Inheriting the Nosferatu Legacy

"So, this ripped macho dude is an illusion you cooked up with your magic, right, Young Master?"

"Yeah. More precisely, it's linked to your mind, Canaria, but the basic idea's spot on."

"So your type really is the musclebound macho man...?"

"Shut it if you don't wanna see Gigachad doing the zero-to-hero grind."

"Actually, that was my type."

— "Oh, looks like you've fallen head over heels for the muscles of this Fucking Lion of a Gigachad? From today on, CheonSsalPpi starts Hard Training too."

I tossed a single gold coin to Canaria, who was mentally unleashing a torrent of curses inside her head. She snatched it mid-air like a mutt lunging for a snack, catching it in her mouth before quietly settling in to listen.

"Long story short, the goal is to make this illusion so damn convincing that you fully buy into it as your 'inner self.'"

"Then why does it have to look like this—some hyper-jacked macho? Wouldn't it be way more persuasive if it matched the target's own appearance?"

Canaria's point was reasonable on the surface. Gigachad was fundamentally a projection of one's 'inner self.' But the exaggerated masculine traits made this version feel too alien to truly represent that.

But that's exactly why it would work.

"Canaria."

"Yes."

"What if a fat, short dude started preaching about self-care and the importance of working out? How's that land?"

"Hmm..."

Canaria pondered for a moment, then nodded as understanding dawned.

"Got it. It's not just about deception—the point is the message delivered through this extreme, physically perfected form."

"You're a quick study, huh?"

"Thank you."

Gigachad was the embodiment of one's ideal inner self—the superego. The superego is masculine, rational, values action-driven change, and demands self-control. So Gigachad, as the superego, had to be overwhelmingly powerful to dominate the real ego.

"Gigachad's like a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠teacher. An instructor to drive mental growth."

"Yes."

"This Gigachad will guide your ego in positive directions by default. It'll understand your deepest desires, aspirations, fears—and push you toward growth."

"Just imagining it exhausts me."

"Change always comes with fatigue."

"True. Gold coins are the same way."

Canaria fiddled with the coin I'd tossed her, flashing a sly grin.

"Leave it to me. For your magic research, Young Master, I'll shatter my bones to dust."

What a mercenary smile. Utterly trustworthy.

...

Canaria was the perfect lab rat. Worldly enough but bold, smart enough to grasp the core instantly.

"Waking up to Gigachad lurking in the corner of my vision startles me every time."

"Gotta tweak it so it vanishes during sleep. Next?"

"It's too relentlessly positive. A bit of shock therapy would amp up the impact."

"Good call. A real teacher dishes out tough love."

"The muscles twitching creep me out."

"Tough it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out."

"Yes, sir."

Her most reliable trait? Cooperating with this wild experiment without prying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into its purpose or endgame. As long as the gold flowed, she'd turn a blind eye even if I summoned demons.

"The vocabulary's too limited. Throw in some motivating metaphors or historical allusions."

"Canaria."

"Yes."

"Not curious why I'm developing this magic?"

"I am."

"Then why not ask?"

"...Didn't you tell me at the start to just roll with it?"

"Oh, right. My bad."

Her overflowing loyalty to her master was a bonus point.

So, yeah. Time to explain the magic's true purpose.

"Truth is, I'm making this to stop the world's doom."

"I see."

"This world ends in a few years."

"Tragic."

"I know you're an assassin posing as a maid to kill the Nosferatu Duke."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than a sharp sting hit my throat. Canaria had a dagger pressed against it. A single drop of blood trickled along the blade.

Predictable. The loyal maid being a killer? Total cliché.

"How did you know?"

"I know the future."

Her face twisted. She thought I was messing with her. All I did was tell the truth—unfair.

"You can't stab me. Kill me, and your revenge on the duke dies too. Not what you want."

"......"

Canaria wouldn't strike. I'd been flooding her mind with 'hesitation' via telepathy. Just enough to buy a moment.

"But if you promise to help me..."

Before her pause ended, I dangled the deal. Too sweet to refuse.

"I'll help you kill the Nosferatu Duke."

"How?"

"You know."

In that instant, hundreds of Gigachads surrounded her. Illusions so vivid she could feel the heat rippling off their twitching muscles—despite knowing the truth. The lifelike magic she'd experienced firsthand for weeks.

"Enough to drive one person insane, right?"

"Why would you..."

"Let's off the duke first, then talk calmly."

...

The Nosferatu Ducal House was the empire's premier assassin clan. Countless held grudges against the duke; even those without feared him. His vassals were no different—vultures circling for the moment he slipped, ready to smash his skull.

So I created the opportunity.

The instant the duke lost his mind, I could hit him and the vassals with "We're inheriting the family now, Father."

Bonus: Reading their thoughts let me filter the trustworthy ones.

"Save it. I'm just lending my name—the vassals run the territory anyway."

"Never dreamed that trash would crumble so easily. How?"

"Showed him nightly hallucinations of dozens of Gigachads gangbanging his ass."

"Whoa, suddenly I pity the bastard."

"Really?"

"Nah, total bullshit. Feels great."

He was my biological father, but his death stirred no pity. The Nosferatu Duke was a blood-soaked villain noble. In Endless, plenty of characters lost families and homes to him.

Canaria's clan was wiped out by his tyranny, too.

"Kinda bummed he went so quick. Could've used a worse end."

"Worse than getting railed by muscle hunks, losing the house to his demon-possessed son, and betrayed by trusted vassals?"

"...Yeah, that's plenty."

I chuckled and tossed her another gold coin. She caught it in her mouth.

After her clan's fall and her parents' deaths, poverty twisted her into a gold fiend. The drop from nobility must've stung extra.

She pocketed it, then asked with prim politeness.

"But... why help me, Young Master—no, Your Grace?"

"Right, promised the full story after offing Dad."

Okay. Where to start? No need for "this world's a game"—she wouldn't get it.

"I know the future."

"......"

"And this world dooms itself in decades."

"Doom...?"

I smiled brightly instead of answering, activating High-Performance Telepathy at max power.

The surroundings melted like soap bubbles. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠From each one came agonized voices cursing the world.

Dozens of endings that broke me time and again. The witch's poison turning all sentient life to corpses. The heavenly god descending to shatter the world. Absurd, hollow dooms.

Unavoidable futures paraded before Canaria via telepathy, me smiling against that horrific backdrop like the mastermind architect of it all. My whisper was soft but crystal-clear through the illusion.

The bubbles chorused in unison.

"One way to stop the doom."

The whisper, now soft and gentle as befits its tone, carried absurd words.

"Rehabilitate the doomsday culprits... with Gigachad's power."

The world's fate hinged on a ridiculous musclebound himbo. Absurd? Sure. But the world was doomed by absurd reasons anyway.

So the fix could be a bit silly too.

"To save the world, we need Gigachad. Be my ally in stopping the doom."

"But... what can I do? Am I really up to something that grand?"

"Oh yeah."

You'll help. Big time.

"Women understand women best, right?"

"Pardon?"

"Lots of doomsday culprits are girls."

Yeah. Tragic, but my past-life self was a lifelong solo loser!

"What does that...?"

"Top-tier pay: one gold per gig."

"Truth is, I'm a women's heart expert. The other maids crowd my room nightly for advice—it's a hassle."

Transparent as glass.