Regressing as the Reincarnated Bastard of the Sword Clan

Chapter 102: The Sixth Candidate (2)

Theo told Cecilia and his friends to wait for a moment and moved aside with Naban.

“I didn’t know you’d already arrived.”

At Theo’s words, Naban crossed his arms and scoffed coldly.

“Did you forget?”

“Of course not. How could I?”

Theo flinched for a moment but answered calmly, trying his best not to reveal his unease.

Explaining that he’d been preoccupied gathering the two relics and the Sword Sphere would likely only irritate Naban further.

“Judging by your reaction, you probably don’t know about what’s happening behind the scenes either. Well, it hasn’t been officially announced yet, so that’s understandable.”

Naban seemed to have picked up on something, but he didn’t press the issue.

“The Bacchus family is finished. The family head and key vassals were all taken to Winterer on charges of rebellion. Thanks to that, I’ve been plagued by other relatives whining at me for the past few days.”

“You seem to be enjoying it, despite calling it ‘annoying.’”

Naban casually touched the corner of his mouth with his forefinger and gave a faint smile.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Very much so.”

“Well, I never intended to hide the fact that the main family was a mess.”

Naban snorted lightly and continued.

“Anyway, most of the charges against me were cleared while I was held as a hostage. Before long, I’ll probably be reinstated with only a few restrictions, and I’ll be positioned as the new head of Bacchus.”

Naban’s gaze locked directly onto Theo.

“This is all what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Theo smiled silently.

Naban’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Even though I showed I was leaning toward your side halfway through, it’s well known that Ragnar’s suspicion regarding rebellion is enough to drain a person’s blood dry. Especially Black Snow’s persistence—there’s no need to even mention that. But I was released far too easily. Almost as if someone from above had issued separate orders.”

“……”

“It felt like your hand was in it.”

“If that’s what it seemed like to you, then perhaps it’s true.”

“You’re not going to reveal anything too easily, are you?”

Naban clicked his tongue, as if exasperated, and continued speaking.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. Either way, thanks to you, I managed to get rid of my damned father and those old men. What could be more perfect than having a mere bastard seize control of the family? But.”

Somehow, Theo had a feeling he knew what Naban was about to say.

“That means nothing if it’s short-lived. The promise—when do you plan to fulfill it?”

The promise.

Naban was referring to Theo’s promise to cure his incurable disease.

Theo’s eyes darkened deeply.

Naban Bacchus was, by nature, a rebellious spirit. To truly win this man’s loyalty, the next steps would be crucial.

Swish!

Theo pulled something from his robe and tossed it to Naban.

Naban caught it instinctively.

It was a potion.

“What is this…?”

“It’s a remedy. I’ve written the preparation method on it, so you can check it yourself. Just a warning—it tastes absolutely horrible.”

“…!”

Naban examined the paper wrapped around the potion and his eyes widened.

On it was a recipe combining herbs that could easily be found in regular markets.

‘The Blood Sword Emperor’s special celery juice. This potent tonic, which strengthens vitality, should be enough to gradually alleviate Naban’s incurable disease.’

Naban’s illness slowly drained a person’s vitality and, ultimately, sapped their life force as well. So, with a steady supply of vitality and an improvement in his constitution, the disease could be overcome.

Theo—or rather, Black Snow from his previous life—had only discovered this fact because there was a delay between Naban’s death and the Blood Sword Emperor’s emergence.

Meanwhile,

‘He’s giving it to me so freely…?’

Naban was stunned. He had prepared himself to be used, thinking Theo would dole out doses gradually, leveraging the cure to control him.

But he’d been thoroughly wrong.

“What… do you want from me? I know someone as sharp as you wouldn’t naively think that handing me this will immediately win my favor.”

“In other words, if I did try to use the cure as leverage, you wouldn’t genuinely follow me anyway, would you?”

“…”

“And for all I know, you might feel so insulted you’d ignore the cure and just stab me in the back.”

‘This guy knows me all too well.’

It should’ve been their first encounter back at the Ceres Trading Company.

‘Did he start observing me long ago? Or did he read me completely in that one meeting?’

Regardless of which it was, it didn’t change the fact that Theo was an intimidating person.

“So I won’t bother pressuring you, Naban. I thought it best to show you first that I’m someone worth following.”

