The Reincarnated Villainous Young Master’s Guide to Happiness - Chapter 20

He hated this school.

The people, the ranks, the backhanded remarks, and all the million etiquettes put in place.

It seems he can offend anyone these days with a couple of words.

He hated it all.

He is the first son of the Dartmouth Household. Lester Dartmouth. He has no courtesy name, as everyone knows that no one of the baron class is ever given a courtesy name.

His family ascended into nobility during the Fifty Years War when his grandfather saved the life of Emperor Mavis Alycion Romulus, the previous Emperor, on the bloody battlefield.

A mere commoner hailing from a humble fishing town, his grandfather rose to the ranks of a baron within the span of half a year and took control of territory to the east of Rhine that was near the coast.

When his grandfather’s prowess in the war showed his talents to command troops despite his humble origins, he was then given commandership of the Silver Raven Division, a group of knights loyal solely to the empire and its royal family. Infamous for the destruction this division can cause, it is powerful for its success in espionage and other secret services.

And that was the start of the Dartmouth legacy.

From a lowly pauper to a baron, his family remained in that territory and grew from the grounds up by the favor of Emperor Mavis.

He became known as the Dartmouth Baron. Commander Dartmouth. Lord Dartmouth. Head of the Dartmouth Household.

But a title was merely a title.

A commoner’s blood was still filth in the eyes of true nobility, and he was but a stain within the society of aristocrats.

Who would dare marry their daughter to the Dartmouth family? His grandfather was a commoner, his father was a commoner, and his mother was a mere commoner.

Lester had no hopes in ever becoming more when his possible future wife would also someday be a lowly commoner.

Lester came to this stupid academy for the sake of his family. He wanted to make a name to further the legacy of the Dartmouths, to prove that they are true nobles, deserving of their title, which they fought for and struggled to keep.

Despite the prestige of the Dartmouth’s command of the Silver Raven, he knows that he is seen as nothing more than a lowly brute who can only wave around a sword to get what he wants. All these weak noble children who only have sharp tongues to defend themselves, it means nothing if they can’t even defend themselves from his parries.

The sword training days are his sanctuary. He can beat up anyone he wants, and it will be fine. Who cares if they insult him? Who cares if they call him names? Smear his reputation? Splash filthy water on him?

If it means he can beat up those rich, spoilt, lily-white, pompous arses into a bloody pulp, then he is satisfied.

And no, he does not discriminate by gender. Boy or girl, he will beat them up with the same amount of viciousness that they dare to use with their words. No exceptions.

Until he met that fucking bastard from the Deerborn Family.

The first to ever knock him down during sword training, and Lester will never forgive him. That look of distaste, as if looking down on him for his blood. The self-righteousness was sickening to see.

Memphis Deerborn, the prodigy child. He is the son of Baron Deerborn, who is the Commander of the Gold Lion Division, a bunch of military meatheads who only know how to swing a sword and charge straight first into a warzone.

He was treated like the god of swordsmanship, well-liked, lazy, but stupid. They were both from the baron class, yet, why was he treated lower than that bastard?

Simple, really.

Memphis is a true, blue-blooded noble, with a lineage descending down since the first Emperor of Rhine. He was the future commander of the Golden Lions Division.

His family was powerful despite their rank, and served the crown since the birth of the empire, defending it with their noble Golden Lion Knights, the symbol of the Rhine Empire.

Everyone knows that the Silver Raven and the Golden Lion has a rather violent rivalry. After the Fifty Years War, the knight division split into two. It is not uncommon to see a knight in gold and a knight in silver butting heads in the royal palace. The sight became quite familiar since the existence of the Dartmouth Baron Household.

Because of this, the reputation of the Dartmouths spiraled into the pits.

After all, without the existence of the Silver Raven, there wouldn’t even be any infighting within the trusted knights of the kingdom, right?

Without the formation of the Silver Raven, the empire wouldn’t have to fear the dirty tricks of silver knights and their habit of using skills that were considered ‘unknightly’, right?

He hated Memphis Deerborn, that arrogant and stubborn arsehole!

And so, he passes the first few years in the academy in this way, isolated from the rest of the students and growing more and resentful by the day.

Until everything changes that early autumn day in his third and last year of Junior High.

Lester admits that he might have continued to linger within this pool of hate for the rest of his academy years if not for the appearance of ‘him.’

Nazareth Everette Odum, the bastard son of the Odum Family, a ducal that holds much power within the world of aristocracy.

Perhaps Lester had felt a sense of kinship with this boy when Nazareth first approached him all those months ago. There was anger in his eyes, and so much hate and resentment. For a child of the great Duke family, he was not what Lester had expected.

Lester wasn’t ignorant of the rumors, however. He knows that Nazareth is a mere bastard. The son of some whore in the red light district, brought back after his mother died, the scummy troublemaker who desires to kill his brother. The whole school knows it, but all the evidence never pinpoints to him.

This boy was powerful, despite how much everyone despised him. He couldn’t be touched, but he was hated.

Lester was brought away by him and asked to join him in his endeavor to kill Aurelion Odum. Lester should have rejected this offer, rejected the connection that the boy wanted to make, the ties, but he didn’t.

It might not have been bright of him to follow such an evil person, but beneath that cruel and wicked madness was also a boy who desired for something desperately. He had eyes that were ashen, the crazy eyes masking the sad, yet insightful look he tries to hide.

Lester never knew what it was that Nazareth wanted from his schemes, but the boy had taken him from his solitude, so he doesn’t mind not knowing.

