Adult. (2)
“I shall yield the position of family head to you.”
Yeriel fell silent. Those bold lips that had been muttering curses right in front of her brother froze.
Her eyes blinked rapidly, her mouth opened and closed, and the way she kept swallowing her words was oddly endearing.
“B-Bullshit! You're bullshitting me!”
“Such language lacks refinement.”
“...You're lying!”
“Better.”
“...See? You're lying!”
I shook my head at Yeriel, who refused to believe a word.
“I do not speak falsehoods.”
“!”
Only then did the girl's hands begin to tremble. She glanced around frantically, searching for something.
“Pen—where's the pen and paper? Write up a contract, quick.”
“That lacks dignity.”
“See?”
Before she could point at me and cry you're lying again, I cut her off smoothly.
“Let us forge a pact instead.”
“...”
A pact.
To a mage, a pact holds special weight. Simply put, it's like memorizing a spell—you engrave the vow into your heart or mind.
Break it, and you die or lose your mana.
“For real? Really?”
“Indeed.”
“No, that doesn't make sense. Why? Why all of a sudden?”
I couldn't say it was to quell her rage, eliminate the current death flag, and avert future ones.
From her perspective, it must seem utterly abrupt and unbelievable.
But it was a step that had to be taken eventually, so I simply fabricated a reason.
“From now on, I intend to devote myself to the tower and magical research. I shall have no time for family head duties, and you have already proven adept as proxy lord.”
“You just now realized that?”
“I knew long ago. I was merely testing you.”
She flinched as if wondering if it was true, but soon shook her head vigorously and yelled.
“Testing my ass! I was the one testing you!”
“Believe it or not, as you wish.”
“...”
Yeriel licked her parched lips. Then, in a tone thick with suspicion, she asked slowly.
“Then... the succession ceremony... when's it gonna be...?”
The way she stuck out her tongue at the end was adorable. She seemed like a real little sister.
Of course, I hadn't planned any ceremony. I replied offhandedly.
“You will know the proper time better than I.”
Thankfully, she nodded gravely, as if she had something in mind.
“Three years from now. The Day of Exception.”
“...”
I had no idea what that was, but her seriousness convinced me to play along.
“Very well, then...”
Yeriel pondered for a moment, then gathered her things.
A knife and pistol lay on the bed. She'd clearly come planning to kill me today and head straight to hell.
“You're heading back right away?”
“Duh! Who burns 200 million at an auction and doesn't rush to clean up the mess?”
She was still snapping, but the sparks in her voice had died down.
No surprise—Yukline's headship far outweighed a mere 200 million.
Yukline territory, known as Hadekain overall, was one of the continent's premier domains. Its location followed the classic "back to mountains, face to rivers" principle—prime real estate second only to the capital, with an absurdly advantageous political position.
Not too close to the capital to draw imperial scrutiny, yet not so far as to hinder exchange.
Thanks to these advantages, it had developed relentlessly, attracting both a regional magic tower and knightly order—rare even among great domains.
The only comparable houses were Ilayde and Levairon, but Ilayde lacked in sheer area, and Levairon was too distant from the capital.
Thus, becoming Yukline's master meant...
A status above all but one under heaven.
“Oh, right—you.”
Yeriel paused at the door, about to leave.
“Don't go backing out later.”
“'You'?”
“...I'm not demanding a pact because... I trust you at least a little... okay?”
With that, Yeriel stepped out.
Or tried to—she stopped.
“If this is a lie... I don't even know what I'll do then... okay?”
The final okay was barely a whisper.
“It's all or nothing. You get it? The whole domain already sees me as lord.”
I knew. All too well.
Vassals who adored her so much they'd poison food or drink on their own—or at her instigation.
“Believe me. It is no falsehood.”
“...Hmph.”
Yeriel stuffed the dagger and gun into her bag. As she turned to leave, she hesitated and glanced back.
“...”
She stared wordlessly.
I met her gaze without flinching.
After a long staring contest, she gripped the doorknob. She seemed about to go, but turned again.
“I'm not believing you. I still suspect you. So—”
“Let us forge the pact at once.”
“...No need.”