“Someone worth following… How do you intend to prove that?”

“Continue watching me.”

“…”

“And then decide whether or not to follow me. In the meantime, Naban…”

Theo’s eyes sank deeply.

“Rebuild the crumbling Bacchus family upon solid ground. You’ll need to make it a place worthy of my support.”

“…!”

Thump-thump-thump!

Naban’s heart began to pound fiercely.

Once, it had felt cold and lifeless, as if he were already a dying man. But now, it beat as if waking from slumber, infusing his entire body with newfound vitality.

His mind sharpened with clarity.

‘So you want… proof, don’t you? Proof of my worth. Or you’ll cast me aside.’

It was arrogance born of confidence—confidence that he could accomplish anything he set his mind to.

Naban found himself liking Theo’s attitude very much.

“Fine. I’ll make Bacchus mine completely—so that you, my lord, won’t be able to resist.”

“Excellent.”

Theo and Naban both laughed.

The smiles on the faces of the two men, now bound in a lord-servant relationship, bore an uncanny resemblance to one another.

* * *

“Elder, you’ve had far too much to drink. It’s time to call it a night…!”

“What’s that? Are you mocking me as well?”

The head of the Elder Council, ‘Origin Dragon’ Wolfgang, paused mid-drink, his face slightly flushed, and glared at the elder trying to restrain him.

“N-no, no, how could I ever…! I wouldn’t dare…”

“Then stop rattling my nerves and get lost!”

“Yes, understood…”

The elder retreated, looking cowed and backing away timidly.

Wolfgang snorted lightly at the sight.

“Hmph! All of them, every last one of them, just waiting like jackals to tear at my throat! But they’ll see… I’m not about to offer it up so easily.”

The usual throng of people that once crowded around Wolfgang had long disappeared.

Since the Troyban incident, suspicion had begun to fall on Wolfgang, who had been close to Ed, causing wary glances to be cast his way.

No formal summons had been issued yet, nor had there been any announcement from Black Snow.

But considering Wolfgang’s frequent clashes with the Black Dragon, it was as though the noose was ready to tighten at any moment.

For Wolfgang, the entire situation was endlessly frustrating.

He had even dethroned his older brother, the Dragon Emperor, with his own hands.

After dedicating his life to the glory of Ragnar, it was infuriating to be the subject of such suspicion.

Yet,

No matter how he wished to vent his frustrations, there was no one left willing to listen.

‘It’s all because of Theo Ragnar, that lowborn bastard…!’

For this reason, Wolfgang harbored not resentment toward Ed, but a burning hatred for Theo, who had thrown the family into such turmoil.

In his heart, he wanted to wring Theo’s neck right then and there. However, the reality of Theo’s current position made that impossible; he was now protected by Julius, the Lord of Plum Blossom Palace, and even the Black Dragon. It was infuriating to be unable to lay a finger on him.

‘You wretch… make even a single misstep, and that day will be your last.’

Just then, as a dangerous glint of murderous intent flashed in Wolfgang’s eyes, something caught his attention near the entrance.

“That girl…?”

A familiar figure had appeared, standing there, though heavily made-up and lavishly dressed.

Even with the elaborate attire, her crude nature could not be concealed.

‘Well, isn’t this perfect. At least I’ll be able to release a little of this irritation.’

A sudden idea crossed Wolfgang’s mind, and a cold sneer formed on his lips.

* * *

‘Is it really okay for me to… show up like this?’

In front of the entrance to the banquet hall, Evelyn stood, unable to pull herself away from the full-length mirror provided for last-minute adjustments.

She was wearing a dress—a dress that shimmered in a deep, midnight black as if it captured the dark sky before dawn.

Its clean, flowing lines highlighted her figure beautifully. Cecilia had gifted it to her, insisting it would suit her perfectly.

However, to Evelyn, it still felt foreign. After a lifetime spent only in training clothes and armor, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable.

And with the addition of the jewelry and makeup, she was beginning to wonder if it was all a bit too much.

There was one particular thing that bothered her most.

‘Cecilia said it wouldn’t look strange at all if I showed it… so I gathered my courage.’

Evelyn smoothed her fingers over the artificial arm that showed just below the sleeve, which only covered half her forearm.

