Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

The duke, enraged beyond measure, would order his immediate capture.

William himself, along with the city guards, had stormed this very gambling den to take him down.

By the time they arrived, however, Hugo had already caught wind of their approach and vanished without a trace.

Frustrated, William and the guards had searched the entire building from top to bottom.

Three days into the search, William—exasperated beyond belief—had kicked over a chair in anger.

And by sheer coincidence, that was when the hidden mechanism had triggered.

'I nearly jumped out of my skin when the damn wall started moving.'

What followed was an exhausting crawl through a tunnel that led all the way to the outskirts of the city.

By the end of that miserable trek, he knew the passage's location, its structure, and where it ultimately led.

William rested his chin on his hand and continued, his voice dripping with amusement.

"North of the city walls, was it? You chose the location well. Plenty of livestock sales in the area, multiple branching roads… Even if the guards spent a day or two searching, they'd never find the exact exit. I have to admire the thoroughness."

With each word, Hugo's face lost more color.

Just how much did this young noble know?

If William kept talking, he might as well start listing what Hugo had for lunch or the color of his underwear.

'It's over.'

For a lord overseeing his territory, there was nothing more intolerable than drug trafficking.

Not out of any moral concern, but because it was devastatingly bad for business.

A population addicted to drugs wasn't just a few unfortunate souls wasting away—it was a workforce lost, tax revenue vanishing, and most dangerously, loyalty shifting from the ruling lord to the suppliers controlling the market.

It was no wonder that nobles showed no mercy toward drug traffickers.

Even the poorest of lords would go into debt just to hire the best torturers for the job.

Once captured, death wasn't a question of 'if,' but of 'when'—and the sooner, the better.

And now, Hugo—who had been preparing to flood the duchy with illicit goods—had been caught red-handed by none other than the duke's own son.

'Should I kill him?'

The thought flickered through Hugo's mind like a candle in the wind.

If he struck first—killed the young noble and buried his body—he could buy himself some time.

His eyes darkened with murderous intent.

But within moments, the madness faded, replaced by a bitter chuckle.

'What a fool. What am I even thinking?'

Murdering the son of a duke? That crime made drug trafficking look like petty theft.

With the latter, he could go into hiding for a decade, and eventually, they might stop chasing him.

But if he killed William Hern?

The duke would tear apart the entire continent to hunt him down.

Hugo exhaled slowly, resignation settling into his bones.

Oddly enough, the certainty of his doom made him feel… at peace.

The most terrifying thing in the world was the unknown.

But there was nothing unknown about this.

He had already lost.

There was only one thing left to do.

With a heavy thud, Hugo dropped to his knees.

"Please… spare me."

Hugo fell to his knees.

The sheer weight of his massive frame sent a heavy thud echoing through the room.

As the others stared in shock, he lowered himself even further, pressing his forehead to the floor.

"If you wish for a dog, I will be one. If you command me to bark, I will bark. If you tell me to crawl, I will crawl. Please… spare me."

"Sp-Spare us!"

"Please, Young Master, spare us!"

Realizing what was happening, the remaining men followed Hugo's lead, slamming their heads against the ground.

The rhythmic thud, thud, thud of four foreheads striking the floor filled the room.

William chuckled.

"Well… I suppose having a dog isn't such a bad thing. I was in need of more hands to handle my work."

At those words, Hugo exhaled in relief.

It didn't matter how long he would be shackled by this leash—whether for years or even decades.

As long as he was alive, there would always be a chance to turn the tables.

For now, survival was all that mattered.

"Thank you, Young Master. I swear upon my life—"

"But you know," William interrupted, tilting his head. "A mere dog… doesn't suit you, does it? You're not the type to be satisfied with just that."

"...What?"

William crouched down, bringing his lips close to Hugo's ear.

"Tell me, Hugo. Haven't you ever wanted to be a knight?"

Hugo's eyes widened.

His heart pounded violently against his ribs, like a war drum in his chest.

A knight.

'If it were possible, I'd sell my soul for it.'

Talent? He had it. Swordsmanship? He had trained relentlessly.

But none of it mattered.

Because no matter how skilled he was, his lowborn status was a shackle he could never break.

Even in the underworld, where he had clawed his way to the top, his achievements meant nothing in the eyes of the nobility.

He had once burned with ambition, but after years of rejection and scorn, he had buried that dream long ago.

And now, this young noble was digging it up and holding it before him.

"Is… is that truly possible?" Hugo's voice trembled as he spoke.

A cruel joke—was that what this was? Would William dangle hope before him, only to laugh and rip it away?

But instead of ridiculing him, William simply nodded.

"Not immediately. But with enough effort, it's within reach. You only need to meet two conditions."

"Tell me," Hugo said, his voice desperate.

"First," William said, his gaze sharp, "absolute loyalty to me."

Bang!

Hugo slammed his forehead against the ground harder than ever before.

Blood trickled down from the fresh wound on his forehead, but he didn't so much as flinch.

"If you promise me this, then I swear to obey any command—anything but death."