Reincarnated as the third son of the Duke

…Wait. Speaking of which, why hasn't my family come to see me?

A noble's son staying locked in his room for over a year should have been a major concern.

At the very least, his father—Duke Sigmund Hern—should have intervened.

William knew what kind of man he was.

A rigid, uncompromising figure.

A man utterly devoted to the Emperor, who held duty and discipline above all else.

If William had truly spent a year hiding away, his father should have dragged him out by force.

So why hadn't he?

Duke Sigmund Hern was known for his martial prowess as well as his rigid discipline.

He had little patience for weak-willed soldiers and was ruthless toward those who whined.

And yet, his own son had locked himself away in a room for over a year, and he had done nothing?

That doesn't add up.

The more William thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

He was still lost in thought when his body started to falter.

He hadn't walked far, yet this pathetic excuse for a body was already exhausted.

William let out a quiet sigh. He was just about to return to his room when—

"Third Young Master."

A voice called out to him from behind.

Turning his head, William found an elderly butler standing before him, bowing politely.

It had been a long time since he'd seen this man's face, but he recognized him immediately.

Edwin, the Head Steward.

William instinctively tensed.

Once, this man had been sent as a hostage to an enemy house.

Yet, he had somehow gained the Duke's trust over the years and risen to a position of immense influence.

Rumors said that he wielded enough power to have a say in the matter of succession.

William himself had once seen the Duke's other children visibly uneasy in Edwin's presence.

"It has been some time," William said evenly. "I hope you have been well."

"...Yes. Though I must admit, my body feels a little heavier these days," Edwin replied, casting a subtle glance at Hans.

William met the butler's gaze and silently asked, Do you know why he's here?

But Hans—clearly terrified—remained frozen on the spot.

Useless.

With no other choice, William decided to rely on his instincts.

"May I ask what brings you here, Head Steward? I don't recall you visiting me recently. Did something happen in the family?"

"Hmm."

Since Edwin was essentially the Duke's right-hand man, William's tone naturally became more respectful.

For a split second, something flickered in the butler's sharp eyes.

However, he quickly masked his reaction with a polite smile and shook his head.

"No, there is no need for concern. The Hern household remains as strong as ever."

"Then why have you sought me out?"

"The Duke requests your presence."

"...!"

William kept his head slightly bowed as he studied the man before him.

Duke Sigmund Hern.

Despite the streaks of white in his beard, there was not a hint of weakness in him.

The air around him was that of a lion—a predator that could tear through lesser beasts with ease.

Even standing before him was enough to make William's skin prickle.

The Duke's sharp gaze bore into him for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"Useless fool."

William blinked.

…Excuse me?

"Has your childish protest ended?"

"…What?"

"I heard you took just enough sleeping draught to stay alive. At least you got the dosage right."

William's mind spun.

What the hell was this about?

The confusion must have shown on his face, because the Duke's expression darkened.

"For over a year, you locked yourself away in that damned room, only to resort to this pathetic stunt? Congratulations. You succeeded in forcing me to summon you. But what have you truly gained?"

"...I don't understand what you mean—"

"When your mother died, I chose to wait. I wanted to see if time would make you come to your senses. I was a fool."

William's eyes widened.

Finally, everything clicked into place.

The Duke had four sons, each from a different mother.

Back when William had worked in the estate, only the third son's mother had already passed.

At the time, he had assumed it was simply a case of hereditary illness.

But now, it was obvious.

The original William hadn't simply been mourning.

He had been making a statement.

Locking himself away was a protest, a desperate bid for attention.

For over a year, he had isolated himself in his chambers, waiting for the Duke to come to him.

And when that failed, he took a near-lethal dose of sleeping draught, trying to push things further.

Of course, he had miscalculated.

The human body changes over time.

A lethal dose for a healthy man is very different from one for a frail, bedridden one.

After a year of physical neglect, his body was already at its limit.

If he had miscalculated even slightly, he would have truly died.

So this was why, in William's past life, the third son had been recorded as having died from "an accident."

What an absolute disaster.

William let out a slow breath, barely resisting the urge to curse aloud.

This body's original owner had been even more pathetic than he had expected.

The Duke of Hern wasn't just any noble.

He was the Emperor's most trusted confidant, a towering figure in the political battlefield where wolves and hidden blades lurked in every shadow.

Of course, his gaze toward his own sons would be just as cold and calculating.

If he had to prune the weaklings from his bloodline, he would do so without hesitation.

And yet, here was his own son, throwing a childish tantrum for over a year.

How did this idiot even make it to sixteen?

"Very well," the Duke said. "You got what you wanted. I summoned you here. If you have anything to say, speak now."

His tone was eerily indifferent.

At first, it sounded like he intended to let things continue as they were.

But William knew better.

Something about his words felt… final.

The worst-case scenario came to mind.

What if the Duke had already decided to discard him?

It wasn't uncommon for nobles to send useless heirs off to distant territories or force them into monasteries.

And if that happened—William's chance at this new life would be completely ruined.

No choice, then.

There was only one option left.

If he wanted to survive, he had to face this head-on.

Slowly, William straightened his posture.

Raising his head, he met the Duke's piercing gaze without flinching.

And then, he spoke.