They shared an oath, the four of them. He, along with a couple of other boys, shared their deepest secrets.

That boy from the Moores Earl Family, Elliot Levi Moores, who had been so lonely and desperate for an ounce of attention. Then there was Julius Cain Elysium, another Duke’s son with his own troubles. And finally, Nazareth Everette Odum, the known scummy troublemaker, who wished his younger brother dead.

And for once, Lester didn’t hate them. He didn’t hate that they were nobility, nor that their linage is purer than his own. He didn’t even resent that they belonged in the ranks of earls and dukes, nor did he compare them to his lowly baron status.

They were older boys, of course, almost adults. Compared to them, he was a mere boy coming out of the Junior division. He may have been nothing in their eyes, until Nazareth approached him and made him into something.

“Brother Naza.”

“What… did you just call me?”

“Brother… Brother Naza?”

“…” Silence.

“Um-” He tries to break that silence, until-

“Why are you calling me this? I am no one’s brother…”

“You… you don’t like it?” Was he not worthy of calling him this? Was his blood too dirty-

“I going to kill my own little brother. Do you think me worthy of a title like that?”

“… But, still…”

He hears a sigh, and then, an awkward pat on his head.

“… I don’t care.”

“Eh?”

He sees Nazareth walking away, but not before spotting the strange look in his eyes. Those vermillion jewels, usually darken to a pasty rust color, had gleaned with an unusual light–one of wistfulness and pain as he answered him.

“Do what you wish.

From the on, Lester followed him like a young chick following its mother. He wanted to stay close to this older boy, who continues to look at him strangely, yet, allows him to stay no matter what. With him, Lester was never ridiculed for sitting with older students, for playing nobility and faking those goddamn etiquettes. Brother Naza never judges him, and for that, he is grateful. Screw those three lackeys that insist on accompanying Brother Naza.

Brother Naza was his one and only.

But then, his grandfather had grown sick and he had gone back home to care for him.

He had promised to write, and on behalf of the rest of the group, Elliot had sent him letters to keep him up to date.

‘–strange behavior with Odum these past few days. He has been avoiding me. Elysium is still bedridden. You know how terrible his constitution is…’

‘–Odum has avoided me for weeks now, and it seems as if he has gotten closer to those lackeys of his. His brother is being a pain in the ass…”

‘–Elysium requests that I keep an eye on him. Odum has still not spoken to me…’

Lester had grown worried.

And then, the letter came with an urgent messenger.

‘Forgive me, Lester…’

He hated being an aristocrat but loved the power that came with it. He hated the people in the academy but loved those he calls his closest friends. He hated the cutthroat world of the nobility but loved the surprises it brings him. And now, he realizes he hates Nazareth Everett Odum, bastard of the Odum Family, whoreson, notorious scummy troublemaker, and ultimate trash, but loved that he allowed him to call him brother, and treat him like his own, and never judges him by his blood.

His grandfather had gotten better soon enough. It was perfect timing since he packed up his clothes and ordered a carriage to bring him back to the academy.

Within a single night of non-stop driving, he arrived at the academy to confront Nazareth.

Only to see THIS display.

“Get your filthy face out of Brother Naza’s hands!”

He had grabbed for the sword strapped to his side. He had originally brought it with the intention to duel Nazareth.

But then some white-haired bastard decided to act all cute to his Brother and that just won’t do.

“W-what?”

The dumb bastard exclaims, but then has the audacity to look at him with his chin pointed to the sky like he was better than him or something.

“No!”

And Brother Naza? Brother Naza looked like he was going to cry.

What the hell did this bastard do to Brother Naza?

Actually, no, what the hell were they doing in the back of the school?!

Was he molesting Brother Naza?!

“You dare!”

Lester drew his sword.

Well, then. This can only go down spectacularly.

Neo found himself trying to separate two little boys from maiming each other. Currently, Serian and Lester are rolling around in the dirt and trying to beat each other up with their fists. Well, Lester was. Serian was aiming for the eyes and crotch, but it didn’t look like it was all that effective.

“You fight like a girl!” He hears Lester sneer out.

“Better a girl than a caveman! My mother taught me these skills!” Serian retorts, equally as fierce.

Lester’s sword has been tossed to the side, because apparently, the boy felt that he wanted to feel “the bastard’s face better and break his nose-”

After Neo watched them tumble for a moment longer–seeing that his shouting for them to stop was working all that well–he joined the fray and tried his hardest to get them to calm down.

“Guys, stop-”

And then Lester had accidentally smacked Neo across the face with his elbow.

A snap was heard.

It was the snap of Neo’s patience, which had been waning since he and Elliot had their little moment together.

There was terrible, terrible energy radiating from something. It smelled like a crazed need for death and murder and destruction-

“You guys…”

Two boys stared in horror as a frightening smile appeared on their spectator’s face.

Meanwhile, Tybalt and the rest of the class looked out the window in confusion as they heard an unusual wailing sound echoing from the back of the school. It sounded like a mix between a series of screeching warning bells and the screams of the undead souls in a graveyard.

Professor Rickman, who had been in the middle of his lecture, raised a brow. When the wailing continued, he snorted.

“Phelan, please close the windows. The butchers in town must be holding a feast or something.”

Tybalt followed the command and got up to close the windows. As he did, he noticed that the screeching was fading into the background, followed by a human-like cry. He raised a brow. What kind of beast were the butchers slaughtering?