I Realized My Life Was Fucked at the Age of Three

I realized my life was fucked the moment I learned I would become a divorce lawyer. It happened around the age of three, at the spring tea party held in the imperial palace. Attendance was mandatory for the Count’s family. My mother carried me in her arms while my seven-year-old sister stood beside us. At the refreshment table, the Crown Prince offered my sister a piece of candy.

…Wait a second. I looked at the Crown Prince’s face again. About eleven years old. Golden hair. Purple eyes. Memories from my previous life slammed into me like a freight train. The golden-haired, purple-eyed Crown Prince. His name was… Rayos. My sister accepted the candy with a bright smile. We were completely fucked.

I should start from the beginning, back in my previous life. I was born in Korea and studied hard enough to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠get into a decent law school in Seoul. After graduating, I became a divorce specialist attorney. Why divorce law? Because it paid. My parents had wanted me to become a prosecutor. I failed the exam. They told me to join Jang & Kim. I failed that too. They suggested I at least attend the judicial training institute. It had already been abolished. In the end I joined a small local firm that specialized in divorce cases. It turned out to be my calling. In the most terrifying way possible.

When couples reached for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each other’s hair mid-argument, I stayed perfectly calm. I could tell who was lying within five minutes. I never lost a single alimony negotiation. Within five years I was the top attorney in the industry. I opened my own office in the heart of Gangnam and then, of course, I died. The fisherman husband of one of my clients burst into the office carrying a whole tuna. I was killed by that tuna. A fittingly absurd end.

When I opened my eyes, the ceiling was impossibly high. A pale-skinned person sat beside the bed. I looked at my own hand. It was small, pink, and chubby. Ah… I had reincarnated. This was a tired trope I’d seen in countless web novels—death by truck, death by knife, reincarnation. Since I’d been killed by a tuna, I supposed I fell into the latter category. Not bad. Honestly, it felt refreshing. In my previous life ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I’d never even married; I’d simply worked overtime until it killed me. This second life, I told myself, I would actually enjoy.

That was how I spent my first three years. Until the moment my sister accepted that piece of candy at the imperial tea party.

Rayos. The protagonist of the game I had played in my previous life was named Crown Prince Rayos. It was an NTR game. The entire premise was stealing women who already had fiancés or husbands. There were multiple routes, but only one true ending.

The true ending went like this. Lady Katarina marries Count Carhein. The Crown Prince seduces her. Her husband, Carhein, discovers the truth and attacks the Crown Prince alone in a fit of rage. The guards stop him. The next day the imperial family issues an announcement.

My sister’s name was Katarina.

That was her ending. But the problems didn’t stop there. Her family—our family—wouldn’t escape unscathed. Since our son-in-law had tried to assassinate the Crown Prince, the imperial family would view us as “the house that sent their daughter to the wrong marriage.” Applying medieval legal principles, the confiscation of our territory was almost guaranteed. We wouldn’t lose everything, but a significant portion would be seized. Our family rank would be demoted to baron.

…Fuck. I could barely stomach the thought of my sister becoming a slave, but our entire house was going to be destroyed along with her?

I looked at my seven-year-old sister. She knew nothing. She simply sucked on her candy and bowed politely to the Crown Prince. My mother was curtsying to him as well. I stared at the Crown Prince again. He was stroking my sister’s hair. An eleven-year-old touching a seven-year-old’s head with the familiarity of someone who had known her for a decade.

…That bastard was a possessor. No question about it. Those were the hands of a man who had entered this world holding a strategy guide for the game.

That night I lay in bed turning the situation over in my mind. My magical aptitude was average at best. My body had been born with low mana. My swordsmanship aptitude was equally mediocre, and I hadn’t been athletic in my previous life either. Our family’s power was average, and I was the third son. The only asset I possessed was ten years of experience as a divorce attorney in Korea. Other reincarnators received SSS-rank sword talent and became nine-circle archmages. I had none of that. I would have to rely on my head alone.

Killing the Crown Prince with a blade would result in our family’s annihilation. Besides, I had zero desire to exercise. Magic? A mage using spells on the Crown Prince would also be ruled treason—same outcome. Both sword and magic led to destruction the instant they touched him.

But the law was different. Imperial law was something even the Crown Prince could not escape. Article Three of the Imperial Constitution clearly stated: Even direct members of the imperial family are subject to civil claims.

