The Margrave's 10th-Class Ne'er-do-well

༺ 𓆩  Chapter 2 — Lucas  𓆪 ༻

「Translator — Creator」

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

“Please don’t let anyone in. Not Father, not Mother, not Jonas. They must not come to that place. Send someone who doesn't know me at all to attend to me. And if they ask who I am… tell them I’m a criminal who’s committed an unspeakable crime.”

“Must it really come to this…?”

“I no longer exist.
May you all be well.”

Isaac stared blankly at the ceiling.

He tried to empty his thoughts, to sink back into meditation, but his mind refused to quiet.

The last conversation he had with his father returned to his mind.
Though it had been twenty years ago, it remained vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.
He still remembered every word, every pause, without a single detail out of place.

It hadn’t been a long exchange.
And yet, both Isaac and his father had known exactly what the other was thinking.
In that moment, silence had spoken more than words ever could.
The weight of the air between them had said everything.

Isaac had not wanted to be weak.
He had not wanted to hurt those he loved.
He could not bear to lose anyone else.

So he resolved never to see them again.
From that moment on, he shut himself away and immersed himself entirely in magical research.
And his only goal was to escape the fate he had been born into.

It was, in his own way, an act of penance.
And the only way he knew to forget and survive the pain.

“Are you awake, young master? It’s morning outside.”

“............”

"Young master?"

A man with a solid build and a gentle face entered the room.

It was Lucas, the only person in the estate who still spoke directly to Isaac.

“What were you thinking about just now?”

“Just... the past.”

“How far back are we talking?”

“Twenty years, give or take.”

“Far too long ago. How about tasting cheese full of fresh flavor rather than stale old memories?"

Lucas lifted a basket with the day’s meal.

“I also brought the books you asked for. That scholar from the Blue Mage Tower published a new volume recently.”

“He’s still around? It's been over twenty years since he diagnosed my unique constitution. Has nothing happened outside? Is everyone healthy?"

"Yes. Of course. His Excellency, the Lady, and the second young master are all in good health. As for detailed news, according to His Excellency's policy..."

“My father told you not to share outside news. So I wouldn’t worry unnecessarily.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

"I understand. Just thought I'd ask."

“Thank you for understanding.”

Lucas scratched the back of his head, a little sheepishly.

“Phew…”

Isaac exhaled slowly.

Even without hearing news through Lucas, he could roughly guess what was happening in the world outside.

Lately, the newest publications in the magical sciences had placed unusually strong focus on destructive magic.

Many of the papers he had published under Jonas's name while holed up underground researching magic had also been cited extensively

Some had even been used as foundational principles for certain major destructive magic or magical weapons.

Clearly, the signs of war were thickening, or they were already in wartime.

What frustrated him was not knowing where and where the war was between.

Or how much his family, House Goethe, was involved.

He had questioned Lucas about it several times, but the answer that returned was always the same.

"Please don't worry too much. If House Goethe were caught up in war, we wouldn't be able to look after you like this, young master."

Lucas's words were correct.

"You have something more important than the continent's political situation, don't you, young master? You must focus on that."

"...I suppose so."

Isaac nodded his head.

Solving his constitution came first.

It was the path he had chosen himself.

Isaac's father.

Margrave Goethe's handling was right. It was the path he had chosen.

Isaac had made his decision, and once a choice was made, it demanded full commitment.

Everything else was noise.

Even after twenty years, his unique constitution, his mana explosions, remained unsolved.

There was no time to turn his eyes elsewhere.

And he knew it.
He knew full well that it was too late to turn back.
Even if he did overcome his condition, nothing would truly change.

Yet Isaac refused to give up.
He would not, not until the end of his life.
He didn’t care whether it was possible or not.

That was who Isaac was.
That was the blood of House Goethe.

While Isaac skimmed through the books, Lucas began to tidy up the room.

He emptied the chamber pot, cleaned the washbasin, and replaced the old garments with neatly folded fresh ones. After more than a decade of doing the same routine, his hands moved swiftly, effortlessly.

“Time to get moving.”

“You’re already done?”

“Yes, my lord. You did physical training yesterday. Today’s swordsmanship, I believe?”

“Guess I’m about to turn purple.”

Isaac let out a short laugh.

If there was anything he enjoyed more than his magical research, it was this — this time.

