The Edwill Family’s Desperate Career Counseling

“Excuse me? What kind of nonsense is that? Your brother is a kid too.” Exactly. James, finally speaking up, kept saying nothing but the truth. I had internally thought that the Vice-Captain and James were close because they were two of a kind, but that was a very rude thought toward James. I apologized to him in silence.

“He’s not a ‘kid,’ he’s Llewellyn. Just because I have a child of my own doesn’t mean I can give birth to another Llewellyn.” At that solemn tone, James went, “Ugh.” My expression was no different. He was further gone than I thought. Wait, sht—did Kim Min-ji set up an incest route, too?* Suspicion began to crawl in. Maybe “the countless men of the continent” he mentioned included family members. If he was just laying the groundwork because he was afraid I’d be mad if he told me directly… goosebumps broke out across my back.

No. Dammit. That’s ridiculous. Even he wouldn’t go that far. I tried my best to ignore the possibility.

“Then, what about his fiancée?” Fiancée. Now, that was a bit of a shock. No matter how little interest I had in family affairs, was I really so out of the loop that I didn’t know my brother was engaged? This was a bit… I felt like total trash. However, Leopold looked like he was hearing this for the first time too, a question mark hovering over his head.

“Fiancée?” “Lady Justia.” “Oh, her.” My brother let out a hollow laugh. “Talks came up because our families are close, but it’s not an engagement. Besides, Lyla is a non-marriageist. If you mention ‘engagement’ in front of her, a gauntlet will come flying at your face.”

The Empire is vast and houses are many; I didn’t know every family, but I knew the Justias. The Marquis was close with my father and visited often, and “Lyla of the Justia House” was famous enough for even a snot-nosed kid to know.

Lyla Justia was a renowned captain in the West. It had been four years since she boarded a ship against her family’s wishes. It was rare enough for a woman to become a knight, but to board a ship and live such a rough life? The Marquis clutched the back of his neck, and the Marchioness became bedridden. Her younger brother, William—who looked like he lived only for books—was as weak-hearted as he looked, sobbing and worrying about what would happen to his sister.

But Lyla overcame the harsh environment and territorialism, eventually rising to the rank of Captain without any internal opposition. It was news that shook the capital. I heard that after she took command, pirates wouldn’t even dare pass in front of her. The prevailing opinion was that she could easily rise to Admiral. This was unprecedented for the Justia family, which had produced distinguished scholars for generations but never a famous knight.

I had never seen her in person, but in the portrait William showed me, Lyla was a beauty who looked great with curly red hair. Of course… it was a painting, so she might look different in reality, but Will insisted she looked exactly like the portrait. You can’t really trust the words of a sister-obsessed fan, but I felt bad for William, who was much older than me yet sat blubbering, so I comforted him and said I understood.

“Did the young lady say so herself? That she wouldn’t marry?” James’s voice grew louder. My intuition sharpened. It seemed he was one of Lyla’s countless fans. Will once showed me a sketchbook, saying he sold souvenirs in the West. The title was Heroes of the Sea, but in reality, it was a Lyla Justia collection. The one Will had was a “limited edition” with a massive price tag. It was a price only a “sucker” with extreme fan heart could pay. Somehow, I felt James was one of those suckers.

“Even if she did, wouldn’t a modest man who provides quiet support suit her? She wouldn’t be able to handle anyone who isn’t like her own brother.” Modest. Support. Modest. Support. James chewed on the words. So he was the type of fan who dreamed of dating the star. Since Lyla was five years older than my brother, with James… hmm. What was the age gap? His well-tanned skin looked healthy, but it was hard to guess his age. Any number from twenty to his late twenties seemed plausible.

My brother ignored him and picked me up. If my leg muscles atrophy, it’s all my brother’s fault. “If you’re hungry, shall we go eat right away?” “I had a snack earlier, so I’m okay. I want to go look around.” “Then that’s what we shall do.” Well, it’s comfortable for now. I’m going to start exercising soon anyway.

