The Rude Bastards
"What the hell?"
The front gate crashed down with a thunderous boom, but not a single soul came out to check what was going on. You’d think at least a security guard would poke his head out to see what the fuss was about.
"Why isn’t anyone coming? I busted the damn door for nothing."
I’d planned to show off my strength before the real face-off, seizing the initiative right from the start. But shockingly, nobody gave a shit.
"This is awkward as fuck."
If I’d known, I wouldn’t have smashed the gate so dramatically—I should’ve just hopped the wall. A 15-meter wall? I could clear it with a casual jump from a standstill.
"Man, the vibe here is killer."
Inside the wall was like a full-on botanical garden transplanted wholesale—trees and plants of every variety packed in tight. They lined both sides of the neat path leading to the mansion, dense and orderly.
"Feels like ghosts are gonna pop out any second, fuck."
In broad daylight, I’d probably gawk at the scenery in awe. But in the pitch-black night, the garden looked downright eerie, like something straight out of a horror flick. For the record, I’m one of those guys who believes ghosts are real, and I hate them so much I’d probably piss myself and have a seizure if one showed up. Come at me, ghost bitch. I’ll scream my lungs out and shit my pants with all I’ve got.
"Whew. Almost pissed myself there."
Knowing ghosts might be lurking, I hustled through the garden to the mansion entrance. I could’ve sprinted and gotten there way faster, but that would’ve looked undignified, so I held back. No way they didn’t hear that massive crash from the gate. Even if no one came out to investigate, they were definitely prepping to greet me inside.
"…"
But what if they crushed my expectations again? I walk in, and there’s nobody to welcome me. Everyone’s just fast asleep.
"… Fuck it, I’ll come back tomorrow."
This is a battle of wills now. I won’t let them ignore me. Calling me Shit-for-Armor wasn’t enough—they’re treating me like thin air? Fine, I’ll show them air ejaculating on its own.
"Hm? Treating me like air? Invisible man? Invisible man play?"
Oh yeah. That shit’s tempting as hell. Alright, my eighth superpower is invisibility.
Screeech—!
The door wasn’t even locked—total safety negligence. Well, even if it was, I’d have opened it anyway. I pushed open the mansion door and stepped inside.
"Oh yeah. I was wondering where everyone was—you’re all here."
The vast hall was swarming with gorgeous men and women. Aside from a few outliers, they all gave off a similar vibe. Probably the Gwen family crew. Leading them was the current head of the Gwen house and Gwen Enterprises: Saint Dunn Gwen, aka Elis’s dad. Next to him stood Elis’s mom, Risanna Gwen.
"Pleased to meet y—ah, you already know who I am, so maybe skip the formal intro?"
I’d crossed paths with them briefly before—at the museum exhibiting the Siren’s Heart. So, not total strangers.
"Still, first time meeting with the mask on, so let’s do it proper. Ladies and gentlemen? Pleased to meet you. I’m Steel Armor."
I crossed my arms and introduced myself with swagger.
"Did my future father-in-law gather everyone for a welcome party? In that case, I’ll dive right in with joy. I love parties."
I really do love parties. My favorite? Orgy parties.
"How rude."
"…"
That was the first thing my father-in-law said to his son-in-law. What the fuck?! Who’s ruder than me? I’m a Korean with Confucianism carved into my bones!
Me, rude? First time I’ve ever heard that in my life!
They think I’m rude, huh?
This is the first face-to-face between son-in-law and in-laws. And instead of “What a mighty build—looks like a general!” or “Handsome devil!”, they hit me with “rude” out of nowhere!
There’s an old saying: If someone hates you for no reason, give them a reason to hate you. If they think I’m rude, I’ll act the part.
"Rude? You’re the rude one, you third-rate fuck."
"…What?"
"Listen up, kid. Even Duran’s brats are perennial second-place at least—you guys are eternal third-rate. And you third-raters are judging if a first-place heir is rude or not?"
"Listen up, kid. Even Duran’s brats are perennial second-place at least—you guys are eternal third-rate. And you third-raters are judging if a first-place heir is rude or not?"
"First off, why’d you repeat yourself twice?"
"Huh? Oh shit! I got so triggered by ‘perennial second-place’!"
Wonder if our second-place bro is living it up on Earth. I was a huge fan of that aftermath-zerg legend. Damn! I wanna watch Congppan Pass, but no can do here!
"…I knew he was crazy, but this is way worse than I thought."
"Heh heh. No filter with the son-in-law, huh, father-in-law fuck?"
"…"
Father-in-law fuck shut his trap. Then the mother-in-law who dared call me Shit-for-Armor opened hers.
"I clearly told my daughter to come tomorrow. Not you, Steel Armor."
"Elis is mine."
"What?"
"Elis is my woman, and I’m her man. I am Elis, and Elis is me. We’re one body, one soul. Baby Elis Armor. Mama mama."
"…"
Mother-in-law fuck shut up too. Time to dial back the trolling?
"Heh heh heh. Anyway, mother-in-law, you had the balls to threaten my Elis?"
"Threaten? As expected from a brute who looks the part—you don’t even know what words mean. I didn’t threaten Elizabeth. I notified her."
