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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Jealous? Suck It Up.
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The day after Proxy Blood Fate ended.
In an atmosphere where the entire family seemed to be quietly catching its breath, after stabilizing Piel's condition and finally getting some sleep, I received a summons from Family Head Agram and entered his room alongside the other heirs.
And the moment the door closed, the first thing that came flying was Syl's voice, shrill and broken like a scream.
"This match is invalid!"
I knew there would be complaints, of course... but I never expected them to come at me this brazenly and pathetically.
Syl clearly showed signs of having cried all night.
Her eyes were red and swollen, and her lips were cracked and dry like a child's after sobbing.
She just pointed at me accusingly, her voice nearly breaking into sobs as she raised it high.
"Proxy Blood Fate is supposed to be what?! It's a system where 'proxies' fight instead so the noble Argent bloodlines don't get hurt fighting each other! But that day, Lucas Argent, you were taking the exact same damage your slave was! Do you think that makes any sense?!"
And as if she'd been waiting for Syl's outburst, Seratina chimed in, narrowing her eyes pretentiously as if to maintain her dignity.
"Family Head, I saw it too. Lucas's mana flow was 'linked' with Piel's."
Wolfram even threw in a sneer.
"To pull a trick like that in Proxy Blood Fate, which the family holds sacred... It's a clear violation, which means invalid."
Finally, Walter trailed off feigning thoughtfulness as he poured oil on the fire.
"...I agree. It's a blatant rules violation."
The four of them pointing fingers in unison looked for all the world like a chorus rehearsed to "lynch the bastard child."
Once they lost, they resorted to politics instead of skill.
It was base, driven solely by the emotion of "We hate that Lucas won," without logic or evidence.
'The future of the Argents is that pathetic...'
A sigh escaped me naturally.
In a normal family like this, they'd at least scheme in the shadows.
Undermine the Family Head covertly, fabricate evidence to frame me, or stab me in the back slyly.
That's the level of "dark family" cunning I was expecting.
But these idiots were all just relentlessly—
Anyway, bastard's fault!
Anyway, Lucas cheated!
Daddy, side with us!
...doing exactly that.
What a waste of the reputation as the continent's worst dark family. A commoners' brawl would be more sophisticated.
That's probably why in the original story, all four heirs get pushed out, and the current Family Head—no, an even older Agram—ends up as the final boss himself.
This family was rotten from the start.
But what was most absurd was that these four had seen Family Head Agram for dozens of times longer than I had.
Yet they believed this childish tantrum would work on him.
At that moment, his low, heavy voice cut through the room like a blade.
"Wolfram. Seratina. Walter. Syl."
The four froze simultaneously.
"...!"
"Yes, Family Head!"
"Hehe... Yes, Father!"
"Please speak..."
The moment their names were called, their faces lit up like dogs wagging their tails at their master's return.
However.
That expression froze solid with a single sentence.
"Are you lot... trying to school me right now?"
"...Huh?"
The icy tone made the air in the room collapse in an instant.
Color drained from the four faces.
They'd misjudged. Fatally so.
The bastard cheated?
Used magic?
And that's why they lost?
In Agram's philosophy, such excuses didn't even qualify as noise.
If you're a 'legitimate heir' with Argent blood, whether the opponent is a bastard, cheats, crawls, or whatever—you crush them all. That's a given.
That was the standard Agram had hammered home his entire life for the 'Argent bloodline.'
What magic Lucas used? It meant less than 1mm to this reaper of a Family Head.
There was only one thing that mattered.
Legitimate heir Syl lost to bastard Lucas.
That's it.
Plus, Proxy Blood Fate rules are crystal clear.
Recovery, attack, or enhancement magic where the master directly intervenes in the slave's fight is all banned.
Because it's the master joining the battle.
But the Pactum Mortis I used didn't fall into any of those.
I didn't heal Piel, didn't boost her power, didn't strike the enemy.
I just shared the damage she took.
This wasn't battle intervention—it was burden sharing. Not aiding the slave, but suffering alongside her.
And nowhere in the rules does it say "sharing suffering with your slave is cheating."
Why? Because no sane master in Argent history would ever try it.
Anyway, I didn't even need to argue back.
And as expected, Family Head Agram spoke.
"Helping your slave's attacks in Proxy Blood Fate is indeed cheating. But simply bleeding the same blood and watching, as today? That's not a violation. You four should know that better than anyone."
The four heirs' faces hardened.
