Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Became the Count Family's Rake
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Taking risks is important.
If Adam and Eve hadn't taken the risk of stealing the fruit of knowledge of good and evil,
this world would've been a total bore—an Eden without the sweet thrills of porn, gambling, or abusing power.
*Pew pew pew-pew*
The city lights blurred hazily through the pouring rain.
I leaned against the fall-prevention fence, feet dangling over the railing beyond,
alternating drags from my cigarette and swigs from my cheap soju while tapping away at my smartphone.
[Commander! This time it feels good for sure! Wanna go for an 11-pull summon?]
With every tap, my last bits of premium currency vanished at an alarming rate.
[L-Loyalty! Reporting in. From Griffin Battalion 4...]
[Did you call for me? Hehe.]
[Chief! You're late again? Now you're here!]
The money they took bought nothing but rare, rare, normal, rare, super rare—the crap I didn't want.
Bundled junk that sparked irritation and rage.
Still, my thumb moved on instinct, praying for hope amid this chain of despair as I hit the 11-pull button.
This insidious gacha system—born from experts brainstorming, "How can we turn users into gambling addicts and ruin their lives?"—
mechanically exploited even the player's fury and hopelessness.
How much currency did I burn like that?
[Thump! Thump! Big chance!]
On the final 11-pull, the screen flashed rainbow colors amid the effects.
The telltale sign of an SSR guaranteed.
"Could this actually be it?"
Three seconds.
Not long, but it dragged on forever.
[N-Not that I like you or anything, Master?]
A famous Japanese voice actress delivered the tsundere maid lines.
The Live2D illustration of that character—with a 0.002% pickup rate—filled the screen.
"It's here. Finally."
This was it.
The riot of multicolored currents and chemical signals surging through my veins.
The light of my life, the fire of my soul, my sin, my dopamine.
Honestly,
I had no clue what this busty maid Yuuto's backstory was or how she performed.
Just like always, the soul-shaking thrill of piercing that slim wall of probability.
This was what I craved.
The pleasure shuddering through my brain didn't last.
"Hah."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
What the hell was I doing right now...?
Not some contrarian, but here I was, getting soaked in the rain, climbing over the rooftop fence for one reason.
To make the ultimate choice.
Cheering over a gacha pull when I was about to die? Even I thought I looked like an idiot.
I closed the game, and the chaotic BGM shut off with it.
*Ding ding*
Instead, reality switched on.
[99+ unread messages]
The irritating vibrations and notifications piling up at the top of the screen.
The reality I'd been ignoring.
[Kaukau Financial] Customer Kim Jeong-hwan, your August 24 repayment is overdue.
[Quick Money] Kim Jeong-hwan, if you don't deposit by today, we're filing for asset freeze immediately. This isn't a joke.
[Blocked Caller ID] You fucking bastard Kim Jeong-hwan, pick up. Pay with pussy? You wanna die for real?
[Quick Cash Capital] Keep dodging like this, and we'll come to your workplace. We'll have to contact your parents too.
What time is it, and they're still debt-collecting?
Loan sharks think they're above the law.
"Sorry about that."
I chucked the blaring phone away.
The smartphone shattered with a loud crack ages later, as if screaming, "Master! I'll get revenge!"
Don't hate me too much.
Your master's joining you soon.
"......"
How'd it come to this?
Where'd it all go wrong?
When I got sick of casinos, private poker rooms, pachinko, illegal houses, and dipped into coin futures?
When that coin play netted me 80 billion won?
When my perfect short—analyzed with cold logic—turned into a grave thanks to one tweet from some American retard?
When I didn't just all-in my entire fortune on that would-be grave but pulled full loans to chase my lost seed money?
No.
'Mr. Jeong-hwan, your problem isn't just gambling addiction.'
'Gambling, booze, smokes, loot boxes, extreme sports, even blowing cash on women... Different forms, same root.'
'Your brain's reward circuit is busted. It's been conditioned to crave dopamine too much.'
'That's why you lack focus outside your interests, have impulse control issues, and pile on addictions. Normal stimuli don't cut it, so you chase new highs.'
'In simple terms, your brain's like a drug addict's.'
'You can't stop on your own anymore. You need inpatient treatment.'
'...So I should do drugs? Are you insane?'
I'd brushed off the quack from some provincial med school as a sales pitch...
But here I was.
"Tch."
I shelved the pathetic regrets and stood.
The rooftop of this high-rise whipped with fierce winds.
Just a glance down, and vertigo hit from the dizzying drop.
Fucking high.
High enough that even if I splattered, the debt collectors wouldn't bother visiting my hospital bed.
Just steps from the escape I'd longed for—freedom from creditors.
*Ding*
Another alert rang out.
"Shit."
Harassment texts to the bitter end?
At first, my conscience stung a bit...
But after three months of their orphan-level nagging, the curses flowed naturally.
"......?"
Wait, hadn't I tossed the phone earlier?
No way it'd be ringing now.
"What the hell?"
Puzzled, I looked straight ahead. Over a translucent window hovering in front of me,
[ 1. Jump down vigorously ]
[ 2. Jump down into that square box below ]
golden text shimmered.
Like picking options in a game.
"What is this?"
Did I chug too much soju on an empty stomach?
Or was death making my brain conjure hallucinations amid the random thoughts?
But even rubbing my eyes and shaking my head hard,
the choices stayed fixed in the center, floating as if begging to be selected.
"...Into the square box?"
