Trash of the Count’s Family - Chapter 1

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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Chapter 1. Eyes Open

The man felt a gentle hand patting his body. The rough palm stirred memories of a weary parent’s touch—warm and tender in equal measure.

“Young master, it is morning.”

But the voice was remarkably deep. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, and his eyes flew open unbidden. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the window, yet instead of warmth, an elderly man gazed down at him with a pleased expression.

“Why have you risen so promptly?”
“Pardon?”
“The master of the house wishes to dine with you after all this time. Today seems to be the day.”

Beyond the old man’s shoulder, I caught sight of a mirror. Within it, a red-haired youth who could not have been much older than twenty stared back with a bewildered expression. That must be me.

“Young master Kale?”

I turned toward the elderly attendant’s concerned voice. But concern was not the issue.

I had heard it clearly.
Young master Kale. The name felt strangely familiar. It spilled from my lips.

“Kale Henitus?”

From beginning to end, the old man was looking at him as if he were looking at his own grandson.

“Yes, Master. I guess you are not sober yet.”

In response to the affirmative answer, the man naturally thought of a name that carried more weight than Cale Henitus.

“…Becross.”
“My son, sir?”
“…The head chef.”
“Yes, my son serves as head chef. Shall I have him prepare something to settle your stomach?”

For a moment, the man’s eyes went dark and he felt dizzy, so he lowered his head and placed his hand on his head.

“Master, are you feeling less hungover? Should I call a doctor? Or do you want to wash up right away?”

The man’s eyes caught the red hair flowing from his lowered head. It was a bright red color, very different from his own black hair.

Kale Henitus. Bcross. Vicross’s father, Ron.
Kale Heniatus. Vicross. Ron, Vicross’s father.

He raised his head and looked around. I saw a bedroom that was completely different from Korea and reminded me of Europe. Each one was luxurious and tastefully decorated.

“master?”

The man spoke to Ron, an old man who pretended to be kind and kind.

“Cold water.”
“Cold water.”

I needed something to wake me up. When I looked at old man Ron, I saw Cale Henitus in the mirror over his shoulder again.

‘It’s still fine.’

I guess I haven’t been beaten by the main character yet.
It seemed I hadn’t yet been beaten senseless by the protagonist.

When the man opened his eyes, he turned into Kale Henitus.
When I opened my eyes, I had become Kale Heniatus.

“Master, you are not taking a bath in cold water. Are you talking about drinking water?”

Cale turned his gaze to look at Ron. He pretended to be kind, but in reality, he had a cruel personality and hid his true identity. He asked Ron.

“Please give me some water to drink.”

First of all, I needed to drink cold water and fill my stomach.

“I will prepare right away.”
“I shall prepare it at once.”

Ron’s expression became subtle as he paused for a moment, but the man did not notice this.

There was only lukewarm water in the bedroom, so Ron went out of the bedroom to get cold water. Cale, who was left alone, got out of bed and went to the bathroom. If the novel is correct, the biggest mirror would likely be in the bathroom.

As expected, there was a full-length mirror in the bathroom. Cale Henitus, who was very interested in his appearance and body, unlike others, installed a large full-length mirror in his bathroom.

The man reflected in the full-length mirror had a body that was pretty good for getting caught. Should I say that I have a body that looks stylish?

“It’s kale.”

The man in the mirror was exactly the Cale Henitus described in the novel. ‘Birth of a Hero’ had particularly detailed facial descriptions. So, as soon as I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think it was that person.

Is it possible for people to become calm when they are so surprised and absurd? Cale, no, Kim Rok-soo calmly recalled last night.

It was a holiday like no other. For the first time in a while, I wanted to read fantasy on paper instead of on my phone, so I stopped by a rental store and rented a book. Since I was going to read it all day, I rented it all the way to the end.

The title of the book is ‘The Birth of a Hero’. I read up to five volumes and then fell asleep. However, when I opened my eyes, the main character in volume 1 had become Kale Henitus, one of the targets of cider.

‘Does this seem like something out of a novel?’

Possession? After overcoming the absurdity, my mind became peaceful. Then, the contents of the beginning naturally came to mind.

‘Birth of a hero’.
“The Birth of a Hero.”

“…Is it a big deal?”

