Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Change (2)

༺ Change (2) ༻


  Rendler, the Head Butler of the Raphelion County, was an old and loyal retainer who could arguably be said to have shared in the household’s rise and fall.


  He entered the household as a page at 22, became a butler at 26, and by the young age of 36, he was serving as the Head Butler assisting the Head of the Household himself. Such was his role that nothing in the Raphelion County could proceed without him.


  As such, it was only natural for him to take on the task of watching over the growth of Elden Raphelion, the sole heir of the family.


  He took on Elden’s lessons on noble etiquette in place of the busy Head of the Household, who often had to leave the mansion. Moreover, Rendler was also the one who cleaned up after him whenever he caused trouble.


  After all, the Lady of the family was too frail to discipline and manage the rampantly mischievous Elden.


  An absent father, often away on official duties, and a weak mother, bedridden due to illness.


  Filling their void was undoubtedly beyond him, but Rendler still did his best to take great care of Elden.


  He believed it was his duty, responsibility, and a natural part of his job as someone living off the family’s bounty.

  Of course, guiding a child, who was so starkly different and not related by blood, was nearly impossible. Even so, Rendler did not spare his efforts.


  However, as years passed, those efforts began to fade, and by the time Elden enrolled in the Royal Academy, they had all but evaporated.


  By associating with bad company, Elden allowed the evil inclinations he had been suppressing to spread their wings.


  He received numerous warnings from the faculty and had been involved in serious disputes with classmates that often resulted in bloodshed.


  Yet, Rendler never once blamed him.


  He was proud of Elden, who graduated as the valedictorian despite all the incidents.


  The flames of malice within Elden were inevitable; an irrefutable principle, as well as a providence of nature.


  Only then did he finally accept that one’s inherent fate would inevitably follow its course.


  “You have worked hard, Young Master. Congratulations on your graduation as valedictorian.”


  Three years later, when Elden returned to the family, he had been completely enthralled by the temptations of pleasures and indulgences.


  Alcohol and women.


  Instead of the prestige of a valedictorian, he returned filled only with the instincts of a male.


  Instead of glory, he handed over only empty bottles of liquor to Rendler.


  Instead of honor, he stepped down from the carriage bringing along drunken prostitutes.


  “HAHAHA-! These lewd bitches. Do you like the taste of money that much? I’ll throw in a gold coin to the bitch that barks like a dog. Catch it with your mouth. Then, it’s yours. HAHAHA!”


  Instead of a valedictorian’s laurels, the Raphelion County’s garden was filled with the screams of prostitutes and the fluttering of scattered money.


  3 years enrolled at the academy.


  Having awakened the deplorable instincts of a man during that all but short time, he began to acquire various infamous nicknames such as ‘Vulgarian’, ‘Drunken Nobleman’, and ‘Black-Haired Beast’ as soon as he returned to the city.


  Rendler was busy handling the aftermaths of incidents, yet he never once blamed his young master.


  What was to happen had happened. That was all.


  While choosing to conform to providence instead of battling against it, he silently worked for the Raphelion Household. But then, he faced a significant crisis when Elden turned 22.


  The Head of the Household died in an accident and the Lady passed away from chronic illness.


  The situation was utterly bleak.


  The sole heir of the household, who had no interest in its fortunes, was burdened with heavy responsibilities. Thus, Rendler’s worries deepened accordingly.


  And it didn’t take long for his fears to become reality. 


  Business partners, doubting Elden’s capabilities, began to terminate their contracts and as a result of unpaid dues, businesses had to be sold off one by one.


  The family’s fortunes declined.


  The glory of the Raphelion County faded, so Rendler advised the mansion staff to prepare themselves mentally.


  After all, once the few remaining businesses were sold, there would be nowhere left to collect money from. As such, the last step would be to sell the manion and land; a collapse of the once great family seemed inevitable.






  One day, Elden, who had sobered up for the first time in a long while, called for Rendler. And then, he proposed something rather unexpected.


  “I heard the Third Northern Duchess is holding a betrothal competition. Make sure to submit my application for it.”


  “…Excuse me?”


  “I am fairly certain I have told you not to make me repeat myself.”


  “Ah, y-yes. Understood.”


  It was an incomprehensible turn of events.


  He, who preferred chaos over marriage… He, who treated women merely as tools to satisfy male desires, was participating in a betrothal contest for a woman.


  Moreover, this was a decision made while knowing just how the name Elden Raphelion was regarded by society. 


  It would have been a miracle if he even managed to pass the preliminary round, let alone the main selection.


  Rendler submitted the application with such thoughts and when Elden was chosen as a final candidate, he suspected it was less a miracle and more a prearranged scheme.


  After all, inexplicable events often concealed reasons befitting its incomprehensibility.


  Was that perhaps why?


  “Forfeit? Hoho. You have thought very well. Lord Elden.”


  Hearing the young lord declare his withdrawal brought out a genuine sense of relief.


  As mentioned before, winning was already out of the question.


  It was a wise choice to return home rather than endure another uncomfortable day at the Grand Duke of the North’s castle.


  Honestly, it was embarrassing to present such a lord to the Duchess.


  No, it was embarrassing to present him anywhere in the world. 


  Rendler thought the Third Duchess was pitiful for having chosen such a lord as a finalist, so this seemed like an excellent turn of events.


