Chapter 71
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: That Is the Problem
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It was a refreshing morning.
Alain, the Family Head, stood by the window and drew in a deep breath almost unconsciously.
His chest didn't catch.
The air seeped naturally into his lungs without any forced effort.
"Hm..."
He exhaled softly, savoring the unfamiliar sensation.
"So this is the world as breathed by those with sound hearts. Truly... splendid."
Ten days after the surgery.
Alain had recovered enough to stand on his own.
Of course, it was absurd to rise just ten days after such major heart surgery.
In the modern world, he'd be confined to intensive care, unable to move.
But he was the Family Head of the Raltos house.
He held a position where top-tier recovery magic could be supplied nonstop to match his healing body.
From the day Lucas declared, "It's stabilized enough now to push recovery with magic," Alain had received healing without fail, every single day.
And the result was this body before him now.
"Even deep breaths bring no discomfort anymore. A feeling like this... it's my first time."
Lucas nodded at his words but immediately drew a line.
"Still, no overdoing it. Exercise is off-limits for the time being."
"I... see..."
Alain frowned in dissatisfaction.
"Training the body was the joy of my life..."
"That's exactly why your heart ended up so riddled with holes."
Lucas cut in flatly.
"Overtraining, chronic stress, excessive breathing—all of it. Not just exercise; you need to manage emotional swings too. I'll come check on you regularly myself for a while."
"Ugh..."
He sighed and nodded.
"Understood. I'll follow your advice."
At first, he'd seen this frail body as a trial from the heavens.
So he'd gritted his teeth and trained harder, never stopping even when breath failed him.
Before he knew it, what started as forced exercise had become habit, then hobby.
And now, to stop?
To say there was no regret would be a lie.
But—
Alain suddenly had another thought.
Thanks to this recklessness, this body, he'd gained a certain "connection."
More than the mended heart or eased breathing, something else filled his mind.
This child.
The boy—not quite a man yet—now checking his pulse with hands on his wrist.
An heir to Argent blood, yet never once protected under that name.
A bastard.
In noble society, that single word was the perfect excuse to treat someone as less than human.
Alain knew that gaze better than anyone.
And the fact that a person raised in such a gaze had now saved his heart.
A short chuckle escaped him.
The world is truly twisted.
"Lucas Argent."
This time, it wasn't a mere question.
"Have you no desires?"
"Desires?"
"Yes."
Alain didn't press for an answer.
This child's blood was undoubtedly Argent.
But solely because that blood was impure, the name had been a chain, not a shield, all his life.
Hunger.
Contempt.
And a name that offered no protection.
That was why he asked.
At least, he wanted to repay his life-saving benefactor as much as he could.
Yet—
Lucas glanced around once, then whispered so only Alain could hear.
Murmuring softly.
The moment he heard it, Alain's eyes changed completely.
A grin spread.
"Ha."
A short breath, and laughter burst out.
"That'll do it, will it?"
He slowly rose to his feet.
His body wasn't fully recovered, but his posture was unmistakably that of a Family Head.
"You saved my life. And you think we'll end it at just that?"
Alain declared firmly.
"Heavens, trying to repay a debt and only piling on more—my apologies."
"Haha. Well, we share the same enemies, so this is plenty for me."
That smile wasn't mere goodwill.
It was resolve.
"How long do you intend to let Lucas Argent roam free?"
The words came from the Argent Family Head's office.
A room only purebloods could enter.
A space where rank was divided not by name alone, but by blood.
Wolfram spoke first.
"I can no longer stomach seeing a bastard child coming and going beyond the territory."
This time, Seratina.
Her tone was calm, but the disgust was unconcealed.
"He should have stayed holed up in the annex, breathing quietly until it was time to sell him off for what little value he had. That's his place!"
Syl gnashed her teeth.
Her jaw muscles twitched with raw fury.
"Exactly! Princess or whatever, we let him wander from the annex, and he should be grateful enough to bow his head like the bastard he is—instead, he's strutting around everywhere!"
Her voice grew rougher.
"Lately, he acts like he's somebody!"
Finally, Walter spoke.
