Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Gaze Rape?
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"Gaze rape?"
There Are Five Wives in the Count's House.
That was the title of the webnovel I'd been reading every day after getting off work lately.
I'd stuck with it for quite a while, and even after it finished, I'd binged it multiple times, so I still had some affection for the story.
I particularly loved the side male leads' tragic arcs—no hope whatsoever, forever chasing after what the protagonist already had. That was the appeal. It was like getting just the right hit of NTR satisfaction.
But back then, I had no idea.
No clue that a single comment saying "Ruined goods taste so good" would suck me straight into the novel.
...
"Ugh."
The moment I entered this world, a profound sense of wrongness hit me.
It was like a nerve I'd used constantly every waking moment of my life had suddenly gone numb, brushing across my mind.
The realization made my face crumple, and my gaze dropped downward.
My arms and legs felt heavy.
No strength would enter my muscles. Startled by the sudden abnormality, I tried to sit up.
The servant at my bedside immediately blocked me as I abruptly rose from bed, eyeing what mischief I might pull next.
"This is dangerous, Young Master Ian. Your illness hasn't even healed yet."
The one barring my way was an old butler with gray streaks starting to show in his hair.
Judging by how effortlessly he held back my flailing arm with one hand, he clearly wasn't some ordinary civilian.
But unlike the butler's wishes, I still couldn't wrap my head around the situation.
"What... what are you talking about? I'm fine. What illness? Fuck, did I wake up crippled overnight?"
"...Young Master Ian, it's about time you accepted it. We called in every elixir and doctor imaginable. But in the end, your condition only worsened. Now..."
"I'm telling you, I'm not that worthless scumbag."
"Young Master Ian. Get a grip. There's only one Young Master Ian—the third son of the Britna family, a noble."
"You... are you messing with me right now?"
"..."
The butler stared at me silently, then pressed his temples firmly, speaking with effort.
"Breathe slowly... slowly."
His hand touched my body accordingly.
My ragged breathing miraculously began to calm.
A faint blue glow swirled around his hand, so probably...
Wait—magic?
How do I even know that's magic?
My mind, chilled as if doused in cold water, steadily pieced together the situation.
The antique furniture in the opulent room screamed fantasy world.
The maid glaring at me in contempt, the butler's attendant attire.
Above all, the name and title they called me by laid it all out.
Right.
Clutching my head and sifting through memories, "Young Master Ian" surfaced.
Britna Ian, the guy I'd possessed—he was the protagonist's little brother, a total fuckup who pulled asshole stunts from the early episodes.
Died as a mid-boss in Episode 1 or 2.
In other loops, he didn't even show up, just croaked from an incurable disease.
And of all people, I get stuck in him? Not even the protagonist?
Tension surged through my body,
but as if he'd anticipated it, the old butler pinned my arms and legs.
Even the maid who'd entered grabbed my ankle.
"Doing it again?!"
"It's just a momentary delirium... I thought he'd been quiet lately..."
I couldn't even resist the frail-looking maid.
Not because she was strong.
This body was just that weak.
Near-crippled, no chance to train strength or mana.
Pinned down relentlessly, realizing I could do nothing, I finally went limp.
The maid and butler's gazes turned dumbfounded.
Because Young Master Ian was infamous in the mansion as a total menace—no way he'd give up from just this much restraint.
But I wasn't that rampaging Ian anymore.
The immediate reality was hard to swallow, but after some time, feeling strength return to my limbs and managing basic steps, I surveyed the room and let out a deep sigh.
I had to accept it first and foremost.
The old butler wiped sweat from his brow and spoke.
"Have you come to your senses, Young Master Ian?"
"...Yeah."
My head throbbed fiercely, so as the butler moved to leave, I grabbed him.
"What year is it now?"
"It's... Imperial Calendar 890."
"890...?"
Fuck, before the novel even starts?
Possessed earlier than in the original—I needed to plan fast.
Clutching my forehead, I sent the butler out and grabbed the maid.
"But you—"
"Kyaaah!!"
She screamed bloody murder.
Staring at the wrist I'd grabbed like it was torn open, she burst into tears and collapsed to the floor.
Her eyes burned with hatred toward me.
...What? What'd I do wrong now?
Those eyes felt utterly foreign to me.
Clueless about what had happened, I stared down at the maid in bewilderment.
The old butler rushed in at the scream, looking shocked as he addressed me.
"Wh-what did you do?"
"I just... grabbed her wrist for a moment..."
