Trash of the Count’s Family - Chapter 36

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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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Ron nodded at Kale’s words and added a comment.

“Understood, sir. But you do remember we’re heading to the Royal Palace the day after tomorrow, yes?”

Before the King’s opening address for the festival at the Plaza, the young nobles had a scheduled meeting with the Crown Prince.
It was a gathering that fell somewhere between a banquet and a formal dinner—they would use an entire palace typically reserved for such events to conduct the affair.
When Kale thought of the Crown Prince and the Royal Palace, a name naturally came to mind.

‘I wonder how Taylor and Kaige are doing?’

The disowned eldest son and the Mad Priestess. Surely those two were managing just fine. That’s what Kale thought.

“Hmm.”

But then, oddly, the back of Kale’s head grew cold, and without thinking, he rubbed the nape of his neck. That chill made him decide.

‘I won’t think about those two.’

Kale would sit quietly in the Royal Palace. No matter who cursed beside him, he would simply sit there vacantly and leave. Kale glanced at the table. There was a letter.

【Kale. You don’t have to do anything—absolutely nothing. Your older brother will handle it all. You understand…】

Eric Wheelsman, one of the young nobles from the Northeast Region, had been sending one letter a day. Each was filled with anxious rambling. Kale casually picked up the letter from the table and tossed it into the corner.

“Then I’ll go tell them to set aside a bottle of the finest liquor in advance.”
“Yes.”

Kale watched Ron leave indifferently, and through the gap in the door he opened, he could see figures appearing for the first time in a while. Ron glanced at those beings and closed the door behind them, and the two who entered approached Kale directly and spoke.

“I think we could kill them if they let their guard down!”
“I can see a way to kill them!”

It was the kittens On and Hong. The two cats, who had shown their faces after a long absence, seemed quite excited, having apparently discovered a method to assassinate a beastman warrior with power comparable to the Wolf Tribe.

“Good work.”

At Kale’s offhand remark, the cats approached and rubbed their faces against his legs. Finding the sensation bothersome, Kale gently pushed them away, and shortly after, Ron returned.

“Young master.”
“Yes.”

Ron observed Kale’s half-hearted response and posed his question.

“Would it be acceptable for me to accompany you to the Royal Palace as your personal attendant?”
“Of course. Who else would go?”

With that answer, Ron made his decision. He would depart.
Those who ruled the Eastern Continent’s underworld under the name “Dark” had begun extending their reach to the Western Continent. “Dark” was merely one of their limbs; no one truly knew their actual identity.
Ron Molan, heir to the Molan Family—one of the five great assassination clans that sought to dominate the Eastern Continent’s night—despised and feared “Dark.”

“Young master.”
“What is it?”
“You will look magnificent at the Royal Palace.”
“Ron.”

Kale, having just returned from his leave, responded nonchalantly to Ron’s uncharacteristic flattery.

“Objectively speaking, I do have decent looks and physique, don’t I?”

Meow.

The cats snorted at Kale’s words, yet they could not deny it. A beautiful face with an air of languor. An appearance that commanded respect. That was Kale.
Kale himself was most pleased with the first thing about this rogue—his wealth—and second with his body and face. The corners of his mouth began to lift.

“Of course, young master. You excel at everything.”

But those corners fell instantly.

‘What voice did I just hear?’

It was an extraordinarily gentle, kind, and affectionate tone. Kale’s skin crawled as he turned his head toward the back of the sofa. Ron wore a contented smile—though it was distinctly different from merely pretending to be content.
Kale’s entire body erupted in goosebumps. Yet Ron proceeded with his duties regardless.

“Then I shall step out for a moment. I need to report to Hans.”
“Ah, yes. Go on, quickly now.”

Soon Ron departed, and gazing at the closed door, Kale pondered.

‘Why is he like that?’

But Kale Heniatus had no desire to understand Ron’s reasons. What good would it do to involve himself in Ron’s personal affairs? After staring at the closed door for quite some time, Kale’s expression grew puzzled.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped at the door. It was then that Hong, the red cat, spoke.

“It smells like wolf.”

Kale addressed the door.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the door creaked open with caution. Through the gap emerged Rak, a wolf tribesman whose frame was disproportionately tall, looking awkward and uncertain. He hesitated before speaking.

“I came to, well, to thank you. But I wasn’t sure when would be appropriate to visit. If it’s not too much trouble, may I come in for a moment?”
“Come in.”

Unwilling to endure more of his stammering, Kale gestured casually for him to enter. Rak closed the door carefully, his movements tense and cautious, before approaching Kale’s side. Kale pointed to the sofa across from him.

“Sit.”
“Y-yes.”

