Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired – Chapter 2

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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What was this?

I’d never seen this symbol before.

It was… a potion and… a hand?

It wasn’t an elemental symbol, nor did it appear to represent protection.

“…Did I fail the gacha?”

Did I even have a talent?

There were two symbols, so this body must have something…

I hurriedly searched for the meaning of the symbols. Two was better than one, right?

“I’m screwed…”

Yep, totally screwed.

The potion was the symbol of an alchemist, and the hand represented creation.

Both were useless in combat.

These talents were more suited for crafting than fighting.

In a world where monsters constantly emerged from spontaneously generated “Gates,” where battles were commonplace, these abilities were utterly worthless.

And that was precisely why these professions were looked down upon by almost everyone.

What use was crafting in the middle of constant warfare?

At best, I could make healing potions. But even that, considering the time investment, was less effective than having a priest on hand.

And in the time it took to create something, channeling mana into a sword was far more practical in battle.

Of course, if I used these talents cleverly, I might find success. But it would be an incredibly difficult path to advancement, especially here in House Reinhardt, known as a family of knights.

‘I have to report this to Father tomorrow… and how will I face Mother…?’

This wouldn’t do. I had to find a way.

I tried to figure out how to salvage this situation, but despite my intentions, my eyelids grew heavy.

I’d exhausted my mana and fallen into a state of “mana depletion.”

‘Wait… if I fall asleep now, I’m really screwed…’

Someone once said that eyelids weigh more than a thousand pounds.

They were right.

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The next morning, I had to find the Duke and report the results of last night.

Naturally, I had no idea where he was in this vast mansion, so I asked a maid cleaning the stairs,

“Where is the Duke?”

“He’s in the reception room, Young Master.”

The reception room, a space designed for receiving guests, was more ornately decorated than other rooms, so I found it easily.

And now, I stood before its doors. Intricate carvings adorned the wood, and a golden handle gleamed. It was a beautiful door, like something out of a fairytale. The sheer extravagance of it was palpable.

“Father… it’s Jenison. I’ve come to report on the manifestation of my symbol.”

Knock, knock—

I stated my purpose, and moments later, the door opened on its own.

Creeeaaak—

“…!”

A fierce aura washed over me, making me instinctively recoil. Despite the morning hour, the curtains were drawn, shrouding the room in darkness. Within, the Duke’s imposing figure slowly came into view.

He wore the empire’s traditional military uniform. His hair and beard were white with age. The rugged muscles and scars that crisscrossed his body seemed to make him appear even larger. In comparison, my still-young head bowed automatically.

I hadn’t bowed like this since my time as a slave.

“So… your symbol has manifested…?”

A mountain of documents lay before him. Without looking up, he addressed me, his voice laced with indifference.

…He truly wasn’t a good father. Maybe it was because I wasn’t used to noble society, but in the 21st century, a father like him would have been on the news. Headlines would scream about a father who showed no love for his child.

‘Anyway… how do I tell him?’

He was incredibly stern and strict. And fiercely proud of his family. He wouldn’t take the news of my symbols well.

“Speak. Why are you silent?”

I had no choice.

I had to tell him.

I couldn’t lie, the symbols were clearly visible on the back of my hand. There was no way to hide them.

“My… symbols have manifested.”

“What are they?”

“…A potion and a hand.”

“…What?”

A killing intent, so intense it nearly made me lose consciousness, erupted from the Duke. It happened so fast, less than a second. This small, young body almost fainted from the sheer force of his aura.

“I apologize…”

But it made one thing clear: the Duke was furious.

House Reinhardt had produced countless knights capable of taking on a hundred men. Knights with vast combat experience, thanks to their territory’s proximity to the monster-infested forest.

My brother, Allen, unmatched among his peers, already a near-knight. My sister, Aria, whose skill in elemental magic rivaled that of House Luniere. And numerous other capable retainers.

And in this thriving family, a clerical talent like alchemy had emerged? From his own bloodline?

Honestly, while I didn’t understand it, in a society like this, the Duke’s anger was perhaps understandable. The nobles I’d encountered valued honor above life itself.