“Huff… huff…”

Not long after, Isaac collapsed to one knee, leaning heavily on his wooden sword.
As expected, his body was already covered in bruises.

“Seriously… I ask this every time, but why aren’t you a knight? Why waste your skill rotting away next to me?”

“I’ve told you, haven’t I? At best, I’m just a soldier who happens to be decent with a blade.”

“I’ve heard that line a thousand times. Don’t you have anything new?”

For no small amount of time, Isaac had learned swordsmanship from Lucas.

A full ten years and more.

He hadn't been lazy, nor had Lucas taught poorly.

Rather, Lucas was an excellent teacher.

And yet, Isaac couldn't even reach Lucas's toes.

Even now, Lucas didn’t need to move a single step to deflect every one of Isaac’s strikes and counter them with ease.

After ten years of being beaten black and blue with a wooden sword, Isaac had developed an eye for such things.

Several times, knights from the frontier had visited the estate to learn swordsmanship, and judging from those experiences, Lucas was already an outstanding knight.

Perhaps even more than that.

“Then how about this answer?” Lucas said suddenly, raising his wooden sword upright and dropping to one knee. “I, Lucas, swear by the name of a warrior to serve Isaac von Goethe.”

“…What are you doing?”

"Can't you see? It's an oath of loyalty. Congratulate me. I've become a knight now."

"Stop joking around."

"There's no difference. The one I serve is you, young master, and I'm already serving you, aren't I? Ever since you saved me, I've been your knight all along."

"You're no fun."

Isaac clicked his tongue.

"I thought it was quite a clever joke."

Lucas spoke without a trace of laughter.

"A joke? That's the funniest thing you've ever said."

Isaac shook his head.

"That you saved me wasn't a joke. If you hadn't protected me back then, young master, I would already be dead."

It had happened a little over twenty years ago.

Lucas had tried to steal an elixir owned by the family to save his wife, who had fallen ill with fever.

He was caught by the chamberlain, and Lucas, who didn't even know how to lie, had frozen stiff.

At that time, Isaac, who hadn't yet gone underground, protected Lucas by claiming he had ordered him to dispose of the elixir.

Thanks to that, Lucas was cleared of suspicion and even gained a reputation for maintaining his loyalty to Isaac.

Years later, after serving in the Winterband Fortress along the border for five or six years, Lucas heard that the servant attending to Isaac had left. He began sending letters, over and over, to the chamberlain.

Why he should serve Isaac, what help he could provide.

Each time, letters densely filled with writing flew to the estate's office.

The following year, Lucas got his wish to attend to Isaac.

Despite the request to send someone who didn't know him as an attendant.

“I told you, the elixir was useless to me anyway. Tasted awful. I just didn’t want to drink it, so I pawned it off on you.”

“And didn’t you get flogged until you passed out for that?”

"Did something like that happen? It's been so long I don't remember."

"Even so, you didn't say a single word about me. You only kept repeating that you threw it all away because you didn't want to eat it."

“I was in so much pain I thought I'd die. It was too bothersome to answer."

Isaac shrugged.

"You are truly a good person, young master."

Lucas said it plainly, without flattery, without hesitation.

“…Now that’s a fresh joke.”

Isaac turned his gaze away from Lucas.
It was not something he wanted to hear.
Those who cared for him always ended up as victims.

“You know as well as I do it wasn’t a jo—cough!”

“Lucas!”

Suddenly, Lucas doubled over, coughing up blood.
Hemoptysis, one of the clear signs of mana poisoning.
It was the price of lingering too long at Isaac’s side.

Even without an explosion, Isaac’s vessel was always fractured.
Mana leaked constantly from him, saturating the air.
The Goethes were a family of magi; from birth, their mana density was abnormally high.
And so, Isaac’s unstable aura was poison to those with weaker resistance.
Especially Lucas, who spent nearly every waking moment beside him, day after day.

"You're coughing up blood because you're talking nonsense. Get out, quickly!"

Isaac pressed a towel into Lucas’s hands and helped him out of the room.

“Hah… truly, young master, there’s not a speck of nobility in you,” Lucas chuckled weakly.

“...Rest. For a while.”

“I refuse. If I'm not here, who will attend to you, young master?"

“Someone prettier than you, most likely. Rest until it clears. At least a month. And until then, don’t you dare come near me. Understood?”

