Chapter 6. The Count Family’s Scoundrel (1)
The blizzard that seemed to engulf the world finally subsided.
In the northern snow-covered mountains, where brutal cold had snuffed out life and left only a bitter chill behind.
Beneath the landscape of pristine white snow.
A head of deep black hair stood out vividly.
From atop the castle walls, the soldiers watching immediately knew who the man was.
Not only was it rare to find someone on the continent with black hair, but that handsome face was unmistakable to any soldier of the Whitewolf Count family.
“What… what should we do, Captain?”
In response to the soldier’s question, the captain replied firmly.
“Do not let him in.”
“Huh…? But Sir Adrian—”
“I know.”
Adrian, the firstborn son of the Whitewolf Count family.
The rightful heir to this fortress.
To deny entry to the lord of the castle was a direct challenge to the order of the territory, but—
“The former Count never acknowledged Adrian, even to the end.”
Adrian, the scoundrel of the Count family.
His very existence disrupted the order of the estate.
Considering the havoc and disorder Adrian would wreak upon returning, this decision was by no means wrong.
“Even Sir Kai ordered that Adrian should not be allowed into the fortress.”
Sir Kai, the Whitewolf family’s chief knight.
At only twenty years old, Kai had become the Count’s strongest warrior.
A knight with natural-born talent, sure to become a Master Knight in the future.
A genius among geniuses, even the royal guard had extended an invitation to him.
The former Count had trusted Kai more than Adrian.
Thus, Kai held overwhelming authority within the fortress.
Especially among the soldiers, who were trained in strict obedience—Kai’s orders were no different than the lord’s.
“…Understood.”
At the mention of “Kai,” the soldiers immediately nodded.
And then—
“Open it.”
A sharp voice came from behind.
As the soldiers turned, a man was walking toward them with steady steps.
“Head Steward!”
The soldiers all saluted at once.
The Head Steward came to stand before the captain.
“Open the gates.”
“B-but…”
“Sir Adrian is the legitimate heir of the Whitewolf family. He is the acting lord of the estate.”
“But the late Count’s will—”
“The royal decree has not yet been issued. Until the royal family officially approves the late Count’s will, Adrian retains the authority of the heir.”
“……”
“I said open the gates. Now.”
The captain bit his lower lip.
The Head Steward possesses the authority to act as lord in emergencies.
And now that the former Count had passed—
Until the next lord was formally confirmed, the Head Steward would act as the interim ruler.
“…Understood.”
Reluctantly, the captain ordered the gates to be opened.
BOOOOM—!
The thick wooden gates creaked open with a thunderous sound.
Slowly and smoothly, the gates parted.
I tilted my head slightly in confusion.
“Huh. Not much resistance?”
It wasn’t just minimal—it was nonexistent.
Honestly, I was sure they wouldn’t open the gates for me.
No one in the family liked me, the so-called scoundrel of the Count house.
Even my father’s will named Seraphia, not me, as his successor. I had become nothing more than a useless ornament.
I was the heir in blood alone.
I had no authority. I was nothing but a disgrace.
I was even prepared to fight the soldiers just to get in.
“If I knew it’d be this easy, I’d have come sooner.”
Instead, I’d nearly killed myself in that blizzard just to level up.
Eventually, the gates opened completely.
Snow piled on the doors fell in clumps, momentarily obscuring my vision.
A man stepped out through the artificial snowstorm.
A man in a neat, black suit.
He looked to be in his late 30s.
His collar was impeccably aligned, and his slicked-back auburn hair was perfectly groomed.
One could tell he didn’t tolerate the slightest error.
“I’ll escort you inside.”
His calm, smooth voice carried almost no emotion.
It was a face I vaguely remembered.
One of the Whitewolf family’s retainers.
His name was…
“What’s your name?”
…I couldn’t quite recall.
At my question, the man’s eyebrow twitched.
Well, from his perspective, I’d only been gone from the family for about a week.
He probably thought I had the memory of a goldfish—if not worse.
Still, he composed himself quickly and answered,
“Bernard.”
“Bernard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bernard… Bernard…”
Even after hearing his name, the memory wouldn’t come back easily.
After all, it had been 15 years since I’d severed ties with this family.
And my memories of the family were even more corrupted by the war with the Emperor.
Still, once I heard the name directly, a few hazy fragments began to surface.
If I remembered right…
“Bernard Neville?”
“That’s correct.”
Bernard gave a slight bow.
Even that small bow had the precision of a knight.
Seeing that familiar discipline brought back a few more memories.
‘He was the Head Steward, wasn’t he?’
