Count Hamilcar
What is a human being?
More precisely, from what point can we truly call someone a “human”?
From the moment they can speak? From the moment they can communicate their will through language? From the moment they can control their own waste? Or from the instant they are born?
Until I was roughly three years old, I struggled to feel certain that I myself was human.
Having to depend on others for every single aspect of life was utterly exhausting.
Yet each time I reclaimed a fragment of sovereignty over my own existence, relief washed over me—followed immediately by a surge of greed for more.
And in this place where I had been reborn—District 14—children under the age of three did not seem to be regarded as fully human.
Even my cold-blooded mother had held a first-birthday banquet for me, yet the father of this world who claimed to love me so dearly had not.
But when I turned three, he finally threw me a birthday party.
Or, to be more accurate, he used my birthday as a convenient excuse to throw a party.
“May the chamberlain’s daughter be blessed.”
The moment the king raised his glass, every noble in the hall lifted theirs in unison, offering me their blessings.
Adults using a three-year-old’s birthday as an excuse to drink—how absurd.
Still, I smiled brightly. I had already learned that, in this world, appearing as an adorable and docile child was the most profitable strategy.
“She’s simply too precious. I can’t possibly refrain from giving her a gift.”
“Goodness, such a valuable item. The child will remember your kindness every time she wears that brooch as she grows.”
I had noticed that today’s pocket money and presents would become my personal assets.
Oh, is that so? Then I would wring every last drop out of them.
I mobilized every ounce of cuteness, beauty, and loveliness I possessed. I copied every adorable gesture I had seen in videos in my previous life.
Looking up like the cat in boots, offering a perfectly polite curtsey with my tiny hands, reciting polished compliments in the formal language of this world.
Lines such as, “Madam, your eyes look as if stars have been embedded within them,” were scattered like confetti.
I was a three-year-old girl. The ladies never doubted my sincerity and, in their delight, showered me with far more than I had expected.
“Oh dear, he’s brought yet another whore with him this time.”
Suddenly the ladies’ voices turned vicious.
I sat demurely beside my mother and stole glances at the woman they were scorning as a “whore.”
Of course I could not appear openly curious. A good child was expected to recognize “adult conversation” and pretend not to hear.
“They say the countess really did commit suicide.”
“I would hate it too, being married to that barbarian.”
“He has no shame at all. Bringing a different woman every time after his wife’s death—has he lost his mind?”
“And this time he even brought the son. It’s the worst, truly.”
Listening carefully, it became clear the target of their venom was not the woman, but the man.
Just then a massive figure strode into the grand hall, accompanied by a slender woman and a boy around my age.
The man wore armor stained with blood and dust. The sight of him entering the banquet hall with such an expressionless face sent chills racing across my skin.
It was as if the stench of blood clung to him.
“Count, you are late once again!”
The king laughed heartily as he greeted him, yet there was a sharp edge beneath the laughter.
The count offered a light bow and replied.
“I was delayed after encountering monsters on my way to the young lady’s birthday celebration. Have no fear. This Hamilcar has protected Your Majesty’s lands.”
Wow, what an insufferable—wait, who?
I covered my mouth and quickly mouthed the words.
What exactly did the first revelation say?
I had discovered very early—right after birth—that even if I merely moved my lips without sound, the “program” (I had to give it some name; I could hardly keep calling it those rude little letter bastards) would still hear me.
Back then I could not speak, so I only made babbling noises, yet the program understood and even answered my questions.
After experimenting, I learned that as long as I moved my lips, it would accept my intent.
In other words, it could not read the thoughts inside my head.
The first revelation given to you by Gerka, the God of Wisdom and Learning, is to marry Count Hamilcar before you turn twenty.
Even when the king openly sneered, “Haha, the count is truly skilled with both sword and tongue. He seems to possess far more virtues than mere loyalty,” the count’s expression remained completely unchanged.
Setting aside his rudeness, the count appeared slightly younger than my father. And they wanted me to marry a man like that? Was Gerka out of his divine mind?
No, wait.
I looked at the child standing beside the count like a carved statue. Honestly, he was the most beautiful boy I had seen since arriving in this world.