Grit—

The sound of the Duke grinding his teeth. If this news got out, not only the nobles, but even the servants and commoners would mock the family. And my mother was a commoner… they would never let her forget it.

Being one of the four great houses meant there were bound to be enemies eager to tear them down.

Having revealed everything, all I could do was wait for the Duke, who remained stubbornly silent.

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The Duke contemplated what he had to do to protect his family’s honor.

‘For that boy to succeed with such useless talents…’

It was a risky proposition.

For such mediocre abilities to appear in a family that had dedicated its life to the sword…

Could this bastard son, a mere byproduct, truly live up to his expectations?

If he could, it would undoubtedly benefit the family…

‘But that’s unlikely, judging by his usual behavior.’

Jenison had been frail since childhood.

He couldn’t even wield a longsword properly, nor did he possess exceptional mana capacity or magical talent like his siblings.

What if he invested in this boy and he failed?

‘The family’s prestige would plummet.’

People would say that such a deviant had emerged from his family, a family that had trained and produced swordsmen for generations.

‘Then… it would be better to blame everything on him…’

Even if he hid Jenison now, the truth would inevitably come out when he entered the academy.

It was only a matter of time before everyone knew that such a useless child had been born into a family of knights, one of the four great houses.

Countless nobles would criticize and dissect the news.

But… if he blamed all of this not on the family, but on Jenison himself?

If he claimed that the boy’s inherent inadequacy, not their bloodline, was the problem?

It was a despicable thing for a father to do, but the Duke wasn’t concerned with such things. He was a nobleman consumed by his ambition and reputation.

‘If I do this, it will protect the family from disgrace…’

He weighed his son’s reputation against his family’s honor. For him, a father and a Duke, the choice was simple.

“…Jenison, how old are you this year?”

“…? Ten… years old.”

“Then you’ll be entering the academy soon.”

“…Yes.”

“Listen carefully. If you enter the academy…”

You will become a scoundrel.

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I was speechless after hearing the Duke’s words.

I wondered if he was in his right mind.

Of course, I hadn’t expected any fatherly affection from him. The fact that I addressed him as “Duke” instead of “Father” was proof enough that I didn’t consider him a paternal figure.

And it seemed the sentiment was mutual. No sane father would make such a proposition to his son.

To tell him to enter a prestigious academy and act like a scoundrel? And to a ten-year-old child, no less.

“If I may be so bold… may I ask why you’ve given me such an order?”

I desperately hoped he would rescind it, even at this very moment. This wasn’t something a father should ask of his son. It was something a crime boss would demand of his underling.

“You don’t actually think your useless talents suit our family, do you?”

“…”

“That’s why I’ve given you this order. If you prove that you alone are useless…”

“…”

“…then at least it won’t reflect poorly on our family.”

It was absurd.

How could a father say such a thing?

And to his own child’s face?

I knew our family was large and powerful, one of the four great houses, with many enemies.

But I couldn’t comprehend his actions.

He might have feared damage to his reputation, or perhaps he couldn’t stand the thought of a mediocrity like me tainting his meticulously cultivated family.

But to cast aside his own blood for such a reason?

He must have considered the consequences of this being revealed later.

He couldn’t have overlooked the possibility of me exposing him.

“…Judging by your expression, you have many complaints.”

“…”

Of course I had complaints. My own father was abandoning me. I was sure anyone in my position would feel the same.

Just then, the Duke spoke again.

“Your mother, Sariel…”

“…?”

“She seems to be in poor health… Do you think she could survive out in this cold weather?”

The Duke’s expression in that moment was more depraved than any I had ever seen.

I had to make a choice.

My mother was already frail. If she were forced to live outside as he suggested… she might not survive.

But accepting his proposal filled me with dread. This peaceful life I’d finally obtained after enduring so much pain, oppression, and humiliation, to throw it all away because of my mother…

“…I accept, Duke.”

“…Accept what?”

“I will do as you wish. Just let my mother continue to live here.”

It was strangely easy to throw it all away for her.

‘It makes sense…’

This life had only lasted ten years. But the love I received from her in that short time was greater than all the love I’d received in my seven previous lives combined.

It wasn’t even close.

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