As Rak settled onto the sofa, he kept glancing at Kale. Unlike the uncle he’d recalled, the Kale Heniatus before him now—awake and present—was someone far more difficult to approach than Rak had anticipated.
It wasn’t the kind of difficulty that came from overwhelming strength like his uncle; rather, there was a composed ease about him that made it hard to speak casually.

“Say what you came to say.”
“Well…”

Rak rolled his eyes, searching for words, then suddenly stood and bowed deeply.

“Thank you!”

Truly naive, fearful, and somewhat foolish in appearance—exactly like the Rak from the novel.

‘In the book, his personality changed after his first rampage, but this time it seems unchanged.’

Kale responded to his gratitude.

“Yes. I should be grateful.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes.”

Rak’s expression grew peculiar as he settled back into his seat. I spoke to him.

“That gratitude is sufficient. You may go.”
“Ah, well, that is…”

Rak remained seated, fidgeting and opening and closing his mouth. He had listened to stories from Rosalind, the two cat-tribe members, Choi Han, and occasionally Hans, and he had deliberated endlessly. He was still deliberating now.
I observed him quietly. I knew roughly how Rak would behave, so I wanted to send him out quickly.

“Um, well, Young Master. That is…”

Rak didn’t know how to begin. He kept glancing at me while staring only at the ground, then bit his lip before releasing it. He despised this aspect of his own nature.
That was when a cold voice rang out.

“Speak.”
“Yes?”

Rak lifted his head and looked at me. For the first time since entering this room, he now met my gaze properly. I spoke upon seeing this.

“Yes. When you converse, simply look directly like this.”

And I continued.

“Say everything in your heart that you wish to say.”

I glanced at my watch, then spoke indifferently to Rak, who stared at me with a dazed expression.

“I will listen.”

Ah. An exclamation escaped Rak’s lips. He clenched his trembling hands tightly together, then opened his mouth.

“I am the older brother.”

His voice was weak. The boy, tall in frame but still young, continued speaking to me.

“I must care for my younger siblings.”

Rak knew well that he fell short of what it truly meant to be of the Wolf Tribe. Yet he had ten younger siblings depending on him. He had to protect them, to care for them.
Moreover.

“And I was a nephew, and a younger brother.”

The blue-furred Wolf Tribe who had cherished and loved him despite his cowardice and foolishness—their family, their friends, their neighbors—he could never forget them.

“That is why I must take revenge.”

So he had to repay every debt thoroughly.
Rak clenched his trembling hands tightly. He spoke whatever came to mind, and his thoughts turned white. He lowered his head, seeing only his feet and the carpet beneath them.

“Wolf.”

Rak lifted his head. Kale Heniatus—the master of a vast mansion beyond anything Rak could have imagined in his deep mountain home, this man whom Choi Han had deemed worth wagering nearly a third of his own life for—spoke to Rak without emotion.

“You are a wolf.”

Rak’s mind began to fill with countless memories from the past. The life of the blue-furred Wolf Tribe painted itself across his thoughts.

“I have heard that wolves protect their families and place them above all else. I believe them to be a proud race.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, seemingly indifferent, and Rak’s eyes caught it.

“I heard your story well.”

In that moment, Rak began to see this man and the scene within this room clearly. The adorable cat-kin siblings seated on either side of Kale. The peaceful-looking room bathed in midday sunlight.
Only then did Rak remember what he needed to say, what he had wanted to say.

“Thank you for helping me. And… please, help me.”

And to him, the master of this peaceful scene spoke.

“One expression of gratitude is enough.”

The greatest reason Kale had been troubled lately by the reckless fool’s actions was because of Choi Han and the Black Dragon. The Black Dragon was a concern in itself, while Choi Han troubled him because of the things he brought along with him.

“I do not wish to help you.”

I didn’t want to help Rak. But I understood the sorrow of ten wolf children who had lost their parents and their home—I had experienced it myself. Moreover, I was already entangled in this situation. Yet I refused to shoulder all the responsibility.
Only as much as I had done. I would act without suffering loss.
I spoke to Rak, who was lowering his head to say he didn’t want to help.

“However, I’m willing to make a deal.”
“…A deal?”
“Yes.”

I told Rak this.

“What do you need help with? What can you offer me in return?”

I had no intention of teaching this naive wolf-man everything. That would be left to Choi Han and Rosalind. I rose from my seat to attend to several matters before heading to the Royal Palace, speaking to the wolf boy as I did.

“Once everything is clearly decided, come find me.”

Rak thought for a moment, then stood and bowed his head to me.

“Yes, I will come to you once everything is settled.”
“Good.”

I patted Rak’s head roughly once. The light in his eyes as he lifted his head again was quite pleasing to see.

