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Translator: penny
Chapter: 001
Chapter Title: As Expected, the Capital Fucking Sucks
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Indeed, the capital's people were fucking shitty.
The air in the capital was as thick and muggy as ever.
This damn carriage had zero cushioning to speak of.
After rattling around in this piece-of-shit metal box from the backwater Parne territory for days on end, my back felt like it was about to snap in half.
Out the window, gleaming marble buildings and a parade of gold-trimmed carriages.
So this was the mighty heart of the empire, the capital, huh?
Screeech!
Before the carriage even came to a full stop, I couldn't take it anymore and kicked the door open with my foot.
Bam!
"Ow, fuck! My back."
Before the coachman could rush over to open the door, I'd already jumped out and stretched dramatically, putting on a show.
Crack, crack—my joints screamed loud enough to echo.
I didn't give a damn about the stares from onlookers.
Finally out of that cramped cage on wheels—I could breathe again.
I gave a solid smack on the shoulder of the coachman, old man Thomas, who was gaping up at me blankly.
"Hey, Thomas! You see that cornering back there? That drift was a work of art. Schumacher himself would cry."
"Huh? Drif—what? And who's Schumacher...?"
Old man Thomas blinked in confusion, but I just grinned and rummaged in my pocket.
A handful of heavy gold coins. Part of the emergency stash I'd snuck from Father.
"We'll grab some stew later! Here's a tip. Found it on the road."
I dropped the coins into his calloused palm with a clink.
No way he'd know what "tip" meant, but his eyes went wide at the glint of gold.
"Y-Young master! This is too much!"
I waved him off casually and took in the surroundings.
Nobles decked out in flashy dresses and tuxedos stared at me like I'd tracked shit through their parlor.
Ladies hiding smirks behind fans gossiped away, while the prim-and-proper young lords clicked their tongues.
'Having to share space with a barbarian like that—the air's getting filthy.'
That was probably their vibe. Predictable as hell.
I loosened my tie and ran a hand through my hair.
"Look at these pricks staring just 'cause a country bumpkin showed up. Capital folk are fucking shitty, as expected."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The corridors of the Parne mansion were oppressively quiet.
The carpet on the floor swallowed even my footsteps in its plush depths.
The ancestral portraits lining the walls all seemed to sigh at me: 'To think this guy's my descendant.'
If you've got complaints, go raise better kids next time.
I loosened my tie a bit more and stopped in front of the door.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
A deep, heavy bass voice.
As soon as I pushed the door open, the scent of premium leather and aged paper assaulted my nose.
And right there in the center.
Sitting like the dark lord himself—my father, the head of the Parne Family, and the kingdom's Court Count: Uncle Corinth del Parne.
He furrowed his brow deeply and set down his quill.
"First thing you do is fraternize with the coachman? You're a disgrace to the Parne name."
News travels fast, as always.
That's why dealing with an info-broking family is such a pain.
I ignored his piercing glare as best I could and flung myself onto the sofa in the corner of the study.
Practically lounging, legs crossed, I shot back.
"Nah, Dad, good driving's a brotherhood thing. You should've seen that cornering."
"Sit up straight. If you'd taken after your brother even halfway, I wouldn't be in this mess."
"Bro's perfect, that's the problem. Why compare him to a loser like me? Anyway, why'd you call me here? Potato harvest season's in full swing—I'm swamped."
"Shut it. Don't even mention potatoes."
Corinth massaged his temples and sighed. He looked worn out enough to tug at my heartstrings—just a gram or so.
"The noble factions in the capital are getting ugly. Messy entanglements with the Crown Prince too. Your brother's swamped with territory management and official duties—no time for intel gathering."
"And...?"
"That's why I need you."
"A disgrace to the family, huh?"
"Shut it."
Father fixed me with a serious stare.
"That weed-like affinity of yours for people. You're the only one in the family who can survive the nobles' hypocritical social scene and sniff out info."
"Psh, no need to dress it up. You just mean I'm the expendable spare you can throw around."
"Good that you get it."
Way too honest, man.
I pouted and shook my head.
"No thanks. Can't I just head back to the countryside and farm in peace? I've got real talent for it. Didn't you hear about the double corn crop last time?"
"No."
"Why not! What's wrong with a noble farming a bit? Don't you get the sacred value of honest labor?"
"Talk like that when you've fulfilled a noble's duties. Shut up and enroll in the academy."
I nearly bolted upright from the sofa.
"What? The academy? You want me to go to school? Do you know how old I am?!"
"Twenty. Perfect age."
Oh right—this world's academy enrollment starts at twenty.
Fuck.
So this summons was all calculated, huh?
"My soul's already a retired geezer! And those academy uniforms are notoriously tacky. How am I supposed to wear those short pants? Too embarrassing!"
"Enrollment's already handled."
"Dad!!"
In my desperate wail, memories of my past life flashed by.
The hellish entrance exams, GPA juggling, group project nightmares, and corporate drudgery.
The one good thing about this world? My laid-back countryside life. And now they wanna take that away?
Father couldn't fathom my resistance.
"Why do you hate the capital so much? Everyone else is dying to come here."
Why, you ask?
'Cause I've already survived one full cycle of city rat race.'
The miseries of a Busan country boy in Seoul were still vivid after twenty years.
Fun for the freshman honeymoon phase, then pure hell ever after.
So I answered with utter sincerity.
"Back home, I can live without worrying about what people think. Here, I'd have to watch everyone's eyes on me."
"Watch your mouth in front of your father."
Yeah.
Fair point.
If my kid pulled half the shit I do, I'd disown him on the spot.
That's why I'm childfree.
No backstabbing offspring for me.
