The Count Family's Good-for-Nothing (2)
"Y-Young Master... why all of a sudden...?"
Lia looked up at me with tears welling in her eyes, her voice dripping with pitiful pathos.
Any gentlemanly noble would have rushed over and extended a courteous hand to the fallen maid without hesitation—it was that heartbreaking a sight.
But,
‘This crazy bastard dares push me? Me, who’s about to become Lord Eric’s wife and the lady of this house?’
To me, armed with the overpowered unique ability of Mind Reading—a perk for side characters in those smutty tales—it didn't faze me one bit.
If anything, the stench of non-virgin wafting from Lia's inner monologue made my stomach turn.
"Ugh... ahh! Young Master, I think I twisted my ankle bad when I fell. Please, take me to the white mage's room."
When I said nothing and just stared down at her with the cold gaze one might reserve for a loathsome insect, Lia clutched her ankle and begged.
Lia was my personal maid, and I her master. But that didn't mean I could manhandle her at will.
She was my servant, not my slave.
There was a clear class divide, but it was still a contractual relationship.
Even nobles had to uphold contracts outwardly, at least.
Fail to do so, and society would brand you an honorless cur amid a storm of condemnation.
Once bad rumors spread, no talented or capable folk would serve under you.
That was the dynamic between nobles and their retainers in the original novel. So I bore the responsibility to care for my subordinates.
In this situation, the proper course was to escort Lia to the white mage as she pleaded.
The original Werner surely would have.
He'd have used it as an excuse to dodge the boring meeting without catching flak from the retainers.
‘Just you wait, you wastrel shit! But... no, actually this works out perfect. I can use this excuse to keep that bastard from the meeting, just like Lord Eric ordered.’
But after piercing her facade with Mind Reading once more, I just scowled. I gave Lia no response.
The mere thought of conversing with a non-virgin made my skin crawl.
Sure, to save the pure heroines of the original, I'd need to restore some of my sullied honor from the mud... but not now.
‘Keep that bastard from the meeting, just like Lord Eric ordered.’
First things first: deal with what Lia was scheming inside.
"Young Master, it hurts... I can't even stand. Please take me to the white mage."
Now Lia was shedding fake tears, subtly arching her back to flaunt her cleavage at me.
For a non-virgin, it was—fittingly—lewdly voluptuous. My body reacted instinctively, but my mind only grew icier.
Fake tears from a non-virgin slut, blatantly teasing with those tits she knows are huge? Nothing but revolting. I just wanted to beat the shit out of non-virgins.
"Young Master. I—" "Shut up."
I coldly snapped at the faking slut and turned my arrogant gaze on Mina, who stared down at me with icy eyes.
Why're you just standing there? Hurry up and fetch my clothes, it said.
Soon enough, Mina replied in clipped tones, barely suppressing her fury.
"Understood."
‘Wastrel bastard...’
Mina's inner curse cut deep. Unlike her non-virgin whore sister Lia, the younger one was still Schrödinger's virgin, so it stung—but now wasn't the time to show it.
As Mina brushed past without a greeting and rummaged through my wardrobe, yanking out clothes haphazardly, I sank into deep thought based on the intel from Mind Reading.
First, I needed to pinpoint exactly when I'd possessed this body. Only then could I plan my next moves clearly.
Imperial Year 715. Exactly ten years before the original story kicks off. And my brother Eric's colluding with Lia...?
In the original, the 'Werner' I'd possessed was just a pathetic mid-boss fodder at the academy ten years from now—a side character.
A trash who, despite having Mind Reading and skill-impregnation perks, only blackmailed and trained women on their weaknesses. Well, fitting for a smut novel side character...
Anyway, the original—told from protagonist Kael's POV—wouldn't detail what happened to me ten years prior.
But unlike me, my blood sister and future family head, Isabella Kraus, had her ten-years-later exploits seared into my soul.
The noblewoman unswayed by Lucian's threats and seductions.
The heroine who stood alone on the battlefield against endless demon hordes, sword drawn.
Her resolute figure, draped in the family crest flag like a cape, was still vivid in my mind.
Yet that noble resolve met a horrific, nauseating end after the trash author's NTR swerve.
All because of betrayal by her own half-brother, Eric.