* * *

I descended from the carriage holding the Crown Prince’s invitation. A banquet beginning at five in the afternoon. I gazed up at the palace, incomparably grander and more ornate than either the Heniatus Territory Castle or the mansion in the Capital.
The Palace of Joy. Named after the palace where the banquet was being held, it was a smaller palace built by the current king to celebrate the Crown Prince’s birth. Of course, now the king favored the Third Prince instead.

I planned to meet Eric, Gilbert, and Amir in front of this palace today and enter together. I gazed at the palace and thought.

‘Is this a cliché as well?’

At precisely the same time as I arrived, someone else descended from a different carriage in front of this palace.

“My, who might this be? Isn’t this the renowned Young Lord Kale Heniatus?”

I swallowed the sigh that was about to escape. The tone of voice alone made me deeply uncomfortable.
The one approaching was Neo Tolls, the heir of the Tolls Viscount Family.

‘Why does Benion have to show up now of all times.’

Neo Tolls—a crude and typical antagonist. He was the one who had taken it upon himself to serve Benion Sten, the second son and heir of Marquis Sten’s House.

The village that had raised the Black Dragon. That village’s fiefdom belonged to none other than the Tolls Viscount Family.

And these people of the Tolls Viscount Family had never looked favorably upon the Heniatus Count Family. Though separated by merely one mountain, the disparity in their wealth was stark.
In the past, they had been close with the Heniatus Count Family and treated them well. But after those people pledged themselves to Marquis Sten five years ago, they became insufferably arrogant. Of course, they didn’t show it openly—they merely sought to seize control of the Northeast Region’s gatherings with subtle maneuvering.
Neo Tolls approached Kale with an ingratiating smile plastered across his face.

“You’re alone?”

We were still some distance from the palace entrance, and the Vice-Captain and Ron were occupied in conversation with an administrator to secure permission. I looked down at Neo, having brought only the minimum number of attendants.

Seeing that I was alone, Neo withdrew his subordinates to the rear.

“I need to have a word with our young lord Kale. You all go get your permission as well.”

Neo sent his subordinates to the administrator and stepped closer to me. When the distance between us had become quite intimate, Neo opened his mouth.

“Young Lord Kale.”

With a warm and delighted expression, he whispered so that only I could hear.

“What brings such a lowly ruffian as myself all the way here?”

How childish. Was it because this was a world from a book? Was this what fantasy worlds were truly like? Or did such people actually exist in reality as well?
Well, they did exist, so he was picking a fight with me.
A viscount’s son speaking to a count’s son in such a manner? I had thought it only possible in books, but experiencing it firsthand, irritation welled up within me.

And I’m not even the protagonist. Must such tired clichés exist?
I could simply ask Ron to kill this crude villain who couldn’t read the room.

I merely looked down at Neo. At that gaze, Neo’s expression grew even brighter. A ruffian with only a respectable exterior. Neo, who had spent all his time in the capital submitting to Benion Sten, saw me as easy prey.

“Why? Do you want to throw a bottle at me? Or shall I let you hit me? Go ahead and try.”

He was provoking me. Deliberately picking a fight. Since magical recording devices couldn’t be brought into the royal palace due to restrictions on magical items, he was becoming even more brazen.
If I were to cause a scene here, it would be a fight between a ruffian and a respectable noble’s son—only benefiting Neo. He was picking this fight to create a pretext against the Heniatus Count Family.

Kale Heniatus remained perfectly still. A voice suddenly echoed within his mind.
It was the Dragon’s magic.

-No manners. Reminds me of that bastard Benion Sten.

He’s one of his subordinates. The Dragon transmitted words directly into Kale’s mind—words he couldn’t bring himself to speak aloud.

-Should I kill him?

That hardly seems necessary. Kale shook his head at the Dragon, who had followed him while cloaked in invisibility. Neo Tolls seemed puzzled by the gesture, and when no signs of chaos appeared imminent, he prepared to provoke further—but then Kale’s attention shifted toward a carriage that had just arrived.

The carriage door burst open violently the moment it stopped, and Eric Wheelsman stepped out. Gilbert and Amir were with him.
Kale’s eyes widened. He gestured urgently to the approaching Eric with a glance and pointed at Neo Tolls with his index finger. His lips parted.

Kale Heniatus opened his eyes wide and gestured urgently toward the approaching Eric with a glance, then pointed at Neo with his index finger. His mouth opened.

“Brother.”

Eric immediately understood the polite voice calling his name, along with the cold glint in those eyes and the gesture of the hand.

Clean it up.

Kale Heniatus’s eyes, as he stood motionless, spoke volumes.

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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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