Besides, children that lovely usually did not grow up ugly, did they?
And no matter how much he might change, he would still be better than a man old enough to be my father.
Yes. Since Gerka is a god, the person he meant for me to marry must be that boy.
There was no way it could be that blood-soaked, serial-killer-looking uncle. Absolutely not.
Even when I turned twelve, Count Hamilcar remained in robust health. By then I had begun to feel a creeping suspicion.
Surely the “Count Hamilcar” Gerka had spoken of could not truly be that blood-drenched, serial-killer-looking uncle?
Just remembering his savage, expressionless face and armor crusted with blood made my spine crawl. Become the wife of a man like that? I doubted I could even hold his hand.
Ah, right. When I was three I still had not fully understood this world.
It turned out this place was completely rotten. A world where a fifteen-year-old girl could become the second wife of a man over fifty.
Well, it was medieval. Even in Joseon, thirteen-year-olds were married off, weren’t they? It was possible.
…Still! There are mages here. If magic exists, shouldn’t society’s thinking have evolved at least a little?
With magic at their disposal, why maintain the custom of child marriage? I truly could not understand it.
In any case, I was now twelve. Still on the young side for marriage, yet it was not unheard of for girls my age to wed.
And in three years, at fifteen, I would reach the proper age for marriage.
In this world, fifteen or sixteen marked adulthood for both men and women. It was the age at which one was expected to fulfill a full human role.
That role, of course, included the increase of population. This era suffered from a desperate shortage of people.
Naturally I had asked the “program” many questions. Could the revelation not be changed? Could I not complete the second revelation first?
Finally, I asked what would happen if I withheld the “fee.”
Your soul must devote itself in District 14 until the ten gods are satisfied.
The very god who had handed a zero-year-old baby the revelation to marry some rude old man.
What kind of devotion was required until those gods were satisfied?
What the gods desire cannot be known. However, whatever the gods command, you cannot refuse.
Are there even any souls currently devoted?
There are.
And what percentage of those devoted souls have satisfied the gods and been released?
Zero percent.
Insane. That was basically an eternal slave contract.
I shuddered and abandoned any thought of dodging the fee.
The revelation had to be completed. Which meant I had to marry Count Hamilcar. What kind of nightmare difficulty was this from the very beginning?
Still, there was no retreat. I burned every bridge behind me and pressed forward.
The first step was to create a point of contact with the Hamilcar family.
To do that, I needed to reach Hamilcar Territory.
The problem was that I was merely a twelve-year-old girl. Even in the modern world it would have been difficult, but in this era it was outright impossible for a noble daughter—especially one only twelve years old—to travel far alone.
So I had to change tactics.
I ransacked my father’s study, scouring every document related to Hamilcar Territory. I was desperate for even the smallest thread I could pull.
It was a stroke of luck that my father loved his daughter so much he allowed her to touch his books.
After rubbing lavender powder on my hands to ward off moisture and carefully turning the delicate parchment, I finally discovered something useful.
Hamilcar Territory lay at the eastern edge of the kingdom.
It shared a border with the Amein Empire, and along that border stretched the Mount of Light—a high alpine region where snow never melted year-round.
The range contained the tallest peaks in the nation, roughly fifteen summits above two thousand meters spread across nearly thirty kilometers.
And upon one of those peaks, the Grand Hall, a single legend had been passed down.
According to the tale, the gods had split into two factions and fought fiercely until they suddenly descended upon a human-world peak and agreed to a truce.
That peak was the Grand Hall, and the story reeked of propaganda.
For that very reason, many of the continent’s most renowned temples had been erected there.
One of them belonged to the wretch who had saddled me with this fate—the temple of Gerka.
In this world, it was considered highly advisable for a noble daughter to spend two or three years studying at a temple before marriage.
Gerka’s temple in particular was top-tier. Entry would be difficult, but the title of royal chamberlain’s daughter would serve as a free pass.
Once inside Hamilcar Territory, I could attend bride-training classes at the temple of Gerka and search for a way to approach the inner circle of the Hamilcar family.
However, my seemingly perfect plan slammed into a formidable obstacle right at the first gate.