The double life of a count’s bastard

Episode 1

“Where have you been and what have you been doing?”

The Countess, Richelle, looked at her only son with a complicated gaze.

“On important business.”

Rousseau, uncomfortable with his mother’s gaze, averted his eyes and replied deliberately bluntly.

“I’m glad. It must have gone well, seeing as how your face isn’t broken.”

Rousseau clenched his molars at the warmth in his mother’s voice, genuinely concerned for him.

“Why did you want to see me?”

Rousseau asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Russo, you’re Slater.”

Rousseau’s brow twitched at the words, a reprimand to stop wandering.

“A half Slater, I suppose, with a little blood in his veins.”

“……Russo.”

“Well, don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of my own from now on, and so will my mother…….”

Rousseau started to say something but then clamped his mouth shut.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Russo stood up, as if he couldn’t take it anymore.

“If you have nothing else to say, I’m going to leave.”

“Russo…….”

Rousseau spoke unilaterally, pretending he hadn’t heard his mother’s call for him, and stormed out of the room.

“Whoooooo…….”

Taking a deep breath, Rousseau leaned back against the doorstep and thought back to the past.

“I heard that a thousand and one-year-old bitch who was doing nothing but hustling got pregnant with the Count’s child and took his wife’s place?

“Otherwise, how could she dare to pretend to be a countess? The count is a great man, and if it were any other noble family, it would be impossible!

“A thousand-year-old son is so great?

What’s the point of being great? He’s just going to be raised as the Slater family’s dog and be stuck in Karon and Aaron’s shadow for the rest of his life.

“I suppose that’s true. Where else are you going to show off a low-blooded child with no legitimacy?

“And a thousand years of watching my child live like a Slater dog for the rest of his life because of your brilliant genius?

“Then why are you being so greedy and making your child suffer for the rest of his life? You deserve it, and who can blame you?

A private conversation between noblewomen that Rousseau overheard on his 10th birthday.

For the first time, Rousseau was confronted with the truth that had eluded him all these years, and he realized his predicament with clarity.

And he understood everything.

The attitudes of the family elders who had subtly treated him differently from his two brothers, the behavior of his mother, who, despite being a countess, was somehow unassuming, and the people who had secretly laughed at him.

From the moment Rousseau realized that as a half-blood Slater, he was doomed to live in the shadow of his two older brothers for the rest of his life, he decided to be an asshole.

“…… asshole.”

Russo chewed on his bottom lip and cursed himself.

He still had nine more years to live as a tramp because he was pessimistic about his life because of where he came from.

In his dreams, he learns the truth about his father and brothers only at the end of his life, but by then it’s too late, and he’s left with nothing but regret.

The last of the regrets is the inevitable tragic ending.

“I’ll change everything, everything, everything!”

And.

“I’ll protect …… everything.

Rousseau stares at his mother’s visit for a long time, unable to get the words out of his mouth.

* * *

“So…… failed.”

Rousseau clenched his fists as he watched the expedition exit the Inkeran Mountains.

He hoped not, but the dream had once again proven him wrong.

Defeated.

The expedition, which had set out so confidently, was now entering the territory in the form of a battered and bruised army.

Day 56, to be exact.

Rousseau’s face hardened more than ever at the eerie precision of the date.

His father, the imposing Earl of Jarvis Slater, wore the heavy burden of defeat on his face.

His face was scruffy, as if he hadn’t bathed in days, and his hair, which was always immaculately groomed, was unrecognizable.

The battle scars on his body were also a direct indication of the hardships he had endured.

He wasn’t the only one.

The knights and soldiers lined up left, right, and behind him, and none of them looked any better.

It was hard to look away any longer from the misery of those being carried by others, or on stretchers, as if walking alone were somehow a comfort.

“Felento’s protective necklace must have done its job.”

Russo’s lips twitched at the sight of Aaron walking alone, unharmed and unharmed, though Molgol was as grim as the others.

In the precognitive dream, Aaron had returned with injuries so severe that he could barely think straight.

Rousseau had changed his future.

“You owe me a lot,” Russo muttered something to himself and turned away, though Aaron might have been thinking the same thing.

It was the day of the expedition’s return, so he had purposely stayed out to wait for them, and now that he had seen them return, that was enough.

No, he was even more nervous now that he had seen with his own eyes that the future was not easily changed.

Rousseau arrived at the outskirts of the estate, away from the crowds.

“Where are you going?”

As if he had been waiting for a long time, the man sitting in the clearing stood up and glared at Rousseau.

He was in his mid-twenties.

His brown, stop-style hair was loosely tied back, and he was a rather cool-looking man with deep-set eyes and an upturned nose.

He stood in his late sixties, and the strength that radiated from his muscular frame was enough to make anyone take a second look.

“I need to check on something.”

Rousseau replied dryly and drew his sword from the belt at his waist.

“Shall we begin immediately?”

“Don’t you know that time is gold?”

“If time is gold, then Master …… must be one of the richest men in the world?”

The man sneered, wondering how a man who knew that could live like a bum for so long.

“Of course not. Aren’t I rich enough?”

The words you, but your house to the top of his throat, but the man shook his head and drew his sword, knowing that arguing with Rousseau would only make his head hurt.

Instead.

“Since we’ve wasted precious gold, I’m going to be a little more intense than usual today.”

The man’s lips curled into a wide grin, knowing he had the upper hand in a conversation of the body rather than words.

“I told you, as long as I don’t lose a limb, I don’t care.”

Rousseau’s grin was one of the things I admired about the man, the way he could take a beating and never lose his heart.

“Shall we go in first today?”

“How long are you going to waste gold, come on.”

The man snorted lightly as Rousseau cockily flicked the tip of his sword, then lightly kicked the ground.

Tat-!