As expected, my eldest and third brothers clung to me. My third brother, Abel Edwill, brought a book titled Introduction to Ancient Languages for Anyone and tried to scam me, saying magic is nothing once you memorize this.

“It’s easy as long as you can read the characters, Llewellyn. You wouldn’t believe how many dimwits in the Academy can’t even read a spell properly. Even those kids get treated as ‘Lord Mages’ once they graduate. The salary itself is on a different level compared to knights.”

The introductory book made for children had a cute cover and large letters. The capital letters moved plumply as if alive and glowed; looking at it, it really felt like I could master ancient languages. But I knew that wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately, the original author had already kindly taught me the truth.

Ancient languages weren’t solved just by memorizing the alphabet. The vowels and consonants didn’t align perfectly, making pronunciation difficult; if you could distinguish between a noun and a verb, you were considered middle-school level. Since there are scholars who study ancient languages separately from magic, a magician who has to use it as a foundation wouldn’t be able to keep up without a decent brain.

There was a high probability I’d be one of those “dimwits” he mentioned—or not even reach that level. Abel Edwill was the third early graduate in 36 years from the Academy’s Magic Department. If you try to follow a genius’s pace, you’ll end up breaking your legs.

Of course… the talk of money was a bit tempting. My third brother was the one with the most realistic sense of money among the siblings.

Eventually, Abel created constellations on my bedroom ceiling, took over my bed, and hugged me, saying, “Isn’t it wonderful, Llewellyn?” He had clearly heard that my second brother had slept with me at the town house. The stars were brighter than reality, and the ceiling, which gradually darkened along the walls to finally become a night sky with floating clouds, was beautiful—but I had no confidence I could achieve such a thing even if I learned magic.

As the persistent third brother rushed out to bring more “tempting” magic, my eldest brother and the Count crept closer. Unlike Abel, who showed off all sorts of flashy things, these two had nothing specific to bring, so they just cleared their throats awkwardly.

“Llewellyn, the important thing in life is stability. Life is always full of crossroads, and you will have to make a choice someday. The power to try dangerous things—and the power to return even if it’s the wrong path. For that, you need the underlying stability of a foundation.”

The Count looked at his eldest son with pride. Hearing him talk, the rumor that Cale Edwill had a “tongue from hell” seemed to be true. The nickname itself was likely a derogatory rumor from behind his back, but his tongue certainly moved as smoothly as if he had swallowed a bottle of oil. If my eldest brother had appeared on a home shopping channel, wouldn’t he be a show host who set legends for consecutive sell-outs?

“And in that regard, the power of the pen is incomparable to magic or the sword. Just because many choose a path doesn’t make it the right one, but it can be considered a guide, can’t it? Of course, I will support and love you no matter what path you choose. But sometimes, I dream of such a future. Working with you, Llewellyn, sharing opinions and becoming each other’s support. You’ll be with Abel and Leo often, but those two have already chosen their paths and are moving forward.”

His skill in starting with logic and transitioning into an emotional appeal was incredible. I almost nodded without realizing it.

Dammit. The Edwill men were already competing over my future career choice. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a competition or a match. It would be one thing if I were as eloquent as Cale. But even if I had the ability to repay a thousand-gold debt with words, it would be useless if I got stabbed and died before I could open my mouth.

Politics, administration, foreign languages, the ability to perform complex calculations all at once—I had challenged all of those before becoming Llewellyn Edwill, and I only received mediocre grades. Moving my body is the best I can do, so I’m choosing the sword to find a way to live, but why are they so persistent?

“But, Brother… then…” “Yes?” “If I learn the sword… can I not be with you? Do I just… become an ‘often’?”

As I threw a counterpunch by expressing regret, Cale hurriedly hugged and comforted me. “Of course not. Absolutely not.” “But…” “I told you, Llewellyn. I will respect your choice. Abel and I… we just wanted to let you know there are other directions. Just because you learn the sword doesn’t mean you have to become a knight.” “Mhm…”

That was true. My goal is to survive most trials and tribulations, not to conquer the Empire with a blade. Ultimately, becoming a healthy, moderately strong, and wealthy loafer would be the best.