How To Live As A Third Son Of A Failure [EN]: Chapter 34

Living as the Third Son of a Failed Novel – Chapter 34

* * *

The backyard was deserted. It was late, and most of the residents, being farmers, seemed to have gone to bed early.

“Draw your sword.”

“Young Master.”

“Prove to me that you have the skills to protect me, Illia.”

“This is a real sword, though.”

*Is she implying that it’s not a wooden sword, and I could die if I’m careless?*

It seems she thinks she can beat me anytime she wants.

Well, this should be fun.

I wonder what kind of expression she’ll make after I crush that arrogant pride of hers.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hold you responsible for the outcome.”

“Are you serious?”

“I promise on the Lindayer name. Don’t you trust me? Should I write you a pledge?”

“…….”

“Instead of that, how about focusing on not dropping your sword?”

Illia bit her lip at my provocation.

“Understood.”

*Whoosh!*

Her long sword, slightly shorter than the standard length, was raised straight up.

[Are you fighting?]

Aphen’s voice dug into my head as I grabbed my sword.

‘Shut up.’

[I want to watch too!]

‘Keep quiet and go to sleep. You’re wasting mana.’

[That’s so mean! This is the first time I’ve seen the world in ages…….]

I sighed softly at her grumbling voice and raised my sword.

‘Just watch this and go straight to sleep.’

[Hehet! Okay! I will!]

Ignoring Aphen’s words, I took a deep breath.

This isn’t for training. Nor is it to humiliate her.

It’s a duel solely to show Illia the gap between us. No pretense. I won’t use the family’s swordsmanship that I learned superficially.

*Tatat!*

We moved simultaneously, as if without prior agreement.

Illia was the first to charge.

*What is she thinking? She probably thinks she can win if she shows her true skills.*

That’s why she’s coming at me so openly.

*Clang!*

But such thoughts breed carelessness.

“Ugh!”

After parrying her sword, I swung and lunged in like lightning. A moment of bewilderment flashed in Illia’s eyes.

*Swoosh!*

It wasn’t the Lindayer family’s style, but a quick, deadly strike that snaked in like a serpent. Reacting late, she barely managed to lean back.

Her bluish-green bob fluttered. Then, some of it brushed against my sword, and the severed strands of hair danced in the air.

A flicker of anger flashed in her usually bland eyes.

*Now you’re finally acting like a person.*

She charged again, swinging her sword fiercely.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

Sparks flew as our swords clashed repeatedly. Then, in the end, our swords became entangled diagonally, and we began to struggle for strength.

She gritted her teeth as if trying to exert all her strength.

*Bang!*

My headbutt, aimed at that gap, shattered the bridge of her nose.

“Haaack…….”

She probably never expected a headbutt in her wildest dreams.

She staggered back in shock and tripped over her own feet. Blood streamed between her fingers covering her nose.

I pointed my sword at Illia and said,

“Is that it?”

Gritting her teeth!

She spat out a mouthful of blood and rose again, sword in hand.

Her tenacity seemed good.

But that’s all.

Has her anger clouded her mind? She should have realized long ago that she couldn’t compete with me.

*Tatak! Tak!*

Perhaps because she tasted my headbutt, Illia also mixed in all sorts of unconventional strikes instead of orthodox swordsmanship.

*Ah, a street fighting style?*

Yeah, she definitely has a knack for it. She wouldn’t lose in a street brawl.

But unfortunately, my opponent is someone who manipulates mana. The trajectory of her arms, legs, and sword, everything is clearly visible to me.

In other words, it’s irresistible for her.

*Bang!*

“Kuaaack…….”

Illia, struck in the face once again, spat out blood and fell backward.

Perhaps she lost consciousness for a moment, her eyes glazed over, and blood gurgled from her mouth.

“Heok, keoeok…….”

Regaining her senses, Illia covered her face while lying prone.

I looked down at her and sheathed my sword.

“You lost.”

There was no exhilarating sword fight. The duel ended quickly, almost anticlimactically.

Well, what can you do? There was a fundamental difference in skill.

