His father's attitude changed drastically that very day.
"Keeping a disappointing failure like you in the main residence is too good for you!"
"!"
Ermes was seized by the scruff of the neck by his father, Zenos, and thrown into a basement far from the main residence of the Frenbreed Marquis House — into a forgotten corner beneath the garden.
The room was dim, lit only by a single small candle.
Between him, collapsed on the filthy floor, and his father gazing down at him with frigid eyes, stood a thick iron grate.
Yes — a prison cell.
The place meant for criminals had become Ermes's new home.
"Hmph. Just thinking I've been living under the same roof and breathing the same air as someone like you makes me sick."
"Fa — Father!"
Ever since the appraisal results were announced, Ermes had been in a daze, as if none of it were real.
But being thrown into a cell by his father's own hand finally snapped him back from the shock, and he began to grasp his situation for what it was.
Was he going to spend the rest of his life in a place like this?
The mere thought filled Ermes with an overwhelming sense of revulsion, and he pleaded with his father in a desperate voice.
"I'll work harder! I'll double my magic training from now on, and I'll do whatever you say! I swear I'll become the great mage you want me to be — please, just—"
"Shut up, you defective product!!"
But even that plea was swatted aside with an irritated bark.
"'A great mage,' you say? How could you possibly manage that without Bloodline Magic?"
"That's—"
"Listen well. Bloodline Magic is a great
Heavenly Gift
bestowed by the Star God. To not receive it means you have already been abandoned by the Star God. To inherit the blue blood yet have Incompatibility — it's outrageous. You are no Prodigy. Consider yourself the equivalent of a demon!"
He knew.
In this country, and among the nobility in particular, one's standing was largely determined by magical ability. Stories of those born to low-ranking titles who rose to prominence through powerful magic were too numerous to count.
...And conversely, the same was true of those who fell from grace for lacking magical talent.
"Truly, to think you had such impressive magic power. Put yourself in my shoes — celebrating for nothing over useless expectations!"
His father's dramatic turnaround, the hatred-laced shouting he had never heard since the day he was born — Ermes bore it all that day, and his heart was gradually consumed by a dark despair.
"Be grateful I'm even providing you food and a place to sleep! That's exactly where you belong — squatting there for the rest of your miserable life!"
"Wait—"
His final words were not even given the courtesy of being heard.
With an exaggerated clang, the iron gate was slammed shut.
Ermes thought his father would leave then and there, but he paused and turned around.
"Oh, right. ...If, by some miracle, you were to manifest Bloodline Magic, I suppose I could let you out? Though I doubt that's even possible."
With that muttered aside, Zenos's footsteps finally receded into the distance.
◆
From that day on, Ermes's life was transformed utterly.
First, the meals. The only food provided was twice daily — morning and evening — consisting of hard bread beginning to mold and soup made from nothing more than vegetable scraps boiled in water.
By the standards of the Frenbreed Marquis House's cuisine, even leftover scraps wouldn't be this bad. They were deliberately going to extra lengths just to wear him down. It was exactly the same treatment given to a prisoner.
Then there was the sleeping arrangement. A lumpy, hard floor and a single thin blanket. For Ermes, accustomed to the finest beds, it was tantamount to torture — it took months before he could fall asleep at all.
Almost no one visited his cell, and those who did rarely came on any pleasant business.
The most frequent visitor was his father, Zenos.
"How infuriating! I was mocked again at tonight's banquet! Every single time, I'm made a fool of! And it's all — every bit of it — your — fault!"
It seemed Zenos had been boasting about Ermes's talent everywhere, and once the rumors of his Incompatibility spread, those boasts had become the perfect target for mockery.
"Prince Aster, the same age as you, has awakened a Bloodline Magic worthy of the royal family and is already showing signs of becoming the next supreme ruler! And what are you in comparison? You were supposed to stand at his side — the Frenbreed House was supposed to reclaim its glory! Hey — are you even listening, you worthless failure?!"
Zenos vented his frustration by tormenting Ermes, gained a small measure of satisfaction, and left without waiting for a single word in return. That was the entirety of their interaction from that day forward.
The second most frequent visitor was — Chris, Ermes's older brother by five years.
"Hello there, my dear Ermes! Today too, your big brother will graciously give you a magic lesson out of the goodness of his heart!"
A voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy. That his intentions were anything but kind was obvious from the grin twisted by superiority and contempt.
"What's wrong, Ermes? This is a rare chance to see the Bloodline Magic you crave so desperately up close! — Come on, get up!"
Chris von Frenbreed.
As the heir to the Marquis House, he possessed impeccable magical talent, and as the eldest son, he should have naturally inherited the Frenbreed Marquis House.
— And yet, Ermes's existence had robbed him of that entire future.
From the time Ermes was born until he turned seven, Zenos had not spared Chris so much as a glance.
The resentment, the inferiority complex, the hatred toward his younger brother that accumulated during those years — all of it erupted the moment Ermes was revealed to be Incompatible and Chris was restored as the next head of the house.
"Now then, let me show you. This is the power of the chosen — something you'll never have!"
Unlike Ermes, Chris had correctly inherited the magic passed down through the Frenbreed Marquis House.
He raised his activation chant, then proclaimed the magic's name in a ringing voice:
"Six are the holy bows, one is the magic bullet; its trigger is the arm of the false god!
Bloodline Magic — 'Magic Bullet Archer'!"
In that instant, a barrage of light bullets appeared behind him, bright enough to illuminate the entire basement cell. The sheer amount of energy condensed within them could be inferred from their brilliance alone.
And Chris, without a shred of hesitation, launched those light bullets—
"My magic works like this, you know!"
—directly at Ermes.
"!"
"Feel it with your whole body — my magic! The shock might just awaken your Bloodline Magic, who knows? So don't dodge — you need to take every last hit!"
They pierced through the gaps in the iron grate and struck Ermes, every single one, just as declared. He was sent flying effortlessly, slamming into the wall.
But he did not die. He did not even lose consciousness. Chris had been careful to hold back — calibrated to make him suffer.
"Pathetic, Ermes, but this is only natural. You got ahead of yourself — someone who was never chosen, no less — and looked down on yours truly. I'm just carrying out your punishment on your behalf. Don't you think so?"
"Br...oth...er..."
Through his hazy consciousness, Ermes thought. ...Perhaps that was true.
Setting aside the boasting, he had indeed neglected his brother.
He knew his brother was being ignored within the household. But his father's praise had been too intoxicating, and above all, wielding magic had been the most thrilling thing in the world — and he had thrown himself into it completely.
So if this was the price — if the brother he had resentfully overshadowed was now inflicting this upon him — perhaps it was only fair.
He tried to say as much — but he no longer had the strength to form words.
Chris glanced at the pathetic sight with a bored expression and exhaled.
"...Hmph. Well, suits me fine. Just keep watching from here. Watch as I, the chosen one, become the head of the Frenbreed House in your place — and achieve the greatness you always dreamed of! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
And so Chris vented all his pent-up frustration by flaunting his magic and beating down his brother, then departed.
No one in the household tried to stop Chris's rampage. With their father Zenos not merely turning a blind eye but actively encouraging it, no one had the right — or the will — to intervene.
Living a life far worse than the very bottom, Ermes's spirit was slowly ground away.