"I've told you time and again, Young Master—when grabbing a servant, use gloves or cloth. Sigh... no helping it. Excuse me."
"Why the hell do I have to do that?"
"Because you'll kill the maid just for saving you? Last time, I barely stopped you from hanging that other girl. Are you planning to rape her like back in the old days?"
Fuck. When did I become the rapist-murder-attempting lunatic?
Seeing myself branded as such, things looked fucked.
'But can a butler talk like that to a noble?'
Probably some backing or orders from the family head.
My head already ached.
///
"Forgetting my name wasn't enough—you've erased it entirely? Ian. Do you grasp how serious this situation is?"
A woman with black hair and gleaming golden eyes sat before the desk in the study, staring at me.
Britna Rachel.
She was captivating from every angle. Her Britna-black hair swept back to reveal her neckline. Her glossy golden eyes and full lips stirred any man's heart each time. The bluish shoulder epaulets and pristine white suit screamed nobility, and crucially, her ample bust and hips. Above all, bathed in light from the window amid the dark office, her dignified noble aura was oppressively majestic—like a flower on a cliffside.
Her porcelain skin and the two moles under her right eye immediately identified her as Britna Rachel—the protagonist's mother from Episode 1 onward, and Ian's mother too.
'...Fucked. Just grabbed a wrist and dragged all the way here.'
But I wasn't displeased. She was that beautiful.
With the count away, she held absolute power and strength over the entire estate.
"I asked if you comprehend. Are you deaf?"
"...I do."
I deliberately used polite speech to show remorse and the gravity of it all. Luckily, it prevented Rachel from roaring in rage as described in the original. My childhood social savvy shone through.
But Rachel's words didn't end there. She had to sort out the incident first, of course.
"You grabbed the maid's wrist?"
I bowed my head first.
No point pushing it—just a wrist grab wouldn't warrant severe punishment, and an investigation would clear my name.
I was the youngest among the siblings, after all.
Ian's possessed body age was...
'But... her reaction's weird?'
The servants holding me steady beside her looked a bit flustered.
Murmurs filled the office.
-He used polite speech?
-Those two never went a day without yelling...
Come to think of it.
'Right. I was the trash.'
As described in the original—the protagonist Dillon's youngest turned villain, sliced as a mid-boss.
Memories of skipping past his constant whining. Who knew it was me.
"..."
Even Rachel, arms on the desk watching intently, couldn't hide her slight surprise. Definitely canon.
Just one apology, and they react like this? How much of a dogshit asshole was I?
Amazed at Ian's fuckup level, I vowed to milk it.
"...I'm sorry."
With that, Rachel tilted her head slightly, her tone noticeably softening.
"No need to apologize to me. The maid already quit on her own."
"..."
"I know your incurable disease isn't contagious. But the servants can't easily believe it—plenty fear you from the start. Word is, going to your room is like a punishment among the maids."
Obviously. Even back then—who'd serve a rapist, terminally ill, foul-tempered noble lunatic?
Unlike my siblings, I had no dedicated maid; even the longtime butler was for that reason.
"...I know."
"So. Overstepping my bounds here, but... how about trying to do something properly for once? Forget this incident clean, ease the jealousy around you, and pursue one thing your way to the end."
"What do you mean?"
"I misspoke suggesting swordsmanship, archery, spearmanship, shieldwork—even self-defense. But don't you have blessed mana? Far denser and more abundant than your brothers'. Even with your tainted dantian, effort could break through—they say your output overflows for it. How about crafting a magic formula?"
"..."
In the ensuing silence.
I looked at Rachel's face.
Her cold gaze and golden eyes remained, but her clasped hands trembled faintly beneath.
As in the original. A deeply caring mother who took her children seriously inside.
Admitting her own son's faults and suggesting alternatives wasn't easy in a society demanding noble dignity—especially for a son.
No choice—I'd play the good son this time too.
"Will you try it?"
"How could I discard a plan my mother thought deeply on and advised? I'll give it my all, and if it fails, find another way."
Such scholarly words from a scumbag's mouth—the old butler behind gawked, eyes bulging.
"Y-you... what did you just...?"
"I-it's impossible... From Ian, who used to rage at any criticism..."
Cough. Rachel cleared her throat softly, closed her eyes, and gestured for the butler to hush.
"What's with that look?"
"Cough, nothing at all. The Magic Tower sent textbooks on basic magic formulas—take them and study. I expect great things."
'She was gonna force me anyway.'
My focused mind on the issue suddenly halted.
'...Isn't this high school freshman math?'