Anyone living in the 21st century has, at some point, wished to be born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

  If your parents are rich, life is simply easier.

  When you don’t have to worry about making ends meet and can walk a smooth, straight road id out like train tracks, life just naturally works itself out. It's the very definition of a free ride.

  I, too, once dreamed of being born into wealth.

  Of course, that dream was as unrealistic as a fairy tale, and I quickly gave up on it.

  Anyway, I was just an ordinary office worker.

  After three years at a small company, I had saved about twenty thousand dolrs, and I was the kind of man who was destined to slowly grow old and die alone, living self-sufficiently, reading web novels and pying games.

  And you know what? I was satisfied with that life.

  Had I grown old and died just like that, I would have had no regrets.

  If only a nuclear bomb hadn’t suddenly fallen from the sky, I might have even said I was happy.

  “Shit.”

  It was a gigantic bomb unched by an old pig up north.

  Maybe he hit the wrong button trying to order a Coke, or maybe he simply lost his mind — who knows?

  I never found out the reason.

  The moment I watched the explosion blossom in the distance, I died.

  And then I reincarnated as a noble.

  In another world where magic and monsters exist.

  I regained the memories of my past life about two weeks ago.

  You know, right around the time they say adolescents go through a stormy period. It would’ve been nice if it had come a little earlier.

  “Young Master Esther, the Lord is calling for you.”

  “Really?”

  In this world, my name is Esther Tristi.

  It’s nothing like the way names are made back in Korea, but after living for fifteen years as Esther Tristi, the name feels more natural to me than the one I had in my previous life.

  I’m the youngest son of the Tristi family.

  The Tristi household is a noble house of the Kingdom of Ostana.

  We’re not a great noble house that wields overwhelming influence over the nation, but we’ve been around for over 500 years since the kingdom’s founding.

  We own a territory and have amassed a fair amount of wealth through its abundant resources and various commercial establishments.

  We even have our own academy in the domain, separate from the Royal Academy, where we train a considerable number of talents.

  “Did my father really ask for me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Wasn't he always indifferent toward me?”

  Even though I was born into a rich family, it’s hard to say I lived the life of a golden child.

  In ordinary families, the youngest is often doted upon, but the Tristi family is different.

  Here, ability is everything.

  No matter how much money you have, if you ck talent, you're treated mercilessly.

  That was the policy of Porto, my father and the head of the family.

  Because I was considered the least talented among my siblings, I was given the smallest room in the mansion.

  The only servant assigned to me was the maid standing in front of me now.

  My brothers and sisters had knights guarding them. Meanwhile, I just had her. Talk about discrimination.

  Still, my room was bigger than the tiny studio apartment I had back in my previous life, so no compints.

  Before I regained my past memories, I remember feeling a bit bitter about it, but now, I was honestly satisfied.

  I had three meals a day, a warm bed, and I could spend my time zing around, reading books from the library.

  Sure, etiquette lessons and swordsmanship training were boring and painful, but they were bearable.

  The maid blinked at me.

  “I thought he didn’t care about you either, sir.”

  For the record, this cheeky maid’s name is Dalphi.

  She became my personal maid about a week after I regained my memories.

  After my previous maid caused a big mess and quit, Dalphi volunteered for the position nobody else wanted — serving the useless youngest son.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re hopeless.”

  …Forget what I said about her being a good person.

  “You’re hopeless at magic, terrible at swordsmanship, your manners are atrocious... You’re basically a complete failure.”

  Alright, you can stop now. I’m well aware of it.

  “Dalphi.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  “Honestly, I'm scared. I feel like running away right now.”

  “If you run away, you’ll die, sir. You wouldn’t survive on your own. So let's go.”

  “Maybe he’s moving me to an even smaller room… but anything smaller would be a doghouse. No matter how frugal I am, I’m not sleeping in a doghouse.”

  Dalphi gave me a bright smile.

  Then she pushed me forward.

  “You do have a knack for getting yourself into trouble, sir.”

  “Agreed.”

  And so, pushed along by Dalphi, I made my way to the lord’s office.

  Dalphi bowed her head and stayed back in the hallway as I, sighing heavily, opened the door and stepped inside.

  Please, let it be nothing serious.

  Please, just let it be nothing serious.

  I prayed silently, but it seems the gods weren’t listening.

  “…”

  At the head of the room sat my father, Porto.

  And…

  All my brothers and sisters were gathered.

  They sat stiff and silent, waiting for our father to speak.

  Even my older siblings, who normally made it obvious they hated me, were tight-lipped.

  Even my frail second sister, Haniel, was present, which meant this had to be serious.

  Nervously, I took a seat.

  “You’re all here.”

  Porto scanned us with sharp eyes.

  What on earth was going on?

  “I have something important to tell the rising stars of Tristi.”

  His solemn voice wasted no time getting to the point.

