How To Live As A Third Son Of A Failure [EN]: Chapter 1

Living as the Third Son of a Failed Masterpiece – Episode 1

Prologue

Three years dedicated to high school and college entrance exams.

Four years as a cadet at the Korea Military Academy.

And now, days are rotting away in the remote mountains of Gangwon Province after being commissioned as a platoon leader.

The driving force that allowed me to endure those painful times was a novel.

The Midland Saga.

A lengthy fantasy novel that had been serialized for nearly ten years and spanned over 30 volumes.

It was like an old friend who had been with me since my school days.

A compelling work with solid world-building, excellent descriptions, and an ensemble cast without a fixed protagonist.

Of course, a solid setting doesn’t necessarily translate to a large readership. From the beginning of its serialization, the number of views consistently failed to exceed 10.

Perhaps because it was a novel solely focused on world-building, far removed from wish fulfillment [a genre where the protagonist easily achieves their desires].

Moreover, the novel was already slow-paced, but after entering the third part, the serialization was abruptly halted without any notice. Even though it was a paid novel!

So, unable to bear it any longer, I sent a message to the author.

I told him to write something. That he wouldn’t accomplish anything with such a poor sense of professionalism. That he was ignoring readers because the views weren’t coming in. That I had already reread it over twenty times.

I didn’t use profanity, but I criticized him just as harshly.

Unexpectedly, I received a reply quickly.

[Why don’t you try it yourself, you little punk.]

Living as the Third Son of a Failed Masterpiece Episode 1

Chapter 1. This Marriage is Invalid!

I opened my eyes in the morning and stared in disbelief.

“What is this place?”

What I saw when I opened my eyes was a huge chandelier.

What should have been visible was a drab panel ceiling.

Before I could even process that something was wrong, a soft sound echoed as an antique door opened.

Following the opened door, a group of figures entered. They were women dressed in maid uniforms.

Dressed in attire that seemed straight out of a movie, they took their places beside me with perfect coordination, as if they had rehearsed it.

‘Is this a dream?’

I certainly have a maid fetish. But even so, such a realistic dream is a bit strange.

Should I pinch my cheek or something?

While I was pondering, they presented clothes and a glass of water, and then began to tidy up the bedding.

“We will help you change, young master.”

“Wh-What are you doing!”

“Y-Yes?”

When one of the girls suddenly tried to undress me, I reflexively slapped her hand away, and she hurriedly stepped back, startled.

Equally surprised, I was about to protest when the girl, her face pale, collapsed to the floor.

“I-I’m sorry!”

What are you sorry for?

Looking around for an answer in this ridiculous situation, I turned my head to look at another woman.

“I’m sorry!”

“I deserve to die!”

It was a ghostly sight.

Every woman who met my gaze began to tremble and prostrate themselves in terror.

“N-No, wait a minute…”

My head was in chaos as I was faced with this absurd situation while still half-asleep.

‘Is this a hidden camera?’

That’s impossible.

I’m not a celebrity.

Even if I were, who would do such a crazy thing in a military area?

‘Then is it a dream? But usually, you wake up when you realize it’s a dream, right?’

I stretched my cheek, but all I felt was pain.

As I was wondering if I should pick up the prostrated women and ask them, a voice spoke.

“Young master, did you call for me?”

A white-haired old man entered the room with a benevolent face. Then, he bowed lightly and greeted me politely.

Speechless, I let out a hollow laugh, and the old man tilted his head.

“Young master?”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, young master.”

“I’m a young master?”

“Yes. Moreover, I am merely a butler, so please dispense with the honorifics.”

“Butler? What are you talking about…”

I couldn’t understand what he was saying at all.

Besides, he’s telling me to drop the honorifics? [Forms of speech indicating respect in Korean culture]

Born and raised in a country of etiquette, there’s no way I could be informal with a white-haired elder.

“If I have done something wrong, I will gladly accept punishment.”

“W-Wait a minute…”

I jumped up as the old man tried to kneel and bow his head like the other women.

“No, no, it’s not like you did anything wrong…”

“Then please dispense with the honorifics.”

“I’m going crazy!”

If a large group of people were openly treating one person like an idiot, it couldn’t be more perfect than this.

Because everyone only apologized like parrots no matter what I said, I eventually gave up.

“A-Alright, just get up.”

With a guilty conscience, I spoke informally, and only then did the old man slowly rise and bow his head.

“There’s something I want to ask… No, why are you kneeling again! I said don’t kneel!”

“Yes, young master.”

“First, first, get all these women out of here. No, get them out!”

I hurriedly stopped the old man, who seemed to have lead in his butt [acting slow or reluctant], from kneeling again.

“Everyone, leave.”

At my request, the old man finally sent the maids who had been prostrating themselves out of the room.

Now alone with the old man in the spacious room.

I grabbed my hair and hung my head low, feeling overwhelmed.

