Chapter 20
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 019
Chapter Title: Son of a Bitch
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They say ten years is enough to change even the strongest fortress,
but fifteen years had passed, and this dogshit, dung-reeking world hadn't changed a damn bit.
Twenty years old. By this world's reckoning, you're an adult starting at fifteen, so I'd long since shed that label.
Add in memories from my past life, and I was already pushing mid-forties.
If there's one truth I've realized now that my head's fully grown,
it's this:
"This world is utterly, completely fucking unfair."
Fantasy? World of adventure? What a load of steaming horseshit.
This world is a massive pyramid, meticulously designed,
and the top is decided from birth.
Take knights, for example.
[Knight]
[Low < Mid < High < Expert < Master]
Do you think any random mutt can reach Sword Expert or Master just by "working hard"?
Bullshit.
The training methods to awaken aura? Locked away in noble families' secret vaults.
Even if you're born with talent, without a sponsor, you can't even afford a single sword. That's reality.
[Mage]
[Low < Mid < High < Archmage]
This one's even worse. Mana affinity is tied to "bloodline" from the start.
Why do you think nobles marry their own cousins? To keep the mage rice bowl in the family.
Violence and war are everyday occurrences, not to mention the savage world crawling with monsters.
In the end, power is what matters most,
and that power belongs exclusively to those born with silver spoons.
So, if you're pissed, just climb the social ladder? Don't make me laugh.
They kicked away the ladder ages ago.
But in this unfair world, beyond swords or petty magic,
there's one true "absolute power."
Money.
Money money money money moneymoneymoney.
And the dump I'm leashed to, the Kaintrea family,
stands at the pinnacle of that monetary might.
While other petty nobles squeeze their serfs for loose change,
this house grips the continent's veins and rakes in gold bars.
Simple reason.
Every sea and trade route in the southern continent is their front yard.
Silks and spices from the East? Grains and daily goods heading West?
Nothing moves without passing through this southern port.
To float a ship, you need Kaintrea permission.
To sell goods, you go through Kaintrea merchants.
Hell, you pay them tolls just to breathe above the waves.
They're called a ducal house, but really, they're the Sea Kings of the southern continent.
Their influence doesn't stop at the Bellua Kingdom.
The entire southern continent's economy dances on their fingertips.
The king of the neighboring country needs loans from Kaintrea banks for war.
Even the Empire's emperor tiptoes around them for rare southern luxuries.
Military might? That's just consumables you buy with money.
While knights grind to awaken aura,
this family hires them as mercenaries and works them like dogs.
"Capital is might, and credit is authority."
That's how Kaintrea rules the world.
So for a slum rat like me,
the surest way to survive this fucked-up world is one:
[Someday, I'll fuck her.]
Whether she rolls in bed with women every night,
or hates men so much she cuts off cocks left and right, none of my business.
Somehow knock her up,
and become the pillar of this rich bitch's house. That's the play.
.....
......Leon?
"Leon!!"
A sharp voice pierced my eardrums.
"......Yes."
I jolted upright, plastering on a loyal dog's face.
Sharl stood before me, teacup in hand, glaring.
Yeah. Today, like always, I'd woken up, hit the streets,
smashed what needed smashing, killed who needed killing, collected what was owed,
and rushed back at Sharl's call like a dog.
"What the hell are you daydreaming about? With me right here."
"Just thinking about the future a bit... life plans, you could say."
"Life plans?"
Sharl snorted.
A face that mocked more than if a stray dog started philosophizing.
"Why bother with plans? Your whole life is mine anyway."
"So that's a proposal, right?"
"Are you insane? Marry a slum rat?"
Sharl set down her cup, scoffing in disbelief.
"You're not the type to fuss over birth like other girls."
"Well... not wrong."
"So how about spending a lifetime with me..."
"Hmm......"
She pondered for a moment,
"Still, a slum rat is a bit..."
"Sigh, damn bloodlines."
"Plus, you don't look half bad."
Sharl covered her mouth, eyes crinkling in amusement.
"Kain told me. Rumors are flying. They call you an eyesore."
"Find the bastard who started that shit nickname, and I'll kill him for real."
"Why? It's not wrong."
Her gaze fixed on me, finger tapping her own right neck.
This tight-ass bitch. Rubbing salt in my wounds?
"If you're gonna save me, fix it right so it doesn't scar."
"We poured money in to save you, and you got no shame?"
"It's all debt anyway."
I grumbled back.
"Right, that debt. Gave it to save your whore mom. To save you.
Plus raising and feeding you? Calculate that."
"......"
"Easily over 200 gold, no?"
She beamed, quoting an absurd sum.
"...Isn't that a massive rip-off?"
"Rip-off? You know I calculate precisely."
"I calculate well too. That's why I collect debts."
Even at the highest estimate,
generous rounding puts it under 100 gold.
