Field forced a brilliant smile onto his face as he waited for the judgment from his father, Count Kurt.
His original name was Qin Hao, a native of Huaguo on Blue Star. He had only arrived in this new world three days ago.
The good news: He was the son of a count.
The bad news: No one liked him.
"Field, you're an adult now. Like a proud lion, it's time for you to build your own future." The middle-aged man in luxurious attire tried to lace his speech with inspiring words, but the old count spoke weakly, his expression drained of life. The words came out more like a joke.
Everyone present looked on with sneers in their eyes.
The count paused mid-sentence, his mind clearly elsewhere. When he came to, he had forgotten what he was saying.
The original Field had been a good man. He gave the potion that could awaken battle aura to his younger brother. He gave up the opportunity to study at the Mage Academy so his sister could go instead. He was kind to every servant in the castle.
By any reasonable standard, he should've been respected. But nobles didn't see it that way. From their perspective, his kindness was just weakness. Uselessness. A disgrace.
The elegant woman sitting next to the count was Field's stepmother.
A voluptuous and stunning lady, dressed with impeccable grace, she lifted her teacup with practiced poise. After taking a sip, she lowered it gently. Her long, fox-like eyes slid toward Field. The shadows cast by the sun highlighted her high cheekbones and sharp nose. She lifted her chin in disdain, almost pointing it directly at him. "The vast territory of the Northern Nightfall Lands will be your barony. It's more than enough room for you to make your mark."
As expected.
Even if you bend over backward trying to please everyone, you still can't avoid exile.
Dizzy for a moment, Field clenched his jaw hard to steady himself. The original host had died from illness after years of abuse—leaving Field to deal with this mess.
A cold smirk tugged at Field's lips.
What an idiot.
Trying to survive among nobles with kindness?
His stepmother glanced down at him lazily, her eyes dripping with scorn. "Got a problem with that?"
"Hoo…"
Field exhaled slowly, releasing the frustration in his chest. He dropped the smile and replied in a flat tone, "As you wish... Father."
That so-called father of his had long since been drained dry by the woman clinging to him, blindly obeying whatever she said.
"Pfft! What a moron."
A relative snickered somewhere, lacing the laughter with a harsh insult.
The Northlands were home to both humans and beastkin, a wild region full of bloodshed and savagery. Ten years ago, the Holy Gryphon Empire used a wave of corrupted miasma to slaughter 300,000 beastkin troops. By now, the place was likely crawling with goblins and trolls.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
That same beastkin army—along with all humans and animals in the region—had been turned into corrupted creatures. They now roamed the death fog that blanketed the land. Hell on earth, essentially. The royal family had tried three different campaigns to reclaim it.
All ended in total annihilation.
The so-called territories in the Northlands only existed in name. Not even dogs would go there.
Most people didn't even talk about it anymore.
The Nightfall Lands were cursed, possibly worse than cursed. Even escaped serfs and condemned criminals wouldn't dare flee in that direction.
Still... I've got my cheat.
Field comforted himself silently. At a mental command, a translucent map popped into his vision, with a small green dot slowly moving along the terrain.
"Go prepare," the count said, looking utterly exhausted. His face was ghostly pale.
His stepmother helped him up, her nearly see-through silk nightgown doing little to hide his withered form. But pressed against her body, he seemed to gain a bit of strength.
Field pressed his lips together.
His brothers and sisters had all been granted fertile, wealthy lands. This old man thought he could just toss out a few hollow words and send him packing?
Not happening.
"I need support, Father," Field said firmly. "Developing the Nightfall Lands won't be easy."
His stepmother leaned into the count, pressing her curves against him. Then she narrowed her eyes, all charm and venom.
"Greed is not a noble virtue, Field. You've already been given more than enough." The count replied without hesitation.
The rest of the family didn't bother hiding their scornful expressions.
"Going out there with black hair and black eyes... what a disgrace to House Ross."
"A mutt, nothing more!"
Black hair and eyes had ceased to be noble traits ever since the eastern nomads invaded and the ancient inland kingdoms fell.
Field's mood turned grim, anger flashing in his eyes.
He was the result of the count's drunken mistake. Why was he the one getting punished?
His mother had been a maid in the castle, a slave brought from the far East and sold to the household. One drunken night, the count took her to bed—and Field was born.
No family background. No powerful maternal clan. And his face carried too many of her foreign features.
That was the real reason he had been shunned.
"Five hundred gold coins," the count finally said. "And you may take your personal servant with you. I treat all my children equally."
Then he turned and shuffled off to his bedroom with his wife, as if fleeing.
Field was beyond frustrated. Five hundred coins might sound like a lot, but when it came to managing a territory, it was a drop in the bucket. Like throwing a toothpick into a barrel and hoping it made waves.
Still... better than nothing.
"Hey! Field! I hear the Nightfall Lands are great," his half-brother chirped, walking up with a shit-eating grin. "It's always dark, reeks of rot, and never sees sunlight. Fits your demon eyes perfectly!"
Field could feel the fury rise in his chest like a firestorm, his heart practically sizzling.
Fine. The land's a dump.
But I'm a transmigrator. I've got ways.
But mocking my appearance? You're asking for it.
This little bastard had only been able to awaken his battle aura thanks to Field's kindness. The guy had no talent and used to hide and cry while everyone mocked him. It was Field who reached out a helping hand back then.
"Get lost," Field snapped, showing no hint of friendliness.
"Remember that little blonde girl?" his brother whispered, smiling eerily as he leaned in close.
Field's eyes narrowed.
A face surfaced in his mind. A girl with a sweet smile—the one the original Field had had a crush on. Her naked corpse was later found in a tavern alley. That was the final straw that drove the original into illness and eventually death—allowing Field to take over.
His brother licked his lips. "Yeah... that was me. The way she struggled? Damn, it was thrilling."
Field's pupils shrank.
A chill gripped his heart.
His just-of-age half-brother had committed such a monstrous act?
Even though Field had never met the girl personally, and she was a stranger to his soul... the way this bastard treated human life like trash made him sick to his stomach.