Chapter 2

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 2

Chapter Title: Humanity Disqualified

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Humanity disqualified.

'...Wait a minute. Isn't this a high school freshman math problem?'

While I was stunned by the ridiculously easy problem that had suddenly appeared, my mother, who had been watching quietly, asked with a puzzled look.

"...What's wrong? Do you not want to solve it? There are plenty of easier ones if you'd like. This is something that even academy graduates learn..."

Contrary to her worried gaze, five seconds passed in a flash.

Suddenly, Rachel's vision went blank.

Because.

Tap.

Problem 20 on this exam sheet—the one infamous for being the hardest.

The answer to that tangled mess of a problem, which required understanding and applying every possible solution method among the five choices.

She was pointing to it with her finger.

And that wasn't the end of it.

Problems 27, 39, and 51.

He was solving problems that even she would find confusing to tackle at first glance, without hesitation.

As if he knew exactly which ones were the hard ones.

The next day.

And the day after that.

Before I knew it, three weeks had passed. Like magic, Britna Ian had finally mastered the academy's official Magic Formulas, living up to his name.

And all without using even a single drop of mana—just with his hands and a quill pen.

///

-"...How did he change like that? Last time, he was yelling all sorts of nonsense at Madam..."

-"Who knows? It's not like his heart just flipped overnight—before, he couldn't even solve basic Magic Formulas. And when someone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suggested he learn martial arts last time, he went on about, 'What do you expect me to do when I'm on death's door? Are you pushing your own son off a cliff instead of comforting him? Really...' It got so bad that Madam Rachel let out this huge roar. Even my colleague cleaning far away was trembling."

-"But now, Madam Rachel... she was smiling."

-"Yeah. The first time I've seen her smile since she married the Family Head and Dillon started manifesting his aura."

-"...Still, how on earth did he master those Magic Formulas?"

-"Don't talk nonsense. Do you think academy Magic Formulas are something just anyone can pick up? How could he even wander around the library in that frail body? It's impossible without the Old Butler teaching him."

-"But didn't he have a falling out with the Old Butler? I vaguely heard he even tried to kill him once."

-"...~~"

From the knights' chatter leaking in from outside the door, it seemed my reputation among them had skyrocketed, at least.

Though it was just back to basic expectations.

I'd only picked the hardest Magic Formula problems to solve. And those were the ones solvable without any magic—just pure logic.

Not even ones with specialized terms.

Yet here I was, being welcomed and having expectations heaped on me.

Even the butler was looking at me with curious eyes lately.

-"Y-You wrote your own name by hand... This is a blessed day!!!!!!"

He'd blurted that out, leaving me shocked.

Ian. Just how much of a wastrel had this guy been?

Now Rachel herself was visiting my room.

She was showering me with immense expectations and interest.

She'd dump all the work on her subordinates, get up earliest in the morning, go over my achievements on the desk, and bring me up casually even in casual chats, they said.

Of course, these were rumors from servants and knights, so they were probably exaggerated and distorted.

But three weeks after that day, it was clear I'd caught her eye.

They say a naughty kid who suddenly turns good catches everyone's attention.

"Ian, let's stop by the slave market today."

"Sla...ve market, you say?"

"Yes. How about going with Old Butler Harzen? I hear some fine elves have come in. They're a race resistant to disease, so if we spend a decent sum, we could get a good maid to experiment with magic alongside you."

"Hmm, now that you mention it, that makes sense, Mother. Understood."

In this world, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had arrived.

...

For nearly three weeks, it had all been about gathering information.

The Magic Formulas Rachel tossed my way—I'd deliberately solved them in five minutes but sent them back via a maid only in the evening.

That way, I wouldn't raise suspicions.

In the meantime, I'd meticulously reviewed Ian's actions across various routes in my mind.

His notes and schedules were conveniently stuffed in a drawer, as if meant for reference, letting me investigate him quickly.

But I never expected such a simple, underwhelming conclusion.

'Just a third-rate noble wastrel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠messing around behind the protagonist.'

Talentless, so full of jealousy and envy. In the end, he'd either borrow a monster's power to fall into depravity.

Or die from illness.

One or the other.

I had no means to deal with it.

I was already an incurable patient with a terminal diagnosis, chugging down mystery meds on a plate every day.

And he'd even raped a maid. With this body, no less. Good grief.

Once trust is broken, it can't be regained.

That wasn't an empty saying. I was still getting looks of disgust and contempt from the other servants as payback.

'And before, Ian had felt that every day, smashing plates and taking it out on the servants.'

Now, offering food nicely or saying they could leave early.

I'd tried all sorts of things that might seem kind.

