The Heavenly Demon Can't Live a Normal Life

The day Barco made their statement, Roman went to his father, and then, he said bluntly, “The war between Barco and Lawrence—In that fight, I intend to intervene in the name of Roman Dmitry.”

Baron Romero’s body stiffened as soon as he heard that. He, who had been drinking tea until just now, looked at Roman with fierce eyes.

“Do you know what that means?”

“Yes.”

“Did you say that even after knowing that? The war between Barco and Lawrence is a legal battle that has been approved by the central government. If you had been married to Lawrence, you could have intervened in the war using your in-law’s relationship as an excuse, but we have no justification for it now. If you are going to help Lawrence due to a simple change of heart, stop thinking of doing something that would harm our family.”

He put down the teacup firmly—A quivering beard revealed Baron Romero’s anger.

Intervention in a war was not a simple matter. The central government is absolute in the kingdom of Cairo, and fighting without a cause is a shortcut that leads straight to hell. Such was the world of aristocracy. In the days when the Dmitrys were ordinary people, there was no problem acting as one felt rather than for a cause; however, now, it was not possible as they needed to manage and operate a single territory.

If Roman did as he said, the moment he intervened in the war between Barco and Lawrence, no aristocrats in the North-East would continue their exchanges with Dmitry, and in the worst case, the central government might send troops to subdue Dmitry.

Still, Dmitry’s fame and wealth might prevent the situation from reaching that point , but even so, it was a risky choice.

Roman said, “Father, how do you want me to live in the future?”

“What are you talking about?!”

“It is not simply a matter of change of heart for me to intervene in Barco’s war. I’ve experienced some foul things lately. Anthony Barco, the eldest son of the Barco family, was jealous of me and Flora Lawrence’s marriage and attempted to blackmail me. There is no evidence to prove what happened that day to you, father. Nevertheless, I had this thought—People say Dmitry is the real powerhouse of the North-East, but Barco thinks we are already under their feet.”

Roman’s voice was absolutely calm. He spoke at a moderate pace and emphasized wherever necessary. It was bizarre—His own son, Roman Dmitry, whom he had watched all his life, had reversed the situation in which he had just expressed his anger. The strange atmosphere tightened Baron Romero’s heart.

“Father, you are a blacksmith. You seemingly wish to establish yourself as an aristocrat, but in fact, you possess much power and wealth, and aren’t doing anything. You must be satisfied with the present; however, I, your son, Roman Dmitry, am different. I wish for power, and I have no intention of bowing to anyone like Barco and tarnishing Dmitry’s name in the future. There is enough reason to justify my actions. Just as Barco made a cause by themselves and declared war on the Lawrence territory, for those with power, the cause is just a game of words.”

He looked up at his father. In his new life, he still felt like he was floating in the open sea. However, what was certain was that even in a situation where he did not know what to do, the fundamental driving force of the person known as Baek Joong-hyuk was the same—He must live a reigning life.

He didn’t look far—Not to the end of the sea. He saw the enemy in front of him, like a shark that appeared right before him, and decided he would destroy them. He would tear off the shark’s fin, and he would drink its flesh and blood; with that, he would prove that he is still alive.

“I am not asking you to let me borrow the power of the family. I’m just telling my father my thoughts, hoping he’ll understand what I’m planning. I will intervene in the war not as the eldest son of the Dmitry family but for my personal reasons as Roman Dmitry. What I am showing you now is how I must live my life.”

It was a one-sided notice. He didn’t even want his father’s support. However, he knew he needed tacit consent at least.

Roman knew the truth that his own strength came from Dmitry, and he did not try to ignore the truth. He admitted it and wanted to make the most of what he had. Thus, he needed the consent of his father, Romero Dmitry.

“…Hmmm.”

Baron Romero looked embarrassed. His sore thumb, Roman, was growing rapidly day by day. With Roman’s longing eyes staring straight into his own eyes, Baron Romero knew it was a problem he couldn’t control.

Finally, Baron Romero, who was looking at Roman silently, said with a determined expression—“Do as you will. And if there’s anything I can help with, just tell me. You are my son, and I, Romero Dmitry, am your father . No matter what you do, you are not fully responsible for it.”

That was enough. Eventually, his father gave Roman what he wanted.

Originally, Roman didn’t need his father’s help. He planned to do things on his own, but he only needed help for one thing—weapons to arm his soldiers.

Roman had 30 private soldiers.

All material things, such as the salary paid to his soldiers, came from his father, so he spoke frankly about what he wanted.

“Go to Hendrick, the master of the forge. If you say this is my request, he will support you with anything you say you need.”

