Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

At twenty years old, he was four years William's senior. With his refined features and aristocratic demeanor, he looked every bit the nobleman. But the sharp tilt of his eyes gave his face a constant air of severity, as if he were perpetually displeased with the world.

William had encountered him often in his past life—far too often.

And not for any pleasant reasons.

Jordi's gaze swept over the gathered knights before settling on William.

"You again, William?"

Again?

William tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion. Jordi responded with a scoff, his lips curling in amusement.

"Don't play dumb. A year ago, you ran from the training grounds because you couldn't handle my lessons. And yet, here you are again, shameless as ever. Just how thick is your skin?"

Lessons, is it?

William's expression remained unreadable, but inwardly, he pieced things together.

So that's what happened a year ago.

Jordi had used training as an excuse to humiliate him. Perhaps even physically beat him under the guise of discipline.

No wonder the previous William had never returned.

Not that any of that mattered now.

"You have no place among the knights of House Hern," Jordi continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "You should—"

"Perfect timing, brother," William interrupted smoothly. "I was just about to ask you something."

Jordi's expression darkened at the blatant disregard.

"Who taught you to cut people off like that? You truly have no manners—"

"This isn't about manners," William said, his tone growing sharper. "First, let's determine whether or not you're a disgrace to House Hern."

"...What?"

Jordi blinked, clearly not expecting that.

William didn't give him time to recover.

"Let me ask you plainly—did you truly say that learning swordsmanship after fifteen is impossible?"

For the first time, Jordi hesitated.

The atmosphere grew heavy.

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he leveled a glare at William, cold and unrelenting.

"...And if I did?"

It was meant to be a challenge. An attempt to intimidate.

William barely contained a smirk.

How cute.

A man who had never seen battle—who had never fought for his life—was trying to intimidate him.

William cocked his head slightly.

"If that's the case, then I suppose I'll have to request that Father send you to a monastery."

"...What?"

Jordi's composure cracked.

William shrugged.

"If you were someone who had never trained in swordsmanship, it would be understandable. But for a man who has studied for years to be ignorant of something so basic? That's not simply a lack of talent—that's a sign of serious cognitive decline."

A muscle twitched in Jordi's jaw.

William continued, his voice filled with feigned concern.

"For now, it's just forgetfulness. But what if it worsens? What if you eventually lose control over your bodily functions? That would be a liability for the family, wouldn't it?" He sighed, shaking his head. "It would be better for you to withdraw from public life now. A quiet life in a monastery would be much more suitable."

The words had barely left his mouth before the entire training ground fell silent.

A silence so thick, it felt suffocating.

Not even the wind dared to make a sound.

Among the knights, William had long been known as the Deer Prince—a nickname born from his tendency to tremble at the slightest threat, much like a frightened deer burying its head in the underbrush.

But today, that same trembling deer had just hurled an insult directly at the second young master.

Several knights began to wonder if they had misheard.

"D-Do-Do-Young Master..."

Hans tugged at William's sleeve, his face drained of all color. The way his fingers clenched tightly around the fabric made it clear—he wanted to run before the beast fully awakened.

Unfortunately for him, the beast had already come to its senses.

"Y-You… You dare…?"

Jordi Hern's face contorted, his cheek twitching violently.

His entire body trembled with barely restrained fury, as if one more word from William would send him lunging forward, sword drawn.

Yet despite the suffocating pressure in the air, William remained utterly at ease. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

"Calm yourself, brother."

"Calm? You expect me to be calm?!"

"Even if you don't want to, you must," William said, his tone unwavering. "After all, we have yet to confirm whether Sir Hendrick's words were true. If you attack me now, it would only mean that you are admitting he spoke the truth."

A sharp grinding noise cut through the air.

Jordi clenched his jaw so tightly that his gums bled.

He wanted to break William.

To beat him until he was on his knees, pleading for mercy.

A month ago, he would have.

No hesitation. No consequences.

But things were different now.

Damn it.

A month ago, their father had all but abandoned William, withdrawing any and all support. Had that continued, beating him to a pulp wouldn't have even warranted a scolding.

But now?

Now, their father had begun to back him once more.

Which meant he had expectations.

And if Jordi carelessly laid a hand on William, it could infuriate the Grand Duke—especially since Jordi's standing in the succession race was already precarious.

William's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Why aren't you answering, brother? You only need to confirm the truth. It's a simple matter—easier than flipping a coin."

"Shut your mouth!"

Jordi snapped, his fingers twitching at his side.

He cast a quick glance around the training yard.

Too many witnesses.

Too many eyes, watching.

If he said nothing, it would look as though William had backed him into a corner.

But if he pushed forward despite being wrong, it would make him look like a fool with a fragile ego.

Checkmate.

A dull ache began to pulse behind Jordi's temple.

All he had wanted was to humiliate William, the same way he had a year ago.

How had it come to this?

William, unwilling to let the silence stretch for too long, gave a small sigh.