The Head Steward holds a position as heavy as acting lord.
Which means his skills—and even his lineage—were scrutinized.
In that sense, Bernard was a noble.
And nobles… valued rules and legitimacy.
Especially when it came to bloodlines—how much trouble that caused during the early formation of the Allied Forces…
Useless fools with loud mouths.
Anyway, Bernard was one of those rule-bound nobles.
A stickler for principles—but also competent.
That’s why my father trusted him, and appointed him as Head Steward despite his youth.
‘He was the only one in the family who ever took my side.’
Not because he liked me.
But because it was by principle.
Inheritance of high-ranking noble titles like Count must follow royal law if passed to anyone other than the primary heir.
Whitewolf was a high-ranking Count house.
In other words, until the royal family acknowledged my father’s will, I retained the rights of a primary heir.
‘Though it’s just a matter of time.’
My father’s will wasn’t forged.
He had truly chosen to leave everything to Seraphia.
So there’s nothing I can take back.
The family has already turned their backs on me—what could I possibly gain?
That’s why, in my past life, I left the family.
And nothing has changed now.
I didn’t return to reclaim the heir’s title.
‘I’m only here until Ian returns.’
Until then, I’ll stay.
Until then, I’ll let Seraphia live.
More precisely, I want to hear why Ian regretted killing Seraphia.
After I hear that reason, I’ll decide what to do with her.
If it’s a pathetic reason?
Like Ian liked her or something?
No way. Ian would never.
As the continent’s hero and supreme commander of the Allied Forces, he wouldn’t regret killing Seraphia for such nonsense.
I’d bet my life on it.
There must be a rational reason for Ian’s regret.
Though there’s no guarantee it’ll be a reason I accept.
And if I don’t?
I’ll kill Seraphia without hesitation.
So there’s no need—or reason—to obsess over the hollow rights of an heir.
What matters now is building a force capable of standing against the Imperial Army.
A power to oppose the Emperor himself.
“The room has been cleaned. Your meal will be delivered to your room as usual. Please rest.”
As Bernard turned to leave, I called him back.
“No. Bring the food somewhere else, not to my room.”
The captain stood stiffly, expression rigid.
Kai’s eyes gleamed coldly as he spoke.
“I distinctly said not to let him in.”
The captain, even more tense, stood at attention.
Kai’s face hardened as he questioned,
“Then why was he let in?”
“Well… the Head Steward gave the order. I had no choice.”
“The Head Steward, you say?”
As Kai’s suspicion rose—
“I was the one who escorted Lord Adrian inside.”
Bernard appeared from the direction of the inner keep.
His steps were perfectly controlled.
Was he a steward or a knight?
“You’re here, Lady Seraphia.”
Bernard bowed politely to Seraphia.
He did not address her as “Count” or “Lord,” but as “Lady Seraphia.”
Not as the next lord, but as the eldest daughter of the Count.
That was how the principle worked.
Therefore, Bernard’s actions were proper.
His procedure flawless.
In fact, it was Kai’s attempt to bar Adrian that was overstepping.
While Kai looked down, Seraphia tilted her head and asked,
“By the way, Head Steward Bernard, what is that in your hand?”
A lidded tray rested in Bernard’s hands.
He opened the lid to show its contents.
A beautifully roasted golden-brown turkey.
“This is Lord Adrian’s meal.”
Kai’s eyes glinted sharply.
Turkey was a rare ingredient.
Reserved for festivals or special occasions.
Especially in the North, where it was almost impossible to get even on holidays.
Kai clenched his fists.
He couldn’t stand that Adrian had returned, only to waste the estate’s precious food.
“Where is he?”
Kai demanded Adrian’s whereabouts.
Adrian should have been holed up in his room.
He caused such havoc that the former Count had locked him away.
But the former Count had passed just days ago.
There was no one to stop Adrian now.
He might already be gambling using estate funds, or worse—
Harassing women, causing drunken ruckuses, beating citizens for looking at him wrong, imprisoning innocent people, destroying market stalls…
All the atrocities Adrian had committed.
Kai felt sick just remembering them.
And sure enough—
“Lord Adrian is not in the keep.”
Adrian wasn’t in the keep.
They were too late.
Kai involuntarily ground his teeth.
He had to kill Adrian.
As a knight, killing one’s own lord was treason.
But it had to be done.
No—it must be done.
Just as bloodlust began to surge in Kai’s blue eyes—
“Lord Adrian is currently at the ‘Trial Grounds of Frost.’”
“…What?”
At Bernard’s words, Kai’s expression went completely blank.
