lua Nox's mother? Daughter of a low-rank knight.
My mother? A commoner maid.
And it wasn't just a matter of bloodlines.
Ernst had the best swordmasters, top magic tutors, elite scholars instructing him from birth.
He built connections in the Empire's highest social circles, with solid ties to the imperial family.
Us? At best, we got lessons from a territorial knight order assistant instructor and self-studied from dog-eared magic textbooks.
No matter how talented Lua Nox was with a sword...
The gap in time, resources, and most of all, backing was insurmountable.
The kid had no clue.
Or...
Maybe he knew and dreamed anyway.
...Either way, it would end soon.
And two weeks later, the bad news arrived.
"Young Master Lua Nox suffered severe injuries in a training accident."
Three broken ribs. Left shoulder blade shattered.
He could recover, but he'd never hold a sword like before.
An "accident."
Of course, that's how it would go in the official records.
I gazed out the window.
The blue sky was so utterly peaceful.
"Ah... history... truly repeats itself."
After the Lua Nox incident, I lived even more quietly.
Tomorrow was my tenth birthday.
I figured it'd be an ordinary day.
In the evening, a servant came to me.
"The young master says he has a special gift prepared for tomorrow."
A special gift?
A flicker of unease passed through me.
"What kind of gift?"
"A living one, he said."
A living one?
The servant left, and I closed my book.
A dog? A cat?
Somehow, that didn't feel right.
Or was it a living human, presented as a "gift"?
The thought sent chills down my spine, a creeping certainty settling in.