Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Normalization of Dark Fantasy
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It lures players in with a peaceful atmosphere.
Then it kills them.
Every last one. Heroines or whatever, doesn't matter.
Another Tale.
A dark fantasy game notorious for its reputation.
Naturally, I never played it myself.
Killing heroines is a hard pass in our line of work. Don't consume it, don't discuss it, don't even mention it.
I was content spectating from across the river as the clueless vanguard got obliterated, and the foolhardy stragglers lined up to follow.
For a good while, Another Tale rode that wave.
YouTube Shorts channels posted edited clips titled [Legendary Backstab: Players' Reactions to History's Worst Game], splicing together rants from the Another Tale gallery users.
Big-name streamers uploaded footage of themselves diving in and thrashing about in agony.
Me? I skipped the grind, cherry-picking highlights from YouTube, forums, and wikis.
That's how I rode the hype too.
Put simply, I don't know much about Another Tale.
Nothing really sticks out.
I'd probably blank on the leads even if they walked by.
Unless it was their death scene. That'd jog something.
Truth is, it wasn't some life-changing game for me anyway.
Otherwise, I'd have played it.
...
But why does it nag at me?
Out of countless games, why that one?
This random thought hits out of nowhere.
What if... this world.
This fantasy world is the one from Another Tale?
"...Nah."
Of course not.
This place is way too peaceful for dark fantasy.
About a year ago.
I awakened to my reincarnation.
Earth guy's ego fused with the fantasy local's, making me... me.
Not a huge shift.
Still the young master of the Bendel Family.
The Bendel Family? Prestigious swordsmanship house.
Bendel Territory sits off the central grid, but that's the old family head's zero interest in politics.
Generation after generation, they've churned out legendary swordsmen.
Point is, everyone here has freakish perception.
Human weapons honed from toddlerhood, sword tips prodding every grain of rice.
So yeah, first thing I felt post-awakening? Terror.
What if the fam clocks the change in me?
This world's packed with mysteries and miracles.
"Hey, our kid's soul got swapped overnight!"
Plausible here. Not so much on Earth.
Problem is, soul-swappers and body-snatchers? Public enemy number one, no exceptions.
Sudden personality flip in the young master?
Pop-up options: [1. Interrogate] [2. Torture].
So I hustled to mimic pre-fusion me.
Keep the fam in the dark.
Wasted effort.
Soon enough, I got it: pointless.
A sword house pro's eyes? Not fooled by small fry like me!
—Except it unfolded nothing like my nightmares.
I was a Bastard.
Mom? Random servant. Nothing special.
Knocked up by the family head, sure. Didn't matter.
Dad was too damn noble to wed a servant—not even a maid—as concubine.
Kid from that? Invisible.
Household ignored me flat-out.
No baseline interest, no spotting changes.
Even if they did, shrug it off.
Tripped me up.
Happy about this?
Framed it positive.
Hell yeah. Biggest hurdle cleared.
Bonus: "Bastard" here? Everyday vile slur.
Born numb to it? Orphan-proof to parent jabs levels of win.
Crisis dodged, new chapter unlocked.
—So. Now what?
Prestige fantasy noble young master? Nah, Bastard.
Family, retainers, staff—all ghost me.
Stick around, what's the endgame?
—Enlist...!
Bastard subculture: volunteer for army, beg parental nod.
No. Fucking. Way. Ever. Guaranteed.
Pre-reincarnation: 21. Died to dodge that cursed draft.
No smartphone here either.
Enlistment? Auto-delete.
Okay, rethink.
Disgrace Bastard declares, "Pass on army like the rest?"
Fam perks up, all ears.
Then spite-ships me to hell unit.
Rational verdict: bolt.
Ghost a ghost? No complaints.
Logic locked. Bastard ramping escape prep.
Early birds get independent.
Bastard exits servant annex at crack of dawn.
"Young master Rishir."
Annex door: greeter gal.
Maya, Roera's personal maid.
"Maya. Good morning."
"Lady Roera requests a meeting. Lunch today, main house front courtyard."
My greet? Skipped. Curt dispatch. Arrogant for maid? Improved tons.
Bendel maid vs. Bendel Bastard.
Status? Maid wins. No contest.
Most maids: noble stock.
Me? Half-breed. Them? Pure nobility.
Retainers "young master" me on paper. Underneath? Scorn.
Maya? Used to no-eye-contact.
Now?
...
...
Check it.
Eyes meet: she nods.
My daily warm hellos paid off.
Leap forward.
Emperor vibes for me.
Post-awakening life: steady glow-up.
...Roera wants me?
Bad omen.
Bendels ping Bastards for shit-talk sessions mostly.
"Uh, got business today."
Freshly recalled critical errand.
Dodge Roera: loiter outside till dinner.
"Then relay you'll visit post-business?"
"Tell her don't wait."
"Naturally. Young master Rishir wouldn't keep Lady Roera waiting."
Bet.
Oh. Wrong.
Snubbed Bendel lady? Won't chill. Not my circus.
What you gonna do?
Dad-tattle?
Dad do what?
Boot me?
Yes please.
Bastard hall of fame.
...
...
Maya glances up, side-eye suspicious.
I flash cheeky grin: she bolts, eyes averted.
My road calls.
Father.
When I return from this place, will you finally acknowledge me?
Will you regret those cruel days you treated me so harshly?
I believe you will.
So—
"Please..."
The man sobbed.
He sensed it instinctively.
On this nameless snowy peak, amid the howling gale, death awaited him.
Father's face flashed first.
He'd come for father's honor.
Yet the father in his mind still gazed with contempt.
From then, sobs blurred into laughter.
His breath failed before venting it all.
As warmth fled his exhales.
He muttered into the void.
Okay. Okay.
At last, breath stilled. Body slumped limp.
An ice spire plunged from above, skewering his crown.
Moments later, the Bastard rose.
Lifeless eyes fixed toward home.