"..."
Agram asked again.
"And above all... does that even matter?"
Though his voice lowered, the pressure in the room doubled.
"This duel was a farmer with a hoe against a knight in full plate."
He looked down at Syl and murmured lowly.
"Do you think the knight's defeat is excused because the farmer... wore some tough chainmail? And you lot—are you volunteering as that knight's defense?"
Dead silence, like death itself.
In that spine-chilling moment, I was certain.
Agram doesn't care about cheating or not.
He only cares about the 'losing child.'
That's the way of this family.
The four clamped their mouths shut the instant Agram finished speaking.
Especially Syl, the sole loser here, clutching her skirt hems on both sides, her eyes trembling like they might burst... but she bit her bleeding lip and said nothing to the end.
That heavy silence was broken by Agram's gaze.
Slowly, and surely.
His massive field of vision turned to me.
"So. How does it feel to beat one of those brothers who treated you like dirt and a bug every day?"
Casual curiosity.
But beneath it flowed cold menace.
I shrugged lightly.
"Nothing special."
"...Is that so?"
"Yes. More importantly, since I won Proxy Blood Fate, may I claim my 'reward' now?"
The heirs' faces twisted in unison the moment I finished.
Wolfram ground his teeth, Seratina clenched her fists until veins bulged on her hands, Walter glared like he wanted to tear me apart.
Syl was still a mess, swallowing sobs.
All their reactions were utterly refreshing.
If I were an adult, I'd be toasting to this memory tonight.
Then Agram spoke.
"Indeed. A reward must be given."
But his tone wasn't that of the father who'd just scolded his 'children.'
His eyes now fixed on me like a bird of prey landing on rotten meat—a mere amusing 'critter.'
"But remember this, Lucas Argent."
At the end of his words, his power slammed down into the room like a hammer.
"Do not cross the line."
The meaning was simple.
I'll give you the reward.
But you're still a bastard.
Cross into legitimate heir territory, and I'll erase you instantly.
Win or not, no human treatment. Spit blood to win, and you're still just a bastard.
Even so, I didn't blink.
"...Of course, Family Head."
The 'reward' I wanted was just a tiny sliver of the natural rights those four had been born clutching.
"As the winner of this Proxy Blood Fate, the reward I desire is... once per monthly slave intake day, the 'right' to choose a slave."
The air in the room quivered subtly at my words.
"On slave intake day... you stand in line with those four and me? Line up with the legitimate heirs, show yourself as an option to the slaves?"
His words were calm, but invisible pressure crushed the room's center.
My heart pounded, cold sweat beaded down my back, chill creeping up my lips—I felt it myself.
"Did I not just say not to cross the line."
Slave intake day—
Held the first week of every month, the grand ritual exclusive to the Argent family's legitimate heirs.
The quietest, cruelest event symbolizing the 'hierarchy of blood.'
For the bastard the family hid away to stand proudly there?
From Agram's view, it was naturally overstepping.
But—
Borrowing the wisdom from the Korea I lived in, one phrase sufficed.
'Fuck off and hear me out.'
I bowed my head slightly and said,
"Family Head, I think there's a misunderstanding. I'm not saying I want to pick slaves from the same line as my siblings."
"...Then what?"
"I'm a filthy bastard. So fittingly, if there's any trash-tier slave my siblings discard, I'll pick it up and fix it for reuse. Literal 'recycling.'"
"Recycling?"
Agram's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Forcibly patching up what should be discarded and reusing it—like those filthy commoners' dirty ways?"
"Yes, exactly that. In Korea, it's like hauling it out before the trash truck comes Monday mornings~."
"Trash... truck?"
Agram blinked, as if not understanding.
Of course not.
This world has no such system.
But explanation wasn't the point.
Whether it was me debasing myself as a 'filthy bastard' and groveling, or the precedent of turning trash Piel into a 'gem.'
A slow, very slow smile crept onto Agram's lips.
And finally—
"Kuhahahahaha!!"
Earth-shattering laughter exploded through the room.
As the laughter subsided, Agram nodded again with that 'found another fun toy' look in his eyes.
"Very well. I'll allow that much. What you'll make from scavenged trash... I'll watch with pleasure once more."
Mercy? Grace?
No.
He just permitted it because it's amusing.
But fine.
To him it might be a 'show,' but to me, it's the calculated first step to confirmed victory.
And these fools still don't know.
That among those trash tiers hides the real deal.
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