This Bastard is Too Competent

Chapter 1: I'm Glad I Didn't Give Up

Chapter 1: I'm Glad I Didn't Give Up

There was only one step left.

[“Your Highness! The Crown Prince has given up the war! A messenger from the surrendered side has come with a white flag in his hand!”]

[“His command is to come up to the throne and receive the crown. Your Highness has finally been recognized as the rightful heir to the throne!”]

It was the moment when becoming a king was just around the corner. 

But it had become just a dream.

Shruakk!

A rough pain came from the skin tearing.

Somebody’s blade stabbed me through my chest.

"Duke? Why would you?"

He was definitely a loyalist I believed in.

The only man who supported me when I had nothing to say once I declared I would become a king.

Such a man was thrusting a dagger into my back.

Instead of answering, he whispered absurd words.

"If I had met Your Highness a little earlier, maybe it would have been different. It's too late."

I didn't know anyone else, but I knew he wouldn't betray me.

He took me who lived without knowing that I was of a royal family and made me dream of being a king.

But I couldn’t believe he stabbed me in the back at the last minute.

I died just like that.

King Tenon's 7th son, Ian. 

He once had only two dukes in the kingdom as his sponsors, only leaving the succession ceremony behind. His life ended in a lonely way without anyone knowing.

No, I knew it.

However…

***

Ian was staring blankly in the mirror.

There was a little boy with a puzzled look on his face.

A particularly conspicuous expression.

A body without muscles.

There were no royal symbols, no weapons.

If there's anything good about him, it's just his handsome face and golden eyes that were rare on the continent.

However, Ian was embarrassed in a different sense when he saw it.

"I'm back in the past?"

Ian couldn't even laugh.

Looking at the scenery inside the room or hearing the voices of the servants and serfs preparing for a festival called the ‘32nd Harvest Festival’ from the outside, he was certain.

He was definitely 12 years old at this time.

Far from entering the royal capital, it was still before the Duke's knights came to find him.

Ian thought he had a dream in vain.

"The Duke's stab wound remains."

It didn't make sense.

Not only in his childhood but also during his succession to the throne.

He had never had a wound on his chest.

Except for the last time the Duke stabbed him.

"I'm back in the past, but the Duke's wound remains intact."

The scar that remained clear was not painful.

However, resentment and anger toward those who left this wound grew.

But what he really didn’t understand…

"Why did you betray me?"

The Duke had no reason to betray Ian.

He had the king's blood flowing in his veins, but it was the ball the Duke held that made a mere bastard a real king.

Then he betrayed Ian just before he received the crown.

Ian couldn't understand it no matter how hard he thought about it.

“Would it have been easier for him to be the king? He could have taken over the kingdom at will.”

But one thing was for sure.

‘I will make sure you pay the price for betraying me.’

And this time he would never miss the throne he had to sit on.

Sooner or later, the Duke's knights would pick him up.

‘Before that, I need to organize my belongings and make slush funds.’

It was at that time when he smiled like that.

Bang!

Someone pounded the door hard as if they would break it.

"Hey, man! How long are you going to be sleeping?"

“!”

"Didn't you hear the Lord is coming because of the Harvest Festival? I told you to get there before sunrise."

Ian was like, ‘Oops.’

It occurred to him that he had forgotten it for a while.

‘Right, I was a serf in these days.’

Far from being independent, he's a slave to a vicious supervisor who had to be beaten if he didn’t work right away!

***

"Oh, look at that bastard. Is he oversleeping when the Harvest Festival is just around the corner?" 

The serfs stormed at Ian, who arrived late.

"Get to work before the supervisor comes! Those of you who didn't finish your job until the Harvest Festival, be prepared!"

"Ian! Your area is from here to here!"

Ian managed to move his body reluctantly.

‘Damn it. What should I do?’

Now he knew he had royal blood, but at this time he was just a serf.

He was sure he had done enough when he was a kid.

"What are you doing now? Can't you move straight?"

Maybe it's because he had been living in a Duke family for a long time?

He was familiar with the sickle when he was young, but why was it so unfamiliar to him now?

‘This is not going to work.’

Before leaving the village, Ian had to hurry up and clear his mother's grave and retrieve her belongings.

‘I must find it before I enter the Duke's castle.’

This is because in the future, there is no such thing as a huge debt from the Duke.

It must be somewhere in the accommodation, but he couldn't find it no matter how hard he searched.

It was time for Ian to go back on his memory and guess where the relics might be.

Baam!

"Ian!"

Ian fell at someone's kick. And he heard a voice.

"You’re late for work, your hands are not moving, you are late. You don't do anything right." 

It was none other than supervisor Johnson who kicked Ian.

As he approached, the serfs who worked with him looked at Ian with disgust.

Johnson had a joyful face as if he had caught a case.

"Slug, did you eat something wrong today? What's wrong with you?"

He was holding a whip in one hand.