It was made to fit that kind of person. But the important thing is that it’s not right yet. Cale looked away from the mirror and soaked himself in a bathtub filled with warm water. He leaned his head against the bathtub and looked at the ceiling. It was that expensive marble. Of course, marble is widespread in the territory where Kale lives.
I certainly looked the part for such a being. But what mattered was that I didn’t yet fit the role. I pulled my gaze from the mirror and sank into the bathtub filled with warm water. Leaning my head back against the rim, I stared at the ceiling—expensive marble, naturally. Though in the territory where this Kale lived, marble was as common as dirt.

“Because I don’t really have any regrets.”

Life as Kim Rok-su. There was nothing in particular to regret. Goa, no money. However, there is no one who loves to the point of death, nor is there a friend for whom one would sacrifice their life. I just lived because I couldn’t die.

Yeah, I can’t die.
Yes, I couldn’t die.

He hates dying very much. He also hates being in pain. His parents passed away in a traffic accident when he was young, and he survived alone.

I hate being in pain and I hate dying. No matter what, even rolling around in a shit-filled field is better than the afterlife.

“In that sense, I guess I just have to live without it matching up.”

I don’t know what time it is now. But one thing is certain—I haven’t met the protagonist yet. The reason was simple.

‘There’s no scar on my side.’

Kale Heniatus, the reckless fool of the Heniatus Count Family. Before meeting the protagonist, he gets drunk and throws a tantrum alone, destroying everything in sight. In the process, a broken table leg pierces his side, leaving him with a shallow scar.

What a ridiculous fellow. It wasn’t even a quarrel with someone else—he simply lost his temper because the alcohol tasted bad and smashed things up, earning the scar in the process. After the wound heals, he meets the protagonist. They encounter each other a few times before finally getting beaten to a pulp in a satisfying scene.

“Hmm.”

I crossed my arms and fell into thought.

I don’t know what happens to Kale after that satisfying scene in Volume 1. But the protagonist, Choi Han, encounters numerous opportunities and overcomes hardships, growing into a typical hero alongside his companions.

And an era worthy of his heroic deeds is about to unfold. In the Roan Kingdom where I currently live, and across the Eastern and Western Continents, wars break out everywhere. It’s truly an age where heroes thrive.

I furrowed my brow. I, Kim Rok-soo, who became Kale. My life motto was simple.
Let’s live comfortably.

Live with peace of mind.

“…First, I don’t match. Except for that, if I let the story proceed as it is, the protagonist will handle the rest on his own.”

Strangely, every detail of the early plot’s descriptions remained vivid in my memory. I soaked in hot water to ease my fatigue, and as my mind cleared in inverse proportion, I reached a conclusion.

“It’s worth a try.”

Surviving modestly while avoiding the continent’s wars was worth attempting. This reckless fool’s background was far better than when I was Kim Rok-soo. The location was also perfect for avoiding war—tucked away in a corner of the Western Continent. In fact, the novel mentioned many territories that had withdrawn from the aftermath of war.

“Young master, are you in the bath?”

Ron’s voice came from outside the door. I recalled his identity. A former assassin who crossed the Eastern Continent by ship. An old man who pretends to be benevolent but harbors sinister intentions beneath.

“Yeah. I’ll be out soon.”

I naturally spoke informally to the old man. Realizing this fact anew, I steeled my resolve on how to proceed.

First, I had to dump that old man on the protagonist and drive him away.

That old man could kill me with a single blow, but he treated me like a puppy he spared out of pity. He wore a benevolent smile, yet harbored no genuine affection for me. He was the man who, after I took a beating from the protagonist Choi Han, departed with his own son and the protagonist.

I slipped on my bathrobe and promptly exited the bathroom. Ron, his face wearing that deceptive kindness, carefully extended a tray with a water glass.

“Here you are, Young Master.”

I took the cup and passed the old man. I had no desire to face such a terrifying elder.

“Yes, thank you.”

Ron’s expression shifted subtly, but I had already moved past him. I drank the cold water and pondered.

‘There are far too many strong ones scattered throughout this place.’

Far too many indeed. Wherever the protagonist went, there existed powerful beings or those harboring secrets—humans and non-human races alike.

‘At the very least, I need the strength to protect myself.’

To survive unharmed and long in a continent soon to be ravaged by wars, one needed a certain degree of power. Of course, becoming too strong was dangerous. That only invited greater suffering.

I recalled the countless opportunities that appeared early in the story. Powers that strengthened the protagonist and his companions. Among them, I considered those I could obtain without pain or difficulty. Several came to mind. I would simply choose one.
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Soon the door opened and attendants entered, assisting with my clothing alongside Ron. Unaware that Ron’s expression had turned unusually expressionless, I spoke while observing the garments the attendant presented.

