Chapter 35

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 131

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Yurta was born without a single flaw.

Herthas Count was absolutely thrilled that his son had been born a Transcendent.

"Once the imperial family or the temple finds out, they'll start hounding us."

"……."

"But there will surely come a day when the fact that you're a Transcendent shines brightly. Definitely."

The opportunistic count kept his son's status as a Transcendent hidden while dreaming of a glorious future.

And just like that, Yurta was designated as the heir from the moment he was born.

As a Transcendent, Yurta naturally stood out in every way.

He was a genius. No, something beyond that—a monstrous entity.

Wherever he went, praise and adoration followed.

His dim-witted older brother seemed to envy the acclaim Yurta received, but in truth, Yurta was suffocating under the weight of all that excessive attention and expectation.

The fools who chased after him like moths drawn to a flame, blinded by his dazzling shell, only burned him alive in the process.

He wasn't particularly happy about being born a Transcendent.

To some, it might bring wealth and glory, but the blood flowing through his veins only ever brought him searing pain.

The world was too easy and boring for him, and simply living was nothing but torment.

Around the time when enduring it all with mana suppressants was reaching its limit, that woman appeared.

The ragged-looking woman entered the Herthas Count's household, leading a daughter dressed just as shabbily.

She was Herthas's second countess.

"I won't accept them!"

Dillon, standing beside him, bristled at the sight of the two, but Yurta's impression was entirely different.

He had no interest in others, so he didn't care who came into the Herthas family.

But when he saw the girl his age with pink hair, his thoughts changed.

From the moment she stepped through the main gate, the enchanting fragrance she exuded dominated his mind.

The agony that had crushed him for so long vanished in an instant.

For the first time, he felt a refreshing rush like sprinting through a forest.

She was the first girl in his life to capture his interest.

Herthas Count gave the new countess's daughter the name "Rozhi."

He vaguely recalled she had some other name before... but that was beyond his interest.

She was Rozhi now.

"Sister, what are you doing here?"

Dillon assumed the new countess and her daughter would seize Herthas for themselves.

Rozhi, however, showed no such intentions and spent her time holed up in corners.

After that day, Yurta wanted to see Rozhi again.

He needed to confirm whether the sensation he'd felt was a delusion born from his long torment—a mistaken wish for what he'd craved.

But when he met Rozhi again, he was certain.

It wasn't a delusion.

Rozhi was truly special.

"……Just sitting here."

"You're reading a book."

"So?"

"I've read that one too."

Rozhi was wary of him at first.

But as Yurta approached her warmly, her defenses crumbled before long.

Breaking down people's walls and delving into their hearts was child's play for Yurta.

Especially with a girl his own age.

"Do you like reading, Sister?"

"I just read it. I'm done with books now."

"In that case... I heard you haven't had a tour of the mansion yet."

"……."

"I'll show you around."

Rozhi looked flustered.

"Why would you?"

"Don't you like me?"

"It's not that... but Dillon hates me."

Her unexpectedly mentioning his name wasn't all that surprising.

Yurta had seen the fool openly flaunting his disgust.

If anything, it was perfect.

The more Dillon showed his loathing, the clearer Yurta's own kindness would shine.

"I like you, Sister."

"……You like me?"

"I've always thought it would be nice to have a sister."

Only then did Rozhi fully let her guard down.

"Alright. Show me around the mansion."

His world was still far too easy.

Everything flowed smoothly.

After that, Yurta relentlessly followed Rozhi around.

She occasionally looked annoyed, but she never stopped him or chased him away.

She even seemed inwardly amused by him trailing after her, calling "Sister, Sister."

Anyone daring to find him cute would have been an outrageous affront, but since it was Rozhi, Yurta let it slide.

She was the only one who brought him that pleasant sensation, after all.

He was willing to indulge her in anything.

Except for one thing.

"Did Dillon hit you again, Sister?"

"I just tripped."

Rozhi smiled nonchalantly, pointing to the bruise on her arm.

"You think I'll let that slide?"

"Dillon? I told you, I tripped. Don't pick on an innocent kid."

"Do you think I can't tell the difference between a fall and a blow?"

"I said it was really just—"

Rozhi wanted to brush it off, but Yurta wouldn't allow it.

Rozhi belonged to him.

Harming her was no different from harming him.

That night, he stormed into Dillon's room.

"Don't you feel sorry for Mom at all?!"

"……."

"That kid and her mom stole Mom's place!"

Dillon raged at Yurta, but he had no intention of sympathizing.

He simply repaid what Rozhi had suffered—doubled.

Yurta spent all his time with Rozhi.

She had become a part of his life.

Growing addicted to the pleasure she brought, he would agonize at the mere thought of a life without her.

"Aren't you busy?"

Rozhi furrowed her brow, puzzled by him shadowing her all day.

Still, she didn't seem to mind his presence anymore—perhaps even growing used to it.

Day after day passed in peaceful routine.

He thought it would continue that way.

No, it surely would have, if not for the incident.

Once every fortnight, boys Yurta's age visited the Herthas Count's household.

Heirs from families of similar standing, gathering for camaraderie.

That day featured a modest outdoor party.

Yurta found them annoying.

He used to just let the time pass before, but now they were stealing his time with Rozhi.

They chattered noisily in a group while Yurta stayed silent.

He had no desire to mingle actively with them.

He just hoped the time would fly by.

Yet they all watched him carefully, desperate to speak with him even a little, so they desperately fished for topics that might interest him.

The conversation gradually veered into provocative territory.

"Oh, right. It's been a while since that commoner wormed her way into Herthas. When are they finally gonna show us that lowborn wench?"

It was a thoughtless remark from one noble heir.

Noble society generally despised those who rose to nobility from commoner roots.

"Lowborn wench?"

Yurta raised an eyebrow, as if asking what that meant.

The boy, delighted by his reaction, began badmouthing Rozhi.

"What was the count thinking, letting trash like that into his mansion?"

"Must be embarrassing for you too, having a commoner 'sister.'"

"If it were me, well... yeah! If that girl's face is pretty enough, I could sell her off later..."

Foul words no one wanted to hear floated over the table.

Clink.

Every eye turned as Yurta set down his teacup.

"Is that so?"

He smiled at them and slowly rose from his seat.

They watched him with puzzled expressions.

And then the disaster struck.

Yurta didn't let those who insulted his sister get away with it.

He ripped out every one of their tongues.

"What the... insane..."

Dillon, who was there, stared at Yurta in shock.

Whatever face his fool of a brother made was of no concern to him.

Except...

"……Yurta?"

It was unfortunate that Rozhi, passing by coincidentally, witnessed the scene.

He hadn't wanted her to see this brutality, leaving him at a loss.

But his thoughts shifted soon enough.

"They insulted you, Sister."

"……."

"They called your origins lowly and spouted horrific plans for what they'd do to you."

Yurta beamed at her.

Once she realized he'd done this for her sake, Rozhi would surely be grateful.

And praise him, too.

His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he gazed at her.

But Rozhi betrayed his expectations.

A look of disgust turned toward him.