Chapter 9
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: To the Tolome Family (2)
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Blanc's mother, Nedrian, had succeeded in protecting her son until the very end.
Preserving the birth certificate inside the ancestral tablet was a long-standing custom among nobles.
In his previous life, Blanc hadn't been recognized as a Cardmus right up until the end because that tablet was missing. But this life was different.
"Huuuuh..."
Almost a month had passed since he'd entered the Tolome family, but Blanc still couldn't get used to this fluffy bed.
His thirteen-year-old body had only gone without such a bed for about three months, but the soul of the regressed Blanc had lived for over thirty years.
"Gotta... get up."
It was the wee hours before dawn. Far too early to start the day, but Blanc had a reason to rise now.
He had to pay his morning respects to Bartolomeo, the head of the Tolome family and his grandfather.
Whether due to old age or an innate diligence, Bartolomeo began his days at this early hour, so Blanc needed to do the same if he wanted to catch his eye and make his presence known.
There was no choice—he was the only one in the Tolome household who welcomed Blanc, so he had to stay in his good graces as much as possible.
The next generation of Tolomes were cliquing up this way and that, all desperate to seize control of the family. As a rolling stone who'd tumbled in, Blanc had no choice but to watch his step.
If he showed even a hint of eyeing the family's shares, his soup might come with poison instead of salt the next day.
"What a headache."
"You still have to pay your respects, young master."
Emilia fussed over Blanc's attire, adjusting it busily.
"Where's Rakshar?"
"He was working in the stables until yesterday, but it looks like he'll get fired again today..."
The half-werewolf Rakshar didn't fit in with the other servants, for various reasons.
"Tell him to hang in there a bit longer—I'll sort something out for him soon."
"Understood."
In contrast, Emilia had adapted to the mansion quickly. Perhaps even faster than Blanc.
Part of it was her natural affability, but more than that, it was the golden hairpin—a memento from his mother—that Blanc had given her.
No one would give a mere maid a hairpin that had belonged to Countess Tolome.
For Blanc, it was simply a gift for the woman who'd served his mother faithfully for years. But to onlookers, it carried heavier implications.
It was common for nobles to take bedside maids from a young age.
Usually, such lifelong servants were sent off with a handsome reward, but it wasn't unheard of for them to be taken as concubines.
And since Emilia was the maid who'd safely escorted Blanc all the way here, the other servants didn't dare treat her lightly.
"Why are you grinning like that?"
"Because this morning's menu is meat stew loaded with salted pork—my favorite breakfast!"
"Can't blame you."
But no matter what others said, the bond between the two wouldn't change.
She was family to him, and he her precious young master.
"Any discomforts?"
Bartolomeo asked without lifting his eyes from the towering stack of documents.
Blanc stood before him in a deferential posture.
"It's as comfortable as my own home. My cousins have been most helpful."
'As if.'
Bartolomeo let out a hollow chuckle at Blanc's brazen lie.
He knew full well he was the only Tolome showing any warmth to this outsider. In fact, he was aware his own children and grandchildren were isolating the boy through various means.
Yet here was his young grandson responding with perfect composure, as if none of it fazed him.
'I didn't misjudge him.'
Despite his packed schedule, Bartolomeo hadn't slacked on keeping tabs on Blanc.
Their first meeting had left too strong an impression.
'Am I getting soft in my old age? It's harder to be as strict as before.'
The Tolome way was to raise children and grandchildren with iron-fisted discipline, no exceptions. But there was one who'd escaped that mold.
'The more I see him, the more he resembles Nedrian. He's undoubtedly inherited the thick Tolome blood over the Cardmus line.'
And Blanc, her son, was receiving the same special treatment.
Of course, the boy was handling himself so well that strictness wasn't even necessary.
"I heard your birthday is in a week."
"It's an honor that you remember even this grandson's birthday, my lord."
"Your gift is already prepared."
Blanc was surprised enough that his birthday was remembered; hearing a gift was ready caught him off guard.
'He didn't seem that affectionate.'
But there was no reason to kick away fortune that came rolling in.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Tomorrow."
Bartolomeo finally looked up from the papers, meeting Blanc's gaze.
"Tomorrow, we'll enter the palace together. There, you'll inherit the 'Cardmus Barony.'"
"...! Thank you so much, my lord!"
His regression plans had veered off course, but this averted the worst outcome.
Blanc had been selected as one of three regressors precisely because he was the heir to the Cardmus family, rulers of Norinton.
His mission was to firmly secure control over Norinton—the site of the first Void Tree discovery—and seal it off so the Void couldn't spread beyond.
The Cardmus barony was essential for that, so his gratitude was genuine.