But if she hadn’t looked down on me even a little, if she had calmly assessed the situation, she wouldn’t have rolled around on the ground so pathetically.

“Any complaints?”

“……No.”

She also seemed to realize that fact, admitting defeat without complaint.

Her face showed that she knew it was clearly her arrogance and mistake.

“Don’t you ever loiter near my chambers again.”

“Understood.”

“Go treat your wounds and rest. You have to ride a horse tomorrow too.”

Turning my back, I headed back to the building.

All the excitement had died down. I felt like having a beer and going to sleep.

[Wow, that was kind of cool.]

Aphen spoke to me, and after confirming that no one was around, I opened my mouth slightly.

“Shut up.”

[Who is that woman? Is she a trainee knight?]

“Yeah.”

[The world has changed so much. With that kind of talent, she’s only a trainee knight?]

“Her swordsmanship is just a little better than her peers, what are you talking about?”

[Swordsmanship? What are you talking about?]

……She wasn’t talking about swordsmanship?

I stopped walking for a moment and focused on Aphen again.

“What do you mean?”

[What?]

Aphen, becoming smug at my words, repeated.

[You don’t seem to know, but she was naturally breathing mana? You didn’t notice? Well, I guess it makes sense. Besides our mom, there’s no human with better mana sensitivity than me!]

At Aphen’s words, I turned around.

Illia seemed to be in despair, still kneeling with her broken nose covered.

* * *

*Toc toc.*

I tapped the table with my finger in the dark room of the lodging.

Aphen’s words about Illia kept me awake.

*I had roughly expected her innate fighting sense from the stories I heard, but I didn’t know she also had mana sensitivity.*

Illia is an orphan who doesn’t know who her parents are. The surname Frost was given to her because she was abandoned on a frosty winter day.

She grew up as a street urchin, and on her 19th birthday, she killed the leader who had taken over Windnest’s underworld.

Gillein took her in after noticing her intuitive swordsmanship in the process, and since then, she has received various education and training, leading to where she is now.

*She’s been holding a sword for two years.*

The register I saw in the Knights Order stated that she had only been seriously training for two years.

To unconsciously breathe mana in two years.

It’s not that great. After all, to manipulate mana, you have to feel it and make it your own.

If you only breathe unconsciously, you’ll just have better stamina and recovery than others.

That was my case. Even though I didn’t hold a sword and lived as a good-for-nothing, my physical condition was perfectly fine.

*If we’re just talking about talent.*

It won’t be long. I’m sure of it. Before long, Illia will be able to feel mana.

*Toc toc.*

But it’s unsettling.

Let’s say it takes another two years, for a total of four years, to feel mana.

Five years.

That’s how long it took Luce, a promising member of the Knights Order, to feel mana.

The Count took half a year, but he’s a monster who reached the realm of Master, so he’s an exception, and I’m also excluded because I’m a crazy overpowered character in the novel.

Anyway, with her level of talent, she should have at least had her name mentioned in the corner of the novel.

There’s no way I would have forgotten if she appeared in the novel. She’s not just any character, and her personality as a skilled female knight is well-defined.

*Did she die before her talent fully bloomed?*

*Clink, clink.*

I spun the empty beer glass around and pondered.

*Or was she used as an assassin along the way?*

Female knights are very useful. Because of their characteristics, they can be close to powerless noblewomen or daughters.

It’s a plausible story.

For a knight who values honor to be an assassin. It’s absurd in this kind of world, but there’s no such thing as 100 percent.

Considering her status as a commoner, she might have been used and discarded as a disposable pawn.

If she was used as an assassin, I should assume that was the intention from the start.

*Is it Gillein’s arrangement?*

No. Gillein knows the honor of a knight more than anyone else. He probably wouldn’t have done it of his own volition.

*Then it must be Count Lindayer.*

The Count is also a person who knows how to protect his honor as a knight.

But at the same time, he was also someone who had the responsibility to protect a family.

A human who would do anything to protect his family.

*Is he plotting some kind of scheme?*

No.

It’s just a suspicion for now. Let’s not make a definite answer based on suspicion alone. If I watch over time, the answer will come.

