Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: ...Scared? (Plus Conversion Complete)
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...Scared?
(Plus Conversion Complete)
I had a fair bit of expertise when it came to tea, even in my previous life.
Saving someone on the brink of death was a war waged down to the second, but even in the thick of it, tea time was the one ritual that let doctors breathe as the heart settled back into a human rhythm.
And that was probably why.
The fragrance drifting from the Argent Family Head's room felt familiar at the tip of my nose.
The deep, sweet aroma unique to Keemun black tea, laced with the aftertaste of thickly brewed honey and dried fruits, wafted through the air.
As expected from the Family Head's quarters—even a single cup of tea exuded the poise of royalty.
I elegantly lifted the teacup by its handle and remarked,
"Mm~ Lovely aroma. The cinnamon in this black tea really elevates that final bittersweet note."
In one hand, I savored the scent with the teacup. In the other, I dangled a mana grenade that would go boom if I so much as loosened my grip a fraction.
In that room where every heir held their breath, I was the only one enjoying tea time.
Before me sat my two brothers and two sisters... with Syl Argent in particular glaring daggers, ready to kill. But in front of the family, a smile was always the mark of good manners.
So I flashed them a grin.
Sipping my tea, swinging the grenade, toying with the tension in the room.
"Lucas Argent. Do you even grasp the meaning of what you're doing right now... or are you just clueless?"
My eldest brother, Wolfram, finally spoke up.
True to form for someone eyeing the family head's seat, he was putting on a stern front even with a mana grenade that could blow at any moment right in front of him. That bluster—I got it.
Any heir to this dark family needed that kind of guts.
Wolfram gripped his sword hilt with one hand, staring me down sharply as if ready to sever my head at any second.
Without the grenade, he probably would've lunged already.
I gave my teacup a light swirl and replied,
"What do you mean? I'm just having a cozy family tea time, that's all. Haha."
"Tea time...? You think this looks like tea time?!"
"You madman! You can still stomach tea like this? Disgusting!"
As Wolfram erupted, Seratina jabbed a finger at me accusingly.
"How can someone with Argent blood be this barbaric? Threatening Syl is bad enough—you're really going all out, aren't you?!"
"Right! Who do you think you are, you filthy bastard...! And that's my cup! Father gave it to me to use!"
Syl was hiding behind her sister's skirt, venting a mix of grievance and fury.
And Walter... he just stared me down in silence.
His eyes said it all.
'I hope that bastard trash dies right here today.'
All four of them surrounded me, scolding like they were the dutiful older siblings disciplining the baby of the family.
At least on the surface.
But as I gazed at them steadily... a smirk tugged at my lips unbidden.
And in the next moment—
"Pfft... heh heh heh heh—"
"Wh-what...?"
"He's... laughing...?"
The sound leaking from my mouth grew louder.
I tried to stifle it, but it only burst out harder.
"Lucas Argent. You've finally lost your mind?!"
"No? I'm not crazy."
I set down my teacup and said,
"You're just too ridiculous for me to hold it in."
"Ri... ridiculous?"
I sucked in a breath, but the laughter bubbled up again.
This discordant circus of flour-dusted dark family heirs was just too nauseating.
I gave the grenade a little shake and spelled it out for these idiots, one by one.
"If I'm a bastard, disown me. If I'm blood, look after me. Pick a lane."
The air in the room froze solid the moment the words landed.
"They call me filthy for being a bastard, but then say I have to be protected for the sake of the Argent name—so which tune am I supposed to dance to? What kind of half-assed family logic is that?"
The room went deathly quiet, cold as ice.
"Am I the crazy one? Or—"
I slowly swept my gaze across my siblings seated opposite me at the table.
"Are you?"
At that single line, all four faces twisted in unison.
Fury surged, bewilderment flickered, shame and disgust mingled openly on their expressions.
But not one of them spoke.
Because that nail I'd just driven home was a truth even they couldn't refute.
The original Lucas would've groveled with a 'Thank you so much~' and wormed his way in, calling it attention.
But I'm no pushover like that.
And right then, a chill swept through the room.
"So, what exactly are you trying to say."
"...!"
"F-Family Head!"
One cold, dry sentence sucked the warmth from the entire room in an instant.
From the moment I'd entered this place, I'd sensed it: 'That man's dangerous.'
A white-haired man shrouded in pallor and the aura of decayed death.
Agram Argent.
The final black curtain of Vengeful Goddesses.
Lucas's father—and a monster who, even in the original story, never once called Lucas his 'child'.