"I can't do that. Young master, you don't have any friends."

"Should I banish you for the crime of insult?"

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Don't come. If you come without resolving your mana poisoning, you're fired. I don't want you appearing in my already violent dreams too."

“Now that’s a fresh sort of threat,” Lucas managed with a faint smile.

"Stop talking nonsense and really leave now. Or you'll really die."

Isaac set him down just outside the door and closed it firmly.

From the other side, Lucas’s voice carried in.
“Don’t worry. You know me. You’ve had dozens of explosions in here, but I’ve never so much as lost a hair. No one else could replace me.”

“You only have one life. Maybe you dodged it a dozen times, but one mistake, one instant, is all it takes to lose everything. Don’t come back if you don’t want to. If it’s a burden, hand it off to someone else. Focus on your child instead. Don’t make Anna worry.”

“My wife nags me less than you, my lord.”

“Then do her a favor, become a proper knight. Anna would like that more. …Now go. I’m going to meditate. Don’t disturb me.”

“Yes, young master. These past years… have been a joy.”

Isaac heard Lucas's words but pretended not to.

If he let himself dwell on what Lucas meant by them, he feared his heart might falter.

But Isaac listened until the sound of Lucas’s footsteps faded completely.
He feared that mana poisoning might trigger sudden convulsions before Lucas managed to leave the underground vault.

“I should never have grown attached.”

Once Lucas’s presence vanished entirely, Isaac muttered to himself again and let out a hollow laugh.

He had said something similar twenty years ago.
So had he truly made no progress at all?

He blamed himself for being the same man still.
And yet, for the sake of Lucas’s unborn child, he offered a silent blessing.

At the very least, may that child never live a life like his own.
May they grow in the warmth of their parents’ love, and may they turn out like Lucas; steadfast, unbroken.

And then another year passed.

“Huff… huff… huff…”

Isaac awoke once more from his nightmares.
His skin was clammy with cold sweat, his forehead icy.

The nightmare was always the same.
Hans, the nanny, the two maids, those who had died in his mana explosions, appeared again.

Together, they prepared supper.
Outside, a blizzard raged, but inside the house it was warm, cheerful.

Hans hummed a tune as he stacked dry logs into the fireplace.
The maids sang along while setting food on the table.
The nanny laid down cloth, arranged cups and spoons, forks and knives.

Isaac chatted with them about old stories, laughter spilling into the room.
It was homely. Comforting. His heart eased.

And yet, beneath the warmth, something stirred.
An instinctive dread—something was wrong.

Thud—!!! Thud—!!! Thud—!!!

Someone pounded violently on the wooden door.

A man wrapped tightly from head to toe in a fur cloak.

Snow was piled high on his head and shoulders, as if he had walked through snowy paths for a long time.

"I'm a bit late. Dinner hasn't started yet, has it?"

The man pulled back his hood.

It was Lucas.

“Oh, you must be freezing. Come in quickly,” the nanny welcomed him warmly.

"No, don't come in!"

Isaac screamed as if in agony.

But Lucas had already stepped inside the house.

“It’s been a while, young master,” Lucas said with a radiant smile.

And Isaac’s face crumpled with despair.

The dream always ended there.

And it had been the same dream for the past year.

Isaac wiped the sweat from his brow and stared vacantly at the mold clinging to the wall.

A year had passed since Lucas hadn't returned.

Since then, Chamberlain Schiller had personally taken Lucas’s place at Isaac’s side.

He had asked Schiller about Lucas's well-being countless times, but the Chamberlain only repeated that Lucas had quit his work and he knew nothing of his whereabouts after that.

Another month passed.

And then, an unexpected visitor came to the hidden underground chamber.

Margrave Goethe himself.

“It has been a while, Father.”

“…Your face… it’s worn down so badly.”

After exchanging one line each, father and son stood silently without speaking.

However, neither found joy in this reunion.

Their meeting only summoned the scars they had left upon one another.
Nothing had been resolved.
Only time had slipped away, wasted and merciless.

After a long silence, Margrave opened his mouth..

"Lucas... is dead."

The quiet in the chamber shattered.
It was as though the very air began to sizzle, boiling with a terrible pressure.

Isaac’s vessel was shattering once again.

END σϝ CHAPTER