No kids, no holds barred.
"That..."
I was about to add something when Father cut in, calm and ice-cold.
"Refuse this mission, and I'll burn that precious potato field of yours to the ground."
Thud!
My heart dropped.
"...Pardon?"
"Think it's just the potatoes? That secret cornfield you're breeding, the hidden fishing spot in the back hills—I'll plow it all and turn it into a training ground."
"That's dirty pool, Dad! Abusing head-of-house authority like that okay?"
"If you don't like it, become head yourself."
"..."
Lost. Total defeat.
Holding my precious potatoes hostage? Savage.
"That's low, Father."
"Deal with it."
I shrank back into the sofa depths.
"...I won't work hard, but I'll show up. Don't touch the potatoes. Geezer temper."
"Start with the Victory Day 98th anniversary banquet in a few days. Show your face. Skip it and you're dead."
Victory Day 98th? What the hell?
"What's with forcing these periodic events just to pad the calendar?"
"You know it well. That's why the emperor's not hosting—the Crown Prince is. It'll draw the young crowd."
Damn, Dad.
Everything planned out.
"What if I don't go?"
"Argh, fine! I'll go, okay? I'll stuff my face with good food and come back."
Not grumbling felt like thorns in my mouth.
As I bitched nonstop, Father gave a faint smirk of satisfaction.
Annoying as hell.
"Good. Just don't cause a scene. Dress properly—no disgracing the family."
"Disgrace? I'm a fashion icon back home."
"Work clothes as fashion?"
"It's called workwear look. What would you know?"
I stood up.
Stick around longer, and my sweet potato patch might be next.
As I trudged to the door, Father's nagging hit my nape.
"Oh, and Cassian."
"What now?"
"Don't embarrass the family."
"You just said that."
"With you, ten times isn't enough."
"..."
If you're gonna be like that, just send me back to the countryside in peace.
I waved dismissively and opened the study door.
Stepping into the hall and closing it behind me...
"Sigh."
Father's sigh followed.
Hey, I'm the one who wants to cry—why's he doing this?
Academy. Banquet.
"Sigh."
What glory do I need in this bonus life?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Once I was away from the study, familiar faces appeared down the hall.
Old butler Alfred in his stiffly starched tailcoat, and head maid Marie in her prim uniform.
Both were peeking anxiously toward the door, probably fretting over potential shouting matches inside.
I grinned and approached them.
"Whoa, Aunt Marie! Not a new wrinkle in sight? Vampire much? Spill the skincare secrets—teach the aunties back home."
"Young master, always with the jokes right off the carriage."
Marie chuckled and raised her hand like she was gonna smack my back—then swung at empty air. Our usual greeting.
To her, I was less "young master" and more like a nephew.
I turned to the stiff old man beside her.
"Alfred, straighten that back. You'll really hunch for good. Cane later? Ruins the vibe."
"Young master, voice too loud. Master's already in a mood—you'll give him a heart attack."
Alfred put on a stern face for his lecture.
His back didn't budge, though.
This geezer's spent a lifetime bowing to the family—forgot how to stand straight.
"Come on, that's filial piety right there. What more you want?"
"Filial? The family's second son digging potatoes in the territory?"
"Think about it. Look at other noble kids in the capital—crazy juniors with girls, gambling, drugs, every damn scandal. Truckloads make headlines."
I thumped my chest in protest.
"Me? Clean as a whistle. Just breathe and money rolls in—that's my dream. Quiet parasite eating my fill. True filial duty."
Alfred flapped his mouth, speechless at my shameless logic.
Wanted to argue, but it was weirdly convincing.
Marie stifled giggles beside him.
"Can't argue there. Other houses' servants tear hair out fixing their young masters' messes—ours is a saint."
"See? Aunt Marie gets me. Educated folk know."
I flashed a thumbs-up and hammed it up.
"Starving here. Only ate some shitty meat pie at the last stop."
"Shall I prep dinner? Any requests?"
"Meat. Nothing but meat."
Mouth tainted by mystery meat—needed real stuff to cleanse.
"Rare steak, dripping blood. Wanna tear into it like a barbarian, so forks and knives are just decor."
"My, full barbarian now."
"Country boy's a barbarian—what's new?"
Aunt Marie's eyes went wide, then she burst out laughing.
"Yes, yes. As you command, barbarian young master."
"Tell the chef: biggest, best cut. Well-done? Make him redo it."
Alfred shook his head, but a faint smile played on his lips.
Rare warmth in this vast, sterile mansion.
I whistled heading to my room.
Maids I passed greeted shyly.
"Welcome back, young master!"
"How've you been?"
"Yeah, you too. Grab snacks from my room later. Got killer steamed corn from home."
No authority, but popularity? Nailed it.
This was the survival style of the Parne Family's second son, Cassian del Parne.
Opening my door revealed a spotless room, not a speck of dust.
I dove onto the fluffy bed face-first.
"Ahh, heaven. Thought that suspension-less ride would kill me."
Staring at the ceiling in a daze, Father's words resurfaced.
'Show your face. Skip it and you're dead.'
Victory Day banquet.
The starting pistol shattering my peaceful NEET life.
"Ugh, don't wanna go. Really don't."
I rolled around rejecting it body and soul, but remembering my crops stopped me cold.
Can't fold. Damn it.
In two days, I'd be tossed into that battlefield of a banquet hall.
What to do there?
Pfft, what else?
Stuff my face with cake in the corner and bail.
Absolutely, never, no mingling with anyone.
"If I play the ultimate useless idiot—super obedient, zero info gathered—they'll ship me back home, right?"
Like that Seoul life before.
Even in this world, same shit.
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