Urgent breaths, matched by increasingly filthy words.
"The real issue is the high elf! What if he actually leaves seed with Ira?"
Walter's mouth twisted.
"That would be a mongrel. The moment the blood mixes, it'll be less than expected—no, better off never born!"
The room's air froze in an instant.
No one thought the words excessive.
This was Argent, where such language was sincere common sense.
Then.
Agram raised his head.
Very slowly.
Like gazing down at insects.
That single look silenced all four.
It wasn't words; the air itself shifted.
Agram said nothing.
No rebuke, no denial.
Everyone present knew what that silence meant.
In Argent, bastards were not family.
They were mere tools, alive only when useful.
"Indeed."
His low murmur hushed the room.
"Lucas Argent has clearly crossed the line a bastard should never breach."
"Y-yes!"
"So we must take action now!"
"But."
Agram cut them off, scanning his four children in turn.
Faces spouting judgments worse than a bastard's.
Only then did he continue, voice slightly lowered.
"I don't know how he got tangled with Princess Evelyn, the flower of the imperial palace..."
"......"
"But we can't deny he's secured a 'connection' that lets him enter the imperial family."
The air stiffened.
"But, Family Head."
Wolfram stepped forward.
His voice laced with impatience.
"Do we really need Princess Evelyn?"
The words carried a clear premise.
Comparing purebloods like themselves to a bastard was an insult in itself.
"We've already secured ties with Prince Karl, the frontrunner for next emperor."
He caught his breath and pressed on.
"From the imperial court's inner circle to the shadows they can't reveal—nothing escapes Argent's grasp."
"Exactly, Family Head."
Seratina chimed in.
Her tone steady, her calculus ruthless.
"I don't know how Lucas Argent hooked the princess, but that connection isn't worth much."
Of course, Agram knew as much.
The aged emperor.
The empire's current master, who could pass any day.
And his successor.
First Prince Karl.
Born without rivals worth the name, save one sister whose mother was poisoned.
A man ignorant of politics, viewing power as his birthright, drunk on his destined throne.
That was why.
He'd fallen quickest to Argent's hands, fulfilling forbidden desires in the underworld.
His ugly tastes within the palace walls—all funneled through paths Argent carved.
With such backing already in hand, one mere princess wasn't essential.
However.
Agram's gaze fixed on an unseen point.
The issue wasn't mere friendship with the princess.
It was that a bastard had grown within Argent with the ability to entangle with her.
That point exactly.
What a dilemma.
Clearly, if these four grew to lead Argent, Lucas Argent would become an unnecessary variable.
Already crossing lines, moving beyond the family's order.
If unchecked, he'd eventually veer uncontrollably.
Better to eliminate while still within reach.
So Agram judged.
However.
Too valuable a talent to discard.
Strip away the bastard label and judge as a person alone—how often does such caliber appear on this continent?
Born to a bloodline that demanded bowed heads in noble society, yet daring to face direct heirs head-on.
Not just saving dying slaves, but bringing them back as immediately usable assets that stunned the entire house.
And above all.
Even unintended, people rearranged, events intertwined, the board's flow subtly shifted by his nature.
No education could forge such talent.
It was innate, direction set from birth.
Without the bastard yoke, he'd have bloomed long ago.
Just months ago, a pathetic wretch flailing for family notice.
Now, like a completely different person.
Agram tapped the armrest with a finger.
Time to decide.
Kill?
Or spare?
But that deliberation was forcibly cut short.
"F-Family Head!"
The door burst open.
"Insolent!"
"Daring to enter without permission—!"
The children shouted, but the breathless messenger had no time for rebukes.
Panting, voice trembling, he spoke.
"Forgive me, but urgent news...!"
"Speak."
Agram's curt word silenced the room instantly.
"Alain Raltos. The current Family Head of the Raltos house..."
At the name, Agram's brow twitched faintly.
"...has formally requested entry permission to Argent territory alongside Young Master Lucas."
The air reacted a beat late.
The children froze speechless; even Agram's gaze lingered lowered for a moment.
"...What?"
Everyone in the room grasped the implication.
He now had value worth sparing.