  “From this moment on, we will begin selecting the heir of House Tristi.”

  “…!!!”

  Everyone's eyes widened.

  Mine included.

  Choosing an heir? Out of nowhere?

  Porto was only 42 years old — young by noble standards.

  He had many children thanks to marrying two wives, but it still seemed way too early to be thinking about succession.

  “The method is simple. You will take the trials prepared by the family’s retainers. They are designed to objectively determine who is most fit to lead House Tristi.”

  Tension filled the room.

  My siblings’ eyes glinted like hungry beasts.

  Not one person here would pass up the chance to inherit everything: the immense wealth, the prestigious name, the power to rule over the entire domain.

  Meanwhile, I was the only one with innocent eyes.

  I had no desire to become the family head.

  For a very modern reason: it sounded exhausting and annoying.

  I liked the idea of being a rich, zy bum. I hated the idea of being a rich, overworked noble.

  I had books to read, gardens to stroll through, and stories to write in my free time. Becoming the lord of the territory would just ruin my life.

  Porto worked tirelessly, day and night, trying to make the domain richer and better.

  He wasn’t necessarily a great father, but he was undeniably a great lord.

  I didn’t want to live like him.

  The mere thought was horrifying.

  I just wanted a peaceful life.

  But then—

  “At the same time, anyone who fails to meet the standards of the trials will be stripped of their title and sent to the Poris Battlefield as common soldiers.”

  A bolt from the blue.

  Fail the trials, and you get shipped off to the front lines of a bloody war?

  A battlefield swarming with demons, just waiting to skewer humans?

  ‘This can’t be happening!’

  It was basically a death sentence.

  I was the worst among my siblings.

  My etiquette was poor, my swordsmanship was pathetic, and my magic was even worse.

  If I got sent to the battlefield, I'd be dead in no time.

  Turned into minced meat and made into demon sausages.

  ‘Shit.’

  Murmurs broke out across the room.

  Even my usually arrogant siblings were visibly shaken.

  No noble family in the kingdom would ever send its own children to die on the battlefield just because they failed some internal test.

  “Father, surely that’s too much…”

  “The battlefield is dangerous enough as it is. To send us as common soldiers—”

  Porto silenced them with a roar.

  “Those without ability deserve to die! And by dying, you will at least bring glory to the kingdom!”

  ‘This guy’s insane!’

  Porto wasn’t joking.

  If we failed, he would absolutely send us to die.

  Today, his gaze felt especially harsh on me.

  Is this what it feels like to be targeted?

  “Aria!”

  Porto called a retainer.

  Aria was a professor at the Tristi Academy and a distinguished mage of the Fire School.

  A red-haired woman wearing a bck cone hat appeared.

  She handed each of us a sheet of paper.

  They were filled with complicated symbols and glyphs.

  I blinked in confusion.

  “These are questions selected by the Tristi Academy, tailored especially for you. Since a family head must manage many magical affairs, magical literacy is essential. You have two weeks.”

  What the hell is this?

  Haniel, covering her mouth to cough lightly, spoke up.

  “These questions are reted to fire magic…”

  Given that Haniel was the most knowledgeable in magic among us, everyone else went silent.

  “Fire magic problems…?”

  “This is a magic exam?!”

  Thank goodness.

  It wasn’t just me who didn’t get it.

  “Yes. I personally selected questions that even veteran mages would find challenging. Good luck, everyone.”

  Aria smiled sweetly.

  “That’s all I have to say. You may leave.”

  Porto dismissed us coldly.

  We filed out into the hallway, looking devastated.

  “What the hell is Father thinking? How are we supposed to solve this?”

  “No idea. Maybe he’s got some pn…”

  “We’re screwed. Can anyone even read this?”

  Even Felix, my third brother who loved picking on me, was too busy studying his test paper to bother me.

  Seeing no good reason to stick around, I quietly slipped away.

  “Esther.”

  Haniel grabbed my wrist.

  The only sibling who treated me kindly.

  She smiled softly.

  “Did you eat?”

  I nodded.

  “If you ever need help, come to me, okay? cough...”

  She was the one suffering most, yet she was worrying about me.

  “Please take care of yourself first, sis. You look really tired.”

  “I will.”

  After sending Haniel off, I reunited with Dalphi, who was waiting in the hallway.

  “What’s that paper, sir?”

  “An exam for selecting the next family head.”

  Dalphi blinked.

  “Excuse me?”

  I expined everything that had happened in the lord’s office.

  “This is bad. Should I start working on ways for you to survive the battlefield?”

  I shook my head.

  “No need.”

  Dalphi looked confused.

  “Do you have some secret pn?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Instead, I gazed at the floating hologram before me.

  AI Assistance Service: Nob AI

  What can I help with?

  I had a dependable friend.

  The smartest ally in this world — and one that only I could communicate with.