"Don't forget: the one granting you the Cardmus name again is I, Bartolomeo Tolome."
No matter how much he favored Blanc, Bartolomeo was still a noble of cool blood.
The Tolome family were merit nobles denied their own territory.
In exchange for vast wealth and privileges, they thirsted eternally for land.
That's why he'd married his cherished daughter off to the southern Cardmus family.
The Cardmuses were lacking in many ways for a match with the Tolomes, but they wielded solid influence in Norinton and bordered Gartaria, making them ideal for interstate trade.
Bartolomeo hadn't foreseen how quickly those advantages would turn to curses.
Even so, securing the succession rights and barony in Norinton was no loss—for the future.
Blanc already qualified, and he was effectively in the Tolomes' grasp.
'The Cardmus family dancing in the Tolomes' palm is inevitable.'
And Blanc was willing to concede that much.
Reclaiming his house mattered, but stopping the Void came first.
Powerless as he was now, he had no choice but to grovel as Count Bartolomeo wished.
"Of course, my lord. I, Blanc Cardmus, will never forget the grace you've bestowed. The Cardmus family will remain loyal to the Tolome family henceforth."
"...Good! As expected of one with Tolome blood—you and I see eye to eye!"
A smile tugged at Bartolomeo's lips; he'd gotten the answer he wanted from Blanc.
"We'll enter the palace together tomorrow, so prepare accordingly today."
"Yes, my lord."
Blanc bowed to Count Bartolomeo and withdrew.
'Meat stew for breakfast, was it?'
With the barony promised, Blanc was in high spirits and planned to eat his fill this morning.
The servants' fare would differ, of course, but he was tempted to try the meat stew Emilia raved about.
That was, until he realized obstacles still lay between him and breakfast.
"Blanc Cardmus! My nephew! Where are you rushing off to?"
'Of all the times to run into him.'
A middle-aged man blocked Blanc's path.
Despite his forties, his smooth skin made him look thirty. He was Viteli Tolome, Bartolomeo's second son.
"Have you eaten, Lord Viteli?"
"Haha! What's this 'Lord Viteli' between us? Just call me Uncle!"
Viteli clapped Blanc on the shoulder with boisterous familiarity.
His words painted him as the world's kindest soul, but Blanc knew better—he was a two-faced schemer.
In his past life, Viteli had succeeded Bartolomeo as family head.
Not the eldest, not a knight of renown, with no powerful in-laws—yet he'd risen through wits and cunning alone.
"B-But..."
With Bartolomeo, Blanc had to flaunt his worth. With Viteli, he preferred to play it close.
Over the past month, Viteli had watched and needled him relentlessly.
Viteli had hounded the potential Tolome interloper to nip any threat in the bud.
But now, that was unnecessary.
"Splendid news! You'll inherit the family name from Father."
Viteli had already grasped Bartolomeo's decision—through his own channels.
Within the mansion, he was likely the only one besides Bartolomeo and Blanc who knew Blanc would take the Cardmus barony, not Tolome.
He might have learned of it even before Blanc.
"Yes! Lord Viteli just informed me the count said I could inherit the barony."
"Uncle, I said!"
The moment he heard, Viteli had rushed to win him over.
'Should I draw the line a bit more?'
If Viteli became head as in his past life, cozying up wouldn't hurt. But the world's uncertainties abounded.
Blanc himself was a wildcard now.
So he opted for caution.
"Speaking of which, your birthday's next week, right? Tell me what you want!"
"W-Well, there is something..."
"Out with it!"
Viteli thumped his chest, eyes twinkling expectantly.
Even Blanc, seasoned by life's trials, might mistake it for sincerity.
"I'd like a personal training ground. It doesn't need to be big or fancy—just flat land near the garden would do."
"Hm? There are already fine ones in the mansion. Are your cousins bullying you?"
The Tolomes had their own cultivation methods, so well-maintained training grounds were a given.
Producing exceptional knights brought glory to the family.
Yet here he was, rejecting them for some patch of dirt?
"Absolutely not—the brothers aren't bothering me. But I must practice the Cardmus cultivation method... and family arts can't be exposed, right? After all, I'm a Cardmus."
Aura cultivation methods were a noble house's pride and legacy. They guarded them fiercely from outsiders.
But Blanc's words hid more than mere secrecy.
I'm not a Tolome.
I'll carry the Cardmus name. Our arts stay ours.
I won't encroach on your rights.
Viteli wasn't blind to the intent.
He gazed at Blanc with a knowing smile.
"In that case, I'll pull some strings for my nephew! No worries!"
"Thank you! Uncle Viteli!"
Two sly foxes laughed heartily, each concealing their true intentions from the other.