Unlike his voice full of irritation, his steps seemed very refreshing.

Ian glared at the supervisor, who was humming to a tune.

Supervisor Johnson.

He used to hate him and bother him whenever he could.

It wasn't for any great reason.

‘This guy hated my appearance.’

Even among serfs, it was annoying to be particularly generous and elegant.

‘Honestly, if you have a face like that, in your mind you’ll feel a sense of self-worth.’

So, for all kinds of reasons, such as being unable to work, he was insulted by various personalities, and sometimes even hit by a club.

Ian had deliberately defiled his face to avoid him.

‘So the first impression of the knights who came looking for me wasn't very good.’

The disappointed expressions of the knights looking at him were still vivid.

And that first impression lasted surprisingly long, so later on, he just ignored it. He also had some difficulties when he met the Duke.

But it was different now.

"Slug. Did you dress up so nicely today to look good to anyone? Are you excited that the Lord is coming? Huh?"

This time, he didn't have any dirt that he had been smearing on purpose.

That's why Johnson, the supervisor, was bullying him as if he had more cases.

"Why? How do you want to stand out in the Lord's eyes? At this rate, you…"

It was the moment when he pushed Ian's forehead with his finger, saying it was a lowly idea.

“···!”

Johnson halted when he saw Ian's eyes.

It was because his appearance was a little different from usual.

Not just because he looked clean.

‘What? This little boy.’

He just straightened his back and looked at him quietly.

However, his eyes and the spirit he exuded were completely different.

In fact, Ian was looking at the supervisor as if it were funny.

‘I'm not the old serf Ian.’

He was not a royal family member who simply played and ate under the Duke's protection.

He had been thoroughly educated to become the sole heir to the throne.

And now, he just straightened his back and looked at the other person calmly. It was just a basic posture.

“Pull your chin up and never bend.”

That was enough for him.

Ian could tell by the way Johnson was reluctant and chickened out.

‘What is it?’

Supervisor Johnson was flustered.

It was as if he had received a stare from the Lord to whom he always had to bow his head.

No, to be precise, he wasn't a mere Lord.

‘Perhaps one day the royal family who passed through the Arc de Triomphe…’

But the moment that crazy idea flashed through his mind, Johnson's face turned white.

‘… Some royal family for such a little boy. What!'

Was it shameful to have felt that way for even one moment?

Johnson flashed his eyes around.

“Hey! All of you guys stop working and gather around.”

At the supervisor's call came serfs and his usual gang.

"Mr. Johnson?"

“How the hell are you guys teaching your kids? I told you to get the education straight!”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Never mind. Take care of that."

The gang clicked their tongues and faced Ian.

"Why didn't you behave in moderation?"

The other serfs scoffed and surrounded Ian to prevent him from running away.

Ian sighed, surrounded by the gang.

“You got me right once.”

Today, of all days.

Two days before the Harvest Festival.

He remembered clearly because it was a week before his 12th birthday.

‘They choose the time when the knights will come to pick me up and argue with them.’

It was a bad day for them.

‘Well, I'm not going to stay longer anyway, and I don't have to be self-conscious anymore.’

But at Ian's words, Johnson laughed in vain.

"Me? Yeah, you got me right once. I'm going to crush that ugly face today."

But Ian was nonchalant.

Ian didn't really remember his bad behavior until earlier.

But on second thought, it wasn't one or two things that he suffered from when he was young.

‘He used his supervisor's identity to always make me work late at night and tortured me.’

Getting assaulted and being left thirsty were basic, but when he was starving himself, Johnson had once grilled meat right in front of his eyes purposefully.

Of course, that wasn't the only one time.

‘Come to think of it, he managed the serfs' belongings, right?’

Ian, who had made up his mind, looked around and said, "Don't bring your lame little cubs. Let's work it out like a man."

Everyone looked at Ian at the remark.

The gang burst out laughing at Ian.

But Ian smiled triumphantly.

"Why? Can't fight alone because you're scared?"

Johnson blinked his eyes.

His disgusting gaze turned to Ian's body, which was very malnourished.

"I'll make you regret it so much."

The gang burst out laughing at Ian.

“Slug. Stop talking back to me.”

"Yes, the supervisor has been recognized for his great work in swordsmanship…"

But Ian didn't even listen and just looked around.

And what he picked up was a long stick. It was a thin branch that rolled around in the field.

"Everyone says I'm a dull person. I'm glad I can knock down a soldier or two at best, let alone a knight."

Ian slowly swung the stick and approached the supervisor.

"But it was true. After all that hard work, it was just one or two soldiers. That's why everyone told me. Just give up the sword."

Johnson snorted at Ian's monologue.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"But I'm glad I didn't give up."

"What?"

Ian raised the stick.

It was the swordsmanship he had learned in the past.

“Cause this is how it's going to work.”

His sword was pointed at Johnson, the supervisor.