After repeated adjustments, it now had the full sensation of a real arm, yet the cold, metallic touch remained unfamiliar, especially in a setting as glamorous as this banquet hall.

‘Maybe I should just leave.’

Yes. What was she thinking?

She turned to leave, planning to head back to the training ground where she belonged, when Cecilia’s words echoed in her mind:

– I’ve told you many times, Evelyn, you need to truly recognize how beautiful you are. Do you understand? Be confident. When you’re confident in yourself, others will see you that way too.

Confidence—Cecilia had told her to have confidence in herself.

Those words somehow urged Evelyn to turn her steps back toward the hall.

‘Alright. I’ve come this far, so at least I’ll go in and greet Theo and the Commander.’

Step by step, she moved toward the entrance, feeling a bit lighter with each stride.

“The entry of Evelyn Nerevil, leader of Squad 5 of the White Armored Dragon Cavalry, Advanced Swordsman-!”

At the announcement, countless eyes turned toward her.

-Evelyn?

-The name sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

-Isn’t she the one? Theo Ragnar’s swordsmanship mentor.

-Oh…! The one who supposedly clashed with the head of the Elder Council and the White Armored Dragon Cavalry Commander?

Though she overheard some comments she’d rather not have heard, Evelyn walked forward with confidence.

“Oh my, Evelyn! You look absolutely stunning.”

Cecilia hurried over and took Evelyn’s hands in hers.

“You’re wearing the dress I gave you. Didn’t I tell you? That it would look amazing on you. Seems my eye for style didn’t fail me.”

“Thank you. Thanks to you, I got to try something like this.”

“Wear it often. Dress up however you like. I, Cecilia, will help you anytime.”

Wellington and Erika, the sibling pair, chimed in as well.

“To be honest, I almost didn’t recognize you, Captain. Right, Holcus?”

“H-huh?”

“Stand up straight and say something properly!”

Erika nudged the absent-minded Holcus in the ribs with her elbow, and he finally snapped to attention, awkwardly nodding along.

“Y-yes! We should take a picture or something! The squad members would be… really happy to see this!”

“Relax your face and give a smile.”

“L-like this…?”

Although Holcus was a bit more preoccupied with Naban, who had declared himself Theo’s vassal, believing he himself should rightfully be the first knight, he forced a smile as best as he could without letting on.

Quiver-quiver

His lips twitched as he struggled.

“Sh-should I have brought a camera or something?”

“Erika, Holcus. Don’t even think about it. And especially, don’t mention any of this to Selperd or Arin.”

Evelyn warned Erika and Holcus, who seemed about to take things a step too far.

Playful Selperd would certainly make a running joke of it, and Arin… well, that was a different matter. Actually, a very dangerous matter.

‘Ah, should I take a picture secretly? I bet I could sell it for a high price to Senior Arin.’

Erika, recalling that Arin’s latest hobby was “collecting Evelyn memorabilia,” began to seriously consider it.

“But where is Theo?”

“Oh! The young master is…!”

Cecilia was just about to answer when—

“It seems I’ll have to have a word with the butler. Allowing a cripple to taint such a prestigious social gathering—how disgraceful. Hmph, tsk-tsk!”

Evelyn turned her head, and her entire body went rigid.

It was a voice she had thought long buried, a trauma she believed forgotten that now surged through her mind.

-Hey, girl. Do you really think your Commander will protect you?

-Don’t kid yourself. In the end, what the world believes is my word, not yours.

-If you want to live your whole life a cripple, then go ahead.

-It seems lowly blood can’t be concealed after all.

The face of Wolfgang, who had once smirked in the dark, overlapped with the Wolfgang now standing before her.

“If you’re a cripple, then act like one and keep yourself locked up at home. What gives you the right to wander around here? And that arm—what do you think you’re doing with it?”

Wolfgang sneered, reaching toward her artificial arm.

Just then, a hand shot out and grabbed Wolfgang’s wrist.

“It seems the beating you received last time wasn’t enough. Didn’t I warn you? That if you laid a finger on my subordinate again, I wouldn’t let it go? Or have you forgotten? Perhaps you’re showing signs of senility?”

Both Wolfgang and Evelyn turned sharply toward the voice.

Julius stood there, his eyes coldly flashing.

“Are you looking to be beaten to death, Council Head?”

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