With a terrifying kick, the man came right up to Rousseau’s eyes.

Despite the man’s movements, which closed the distance of ten meters in the blink of an eye with a single leap, Rousseau calmly twisted his body and raised his sword.

Kagak!!!

Sparks flew as the blades clashed.

“I told you it’s not about arms and shoulders!”

The man shouted at Rousseau’s flailing upper body like a thunderbolt.

“Even if you wanted to use your lower body, it’s not strong enough to hold on!

Rousseau protested, but the man didn’t listen and kicked him in the calf.

“Snap!

“Crunch!”

Russo’s lower and upper body flipped over, and he landed on the floor.

“Are you going to lie down and grope? I suppose it’s better than standing up and groping and getting hit one more time on the floor.”

With a sneer, the man thrust his sword down like a thunderbolt, and Rousseau barely had time to feel the pain before he was forced to roll away.

Papapap-!!!

The man’s blade cut deep into the ground wherever Rousseau rolled.

If he had moved even slightly in pain, he would have been skewered.

The man’s attacks didn’t even give Russo a chance to catch his breath.

Kaang!

Rousseau stumbled backward, narrowly blocking the blade as it rose from the ground, threatening to cut his groin in half.

“How many times have I told you that you must keep your distance from any opponent!”

Glaring ferociously at Rousseau, who had backed away, the man swung his sword even more wildly.

Kagak! Ka-kang!

All Rousseau could do was barely manage to raise his sword as a shield against the man’s dizzying onslaught.

Despite the vast disparity in skill, Rousseau gritted his teeth and somehow managed to hold on.

But only for a moment.

Buak-!

“Boom!”

Pfft!

Rousseau’s back was slashed, and his chest was kicked to the ground.

This time, the blow was harder, and Rousseau couldn’t get back up easily, and the man knew it, so he kept his sword outstretched and kicked him in the tongue.

“I’ve told you many times, that you’re too bad to train like you’re going to fight, so why don’t you change the way you train now?”

The man hadn’t even broken a sweat, as if he hadn’t even gone the distance of a light workout, despite all the furious attacks he’d been making.

Rousseau, on the other hand, out of breath and drenched in sweat, stood up with a grunt and scowled at the man.

“So, you want me to swing my sword in the air, and at what age can I catch you if I do that?”

“If that question is sincere……, I’ll answer that this life is glorious.”

“See? So this is the only way.”

“You think you can catch me this way?”

The man looked at Rousseau with a knowing look.

Rousseau smiled back at the man who was so sure that no matter what he did, you could never beat me.

“I think a year will be enough time?”

The man’s smile grew wider as he chuckled.

“Then I’ll kill you cleanly the day before the one-year mark.”

The man lunged again, and Rousseau began to parry, raising his sword in a vain attempt to block.

Chuuk-chuuk!!!

In an instant, the wounds on Rousseau’s body multiplied, and red blood quickly soaked his clothes.

Drip-!

The man smirked as the blood on the end of his clothes began to drip onto the ground.

“I guarantee you, Master Russo, this place will be red before you’re dead.”

No matter how much the man laughed at him, Rousseau never lost his temper, even with his white face.

“Buy a new sword, a good one, with the money you gave me before. If you’re blocking me so much, how can you expect me to cut your flesh with a dull blade?”

At Rousseau’s words, the man naturally looked at his blade.

“I’ve certainly gotten better at blocking more often.

Rousseau was rapidly improving, but the man’s grimace made him reluctant to admit it.

“You really…… have a knack for making me want to kill you.”

The man’s sword became faster and faster, and eventually, Russo was unable to parry a single blow and fell to the ground.

The man scratched his head nervously and grumbled as Rousseau lay on the ground, covered in blood and breathing heavily.

“You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t mean to tell me your future hope is going to die an epic death at the hands of the continent’s strongest knight or something?”

“The continent’s strongest? Who? You? I’m going to drown in my navel before I get stabbed to death. Kkkkkk!”

The man sighed as he saw Rousseau’s bloodied face, but his heart was still in the right place.

The ointment, purchased at great expense at the temple, was so effective that the wounds healed in less than a day and the skin regenerated.

But.

“A little goes a long way,” Rousseau said.

Despite Rousseau’s words, the man continued to apply the ointment generously to the wound.

“Put it on thinly! It’s expensive!”

“I thought you said you were rich enough?”

Rousseau was speechless as the man smirked at him.

The man chuckled as Rousseau remained silent, knowing he had won the argument.

It wasn’t until the man had finished meticulously applying the salve to each wound that Rousseau crouched down beside him, staring at him in disbelief.

“What’s the point of doing this? I don’t think many people train this ignorantly.”

“You mean there are, though.”

“Of course, there is, unless they’re desperate, or forced or…….”

Trailing off, the man cast his gaze into the distance.

“Which do you think I am?”

Rousseau asked, and the man shook his head as if he couldn’t think.

“Neither.”

Isn’t Rousseau the asshole who was born into the best of circumstances and lived his life without a care in the world?

It didn’t make sense for him to be doing this crazy training out of desperation, or even out of force.

“……Yes.”

The man’s eyes sunk deeply into Rousseau’s pupils as he stared at the sky and muttered in a low, self-helpful tone.

The man had been watching Rousseau for the past two weeks.

He knew that the man was a neglected wretch, even for the great Earl of Slater, but he was intrigued by the way he sometimes appeared to be something else entirely and tried to hide it.

“Nothing to see here, but I can’t go around getting beaten up when I’m the neglected bastard of the great Earl of Slater, can I?”

Rousseau chuckled, and the man couldn’t help but chuckle a little before he broke down in laughter.

“Well, it would be embarrassing if the great Earl of Slater’s blood were to be seen anywhere.”

The two men then began laughing out loud, neither realizing how childish the conversation was.