Yeriel opened the door, clearly suppressing a smile.
She pouted, truly about to leave this time, but...
“Yeriel.”
I stopped her.
She halted at the stairs and turned, face asking why—fearful I might retract it.
“...What?”
I had no idea what to say. I'd impulsively called out, after all.
But removing a mere death flag wasn't enough. I wanted to take one step further.
I wouldn't live as Deculein, blaming his personality. It bound me, but wasn't an unbreakable chain.
So, to reach this world's end.
To stand as Kim Woojin, not Deculein.
I had to mend the relationships Deculein had ruined—myself...
“You'll be hungry on the road. At least eat before you go.”
...Even saying it sent chills down my spine. Rejection from the personality itself.
Yeriel flinched too, her huge pupils darting like she'd seen a ghost.
I'd mustered courage for maximum kindness.
“N-No thanks! No way! Don't say weird shit all of a sudden! I gotta go, what're you—”
She shrieked and stomped down the stairs like an elementary kid.
—I'm leaving! Prep the carriage!
Her shout echoed from the first floor.
“Hm.”
Villain's Fate: Death Variable
And as reward for overcoming the death flag, I gained shop currency.
Total now: 6 coins. Enough to access the system shop.
But...
“...What a mess.”
No time for that.
Only about 15 minutes had passed.
As if a storm had raged through.
I closed the wide-open door and extended my arm into the air.
Whoosh—wine and glass flew via psychokinesis into my hand. As I sat...
“Fascinating.”
An unfamiliar voice drifted in.
I was startled inwardly but showed none outwardly.
Again: no matter the inner shock, this body never betrays it. A curious, efficient trait.
“...I just dropped by, you know.”
A thin, trailing tone.
Soon, fragrance wafted from the moonlit windowsill.
I turned there.
“Such things happen.”
A beauty with tousled red hair: Ganesha.
She grinned playfully at me. I furrowed my brow slightly.
“You are an unwelcome guest, Ganesha.”
“Sorry. Really sorry, but... Professor yielding the headship? Are you truly changing?”
Why was this adventurer so nosy about family matters? Not that Yukline was mine.
I replied calmly.
“I simply deemed her more capable than I.”
“Really? Even so...”
Still doubtful, Ganesha murmured.
“She's not your blood sister.”
“...”
Not blood.
Startled briefly, but per setting, Yeriel was a half-sister. Fair point.
“That child shares not a drop of Yukline blood.”
“...”
No Yukline blood at all.
What was this?
...No such detail in the setting.
When was it added?
Or a minor twist the author mentioned?
“Is this truly wise?”
Deculein's personality was a blessing here.
No cold sweat, even with a blade to the throat.
“You commissioned us first. To confirm you and your sister's... biological distinction.”
So that's the backstory.
I stared silently. Ganesha smiled innocently.
“Didn't I send word three months ago via subordinate?”
I chose words carefully in my mind.
Phrases formed and dissolved.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh—
Letters flew between brain hemispheres.
...Truthfully, no need to speak.
I owed Ganesha nothing.
But I couldn't lose Yeriel as head over this.
So, seal her lips.
“Even so...”
For that purpose, any words would do.
“...Yeriel remains Yeriel.”
No reason needed.
“...”
Silence fell, then a gasp.
Ganesha's.
Her wide eyes fixed on me.
“Wow.”
She brushed her bangs; goosebumps dotted her hand.
“Never expected this from you, Professor...”
Me neither. No prior knowledge of this twist.
“Got it. I'll keep it secret—promise!”
While I floated, she zipped her lips and clenched fists. Adorably out of character.
“Oh, and this too. Eyes on you, Professor. The Six Serpents Heads, know 'em?”
Six Serpents Heads: infamous criminal leaders continent-wide. Bounties near tens of millions each.
“They're after the auction items. Delivery via Loten should be safe—they'd be screwed losing them too. But beware when they arrive at the estate.”
Ganesha raised a finger.
“Seriously, your magical defenses are lax lately. Too sloppy. Upgrade the vault, reinforce the estate's wards like before.”
“...Understood.”
She clapped hands sharply.
“And sorry for today. Wasn't trying to eavesdrop... Won't happen again.”