Eric, greedy for full control of the family, sold out the garrison's supply lines to the enemy. Isabella fought blood-soaked days and nights, only to fall into that dog Lucian’s trap and get captured.
Even dragged into enemy ranks—mocked by lowly goblin scum—Isabella never bowed her head.
That pervert fuck Lucian delayed her fall to break her spirit first... but a few more novel installments, and the ending was obvious.
Unlike my plunge into despair, recalling readers cheering that outcome in the comments filled me with barely contained rage.
Highborn border countess Isabella was probably brutally fucked by Lucian till he tired of her.
Then, mind shattered, discarded to be used like cheap onaholes by the lowliest demons...
"Never gonna happen."
I declared it with iron resolve.
I shook off the vile imagination I'd just conjured, disgusted even with myself for entertaining such non-virgin filth.
‘What’s with Young Master’s face right now...? Is this the same good-for-nothing I know?’
Mina's bewildered thoughts trickled in as she stood before me, helping me change.
I quickly relaxed my rigidly tense face, reverting to the arrogant, brainless expression befitting the original Werner.
Until I fully grasped the situation and built my strength, I had to avoid drawing eyes. This was a dark fantasy world teeming with ruthless non-virgins and NTR bastards.
‘My imagination...? Yeah, that must be it. No way that wastrel changes overnight.’
I watched Mina dress me with mechanical efficiency, minimizing physical contact.
Our eyes met by chance; she flinched, then shyly looked away.
The heavy doors swung open, and as I stepped into the conference hall, a hush fell over the murmuring room like an ice spell had been cast.
The round table of family core members. Their gazes locked on me: contempt, pity, and above all, bafflement.
The good-for-nothing who belonged pickled in booze in some corner had walked in on his own two feet— impeccably dressed, no less.
But my eyes skipped the rabble, heading straight for the head of the table.
To my blood sister and current acting head of Kraus County: Isabella Kraus.
"Werner."
Her arrogant eyes, laced with faint killing intent, fixed on me unyieldingly.
Lush golden blonde hair with a reddish tint cascaded before her chest, but it couldn't fully hide the medals adorning her uniform.
While Werner wasted his life on booze and drugs, Isabella had racked up merits on battlefields despite her youth.
I strode to the round table without dodging her gaze, claiming my seat right beside her at the head—as if it were natural.
No one there was ignorant of its meaning, so even the minor stir died down.
Mind Reading caught a barrage: Has that wastrel finally lost it?
But playing the wastrel to perfection, I smirked arrogantly and turned to my stern-faced sister.
Perfectly symmetrical features without flaw.
Pale, bloodless skin unbecoming a knight who'd spent more time on warfronts than in the castle—despite never attending society galas.
All amplified Isabella's signature icy, ascetic air of dominance.
Yet contradicting that austere authority, her medal-laden knight uniform strained, on the verge of bursting.
Thanks to the violently bountiful breasts hidden within.
"Werner."
My sister broke the silence.
"Why, sis?"
The "sis" still felt foreign on my tongue, but I replied as smugly as possible.
Isabella stared for a long moment, then slightly relaxed her rigid posture.
Legs sleek beneath her long skirt crossed, chin propped elegantly—she embodied nobility born to lord over elder men.
"Strut in here late to the meeting and claim the seat beside me...? Still drunk?"
Her threatening words unleashed a terrifying aura.
Killing intent crushed the hall.
Barring protagonists like Kael or villains like Lucian, Isabella had no peers her age.
She wasn't at her original peak yet, but it was far beyond what the booze-and-harassment-spending Werner could withstand.
Sitting to Isabella's right, my half-brother Eric's lips twitched in glee.
‘That retarded wastrel shit. Finally losing his head today!’
As everyone held their breath, anticipating my demise,
Her face was coldly set, killing intent pouring out as if she'd sever my head any second.
But I didn't flinch.
‘Heard he was boozing late last night too, figured he'd skip today... My cute little bro, good on him. Hmm, up close his face looks stiff. Nervous? Or just hungover gutache? Should I have the kitchen prep stew? Nah, micromanaging like that'd undermine my authority. But why's he wearing such thin clothes? Mornings and evenings are chilly in the castle lately—if he catches cold...’
This woman really dotes on her little brother.