There was only one path. Prevent the marriage. Secure a clean divorce before any affair could be discovered. Have the marriage itself declared void. Or file a civil suit against the Crown Prince as the adulterous party. The only profession capable of doing all those things was a divorce specialist attorney.

I entered the Imperial Academy at eight years old and chose the law department. It was unusual for the third son of a Count household to study law. Most entered knight orders or the magic tower. My parents were bewildered. “The youngest wants to study law?”

I told them, “Our family needs at least one lawyer.”

They were satisfied. My mother especially. “Our youngest is so clever, dear.”

“…Indeed,” my father said, eyeing me with open suspicion. He had looked at me that way since I was three. The problem, apparently, was that a three-year-old who never threw tantrums and simply stared at adults with calm, assessing eyes was unsettling.

Ten years later I graduated as valedictorian. One of the professors had once pulled me aside and said, “You understand the law better than I do.” He was right. Ten years of courtroom experience in my previous life had shaped me that way.

On graduation day I stood on the dais and delivered the representative speech. My parents sat in the front row. Mother smiled the entire time. Father cried. My eldest brother couldn’t attend—he was busy handling our father’s workload—but my sister came. She handed me a handkerchief.

“Calix. You worked so hard.”

I took her hand. It was warm.

A few days after the ceremony, our family shared a meal at home. My eldest brother was once again absent due to business. When the wine had been poured, my father spoke.

“Son.”

“Yes, Father.”

“At last, a lawyer has emerged from our house.”

“Thank you.”

“I have written a recommendation for you as a legal officer in the Imperial Finance Management Division. You may begin work at the Asset Management Bureau next week. You’ve done well, Calix.”

I set my wine glass down. My father looked at me, his face filled with satisfaction. Having his youngest son secure a position within the imperial palace would be excellent for the Count family. While my brother remained tied to territory management, the youngest would enter the capital and build connections, gather information, and expand influence. A perfect picture.

The only problem was that it wasn’t my picture.

“Father.”

“What is it?”

“I will not be going that route.”

The dining table fell silent. My mother’s fork stopped mid-air. My sister slowly chewed the bread in her mouth. Father took another sip of wine.

“…What?”

“I will not be serving as an imperial finance attorney.”

“Then what do you plan to do? Become a legal officer for the territory? That’s respectable too. With your ability you could even manage a viscounty—”

“I will become a divorce lawyer.”

The table went deathly quiet. The only sound was the flickering of candle flames.

“…What did you just say?”

“A divorce specialist attorney.”

I lifted my wine glass again and took a sip to ease the atmosphere. Father slowly raised a hand to the back of his head.

“…Our youngest.”

“Yes, dear,” my mother answered automatically.

“Our youngest, who graduated at the top of his class after ten years at the academy… after I personally wrote a recommendation to the imperial family…”

“…wants to be a divorce lawyer!!!”

Father tried to rise from his chair ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but collapsed back into it. The chair let out a tortured creak. His weight had been too much for it.

“D-dear!” my mother screamed.

Servants came running. I finished the rest of my wine. Then I stood and looked at my collapsed father and the mother who was gently rubbing the back of his head.

I spoke to the nearest servant. “Call the family physician. Prepare the family seal and my identification papers. I need to pack.”

“Y-young master, where are you…”

“I’m heading to the capital. To open an office.”

From behind me came my sister’s voice.

“…Y-youngest?”

I turned. She had swallowed her bread and wiped her mouth.

“Why… a divorce lawyer?”

“That’s a rather long story. I’ll explain everything at your wedding.”

“…I’m getting married?”

Her expression grew even more bewildered. I had gotten ahead of myself. She hadn’t even met a fiancé yet.

“Sister.”

“Yes…?”

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“Youngest, what’s gotten into you…”

“It’s better that you don’t know.”

“Calix. Have you actually gone insane?”

“…Yes, sister. A little.”

I left the dining room. Behind me I could hear my mother crying and my sister saying in a dazed voice, “Honey, the youngest suddenly—” Even the way she addressed our mother had come out wrong. She had completely lost her composure.

That night I loaded my luggage onto the carriage bound for the capital. I had already selected an office. The prize money from graduation would be enough capital. The carriage rolled forward. Behind us, the spire of the Count’s estate grew smaller and smaller. The journey to the capital would take three days. Once I arrived, I would open my office.