Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Berik
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At seventeen, Berik was a bit of an odd kid. With his fiery red hair matching his hot-tempered nature, none of the other trainees liked him. It had been that way from the moment he first arrived.
When the squad leader tried to put him in his place with a fight, Berik kept swinging until his arms and legs were broken. It only ended when he finally passed out.
'A guy who won't win but won't lose either.'
That was what all the trainees called him behind his back.
"Rest."
"Haaah."
"Move to the shade."
The training grounds scorched under the blazing sun. At the instructor's command for a break, everyone staggered to their feet, but no one bothered to help Berik up.
Berik didn't seem to expect it either. He just closed his eyes and caught his breath. He'd get up on his own soon enough.
"Berik?"
Berik cracked his eyes open at the unfamiliar voice calling his name. Golden hair gleamed brightly, but that was all he could make out. His vision was too blurry.
"Can you stand?"
"...Who the hell are you?"
"Ian."
"Get lost."
He knew the Bratz Count had a bastard son. But he hadn't realized the punk in front of him was that guy.
Berik couldn't care less. They'd been living in the barracks for half a year now—he didn't even know the names of half his bunkmates. No way he'd know about some kid who'd been holed up in the mansion like a corpse for the past month.
'What a foul personality.'
Ian, on the other hand, gazed down at him thoughtfully. No matter how he looked at it, the boy matched the traits of a Sword-Mage.
It might be prejudice, but every Sword-Mage Ian had seen had that same temperament. They were always itching for a fight, like they had to bulldoze through everything in their path.
"Your attitude is truly insolent."
"Ah...."
Ian poured water over his face as he scolded him. Berik, feeling the cool relief, just kept his eyes closed and mouth open.
Ian glanced back over his shoulder. Chel, Deo, and the other trainees watched from the shade with puzzled expressions. They had no idea what the bastard son was up to.
'Shall I test him?'
Ian turned his back to them and crouched down. Pretending to give him more water, he gripped Berik's chin. Mana flowed from his fingertips into the point of contact.
"......"
The scowl on Berik's face gradually softened. How to describe it? It felt like the thick clot of blood that had filled his entire body was slowly melting away.
Just a bit more, just a bit more....
Thinking it was the relief from the water, he looked ready to lick it off the ground. Ian scattered the rest and stood up.
'Good enough.'
Ordinary people couldn't accept pure mana. It was a difference in the density of their mana vessels. Mana users had sturdy ones that didn't leak, but civilians were full of holes, unable to hold it in.
That was why healing and illusion magic were so highly valued. Offensive spells could just be dumped on anyone to shatter their vessel. But transforming mana so the target could accept it—like for healing or illusions—was an advanced technique among advanced techniques.
Anyway, what about Berik?
Not only did he take in the mana beautifully, the response was immediate. Even with such faint power, he absorbed it desperately, like a newborn seeking its mother's milk.
'He's got potential.'
An unexpected find. Ian never imagined a Sword-Mage seedling would be hiding in a place like this.
Ian released the mana and headed toward Chel and Deo. Chel was already sweating profusely, looking utterly drained. And he'd done nothing but stand there.
"Brother. Let's call it a day and head back."
It was exactly what Chel had been hoping for. His face lit up brightly.
"Y-Yeah, you think?"
"And starting tomorrow, you can train with me."
His expression darkened again, like he'd been plunged into mud. Was it because he was still a kid? His emotions showed so blatantly on his face.
"You are the next Count, after all."
Ian added with a sly smile. Meanwhile, Berik still lay on the training ground floor, savoring the lingering traces of mana.
* * *
"You're going out to the training grounds with Chel?"
Derga asked again. He'd just finished perfectly organizing all the records in the mana stone brooch. Ian had been summoned at dawn, but outside, the stars now densely filled the sky.
Ian cleared his throat, hoarse from talking all day.
"Yes. It's right outside the mansion's back gate, but we still have to step out, so I wanted your permission, Father."
Derga took the mana stone from its glass case and wiped it with a dry cloth. His expression seemed indifferent, yet somehow inscrutable.
"I have no other intentions. As I mentioned, even a short trip outside drains a lot of stamina. If both of the family's young heirs end up like this, we'll be scorned by the Cheonryeo Tribe. Above all, we won't survive crossing the border and the Great Desert."
It was a reasonable argument. Derga shoved aside the pile of documents and tossed out a remark. His tone was arrogant, like he was testing him.
"Wandering outside too much will make you restless."
What if you get other ideas? It was a clear implication. He was already uneasy about Ian's periodic meetings with Molin, and giving him more opportunities didn't sit well.
Ian pulled a letter from his pocket.
"The pouch you gave me before. This is the reply."
