Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired – Chapter 9

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Leon Benil, the eldest son of House Benil, was in a good mood.

The nervous boy cowering before him was the reason.

‘Heh heh heh, the great Jenison, groveling at my feet…’

The arrogant Jenison, who’d terrorized the academy, relying solely on his family name.

But that was over.

During his 50-day absence, a rumor had spread throughout the academy, Jenison is no longer a Reinhardt.

‘So you’re just a commoner now…!’

House Benil was only an Earldom, the middle rank of the five noble ranks. But even that was an insurmountable wall for a mere commoner.

Leon had chosen Jenison as his next target. He’d ordered his followers to torment him, and they’d obeyed without hesitation, knowing Jenison was no longer protected.

At first, they’d been cautious. Rumors were just rumors. What if Jenison hadn’t been disowned? The consequences would be dire.

But his indifferent reaction confirmed the truth, and they’d abandoned all restraint.

They tripped him, stuck paper on his back, bumped into him in the hallways, splashed him with water – childish pranks, perhaps, but the academy didn’t tolerate bullying, so they had to maintain the pretense of “accidents.” Even these minor humiliations would be a significant blow to the once-arrogant noble.

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It wasn’t going as planned.

Jenison didn’t react. He simply laughed it off. His arrogance was gone, replaced by the demeanor of a commoner who knew his place.

Leon was annoyed. He’d hoped Jenison would retaliate, giving him a reason to punish him, to put him in his place and enjoy his humiliation.

He needed an excuse. And he finally found one. It was flimsy, but it would do.

Jenison, a commoner, had sighed audibly in the presence of a noble. That was enough.

He’d punched Jenison, relishing the satisfying thud, but the boy had just smiled. Leon smiled inwardly.

‘What are you going to do? I’m a noble, and you’re nothing.’

He’d taunted Jenison about his commoner mother, reveling in his own cruelty.

And finally, he’d gotten the reaction he wanted.

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He’d crossed the line.

I could tolerate his attacks on me. It was my fault, my karma, for my past actions.

But insulting my mother, Sariel? That was different.

My mother, who’d spent her life in pain, confined to her bed. The woman who’d always shown me kindness, always smiled, always held her head high despite the judging eyes of others. My only family.

He’d insulted her, right in front of me.

Of course, I snapped.

“W… What…?”

He looked bewildered, but I didn’t care. Rage consumed me.

And then, I found a way to kill him legally.

I ripped off my left glove and threw it in his face.

“I, Jenison, challenge you, Leon Benil, to a duel of honor.”

Murmurs erupted around us.

A duel of honor. The only legally sanctioned form of murder in the empire. Nobles valued honor above life itself, and the empire allowed them to fight to the death to defend it.

But there was a problem.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? You’re a commoner. A duel of honor is a noble’s right. Do you really think I’d grant you a duel for insulting your worthless commoner honor?”

That was it. Honor was a privilege exclusive to nobles. Jenison, a commoner, had no grounds for a duel.

Or so he thought.

“You seem to misunderstand, Leon Benil. I’m not challenging you for my honor.”

“I’m challenging you for the honor of my mother, you son of a bitch.”

Leon was speechless. He’d been blindsided.

While Mother was a commoner by birth, she was the Duke’s wife. And she’d died as such. Insulting her was grounds for a duel. Jenison had exploited a loophole.

“Accept, Leon Benil. If you have even a shred of intelligence, you know what refusing this duel means.”

Refusing a duel of honor was an admission of cowardice, a forfeiture of honor. In noble society, loss of honor meant a loss of prestige for your family and a ruined reputation. For Leon, a top student in Class A, it would be devastating.

But Leon was confident.

“I don’t know what gives you the confidence to challenge me.”

“…”

“Your combat skills are pathetic. I question how you even got into Class A.”

He was right. Everyone knew Jenison had only been admitted to Class A because of his family’s influence. His combat abilities were laughable. And his arrogance, combined with his weakness, made him universally disliked.

It was one of the reasons Leon had targeted him.

“That’s my business. You’re not going to back down, are you?”

“Heh. Of course not. Why would I pass up an opportunity to toy with you?”

A storm was brewing at the academy.

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“Why don’t you surrender now, Jenison? I might just spare your limbs.”

His sneer made me nauseous.

I would kill him. I’d splatter his blood and burn his flesh, leaving no trace. I wouldn’t stop until he begged for death.

With that resolve, I entered Training Ground 1, my bag in hand.

The stands were packed with students. Upperclassmen ensuring the safety of the duel, and other students eager to witness the spectacle.

They probably wanted to see the infamous Jenison get crushed by the son of House Benil.

I stepped onto the dirt floor of the training ground.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to arm yourself?”

He gestured at the bag in my hand.

His own weapon was a magnificent sword. His mana characteristic, Fighting Spirit, manifested at a young age, granting him a constant flow of mana as long as he didn’t give up. This meant he could continuously enhance his sword and body with mana.

This ability placed him among the strongest in Class A.

Compared to him, my talents were pathetic. My swordsmanship was among the worst in the academy.

But I was confident I could win. I hadn’t spent 50 days locked away in my room just to endure this humiliation.

If I couldn’t even defeat a neighborhood brat, I had no right to call myself anything.

‘These talents aren’t useless for combat. They might even be superior.’

Of course, using them this way required an insane level of mental fortitude.

And this wasn’t a sparring match. This was a duel to the death. And I knew how to kill.

Killing him wouldn’t bring any repercussions on my family. There were no restrictions. I had no reason to hold back.

“We will now begin the duel of honor between Leon Benil and Cadet Jenison.”

Professor Oliver, Class B’s instructor, stood before us, explaining the rules. A professor was required to ensure the safety of the spectators.

Honestly, I preferred just killing him.

“…And this is just a suggestion, but try not to kill each other.”

As they said, there were no bad bald men. Was the gleam from his head a halo?

“You fool, this is your last chance. Beg like a dog, and I might spare you.”

I smiled and gave him the finger.

“Less talk, more action.”

His face turned red. Good.

“You’ll regret this…”

Even his trash talk was cliché.

The signal sounded, and we charged.

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