But coming from a noble, it all sounded like 'deception' to them.

Rachel's guards, who only had brief impressions and rumors of me, or passing servants would go, "Oh? Has the wastrel changed?"

But to those who'd always been by my side watching, it was just baffling.

For example.

Suddenly acting nice.

Something up?

Did he cross some line?

Such suspicion and revulsion stared back—a cold reality.

Still, it wasn't entirely meaningless.

A few were intrigued enough to reconsider their view of me.

Expecting them to change based on short impressions might just come off as an insult anyway.

I sighed and boarded the carriage with the Old Butler's support, as always.

No escort knights.

Rachel alone was army-level; bringing escort knights to a slave market would look tacky.

'Or maybe she just wanted to give them a break.'

With that thought, I scanned the carriage interior.

Clatter.

The aristocratic carriage exuded an antique elegance.

The soft sofa, comparable to modern standards, and the faint vibrations roused me from drowsiness.

Facing each other there, Rachel rested her chin toward the window and spoke.

"By the way, Ian. I've heard you're struggling a bit with managing that lately. Is it true?"

"That, Mother?"

Rachel clutched her forehead lightly, glanced down, shot me a glare, then sighed deeply.

"Your sex drive. Your lust—no one's finding you an outlet for it."

"..."

Her utterly unexpected question filled my vision with a single hologram window.

My thoughts...

Froze.

...

What the fuck?

Talking about relieving my sex drive right in front of me—not some married slut,

but my mom? Affinity quest from Mom?

Pinning her down and fucking her would get me labeled a psycho, and failure's instant death?

In this world, affinity levels: 10-20 is friendship, 30-40 is strong interest, 50-70 is falling in love, beyond that is deep affection.

Parent-child bonds are set low here, so over 40 is rare.

'Thankfully, thanks to all the wastrel crap Ian pulled, my recent actions seem exaggeratedly positive, so it's way higher now.'

Affinity doesn't rise easily without some 'event' anyway.

And once it drops below 10, the only way is basically rape to tank it further.

I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no idea how to raise it.

'No way the protagonist in the original seduced his mom.'

Probably started at -30 on first meeting with Rachel.

43 was insanely high by comparison.

A whopping 73 difference from the protagonist.

Just 7 more and it'd be fuckable.

Slap. I smacked my own cheek.

"..."

What the hell was I thinking? I was clearly insane.

Rachel was a married woman.

A married woman in her early-to-mid thirties, at that.

Top-tier aura user maintaining a twenties appearance via magic, but still my mother.

Even so.

Breasts bigger than that face of hers.

The curves of her ripe, prime-age body were mostly hidden by the black office dress, but the belt at her waist revealed every trace.

'High magic hierarchy... She looks early twenties, easy.'

Plus, those peeking white thighs stimulated any man's gaze.

-???Rachel so fucking hot XXXXX...

Sometimes I'd overhear the knights' conversations with sexual harassment about Rachel. Probably because of this.

"Where are you looking?"

"Ah, no. Just lost in thought for a moment."

Her face, leaning slightly forward, drew closer to mine.

A captivating breath.

"Hmm... Do you have worries you can't tell your mother? Speak up. I'll hear anything."

As always, without fear or disgust toward me.

Her straight blue eyes shining,

just gazing at me with pure gentleness.

Rachel was a mother. But not my real mother from that world.

That's why reason wavered.

Sweet breath and prime-age hormones.

Heart pounding was natural.

A person who didn't fear me, looked straight at me, comforted and cheered me on.

Gulp.

My throat bobbed.

For a moment, Rachel's golden eyes seemed to turn pink.

Squeeze.

I grabbed Rachel's shoulder, pressing her breasts against me.

And,

pushed her away.

"...?!"

Rachel looked up at me, clearly flustered.

I held back.

Rachel wasn't the type to tempt me like this normally.

So there had to be some ulterior motive.

The cunning mage nicknamed that way was testing me.

'Because of my history raping the maid...'

Honestly, she'd tested the protagonist multiple times in the original, so I figured she'd suspect to the end.

Eh?

When I snapped out of it, I'd pinned Rachel against the carriage wall, hands planted on either side.

My hands had slipped from her shoulders, and the carriage jolting at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same time caused this.

-"Sorry. The road hit a bump for a mo—Ah—"

Perfect timing—the coachman's door swung open.

The coachman peeked through the small window, and the scene that met his eyes was pure misunderstanding fuel.

-Crash!

The coachman coughed repeatedly, slammed the door shut in a panic, and shouted.

"S-Sorry!!! Have a wonderful time!!!..."

Fuck. The Britna family's done for.