“Ha, what is all this…”

“Did you have a bad dream last night, young master?”

“It feels like I’m dreaming now.”

“If you tell me what the problem is, I will do my best to solve it.”

“…I don’t think this is my house.”

The old man tilted his head as I spoke almost to myself, unable to use either honorifics or informal speech.

“This is your hometown and cozy home, young master. Perhaps, is there another place you wish to go?”

“This really isn’t my house, where the hell is this place?”

“Of course, it is Lord’s Castle, young master.”

“Lord’s Castle? There’s no such place in South Korea.”

“South Korea, you say…”

“South Korea! Republic of Korea!”

“There is no place with such a name on the continent, young master.”

“I’m going to lose it.”

Bang! Bang!

Just as I was about to punch the bed in frustration, a window suddenly came into view.

“Wait a minute.”

If this is a hidden camera, this is definitely grounds for a lawsuit.

As if drawn by something, I kicked off the bed and walked towards the window.
The old man simply stared at me without stopping me, and I proudly spread the curtains to the left and right as I stood in front of the window.

“No, this is insane…”

Outside the window, a city was spread out.

However, the problem was that the city was not of the 21st century, but in the old medieval Gothic style that I had only seen in dramas and movies.

That’s how the thought that something was seriously wrong began to solidify in my mind.

* * *

After forcing even the self-proclaimed butler out of the room and sitting alone on the bed for a couple of hours, I was able to come to a conclusion.

I have been transported to a place that is not Earth.

No, it would be more accurate to say that I have entered a novel.

The novel is undoubtedly ‘The Midland Saga’. Suddenly, I remembered the message the author had sent me last night.

[Why don’t you try it yourself, you little punk.]

…I don’t know how things are going, but it was clear that the damn author had screwed me over.

‘I can’t deny it just by looking at this.’

I looked up at the portrait hanging above the door.

The blond, golden-eyed man standing upright in the portrait was looking down at me.

Emperor Bellancass the Great, the founder of the nation.

There’s no way I wouldn’t know who he is. He’s the man who first unified the Midlands.

The Midland Saga has a vast and intricate world-building, as extensive as the time it has been serialized.

There is even a separate setting book with illustrations and backgrounds of most of the characters.

In such a novel, how could I not recognize Bellancass the Great, the founder of the kingdom that is the center of the story?

No one would recognize me even if I bragged about it, but I am a hardcore reader who has reread the Midland Saga dozens of times.

‘So, I know I’ve entered the novel.’

Then where am I?

The answer was not long in coming.

A flag was fluttering in the wind at the top of the castle spire visible from the window.

The flag depicted a gray hawk soaring over a snow-covered mountain, and I could recite what that crest symbolized even with my eyes closed.

‘The coat of arms of Count Lindaier, the frontier lord of the kingdom’s north.’

The Invincible Knight.

The Lord of the North.

The Guardian of the Kingdom.

All are epithets of Count Lindaier.

Then the rest is easy.

Count Lindaier was a fairly important figure in the novel. It wasn’t difficult to figure out where I belonged.

Now the remaining problem is me, or rather, the information about the young master of the Count’s family, the original owner of this body.

“Young master, are you feeling more stable?”

The answer was in the butler’s words from outside the door.

‘Not the eldest, not the second, but the youngest. The youngest’s name is… Cain. Was it Cain?’

Now it was certain.

Overnight, I had gone from a physically healthy Republic of Korea Army officer to the youngest son of the Lindaier County family.

“May I come in?”

“Yeah.”

At my permission, the door opened and the butler entered, looking worried as if wondering if I was sick.

“This is black tea. It will help you calm your mind.”

“Thanks.”

As I accepted reality, informal speech came out naturally.

I naturally accepted the black tea that the butler handed me and quickly racked my brain.

Why the youngest, not the eldest or the second?

Count Lindaier has three sons.

The youngest, the third son Cain, rarely appears in the story.

A character who is even embarrassing to call a supporting character. An extra who passes by with one or two lines.

It was not a good start.

Because I knew nothing about this third son except his name.

“Did you have a bad dream last night?”

“Yeah.”

The butler scanned me with a mixture of worry and suspicion.

I had many concerns. Should I honestly confess the situation I was in? But I quickly dismissed the thought.

‘If I say I came from another world, who would believe me? I’d be treated like an idiot.’

It’s an extremely conservative medieval era.

Even if I’m not stoned to death as a heretic because I’m a nobleman, I could be locked up deep in the castle and receive all sorts of bizarre treatments.

Let’s keep my mouth shut for now.

No sooner had I made up my mind than the butler spoke to me.

“It seems that you are feeling disturbed as the day approaches.”

“The day? What day are you talking about?”

I asked as I took another sip of black tea, and the butler nodded with a benevolent smile.

“Isn’t your wedding in a week, young master? No one can avoid being nervous when facing an important event.”

“Pfft!”