Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

Silence.

The Grand Duke's face turned to stone.

"...What did you just say?"

William remained unfazed.

"I have already gathered evidence. If you wish, I can present it to you now."

The proof was brought in immediately.

William had Hugo deliver the prepared documents—evidence gathered straight from the source.

The Grand Duke sifted through the files, his sharp eyes scanning every line. Manufacturing sites. Distribution routes. Sale schedules. Concealment methods.

Each detail was laid out with meticulous precision.

By the time he reached the last page, the Grand Duke's entire posture had shifted.

"Bernhardt! That bastard dares to pull something like this under my very nose?!"

CRACK.

The table split down the middle as the Grand Duke's fist slammed into it.

The lapis-lazuli table—renowned for being as strong as steel—had cracked from the force.

He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury.

William simply watched in silence, waiting for the storm to pass.

Finally, the Grand Duke exhaled sharply and sank into his chair, rubbing his temples.

"Damn it. I should report this to His Majesty immediately and drag that disgrace of a marquis before a tribunal—"

"It won't be that simple," William interjected. "The entire operation was conducted under the name of his trading firms. If you present this evidence, the Marquis will simply sever his ties and discard them."

"Of course," the Grand Duke muttered bitterly. "That conniving bastard."

Bernhardt, for all his arrogance, was no fool. There was no way he would leave a direct link to himself in any illicit dealings.

Even if this evidence was brought forward, it would remain in the realm of suspicion. Not enough to bring the Marquisate down.

The Grand Duke's face twisted with frustration.

William studied him for a moment before speaking again.

"Are you truly satisfied with this outcome?"

The Grand Duke shot him a glare.

"Do I look satisfied?"

William's lips curved into a faint smile.

"Then perhaps… we should ensure the Marquis never realizes we are onto him."

The Grand Duke frowned. "Explain."

William clasped his hands behind his back, voice steady and measured.

"Not long ago, the very man who was overseeing this operation defected to me. He has pledged himself to my service."

The Grand Duke stiffened.

William continued, unfazed.

"A man like Bernhardt would never consider the possibility of betrayal. Not when the matter at hand is drug trade. He will never believe one of his men would switch sides—because he knows that once exposed, a traitor like that has no future."

The Grand Duke's expression darkened. He understood all too well what William meant.

A criminal, a peasant, a nobody from the underworld.

Such a man had no worth beyond utility. Even if he defected, no noble house would dare to reward him. His fate would be exploitation, then disposal.

But what if he found a lord willing to give him a future?

William's voice was smooth, certain.

"If we allow him to move within Bernhardt's ranks, he could cause more damage than any external force. We wouldn't just cripple his trade networks—we might even find irrefutable proof of his direct involvement."

The Grand Duke fell silent.

For a long moment, he weighed the risks. He scrutinized William, searching for any sign of hesitation.

Then, at last, he spoke.

"Can this man be trusted?" His voice was quiet, dangerous. "He was willing to peddle narcotics once before."

William smiled slightly.

"I do not trust him. But I trust his dream."

The Grand Duke's brows furrowed. "Dream?"

"He wishes to become a knight," William said simply. "He wants his name to be remembered in history."

The Grand Duke scoffed. "Ridiculous. A street rat dreaming of knighthood?"

"But what man doesn't dream of greatness?" William countered.

He understood that feeling all too well.

And because of that, he knew Hugo would never betray him.

A lord who would grant him that dream was a rarity beyond measure.

Even if it cost him everything, Hugo would never let go of that chance.

The Grand Duke stared at him for a long moment. Then, he asked,

"And if you are wrong? If this man brings ruin upon us instead?"

William met his father's gaze without flinching.

"Then I will stake my life on it."

Silence.

Then—a chuckle.

The Grand Duke smiled for the first time that night.

"...Very well," he said.

Then, turning away, he gave his final command.

"When you've recovered, come to the training grounds."

William blinked. "What?"

"I will teach you the Lionheart Sword. You are now a true contender for the next head of this house."

William's breath caught.

The Lionheart Sword.

A technique reserved only for the heir of Hern.

This was it. The acknowledgment he had been waiting for.

The battle for succession had truly begun.

William's eyebrows twitched slightly.

Lionheart Sword.

A sword technique that only the chosen successor candidates and a select few close aides were allowed to learn. Among the ancient sword techniques, it was renowned for its overwhelming strength and ferocity—one of the most formidable techniques ever known.

Knights, commoners, even mere farmers—there was hardly anyone who had never heard of the name Lionheart Sword. Tales of it echoed through childhood stories and distant regional legends.

And now, Grand Duke Sigmund had just declared that he would teach it.

William bit down on his lip, struggling to control his emotions.

At last...!

In his previous life, despite wandering across the continent, he had never acquired a high-level sword technique. Even the meager techniques he managed to obtain were nothing more than diluted versions of the skills taught to ordinary knights.

To a mere mercenary, even those scraps had been valuable. Yet, William had never been satisfied.

How many times had he been bested by knights who once couldn't even stand against him, only to return years later with superior skills, knocking him to the ground?