Incestuous Noble House.
The infamous nickname attached to House Zahav was surprisingly a well-founded slander.
I never imagined I'd be the one accelerating those rumors...
Perhaps my bewildered feelings were plainly showing on my face. Karen added an explanation in a cautious voice.
"Master Enoch. It may be unfamiliar to you, who was born and raised outside, but noble houses possess something called Bloodline Abilities. Therefore..."
"I know that. And I know noble houses value pure bloodlines because of it."
It's a famous story.
The reason nobles are nobles in this world. It's because of the special abilities passed down through their bloodlines.
A unique lineage of power that can't be explained by aura or magic—transmitted solely through blood.
No one knows its origin, but one thing is certain: those with Bloodline Abilities have reigned as nobles since ancient times.
Of course, House Zahav has one too.
A Bloodline Ability powerful enough to claim one of the four great ducal seats.
The nickname "Incestuous Noble House" probably stemmed from their attempts to preserve it as much as possible.
Even on Earth, there were families that strategically practiced incestuous marriages to monopolize territory and power without dividing it. Not surprising at all.
...Though they ended up as the "Prognathous Jaw Clan."
"Wait. Now that I think about it, I'm curious. If blood is so important, how can everyone be so sure I'm of House Zahav's lineage? You know my background, right?"
"Even if you ask what we saw to be sure... You just look like a Zahav at first glance."
"I don't even know what a Zahav looks like."
"...Oh dear. Come to think of it, aside from the previous Patriarch, you've never seen any other blood relatives."
Karen nodded as if she understood.
"Vivid golden hair, bronze skin. And finally, blessed physical prowess—these are the hallmark traits of House Zahav. You possess them all, Master Enoch."
"Hmm. I see."
I nodded for now, but inwardly, I was dumbfounded.
Sure enough, as Karen said, my hair is bright blonde.
The problem is, it's a side effect of an elixir I consumed to escape from the black mage organization that bought young me—and especially the mad alchemist who tormented me the most.
My dusky skin came from somehow killing that alchemist bastard and fleeing, but I was obviously caught right away.
It's the mark of dying and coming back to life from the assassins' poison the organization hired. A kind of scar, you could say.
And the blessed physique... probably refers to my musculature. And the superior physical abilities built upon it.
But this isn't innate talent. It's the result of human experiments inflicted by that damned alchemist.
At the same time, it's the trace of desperately training to survive in Calypso Territory, where people dropped dead left and right.
I wasn't without natural talent, but that's not all of it. Coincidence and effort overlapped to create who I am now.
However, it just so happens to match House Zahav's external features.
Things can roll this way too. It was so absurd I could only let out a hollow laugh.
Well, it's not that important to me, since I'll be exiled soon anyway.
I wondered if a perfect wastrel cosplay would be possible with my mild temperament...
But if it has to be done, it'll get done.
To steel my resolve, I deliberately curled up the corners of my mouth and laughed out loud.
"Ehehehehe!"
As the old saying goes, the one who laughs is the top dog.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Karen stared blankly at Enoch, who was grumbling with an expressionless face—the man who would soon become the head of House Zahav.
Bright golden hair like sunlight. In contrast, his skin all over was dusky, as if scorched by fire.
His muscles weren't bulky, but they enveloped his body with explosive density. His extremely honed senses made his finely forged flesh function without the slightest disruption or waste.
Up to here, he was no different from any previous Zahav.
The men of House Zahav, who wielded the mana of the sun through their Bloodline Ability, always had golden hair and brown skin. And due to the mana's nature, their overflowing yang energy granted them robust physical prowess.
This was why House Zahav had long ruled the south as overlords... and why most of them fell into arrogance and depravity.
Born strong, they saw no need for training, knew no defeat so couldn't empathize with others' pain, and without reining in their rampaging instincts, they became beasts.
But these were beasts the south desperately needed.
If the north's role was subjugating barbarians, the south's was stemming the monster hordes surging from dungeons.
Thus, overwhelming strength was what the south needed most, allowing House Zahav to establish dominance.
To survive in the south, one had no choice but to revere the strong who protected them—and raw power itself.