Master Blacksmith—It was the symbol of the Dmitry family. In the past, Baron Romero was the master of the smithy, handling all major issues, but Hendrick, with whom he worked earlier, succeeded him when he received the title of nobility. Hendrick was a well-known craftsman in Cairo. Therefore, as the master blacksmith of the Dmitry family, he oversaw all the other blacksmiths. He was also a man Roman had always wanted to meet.

As soon as Roman left, he headed straight to the forge, and soon after, he heard a familiar sound.

Dmitry’s forge—It was a space where fire was visible day and night. The blacksmiths of the smithy smashed the metal while their forearms wriggled with muscles, and the scenery spread endlessly everywhere.

Dmitry’s forge was the largest in the kingdom of Cairo—A workshop where several blacksmiths can work simultaneously is classified as one, and there were as many as 30 such workshops in a space called Blacksmith’s Street. It was truly incredible. As to how Dmitry was able to amass enormous wealth, the question was immediately resolved by looking at this space.

Some blacksmiths saw the figure of Roman—Dmitry’s eldest son had appeared at the forge, but no one wanted to greet Roman first. It wasn’t a matter of reputation. Regarding this, Baron Romero had something to say.

“Son, Dmitry’s blacksmiths are extremely proud of themselves. They aren’t the sort of people who will show blind loyalty just because you’re born with Dmitry’s surname. Only those who know about blacksmithing can earn the respect of the blacksmiths.”

For that reason, Roman’s brothers lived in the forge. In particular, the second son was greedy for succession and so passionate that he said he would go to the master and learn the techniques himself.

On the contrary, obviously, while Roman was alive, he never bothered coming near the forge. Working with iron and crafting while sweating was hard work, so it was not desirable for a nobleman who only wanted pleasure.

The blacksmiths’ cold reactions were expected. Regardless, Roman walked without saying a word, and finally, he arrived at the target space.

“Did you come to see me?”

Hendrick—A dark-faced and middle-aged man looked outside with a sweaty face. When he confirmed that his guest was Roman, he distorted his expression.

“Why did you come here?”

Hendrick, the master of the forge, judged humans into two classes—Someone he likes, someone he doesn’t like. And Roman was so firmly in the disliked category that Hendrick was close to adding a “very disliked” category.

Once, there was a time when Roman was brought to the forge by his father. Even then, Hendrick had been eager to teach Romero’s eldest son, but he eventually got fed up with Roman’s daily complaining and whining about not wanting to do dirty work. Still, if things had ended like that, he wouldn’t have hated him, but there was one decisive incident that stuck out in Hendrick’s eyes.

One day, Roman was in need of money. As his father had banned him from receiving an allowance, he secretly went to the blacksmith’s forge to earn money for entertainment. Upon laying eyes on the sword that looked best in his eyes, a blade Hendrick has put his blood, sweat and tears into, he stole it and sold it to a street vendor for a bargained price.

Obviously, for Hendrick, it was natural to be angry. That day, Hendrick beat Roman mercilessly in front of Baron Romero, and at that time, even Baron Romero also stood by and allowed him to hit his eldest son. From that day onward, Roman became the object of loathing for Hendrick, and he hated even talking to him.

Hendrick, of course, did not show a good attitude at Roman’s request for 30 soldiers’ equipment.

“There in the corner—Take some equipment from there. That will be enough for arming 30 men.”

At the corner of the forge, there were piles of weapons and armour.

He knew it was Baron Romero’s request. However, he still didn’t want to do anything good for Roman. Still regretting the day when he lost his masterpiece, he yearned to slap Roman’s cheek again.

And due to that, handing over the garbage was the best thing he could do for Roman—Because he was Romero’s son, this was the best he could do for Roman.

“Are you telling me to take those?”

“Yeah.”

Roman looked at the condition of the items. In Hendrick’s opinion, he didn’t even need to look closely. If it was the Roman he remembered, there would have been no problem, but the perspective of Roman, who contained the soul of Baek Joong-hyuk, was different.

Roman said, “My father told me to go get some good weapons and armour to arm my soldiers with. However, is this Master Hendrick’s best?”

“Best, my ass. If you’re not satisfied with that, get out of the forge right now!”

“Master Hendrick.”

Roman picked up a sword. Then, he shone its blade in the sky, looked straight at Hendrick, and said, “It seems that the reputation of Dmitry’s ironwork being the best in Cairo is nothing but a myth. I can’t believe you even considered allowing soldiers to wear such garbage. Let me ask you again—Is this really your best, Master Hendrick?”

An intense reaction—That was a scenario Hendrick couldn’t have expected in a thousand years.