“...Ganesha.”
I called her name, eyes steady on her face.
“Yes? What?”
“Should anyone target Yeriel...”
Just in case.
If three months ago, Deculein plotted against her. Some unknown malice I didn't know.
I needed Ganesha to handle cleanup.
“Ah~”
Ganesha smiled mysteriously, moonlit and ethereal. Speechless for a moment.
“...No worries. It won't happen.”
Whoosh—
Wind blew.
Curtains billowed, hiding the sill where she'd leaned.
Wind stopped.
Ganesha was gone.
“...Ha.”
My posture finally slumped. I ruffled my hair.
Yeriel.
Half-sister? No blood at all.
I clutched my nape, staring at the ceiling.
“...No need to know such a fact.”
Truly unnecessary.
Knowing changed nothing.
To me, no twist. Or a twist, but no big deal.
I'm not Deculein, so whether Yeriel's his blood sister or not won't shift my attitude.
So, keep it hidden.
To me, she's still Deculein's little sister.
A sister I oddly feel for.
Cute kid.
Ganesha's tight-lipped; the secret's safe long-term...
* * *
Meanwhile, on a rooftop in the capital suburbs housing district.
“Professor... he's changed a lot. A different person? Or... someone wearing his skin?”
Ganesha sat haphazardly on sloped red brick, replaying the scene.
An indelibly dramatic play.
“Right? Even he has a human side.”
Her subordinate Rohan replied.
“That's why they call him bad boy. A guy who acts like a dog his whole life suddenly says something sweet, and boom—irresistible.”
“...It's just his looks. Everyone knows you're head over heels, Leader. You took the first mission after seeing his face.”
“Ugly? I'll rip your face off. We were broke then? Creditors shoving it at us—what choice?”
Ganesha was with her adventurer team.
Red Garnet Adventure Team: five total, three men two women—but one woman off reserving lodging far away.
“Hey, this is top secret, got it? These secrets stay buried till death. Spilling betrays an adventurer's honor. You'd no longer be my comrade—I'd kill you myself.”
“Obviously. We're human too. Spill, and we're dogs.”
“Dozmu? You too.”
The hooded man called Dozmu yawned and nodded.
“Jeez...”
Ganesha glared thinly at her cheeky subordinate, then eyed distant Yukline mansion.
Curtains drawn, but Deculein's humanity there was captivating. So real.
Yeriel remains Yeriel—poetic.
...Once, I'd dismiss it as farce.
But he promised her the headship.
To a child with zero Yukline blood.
Even progressive me couldn't match that.
“...Anyway, no need to watch Deculein anymore. Doesn't seem obsessed with 'the kids'.”
“Yes.”
“Then... what's that one doing since earlier?”
Ganesha eyed a wild boar-man hugging the chimney, sobbing.
Rohan answered.
“Crying.”
“I see that. After that scene?”
“Touched. Crying over it.”
“...Sigh. Built like a bandit.”
Ganesha lay on the roof, gazing at dark-bright sky.
Unusually large moon. Clear, cool breeze. Fleeting scenery.
She'd sought—watched—Deculein to check lingering obsession with Talents of the Southern Sea.
Couldn't ask outright: Still hunting magic slaves? Answer might force enmity.
But...
Deculein seemed resolved to change.
Whatever sparked it, not bad.
“What says Liril? Lodging for the kids secured?”
Soon, those kids sail in.
Exciting yet worrying.
Needed their talents against those bastards, but training for war—right?
Morally, no—with kids.
But grown, saving tens, hundreds, millions of lives?
Unquestionable greater good.
“Yes. So we're broke.”
Rohan said. Ganesha's temple vein twitched.
“What? Bullshit.”
“True.”
“Why always losses despite missions? Embezzling? Speak.”
“Deculein mission. We canceled, paid huge compensation.”
“Oh right.”
Tsk. Ganesha clicked tongue, shook head.
“Sigh... Alright, kids. Time to go.”
“Yes. Gather up, kids.”
Rohan called boar-man and Dozmu.
They huddled like rice balls; Rohan fiddled with something, and soon four dissolved into blue particles—teleported away.