“Ah, something simple this time.”

I declined the elaborate, flowing garments. I preferred simple, comfortable clothing that allowed me to rest at ease.

“Yes, Young Master.”

The attendant in charge of clothing quickly retrieved simpler options, and I changed into the most understated piece. After dressing completely, I furrowed my brow slightly. The garments they had brought, despite being called simple, remained quite ornate and did not entirely satisfy me. Yet the figure reflected in the mirror was rather impressive.

‘Indeed, a handsome face and a physique that carries clothes well.’

Fashion truly was completed by one’s face. I adjusted my attire in the mirror, then turned to regard Ron. He still wore that deceptive benevolent smile.
“Yes, master.”

“Yes, young master.”

I followed Ron through the corridors. Even without knowing the layout of the mansion, trailing behind him seemed sufficient. Every servant and maid who crossed my path shrank back, offered a respectful bow, and hurried away as though fleeing.

‘At least I haven’t beaten anyone.’

I simply enjoyed drinking heavily and indulging in revelry. And occasionally, when drunk, I destroyed things. That was the mark of a wastrel, certainly. Beyond that, I treated everyone except a select few as beneath notice.

‘Well, as long as no one provokes me, it’s fine.’

I thought comfortably. In truth, had I inhabited the body of a virtuous person, life would have been far more burdensome. As a wastrel, I could act freely without constraint.
“okay.”

“Very well.”

I nodded to Ron. In the novel, Kale had treated Ron—who raised him like a grandfather since childhood—with the same kindness he showed his own father. He answered Ron promptly and treated him with respect. Of course, Ron’s true feelings were the opposite. Still, Ron was easy for me to deal with. All I needed to do was answer promptly and treat him decently.
“Okay. Ron, eat yours too.”

“Yes. Ron, make sure you eat as well.”

I passed Ron without hesitation and entered the dining hall. There, my family awaited. My father, Derth, the current head of the Heniatus Count Family; my stepmother, the Countess; and her son and daughter. Four people in total turned their gaze toward me.

“You’re late again.”

My attention shifted to Derth, who had just spoken. The book “Birth of a Hero” described my feelings toward my father in these terms:

【Kale obeyed only his father’s words. The reason the wastrel remained within the estate’s borders and could be kept on a leash was thanks to his father, Count Derth Heniatus.】

Unfortunately, my father lacked the exceptional power or influence that countless other fathers in this novel possessed. He was simply moderately wealthy. Of course, I appreciated that. It was the perfect environment for a comfortable, unremarkable life.
The smarter second son finds it difficult with his older brother, who is considerably older than him.
A stepmother who understood what I disliked and avoided it.
A younger brother with a considerable age gap, more intelligent and somewhat intimidated by me.
A younger sister who avoided me, cute in her own way.

What a splendid environment for enjoying life in solitary peace.
“Yes, father.”

“Yes, Father.”

Kale Heniatus settled into his seat, taking in the lavish spread before him—a far cry from what one might call a simple breakfast. A peculiar sensation washed over him, prompting him to lift his gaze.
“…No, there is none.”

“…No, nothing.”

Derth was staring at him intently. The rest of the family was doing the same. Kale met each of their gazes in turn, and as he did, they hastily averted their eyes and returned to their meal.

‘It seems I make them quite uncomfortable.’

Kale redirected his attention to the table. The magnificent spread was so different from the meager breakfasts he’d hastily consumed while living alone that a smile naturally bloomed at the corners of his mouth. He began by cutting a sausage in half with his knife.

‘The juices alone are incomparable.’

Whether it was homemade or simply expertly prepared, the moment the knife cut through, the juices flowed forth, and the perfectly browned exterior stimulated his appetite.

Clang.

The sound of something falling reached his ears. Kale’s eyes met those of his younger brother, Basen. He could see the fork that had slipped from his hand clattering to the floor.

“My apologies.”

Basen apologized with the composed demeanor described in the books, and in that same moment, a servant attending to the meal swiftly approached, offering a fresh fork and whisking away the fallen one. Witnessing this, Kale found himself reflecting anew on how comfortable nobility truly was, and he returned his focus to his meal.

This was the first advantage Kale had discovered since entering the world of the book—breakfast was not merely abundant but exquisite enough to delight even his stomach.

The smile never left his lips.

“…Sigh.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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