A letter to Ian's mother. He let it speak for him. With his mother there, he wouldn't dare act out—something Derga knew better than anyone.
Derga unfolded the neatly folded paper slightly.
"Please add that I'm still unskilled at writing."
Of course. Derga had already heard from the butler that the tutor had helped Ian write the reply during lessons.
Rustle.
He opened the letter fully. The handwriting was a mess, but the affection within was unmistakable.
-Mother. Don't worry. I'm doing well here. The Count, Madam, and Young Master are all taking good care of me. I'll make sure to get what you asked for. Stay safe until the day I return. I send you my longing with a short song. When the moon falls from the sky, the sun will rise. There is no eternal darkness.
The last line seemed like code between mother and son.
Derga stroked his beard as he read the part about Ian promising to procure Gurut Leaves. It was to hide the faint smile creeping onto his face.
"What did your mother ask for?"
"Didn't you... look at the letter, Father?"
It was a probing question, but the response was unexpected.
Derga looked up, scrutinizing Ian's face. His unusually sharp gaze clearly showed he was concerned about his mother's request to keep it secret. An irrepressible smile tugged at Derga's lips.
"Do I look that idle to you?"
"...No. I don't know, but it's a hair ornament that Cheonryeo Tribe women often wear."
But all of this was part of Ian's calculation.
In a situation where he had to hide his mother's request, he feigned doubt about whether Derga had checked the letter. He even lowered his eyes and let his voice tremble to seem guarded....
Ah. This won't work. Acting really isn't my thing—I have no talent for it.
And how dense was Derga to fall for it so easily?
"If you permit it, I'll head to the training grounds starting tomorrow."
Ian steered the conversation back. He'd already worn Chel down enough to get his indirect approval from Derga, but he wanted to seal it properly.
Derga stroked his beard and nodded.
"Don't even think about harming Chel under the guise of training. Do that, and Deo will cut your throat on the spot."
He said such a horrific thing to a child without batting an eye. Ian nodded vigorously and bowed. He didn't forget to express his gratitude.
"Oh, right. When was it you were meeting Lord Molin again?"
"The day after tomorrow."
The day after tomorrow, he'd go meet them again.
Derga furrowed his brows, seeming lost in thought at Ian's words. The Countess would probably oppose it, so Chel couldn't come along this time.
"Understood."
Derga waved him away, urging him to leave. Even as he turned, Ian didn't forget to scan the desk.
There must be something tax-related among those....
Click.
Standing in the dark hallway, Ian thought of Molin. What exactly was the value they saw in him?
He didn't know the details, but it seemed clear they wanted to pull Derga down. Even pushing Ian forward instead of Chel.
'Then taxes are the key. They suspect Derga of tax evasion too.'
But it was dangerous. Tax evasion against the imperial palace was a grave crime among grave crimes. If unlucky, they could slap on treason charges and execute everyone with the Bratz name.
If Ian wasn't registered...
He'd end up as a slave.
'Either way, it's risky.'
If the Bratz name vanished, so would the family—and Ian's own value. His survival ahead was fraught with peril.
A high-wire act for his life.
Derga wanted to sell him to the desert, while Molin aimed to devour Bratz. He had to keep his wits sharp between them.
'But from what I saw, they've planted eyes and ears in the mansion. Especially about the letter—they knew for sure.'
"Young Master Ian?"
A servant called out, holding a lantern. It was a summons to return to his room. Ian followed him down the hall. Being at the mansion's highest point, he could still see the faint glow of the training grounds through the window.
"They're working late."
The servant ahead smiled faintly at Ian's warm murmur. Hadn't Ian himself spent the whole day stuck in Derga's office, suffering the most? The boy who always had clean meals sent to the dining hall every day—he felt a subtle closeness to him.
"We've prepared training clothes in your room."
"Good. Thank you."
"Good night, Young Master Ian."
Meanwhile, on the training grounds, men with bodies still burning hot swung swords and spears. Among them, the most eye-catching was the redheaded Berik.
"What the hell did that bastard eat wrong today?"
"Yeah. He's overflowing with energy."
"He looked half-dead earlier."
Normally, Berik's energy would fade like a candle snuffed out at sunset. But for some reason, even after everyone else headed to the barracks, he hadn't stopped swinging his sword.
Swoosh!
Slash!
Berik cleaved the straw dummy's head with all his might. For the first time, the sword moved exactly as he willed it. His ragged breaths were soaked in ecstasy and pleasure.
"Haha... that's it, fuck yeah."
What was this? The fruits of his training finally showing? Or because he'd collapsed so much during the day? He didn't know why the blond kid from under the sunlight kept popping into his head, but Berik gripped his sword once more.