That monster was looking at me now.
His beast-like, slit pupils fixed on my eyes, devouring them.
"You're not pulling this stunt just to get attention. Get to the point."
"Family Head! No need to indulge a bastard like—"
"Exactly! We'll handle him ourselves—"
"Quiet."
One word.
But the instant that syllable dropped, Wolfram and Seratina went rigid, as if their breath had been cut off, bowing deeply.
Their mouths, mid-sentence, clamped shut like they'd been seized.
Agram didn't even blink.
Eyes like a void, utterly empty abyss with no trace of light.
That hollow gaze seemed to swallow every bit of warmth in the room.
'Ah, so that's why this guy's the final boss in the original.'
The thought surfaced naturally.
And ironically, seeing my bickering older siblings silenced with a single word actually cleared the air for me, making it easy to keep going.
The room's mood was in the toilet, but I just smiled wide and continued.
"Ah, it's nothing major. When heirs of the Argent Family clash, there's always that one way we handle it, right?"
"...Speak."
"A duel."
Agram's pupils quivered ever so slightly.
The other four heirs' faces hardened.
"Are you referring to the 'Proxy Blood Fate'?"
"Yes. That's the one."
I nodded, giving the grenade a casual shake.
"We pit our slaves against each other, settle it one-on-one, and the loser pays up clean... A fine family tradition from a clan that grew fat selling slaves."
Proxy Blood Fate.
A tradition any Argent heir would know.
A blood-inscribed rule passed down through centuries of family history.
It wasn't just some 'slave fight'.
It was the Argent Family's self-proven method—not aristocratic arrogance, but a bloody mechanism to maintain order as 'lords of the shadows'.
Back in the era when slave trading began dominating the continent's underbelly.
As the number of heirs exploded exponentially, the family risked constant blades at each other's throats.
The Family Head, after much deliberation, enacted one iron law.
Never kill blood kin.
Instead, let each heir's 'shadow'—their slaves—spill blood in proxy.
That was the origin of Proxy Blood Fate.
The rules were simple.
No restrictions on weapons. Gender, age, origin—none of it mattered.
Surrender only recognized when declared by the 'master'.
And the master of the last slave standing wins.
The loser... forfeits some of their heir rights.
Or gets culled from the family entirely.
The winner?
Claims greater authority without spilling a drop of their own blood.
A perfect system to prevent bloody massacres within the family while drilling home the creed: 'Slaves are power'.
And now, I, Lucas Argent, had invoked its name before the Family Head.
"I've got beef with Syl Argent, so per family rules, shouldn't we settle it with Proxy Blood Fate?"
"Don't make me laugh!"
Syl jabbed a finger at me, her face beet red, practically shrieking.
No wonder.
Proxy Blood Fate could only be demanded by 'legitimate heirs recognized by the Family Head'.
"That's a time-honored, honorable method reserved for true Argent heirs! You think a bastard like you can just invoke Proxy Blood Fate?!"
With her older siblings frozen under Father's gaze, her outburst meant I'd hit the bullseye.
And as if on cue, the other beasts joined the barking.
"Precisely, Family Head. Lucas Argent challenging Syl to Proxy Blood Fate... ."
"Absurd. Even entertaining the idea of a bastard's name side-by-side with a legitimate heir in the duel records is a disgrace to the family!"
"Better to let him blow himself up with that grenade! The moment he does, my sister and I will risk our lives to protect you! No need to listen to that fool's mouth!"
...Ah, they'd regained their courage.
True to the family blood, cowardice must run in the veins too.
Wolfram and Seratina's tones had already shifted to 'I don't care if I die'.
Perfect—the mood was ripe.
Now just decide how to cook it—
"Lucas Argent. Nothing more to say?"
"...Me?"
"Yes. Is that the end of your demands?"
It was Agram's voice.
I didn't know why this man was addressing Lucas first for once, but it was the golden opportunity.
"What more can I do? If you rule against Proxy Blood Fate, I'll just blow myself up right here."
I tapped the grenade playfully—tap tap—and continued.
"You'd survive for sure, Family Head... but only one would be left standing."
Silence hardened the room like concrete.
At that moment, I deepened my smile and landed the final blow.
"The 'family disgrace' of how the legitimate heirs of Argent nearly blew up the Family Head's entire room over one bastard."
"!!!"
"You bastard Lucas...!"
"You dare tarnish the family even in death?!"
"That stain... will never, ever be erased, no matter what."