*Whiiiiiish!*
"No, where's the square box around h—"
I craned my neck into the howling gale and peered below.
"...There is one."
Exactly on the distant ground: one empty parking spot.
Far enough that it'd take a leaping dive, not just a jump, to land it...
"Life-flashing preview's a real dick move."
I quit overthinking.
Was the ultimate choice a game?
"......"
But suddenly,
a line from some book popped into my head.
Everyone confronts their true nature in their final moments, or something.
My true nature.
A moth's life, drawn to primal desires and base thrills from the moment I was born.
Even knowing it meant nothing.
Flying toward ecstatic flames and ruin.
"Hah..."
Guess that doc was right.
"Since I'm falling anyway, might as well score some extra points?"
I brushed off my pants.
Investment's "invest"—to throw.
A failed investor ending it all with a bold plunge? Poetic symmetry.
"Alright, I'll aim for that box."
I selected the option. Golden particles scattered, and the window vanished.
Might as well go out in style.
Wingsuit jump experience? Got it.
Red Bull'd be blowing up my phone with 100 missed calls for this flawless leap.
In the sudden silence, rain even gone,
I drew a deep breath, gauged the distance to the spot, and launched into the leap of faith.
"Arrrghhhh!!!!!"
Float, free, fall.
No footing beneath—the wind screamed past my ears at terrifying speed.
Less like piercing air, more like slicing through endless thin membranes.
Falling longer than expected?
No—the ground rushed up at insane speed.
Clusters of beautiful night lights sucked into my dilated pupils.
Ahh, it's swallowing me.
Scary.
Scarier than imagined.
Still.
Wingsuit cert needs 200 skydives.
I'd done plenty of freefalls.
Should nail the box?
*Thud*
A massive impact—stronger than any in my life—engulfed my body.
"Ah... ugh... aah..."
It hurts.
Hurts.
Vision halved, but I instinctively knew my body was wrecked.
That kind of pain.
"Guhk..."
Not instant death?
From the 52nd floor? Bullshit.
Peering with my barely working eyes, I spotted half my shattered smartphone.
I writhed in agony, convulsing like a bug.
Time froze.
When would death come?
Even as fluids drained from me in real time...
I was alive.
Heart pounding.
Like it wanted to live.
Like it refused to die.
"Th... tha..."
My past life, steeped in every thrill and pleasure.
Never regretted it.
Born that way, lived that way.
Even if it ended in self-destruction, I'd made peace with it.
But.
This is why they tortured in the Middle Ages.
Writhing in this hellish pain, repentance crept in.
If there's a next life...
No gambling, booze, smokes, etc.
Live pure like God intended—a devout Christian.
Or per Buddha, desire causes suffering—shed it and reach Nirvana.
With that vow,
death swallowed my consciousness like a black sea.
======
『 ED 0. Crossroads of Choice 』
What is it you crave?
The image is the eye viewing the world, an aesthetic, or the pinnacle of reckless stubbornness.
Soon, wings of wax toward the sun.
You have proven your qualification with a 'special choice.'
[Session Settlement]
▶ Achievement: 「Zeroth Death」 unlocked
- ■■■■(LV.0) is activated.
- 'Understanding' of death rises slightly.
- 50pt awarded.
▶ Title: 「Hedonist」 acquired
- 'Self-Control' decreases.
- 'Luck' rises slightly.
- 10pt awarded.
From the end of hubris and folly, may you reach transcendence.
======
Laughter echoed.
2.
The middle-aged man in fine attire, Count Montraven, rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought.
The Montraven Count family bore a grave duty.
Cradle and ark of humanity against the apocalypse, they managed water supply for the city of 'Aden.'
Compared to other posts, overseeing purification plants and plumbing seemed unglamorous...
But it was vital all the same.
Humans die without water.
Unbefitting the 'count' title or not, Count Montraven upheld his principles and fulfilled his role.
A fine patriarch, father to a clever son and sharp daughter.
Until just a month ago.
"Where's Sedric?"
"Young master seems to have gone to the casino again today."
"Again? Without even greeting me?"
"He left at dawn. Won't return till next dawn."
The elderly head butler and the count shared a heavy sigh.
One month ago.
His son Sedric, comatose for three years after some accident, awoke.
Even famed high priests from the Holy See shook their heads; oceans of Universal Currency yielded no progress. A miracle.
'You're awake, my son!'
'Who are you?'
Their reunion was the worst.
Sedric rose from bed with fractured memories.
Not enough—he demanded booze and smokes right away, haunted red-light districts, squandered the family fortune.
Now fully sunk into gambling.
The count forgave the debauchery.
He was alive—that mattered.
Back from death's door, this was just reactive wandering.
He'd recover memories and revert with time, the count believed.
But even firm paternal faith has limits.
"Family head, isn't it time to discipline the young master? He's blown 50 million bios in a month."
"F-Fifty million? I never gave him that much..."
"He sold heirlooms from the private vault and dumped it all at the casino, it seems..."
"Goddamn it."
Count Montraven clutched his head.
How had his once-steady, talentless son become the talk-of-the-town rake?
He hadn't wished sorcery on him like his sister, but never shaming the house...
"Perhaps overstepping, but... may I make a proposal?"
"A proposal?"
"The young master's change came after that great accident... What if another accident sets him right?"
"......?"
The family treasurer's gaze turned fierce.
No joke in his tone.
"I'll issue special measures."
The count steeled his resolve.