Field forced a bright smile as he waited for his father's verdict.
The judgment of Count Cort.
Three days ago, Field had still been an ordinary man on Earth.
Then he died.
And woke up here.
The good news?
He was now a noble—the son of a count.
The bad news?
No one in this family liked him.
"Field," the old count said slowly, "you're an adult now. Like a grown lion, it's time for you to carve out your own path."
The middle-aged man wore luxurious robes and spoke with the dignity expected of a noble lord.
But the count looked exhausted.
His face was pale. His breathing uneven. Even speaking seemed to drain him.
The grand speech sounded less like encouragement—
And more like a poorly delivered joke.
Across the hall, several family members openly smirked.
The count suddenly paused mid-sentence.
His gaze drifted unfocused.
A moment later, his brows knit slightly.
He had already forgotten what he was about to say.
Field lowered his eyes.
The original owner of this body had been a genuinely kind person.
Too kind, in fact.
When his younger brother needed a battle-aura awakening potion, Field gave him his own.
When his younger sister dreamed of studying at the Mage Academy, he handed over his chance.
He even treated servants with courtesy and respect.
Under normal circumstances, someone like that would have earned admiration.
But this was a noble family.
Among nobles, kindness wasn't virtue.
It was weakness.
In their eyes, the original Field had been nothing but a useless coward.
Beside the old count sat Field's stepmother.
A beautiful, mature woman with a graceful figure.
She occupied the deputy lord's seat with natural confidence.
Lifting a porcelain teacup, she took a slow, delicate sip before glancing lazily toward Field.
Her phoenix-shaped eyes were cold.
Sunlight cast a sharp shadow along the bridge of her nose, giving her an air of quiet arrogance.
She raised her chin slightly, as if looking down at him through her nose.
"The Nightfall Territory in the Northern Frontier will be your barony," she said calmly.
"Plenty of room there for you to prove yourself."
So it really is exile.
Field felt a faint dizziness.
The previous owner of this body had endured constant humiliation and bullying until he finally collapsed.
Now Field had inherited the aftermath.
He bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to calm down.
What an idiot.
Trying to survive in a noble house with kindness.
His stepmother watched him lazily.
"Do you have any objections?"
"…Hah."
Field slowly exhaled, suppressing the anger rising in his chest.
The smile vanished from his face.
"As you wish," he said quietly.
"Father."
Everyone in the hall knew the truth.
The old count had long been completely controlled by his wife.
Whatever she said—
Was law.
"Pfft. Idiot."
Someone snorted.
A sharp laugh followed.
The Northern Frontier was a brutal wasteland where humans and beastmen had fought endless wars.
Ten years ago, the Holy Griffon Empire unleashed corrupted fog across the battlefield, slaughtering three hundred thousand beastmen soldiers in one night.
Now the land was probably crawling with goblins and trolls.
But the truth was even worse.
Those three hundred thousand beastmen—
Along with every human and animal in the region—
Had turned into corrupted creatures.
They now lurked within the endless death fog.
The Northern Frontier had become a living hell.
The royal family launched three massive campaigns to reclaim the land.
All three ended in total annihilation.
The so-called noble territories in the region mostly existed only on paper.
Even stray dogs wouldn't wander there.
People rarely even mentioned the place anymore.
It was cursed land.
Even runaway slaves or criminals avoided fleeing toward Nightfall Territory.
It's fine.
Field comforted himself silently.
I still have a cheat.
With a thought, a transparent map appeared in his vision.
A green dot slowly moved across it.
"Go prepare," the count said weakly.
His face had turned even paler.
Field's stepmother helped him to his feet, her nearly transparent silk robe brushing lightly against him.
Strangely, the old man suddenly seemed a little more energetic as they hurried toward the bedroom.
Field pressed his lips together.
His brothers and sisters had each received rich, prosperous territories.
But his father gave him nothing more than two meaningless sentences—
And expected him to leave quietly.
Not happening.
"Father," Field said.
"I will need your support. Developing Nightfall Territory won't be easy."
His stepmother leaned gently against the count's arm.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Greed is not a noble virtue," the count replied immediately.
"You already have enough."
The surrounding relatives looked at Field with open contempt.
"Black hair and black eyes… how embarrassing for the Ross family."
"Just a bastard."
In this era, black hair and black eyes were no longer symbols of noble blood.
After the eastern nomad invasions and the collapse of the old inland kingdoms, those traits had become associated with foreign bloodlines.
Field's eyes flashed with anger.
The circumstances of the original owner's birth had been the count's own mistake.
Why should he bear the consequences?
His mother had once been a maid in the castle.
She came from a distant eastern land, sold to the estate by nomadic traders.
One drunken night later—
The original Field was born.
Low birth.
No maternal family.
And the black hair and eyes inherited from his mother.
That was enough to make him an outcast.
"Five hundred gold coins," the count finally said.
"And you may bring your personal servant."
"I treat all my children equally."
After saying that, he was already being led away by his wife.
Field felt a wave of frustration.
Five hundred gold coins sounded impressive.
But for developing a territory?
It was barely enough to get started.
Still…
Better than nothing.
"Hey, Field."
His half-brother approached with a wide grin.
"Nightfall Territory sounds wonderful. No sunlight all year. A rotting wasteland drowned in fog."
"Perfect match for those demon eyes of yours."
He laughed loudly.
"My territory's boring in comparison. Poor Fulran City."
"Only famous for beer and goats."
Anger flared in Field's chest.
A terrible territory was one thing.
As a transmigrator, he could always find a way to survive.
But mocking his appearance?
That made Field want to dig up his brother's entire ancestral graveyard.
And the only reason this bastard even possessed battle aura—
Was because of him.
Back then, the boy's talent had been terrible.
He hid in a corner crying while everyone mocked him.
Field had been the one who helped him.
"Get lost," Field said coldly.
"Do you remember the flaxen-haired girl?" his brother whispered suddenly.
Field's eyes narrowed.
A face surfaced in his memory.
The girl the original Field had loved.
Later, her naked corpse had been discovered behind a tavern.
The original owner collapsed from grief soon after.
That was when Field transmigrated.
His brother licked his lips.
"I did it."
"She struggled quite a bit."
"You have no idea how exciting it was."
Field's pupils shrank.
Shock tightened around his chest.
His brother had only just come of age—
Yet he had committed something so monstrous.
The girl might mean nothing to him now.
But the sheer casual cruelty of it…
Made Field feel sick.