It’s late at night.

I rubbed my throbbing temples and headed to bed to sleep.

* * *

The next morning.

While preparing to depart, a scout saw Illia and widened his eyes.

“Oh my, what happened to your nose?”

“……I fell.”

“Huh? You’re a trainee knight, but you’re a member of the Wind Knights Order, how could you fall and break your nose?”

“Didn’t I say I fell?”

Illia, wincing, started her horse first, as if she didn’t want to talk any further.

Her face faintly reddened, perhaps hearing me chuckle at the sight.

Then, after hesitating a few times, she approached me after confirming that everyone’s attention had disappeared.

“You’re good at lying. The guards must have been completely fooled.”

Illia’s face turned even redder at the mischievous joke.

“……I apologize for last night.”

“Huh? What are you apologizing for?”

When I acted oblivious, Illia finally squeezed her eyes shut.

“I was too focused on fulfilling my duty and stubbornly ignored your consideration, Young Master.”

“Yeah. Well, just be careful next time.”

Illia sighed softly at my cool reply.

“I’m truly sorry. I was presumptuous.”

“It’s not *that* presumptuous. What can I do if I’m strong? Don’t blame yourself too much.”

Hmm. Did that sound a bit obnoxious?

Oh well. It’s the truth.

“…….”

“Why, don’t you think so? Are you still being careless?”

“No. I was completely defeated.”

“Well, if you feel wronged, come at me anytime. I welcome duels.”

“There’s a lot to learn from duels with strong opponents. I’ll ask for your favor.”

“You were so reluctant to go to the Knights Order.”

“That’s because at that time…….”

“I’m just kidding.”

Just then, at the scout’s words that preparations were complete, I stepped on the saddle and mounted my horse, and Illia followed behind me.

“The next destination is the city of Calbrey, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

The city of Calbrey.

It’s the place I arrived after several days of journey after Reblin Village.

The scale was insignificantly small compared to Windnest. Still, it’s a city, so it can’t be compared to Reblin Village.

“I am Baron Calbrey. I welcome the Third Young Master’s visit.”

Baron Calbrey, who is loyal to the Lindayer family, greeted me and treated me lavishly.

I wondered if it was okay to make such a fuss everywhere I went, but well, who cares? I should enjoy what I can.

I was treated to a meal and had a brief conversation.

Later, late at night.

The place I headed to was the city’s streets. There was a place I was looking for. Illia silently followed me.

*Is it here?*

Moonlight. It was the name of the bar. At the same time, it’s a place that travelers must visit. You could call it a kind of meeting place. It’s a story I heard from Luce.

In a world without cell phones or messengers, it’s difficult to communicate over long distances. And you can’t use messenger pigeons anytime.

“Illia.”

“Yes.”

“Wait outside for a moment.”

“Understood.”

Leaving Illia outside, I headed inside.

The first thing I felt when I opened the door was the noise. People were clinking glasses everywhere. Mercenaries, travelers, merchants, laborers, everyone was melting away the fatigue of the day.

I sat at the bar table with my hood pressed down.

Then I flicked a coin from my pocket.

“Beer.”

“Beer! Understood!”

The owner, who cheerfully snatched the coin, quickly brought beer and something to chew on. Then I called out to the owner who was about to turn around.

“I want to check the messenger pigeon.”

“Ah, the name?”

“Kind.”

The owner grinned at the alias I had agreed upon with Luce in advance.

“I was wondering who the owner of all those love letters was.”

“What do you mean?”

“The amount is considerable.”

“I want to see them.”

“We’re very busy right now. I’ll find them for you in a bit.”

When I took out a silver coin from my pocket and flicked it, the owner’s eyes widened.

“Right now.”

“Just wait a moment!”

The owner hurriedly went somewhere and came back with a bundle of letters in his hand.

“It’s from Smire, right?”

Luce Meyer, Smire.

I nodded, thinking it was a funny naming sense.

I took the letters, took a sip of beer, and checked the seals. There were no signs of tampering. Then I opened the oldest letter first.