In that sense, Enoch was unmistakably House Zahav blood, no matter who saw him or where he was placed.
Karen still remembered it vividly. She and her grandfather, the head butler Aaron, had gone to the heart of Calypso Territory upon hearing of Enoch.
Even in a place like a receptacle for every manner of imperial scum, Enoch had carved out his domain and reigned aloofly.
His haughty gaze looked down upon visitors from atop a throne of rubble whose origins were unknown.
A few people had gathered around him, drawn by Enoch, yet they maintained a certain distance, as if fearing to enter his field of vision.
His tone, inquiring whether they were visitors or challengers, carried a hint of weariness, with no particular expectations...
But the moment he heard the tale of House Zahav from Karen and Aaron, and realized the secret of his lineage.
The languid tyrant grinned ear to ear.
As if he'd discovered a new toy.
...Well, in reality, he was just playing alone because there was no group around worth associating with.
His newly built home had been smashed for some trivial reason amid drunken brawls, and he was sitting despondently on the ruins.
Those keeping a subtle distance were the decent comrades he'd scraped together.
But they were the very ones who'd accidentally demolished Enoch's house in a drunken fight, so they were just watching their step.
The look in his eyes toward Karen wasn't boredom, but the harsh realization that there wasn't a single person he could trust.
His ear-to-ear grin was simply joy at finally finding a legitimate way to escape Calypso.
In the end, it was all a misunderstanding, but to Karen, who knew none of this, Enoch appeared a monster born of Zahav blood.
'But there is one clear difference from the other Zahavs.'
His eyes.
Enoch always met Karen's gaze when speaking to her.
Something most Zahavs—drunk on their own power and utterly ignoring the weak—never did.
Though she was young, Karen had devoted her life to House Zahav. It was inevitable that she found pleasure in Enoch's gaze that fully took her in.
However, she mustn't mistake it for Enoch acknowledging or particularly cherishing her.
Those long, slanted eyes. Looking into his gleaming golden ones, one couldn't help but realize.
That Enoch was taking in her every move.
That he was peering right through to her deepest core.
All so he could tear into her nape the moment it became necessary.
Perhaps due to his upbringing, his speech was frivolous, but such frivolity couldn't hide his innate nature.
...In truth, Enoch was just focusing to read the changes in the expressionless Karen's face, but to her, that's how it felt.
One could call it the karma of Enoch's subtly intimidating appearance.
It must be unfair for Enoch, but what could be done about what stirred in Karen's heart?
His sudden laugh was the same. From Enoch's perspective, it was just him steeling his resolve, envisioning a future where everything went smoothly.
But in Karen's eyes, Enoch looked like a beast who'd realized his rivals were long gone, with no need to hold himself back.
'He seems fine now, but Master Enoch is still a Zahav. Perhaps...'
If Enoch succumbed to arrogance and instinct like the others and fell into depravity.
Then the Enoch they'd brought to sustain House Zahav might become its most horrific nightmare.
A negative thought flashed through her mind, making Karen's body shudder faintly.
To Enoch's eyes, it looked like Karen shivering for no reason in the midsummer heat.
"Got the chills?"
"...No."
"Hmm. Hard to believe. You've been glued to my side all day."
"It's really not."
"Tsk. Should I sniff?"
"Kuh! As expected of a Zahav, Master. If the lord desires it, I, a member of House Kesef, cannot refuse—but this is only after you've fully ascended to Patriarch. Right now, you cannot compel me to any orders..."
"What's Flat-ass saying? Either go to the bathroom a bit late, or drop your pants here and prove those panties are fresh and dry. Pick one."
"..."
Karen squeezed her eyes shut. Hoping the infamous Zahav teasing she'd only heard of would pass quickly.
But nothing more happened.
"...?"
Karen cautiously opened her eyes in bewilderment.
What reflected in them was Enoch, wearing a smug, satisfied expression at his novice wastrel antics.
Karen let out a deep sigh, somewhat deflated.
"I'll go to the bathroom for a bit..."
It wasn't really chills, but she couldn't exactly strip either.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
About a fortnight later.
Enoch was being called the most noble Zahav.
"Why...!"