I clicked my tongue.
But Sharl didn't blink, elegantly lifting her teacup.
"Fifteen years, Leon. Inflation over that time? And most importantly, interest?"
She smiled sweetly. It felt chillingly cold.
"All compounded, of course."
"......Compounded?"
"Yeah. Interest on principal, then interest on the grown amount. Magic."
Logic that'd make loan sharks weep.
I made a face like I was done, but inwardly, I had to admit it.
This woman wasn't just nasty-tempered.
She was a genius demon at multiplying money.
She'd ballooned the overflowing Kaintrea vaults grotesquely over fifteen years.
How? Simple. Ruthlessly, viciously, thoroughly squeezing.
To nobles, she sold "vanity."
Turned unheard-of Eastern trinkets into "limited editions," sold for hundreds of gold,
manipulated social trends to empty their wallets.
Dumb nobles would buy shit if it had the Kaintrea label.
To commoners, she held "survival" hostage.
Monopolized salt, wheat, iron ore—essentials—and subtly jacked prices to suck them dry.
Resistance? They'd just starve.
To slum dwellers, she instilled "fear."
What happens if you cause trouble or skip debts in Kaintrea territory.
Through brutal, certain examples, she miraculously collected taxes from the bottom rung.
Now, Kaintrea's status in the kingdom transcends mere high nobility.
A sanctuary even the royals dare not touch.
And Sharl before me,
at just 25, gripped that sanctuary's economy—a true power player, a monster.
I could barge into some fat noble's house and run wild
because this bitch backed me—not out of fear of a slum rat.
"Sigh, fine. No way I'd pay this off in a lifetime of spinning."
Such a monster marked me as property.
No escape hatch left; sealed with concrete.
"So quit dreaming empty dreams. I set your life plans."
"And that plan is working me to death, right?"
"You get it. So keep being my good little bitch?"
We eyed each other and cackled.
"But 'bitch'? Zero manners."
"Whose fault?"
"Can't I at least be a knight?"
"Knight without aura? Pfft..."
Sharl puffed her cheeks, stifling laughter.
Like a tanned blonde gal from some hentai doujin sneering,
[You? Pathetic lol]
[Fucking hilarious kek]
Infuriating overlap. I wanted to belly-punch and force-breed her right there,
but that'd end my second life as limb-chopped horse feed.
Heaven's cruel.
Why wake me as some northern archduke's genius son with OP cultivation?
Why birth me from a dying whore mom?
"......Whatever. Why'd you call me?"
I shelved distractions, got to the point.
This money demon didn't summon me for tea time.
Sharl's playful smile vanished, turning icy.
"Father wants you."
"The Duke... I mean, His Grace? Me?"
"Yeah. In person."
Derek de Kaintrea.
Ruler of the south, father to the woman holding my leash.
In fifteen years at the mansion, I'd barely crossed his path.
Glancing from afar, or if eyes met, a bug-eyed contempt—that was it.
To him, I was just his spoiled daughter's dirty, stinky toy. Nothing more, nothing less.
And he calls for me personally?
"......Why?"
"Beats me."
Sharl shrugged, stirring her tea.
"Don't know details. He has something to say."
"What if he slices me on sight 'cause I'm an eyesore?"
"No chance. I won't allow it."
She said flatly.
"A duke has words for a slum rat like me?
Directly, not through underlings?"
More unbelievable than dying by the sword there,
which I'd at least accept as "noble pride."
"You'll find out. One hour, his study."
One hour. Golden time that could decide my second life's fate.
I rubbed my dry face, sighing deeply.
"Haa... Guess I should change. Can't go reeking of blood."
"Yeah. Wash up clean."
"......No way?"
Daughter likes pussy,
does daddy too?
Reading my mind,
"He's promiscuous, but no taste for boys."
"Good to know."
Phew. Relieved.
Worried about ass-first before foreskin.
"Then... I'll prepare and go."
I stood.
Audience with the duke. Stomach already churning.
Probably not good news.
"Leon."
Her voice caught my ankle from behind.
"......?"
Turning, Sharl stared intently.
Silver eyes glinting coldly,
"Whatever you hear there, remember."
She enunciated slowly, like spitting it out.
"You're not the family's. You're mine."
"......"
"Without my say, you can't die or be sold. Got it?"
The possessiveness oozed so thickly,
it choked me for a second.
"......Yeah, sure."
I played it cool,
waved lightly, and left the room.
Creeak—bang.
But in the hall, closing the door,
my lips twisted in involuntary laughter.
"Ha......"
Crazy bitch. Really yanks this leash hard.
But not bad.
At least it means no dog death before the duke.
...Probably.
I trudged onward, steps heavy,
heading to wash first.
Wash if told, strip if told.
What can you do?
Just a lowly son of a bitch.