I Weaponized Fake Heirs to Save Myself

"I'm here to see the Marquis of Eterna, or the marchioness. Could you please let them know their real son is here? I was switched at birth 16 years ago," the young man said.

On the day Isaac Reed, the true heir of the Reed family, came to reclaim his place, it rained cats and dogs. He just stood there at the door, straight as a rod.

The thin, coarse cotton shirt clung to his body, outlining a painfully skinny frame of jutting bones. Rainwater streamed down his hair, which had clumped into wet strands, and his face was blue from the cold. Only his eyes were shockingly bright.

As the gatekeeper, Jim Green, put it, "That kid must have had a screw loose. Who runs over to someone's house in a downpour like that? Besides, as if I would bring him to the marquis and marchioness when he's sopping wet. What if he catches something and spreads it to the whole household?"

Jim stared at Isaac, looking torn.

Ever since several more heirs had turned up, a few young men came by each month, claiming to be sons of the Reed family. Most of them were fakes, but who could say for sure there wouldn't be a real one mixed in?

By the time the news reached the inner courtyard, I was sitting with Mother, keeping her company. The moment she heard another son had come to claim kinship, she shuddered.

"Good heavens, when is this going to end? I'm running out of fingers to prick!"

She held out her hands, revealing the bandages wrapped around all ten of her fingers. She looked utterly defeated. "God only knows how long it's been since I last embroidered anything for fun. Now, just seeing a needle makes my fingertips throb."

Mother pushed her hands up close to my face, looking aggrieved. "Jared, I need at least ten cups of your milk tea to recover."

I didn't know whether to sympathize with her or laugh at her. I gently cupped her hands and blew on them, saying, "Alright, alright. I'll make some for you, and I'll put in some tapioca pearls."

"Honestly, of all days, why did he have to pick the one day your father's not home? Someone's got to poke my fingers for blood again." Mother sighed miserably but still obediently began unwrapping the bandage from one of her fingers.

Her handmaiden, Jean Brown, brought over a gold bowl and carefully collected a single drop of blood.

Mother grumbled, "Let's just hope this one is the real deal so I never have to prick my fingers again."

"You're blessed by the heavens, Mother. This one has to be my ninth brother!" I said.

Yes, the entire Reed family knew that a total of nine heirs would eventually return to the family. Including me, that made ten. Mother liked to say that I was the most perfect one among her ten sons.

When the first "real heir" had returned, his blood had mixed with Father's, thanks to my tricks. He and my parents had clung to each other, sobbing with joy.

When the second "real heir" had returned, his blood had also mixed with Father's. Mother had grabbed the greatsword off the wall to punish Father with it, only to realize at the last second that her blood blended with this so-called heir, too.

No one had the faintest idea what was going on, but the three of them still ended up in a tearful group hug.

When the third "real heir" was also reunited with the family, Father and Mother finally sensed something was off. They asked a renowned master of the mystic arts to take a look.

The master said that nine was the number of completion. Through a strange twist of fate, the rightful heir of the Reed family had somehow been split into nine separate young men.