"Brute?"
This bitch is crossing the line. Calling Dark City’s top brain a brute?
"Mother-in-law, your IQ’s like 3 versus 500?"
"What?"
"Can’t even measure that and you’re judging smarts? What’s with this shithole family—short on everything but big on judging others?"
"Insolent cur!"
Then someone lunged at me from behind—Olympic gold-medal speed. To me, it was yawn-inducingly slow.
Tat-tat-tat!
The guy stopped in front of me, his legs blurring past my thigh, side, and neck in three strikes. But none landed. My body’s not fragile enough to feel pain from this weak shit’s pokes.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I’m Eledor Gwen!"
Eledor Gwen? Ah! Elis’s big bro, huh? True to form, he was a total flower boy—tall, handsome, the type women flock to just standing there. Anyway—
"Hey, bro."
"Shut your mouth! Who’s your bro?!"
"Who taught you to butt into adults’ conversation? Manners much?"
"What?"
I haven’t announced it publicly, but I’m a made man. Fourteen districts under my thumb. Countless merchants there fly the Skull Head Gang flag, paying me protection tax. If grabbing fourteen districts doesn’t make me made, what does?
This chat with Saint and Risanna isn’t casual—it’s heads of major houses talking. And Eledor, mere Gwen heir, jumps in? That’s zero manners.
And I hate zero manners. If I don’t correct these types, I get this incurable itch in my mouth like thorns growing. Incurable disease! Me, with disease resistance, having an incurable one! Eledor’s trying to kill me with it!! This is an assassination attempt!!!
"Grrrrr!!!!! I’m pissed!!!!! RAGE MAXIMUM!!!!!!!!"
"Ugh?! Cyphon!"
"Confucian Rage Snap!"
To teach Eledor not to interrupt adults, I flicked his forehead.
Bam!
"Gahk?!"
Eledor flew back with a balloon-pop sound.
"…?"
My boiling rage settled like dust. Not satisfaction—something was off.
"…Did I even hit him?"
I muttered at my hand. I’d definitely punched his forehead, fist connected. But the tactile feedback was barely there. Did I really hit him?
"… Heh heh heh. These fuckers. Hiding a ton of shit, huh?"
Secrets? Always welcome. Secrets are sexy. And uncovering them? Orgasmic bliss. Gotta dig up what they’re hiding.
*****
Are these fuckers even family?
That’s what hit me watching the Gwen clan. Something’s weird, but anyway—Eledor took my snap and flew back. Yet not one asked if he was okay. They just glared coldly, like nothing happened. Zero family love.
Sob! Elis…!
Growing up in this house… Elis must’ve suffered so much. Tears welling up just imagining…
But I held back. Can’t cry in front of her tormentors.
"Cyphon! Cyphooon!"
Eledor wailed from the floor. Cyphon? What’s that?
"…As expected of an S-rank body enhancer—such brute force. Destroying Eledor’s cyphon in one blow."
Risanna spoke watching her sobbing son.
"What’s that, you insider fuck?"
This insider clique shit? Laughing at their private jokes? Feeling left out. Should’ve brought my kids.
"But even an S-rank couldn’t erase a cyphon. How’d you do it?"
"So what the fuck’s a cyphon, insider bitch? Explain!"
"Of course you won’t answer easily. Humans birth the occasional special-powered freak despite being worthless."
"Fuck, are you deaf? Hello? Moshi moshi? What’s a cyphon, mother-in-law bitch?!"
"If you won’t talk, we’ll force it out. You’ll regret showing hostility to House Gwen."
"…"
No communication. How’d an angel like Elis come from this black hole of a family? Elis, you’re too pure…! I love you, Elis! Madly in love!
"Green Fruit Knights."
Shing!
Risanna raised her hand, and women behind drew swords. Wait—swords? From where? They were empty-handed!
"Subdue the enemy."
"Haaah!"
The sword-wielding women charged en masse—Eledor-level speed.
"Hey, where’d those swords come from? You were empty-handed a second ago!"
"Take my blade, you fiend!"
"I’ll take the blade, but where’d it come from?! You’re all self-centered! Always yapping your own shit!"
They surrounded me in a flash, swinging. One at a time, but seamless teamwork. Dodge one sword sideways? Another thrusts into the gap. Step back? One attacks from behind. Stable stances, relentless chain attacks—no counter openings. Not amateur hour.
"Just because I’m a gentleman."
Doesn’t mean—
"You thought I wouldn’t hit women?"
That’s for normies. Not me.
Smack!
"Eek!"
I ducked a swing, rolled forward, and spanked the ass of the woman who’d attacked.
"I’m a Confucian equal-opportunity spanker! Women get it too!"
Even a hundred sheep don’t hunt tigers. What was it? Green Pussy Knights? Oh, Green Fruit Knights.
No matter how hard the Green Fruit Knights swung, I wasn’t getting hit. I dodged and spanked tits or asses.
Smack!
"Kyaa!"
Smack!
"Grr! Pervert fuck!"
Smack!
"Where you touching?!"
Heh heh. So juicy!