COTBC 48

Chapter 48

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“That’s a hasty judgment. I’ll stop here.”

“They say I carry Goethe blood.”

“They say I’m the rightful heir.”

Isaac denied the soldiers’ flattering words.

“Would you join us for a meal? We’d like to know how you train… how you learned your swordsmanship.”

“No. I’m tired.”

Ignoring the captain’s invitation, Isaac tossed the wooden sword aside and left the training ground.

It was the first time the estate soldiers had shown him such goodwill—

and it should have pleased him.

But he felt no desire to stay with them.

“…Did I say something wrong?”

The soldiers looked confused.

But Isaac showed no emotion—

and gave no explanation.

He simply wiped the sweat from his forehead and wandered aimlessly around the estate.

“…I’ve been careless.”

The excitement he had felt since returning to the estate—

vanished in an instant.

The cool early-summer air.

The peaceful scenery.

The comfort of a stable life.

Jonas beginning to show affinity with spirits.

The soldiers’ drive to improve.

For a brief moment—

everything had seemed optimistic.

But just a few sparring matches—

and now they already saw him as Goethe’s heir.

That realization cooled him instantly.

The soldiers had done nothing wrong.

Their change in attitude was sudden—

but not unreasonable.

They were men who had spent their lives on the battlefield.

Just as a mage could infer another mage’s life and personality from their magic—

soldiers could judge others through combat.

The fault lay with Isaac—

for giving them something to believe in.

His refined swordsmanship.

His overwhelming physique for his age.

His unnatural magical capabilities.

All of it—

was the product of a miracle.

Very little of it was truly his own.

Without that inexplicable return to the past—

he would have died in tragedy.

And the power he now possessed—

had a purpose.

It was certainly not meant to earn favor from servants or guards.

Isaac wanted power.

He wanted a miracle.

He wanted to protect his family.

He wanted those under Goethe to live happily.

But—

after overcoming his condition of mana deviation,

after shedding the fear of harming others—

after gaining the freedom to run, fight, study, and live—

after saving lives, stopping schemes, and protecting Binfelt—

He had grown intoxicated by that freedom.

And forgotten—

what he truly wanted.

He had enjoyed sparring.

Enjoyed their admiration.

And in that enjoyment—

he had forgotten the consequences.

Forgotten Lucas.

Forgotten his father.

His mother.

Jonas.

In Goethe—

the eldest son is officially named heir at thirteen.

In the original timeline—

Isaac was never chosen.

His unstable condition harmed others.

No one trusted him.

But now—

things had changed.

He had never once lost control.

He showed exceptional sword talent.

Reputation—

whether good or bad—

spreads like wildfire.

Once it ignites—

it cannot be stopped.

And when news from Binfelt arrived—

more would support him.

That meant conflict.

Between retainers.

Between branches of the family.

Different views on Isaac and Jonas—

would divide them.

And once Isaac became a candidate—

the royal family would take notice.

They would watch him.

Judge him.

Is he another Sieg von Goethe?

If so—

they would act.

Plots would arise—

inside and outside the family.

“…Idiot.”

Even knowing the future—

he had overlooked something so obvious.

Isaac shook his head weakly.

“Focus.”

If he had chosen this path—

he needed to commit to it.

Everything else—

had to be cut away.

“Maybe someday… when Goethe finds peace…”

“…I can enjoy those things.”

“But not now.”

He repeated it to himself.

Again and again.

When night fell—

Isaac slipped out of the estate.

With the hell wolf—

there was no need for a horse.

Not the most comfortable ride—

but more than sufficient.

As the wind brushed past him—

his mind slowly cleared.

The wolf, guided by his will—

avoided roads and ran through rough terrain.

Near Bern’s bridge—

he dismissed it.

Then chose a place without guards.

Bern had no walls—

but it had a wide moat connected to the river.

The guards only needed to watch the bridge.

But for Isaac—

that wasn’t a problem.

Crack—

As his foot touched the water—

ice formed.

“…It works.”

A smile crept onto his lips.

Another gift—

from the Wolf King’s rune stone.

Normally—

mages rely on their hands.

But Isaac—

could now channel mana through his feet.

He couldn’t freeze the entire moat—

only create stepping platforms.

It took time.

Step by step—

he crossed.

But one thing was certain—

He was walking on water.

That alone—

brought him quiet satisfaction.

Inside Bern—

he headed to a newly built high-end inn.

“Welcome!”

The innkeeper greeted him warmly—

despite not knowing who he was.

No one recognized him.

His hood concealed his face.

Most people in Bern had never seen him anyway.

“Staying the night?”

A woman with light brown hair asked.

Her face showed age—

but also care and vitality.

Isaac recognized her—

Randolph’s wife.

“I’m here to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“Carlson.”

“…He stepped out. Should I tell him? Or will you wait?”

“I’ll wait. Bring me ale.”

“…Are you sure? Even strong drinkers get drunk quickly on ours.”

She looked concerned.

He looked like a noble boy—

out of place here.

“That’s fine.”

Isaac insisted.

She brought him a horn filled with ale.

“One more.”

He drank it in one go.

He wouldn’t get drunk.

Not anymore.

But he needed the smell.

He had made a decision.

He would not act like a proper heir.

He would appear reckless.

Unrefined.

Someone visible—

but not threatening.

So Jonas could rise safely.

So Goethe wouldn’t attract suspicion.

If needed—

he would even visit brothels.

For now—

drinking was enough.

“How many drinks will this buy?”

He placed a silver coin on the counter.

“…Enough to replace half your blood with ale.”

She joked.

“Then let’s do that.”

She smiled.

“…You’re generous.”

“Just let me sit quietly.”

“…Alright.”

She was curious—

but didn’t press further.

Isaac focused on drinking.

Compared to Binfelt—

this ale was rich.

Fragrant.

Almost refined.

“…Not bad.”

“Carlson, you’re back?”

She greeted him first.

“…Yes.”

Carlson entered—

looking tired.

“You look terrible.”

“…Something came up. Ale, please.”

He reached for money—

but she waved him off.

“Looks like someone already paid for you.”

“…What?”

Carlson followed her gaze.

Their eyes met.

Silence.

They hadn’t planned this part.

“…You two know each other, right?”

The innkeeper asked—

breaking the awkward quiet.