  “Then, I shall prepare the carriage.”


  “……I see you’re not going to ask why?”


  “Why would I ever question your decision, My Lord? As you said, there is no need to cling to a battle one cannot win. Hohoho.”


  Rendler left with a bright smile and Elden, feeling strange for some reason, took a sip of the alcohol in his glass.


  His first taste since he had transmigrated into this world was… 


  “…It’s bitter.”




  Very bitter.




  Winterfell, situated at the northernmost parts of the continent, lived up to its name, with winter reigning all year around.


  The vast lands were covered in thick snow, with blue coniferous forests wrapped in white scarves and white foxes digging through the snow-capped mountains.


  Even the place known as the Land of Bitter Cold and the Land of Frozen Earth had rainfall in May.


  Icicles hanging from the roofs turned into droplets, falling onto the frozen ground.


  And with the arrival of such a season, Logan Winterfell, the Sovereign of the Northern Regions, found himself buried under a mountain of paperwork.


  Frozen things did not cause problems.


  It was the things which thawed that did.


  Furthermore, in May, to mark the celebration of life beginning anew, a long-standing tradition, as well as a grand festival of the Northern Region, would be hosted. [Grand Ducal Betrothal Competition].


  That meant it was a May where even brief naps would be too long if they wished to deal with the affairs of the Northern Region and household.


  Moreover, this betrothal contest was especially abuzz throughout the Northern Regions because the previously veiled Third Duchess was the protagonist.


  “…What? Withdrawal?”


  And so, the news of a ‘Final Candidate’s Withdrawal’ inevitably caused interference and confusion in his already tight schedule.


  Gelwood, the aide, instinctively bowed his head as the blue eyes, reminiscent of an Azure Dragon on the battlefield, showed an unabated spirit.


  “Yes, Your Grace. Candidate Elden Raphelion has declared his withdrawal.”


  “And the reason?”

  “He claimed he was too lacking.”


  “Lacking? After passing numerous tests over a fortnight to reach the final step, only now does he forfeit, speaking of qualification?”




  Unable to comprehend the withdrawal, Logan leaned back and crossed his arms.


  His arms, which once wielded a massive halberd that swept through the northern battlefields, showcased their enduring strength and glory.


  “There must be another reason.”


  “I have attempted to probe and investigate, but nothing concrete surfaced.”


  “Were there no odd signs?”




  Odd signs? They were vague, but they did exist.


  However, Gelwood hesitated to report them, as they were still uncertain and unverified. So, he carefully brought up something that had caught his mind.


  “That, uh… Well, they are not exactly odd signs, but….”


  “Speak freely.”


  “He seems to have changed a bit.”


  That was the only way to describe it.


  He seemed to have changed.


  However, even with just those words, Logan showed interest, standing up and approaching the window.


  He was someone Logan had personally appointed as the central aide. And Gelwood’s exceptional insight had never once been wrong.


  He could see through one’s essence with just a glance, foreseeing outcomes that were several moves ahead and capable of extracting gold from mere dust. That was who Gelwood was.


  If he said something changed, then it absolutely must have.


  Logan’s gaze was drawn to the snowscape created by the traces of winter that had not fully melted.


  “For example?”


  “His voice, once as harsh as a blizzard, has become calm. His gaze, once severe, has softened. And his indomitable spirit seems to have melted away, much like the Northern Regions in May.”


  “……..Hm, the Iron-Blooded Hellion has turned into the Northern Regions of May, you say.”


  Logan murmured, scanning the snowscape.


  The comparison to the thawing Northern Regions of May presented an interesting topic for the Snow King of the North.


  Even if it was an expression that had its leaps of logic…


  Gelwood’s insight had no equal.


  After all, why else would kings of other nations covet him as an advisor?


  Of course, one remark wouldn’t immediately change Logan’s opinion of Elden. However, his effort to reach the final candidacy, only to become the first ever to withdraw in the history of the betrothal competition was enough to pique the retired veteran’s curiosity.


  Logan turned and looked at Gelwood.


  “I understand that individual meetings with the final candidates are strictly forbidden before the commencement of the cohabitation phase. However, exceptional circumstances require exceptional rules. Arrange for a time to see him.”


  “Understood. There is a gathering between the candidates this evening, so I shall arrange it for after that.”


  Gelwood left and Logan, left alone, gazed out the window.


  He was well aware of Elden Raphelion.


  No, he was well aware of all the final candidates.


  After all, they all shared one common characteristic.


  While stroking his white beard, Logan whispered.


  “Elden Raphelion…….. What a strange fellow.”


  A man who climbed up with such difficulty, only to step down so easily.


  Regardless of whether it was due to external pressure or a genuine realization, it was clear he was unpredictable, just as public opinion suggested.


  With a bitter smile, Logan returned to his desk and started signing the backlog of documents.




Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy

Transmigrated Into A Tragic Romance Fantasy

Score 9.95
Status: Ongoing Released: 2024 Native Language: Korean
I was curious about what a female-oriented tragic romantic fantasy was like, so I skimmed through only the free chapters. And then… “…Ha.” I found myself transmigrated into one of the main male characters, destined for tears of regret, exhaustion, and obsession. So, the first thing that had to be done was… "I, Elden Raphelion, hereby declare my withdrawal from the competition for the betrothal of the Third Northern Duchess." To escape this tragedy.


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