Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Wastrel Son Kim Geon-ho (4)
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Marren Mayribel
The legitimate heir of the Mayribel family, born under a curse. The exact nature of the curse remains unclear, but it's presumed to be related to sexual desire. One of the suspected protagonists.
That was all the information I had on Marren. My first playthrough had barely scraped by the main story, so I knew next to nothing. Still, I'd gathered what I could with maximum effort, and I'd pieced together most of what mattered. The most crucial part was that last bit about her being one of the suspected protagonists.
'This time, I have to dive headfirst into the main story.'
Possessed without any prior knowledge of the novel, I had no clue who the protagonist was or how events would unfold. Hell, in the first round, I couldn't even keep up with the plot before getting exploited and killed. No way was I repeating that as some disposable extra this time.
'My role's probably just your standard wastrel son who gets his comeuppance.'
No talent to speak of, used and abused, piling up evil deeds to frustrate readers until my death delivers that sweet catharsis.
To break free from that script, my only option was to forge ties with anyone who might be the protagonist. The protagonist's allies usually went down swinging, at least.
Spotting those signs alone would skyrocket my odds of survival. That was the real reason I was building a connection with Marren right now.
"...?"
Lost in thought, a natural silence had fallen, and Marren was staring at me like I'd grown a second head.
"Why... aren't you doing anything?"
"What?"
"I mean, uh... calling me a pervert or something, or getting a little more blatant—you know, some kind of reaction. Yours is just... nonexistent..."
The girl who wouldn't stop staring at her own pussy earlier is now chatting me up because I'm quiet. What an airheaded beauty.
Pink hair, pink eyes, cheeks flushed red. It was like someone had turned a ripe peach into a person.
'But damn, I really can't stop staring.'
What if her whole body was dyed cherry blossom pink?
Her skirt—high-class at a glance—was hiked up, fully exposing her. That pussy, layered like cherry blossom petals, was clenched tight now, as if it'd wrung out every last drop. The white blouse paired with what felt like a tennis skirt was straight out of a textbook, but not just anyone could pull it off.
Like how white tees and jeans don't suit everyone; you needed a body and face above baseline to make it work. Marren nailed it perfectly.
Sniff sniff.
The peachy scent from the juices smeared on her face tickled my nose.
"Gotta say something, huh...?"
"P-please don't get the wrong idea... They say doing this boosts your luck after the entrance ceremony...! It's not like I have exhibitionism or anything...!"
Her desperate, frantic excuse actually checked out, especially with those talisman-like papers stuck to the tree.
"Ah, got it. Makes sense."
I'd already committed her face to memory, so no need for more chit-chat. I gave a casual reply, turned on my heel, and headed slowly down the mountain.
Oh, right—one thing before I go.
"We're the same age. I'm a new academy student too."
The me from round one, who died without accomplishing shit, now connecting with a main character candidate like Marren Mayribel. If there'd been a camera, I'd have snapped a pic to commemorate. Part of me wanted to jot it in a diary, but I still had business to handle—no time for leisure.
'By now... she's probably getting bullied.'
Time to track down the second suspected protagonist.
"Wow, why'd you even come here?"
Thud.
The harsh words and thrusting arm felt like sharp thorns.
'I knew it'd turn out like this.'
What was I expecting by showing up at the entrance ceremony? Obviously this nightmare.
Airi stared into the eyes of friends who'd once chatted warmly with her. Now worse than strangers—people she'd thought were allies, ruthlessly casting her aside when things changed.
Tears welled up, but she refused to let them fall. If she just stayed silent and unresponsive, they'd burn out on their own.
She clenched the hem of her rarely worn skirt. It was the best resistance she could muster to hide her trembling.
"Look at her, not saying shit to the end. You know how much hell we went through because of you?"
Suffering? What suffering did you endure? When that shit went down in England, what the hell did you do?
Airi wanted to snap back. Her family ruined, nobility stripped, endless humiliations and schemes—no one by her side.
Everyone scrambling to dodge blame, picking over the family's shattered remains like vultures. If scraping the absolute bottom counted as suffering, sure.
When you were scooping up those scraps from the floor, where the hell was I even once...?
'No, stop it.'
The more she dwelled alone, the worse it got for her. Just endure. Keep enduring.
Airi shut her eyes—they weren't worth the glance. Bullying had its limits. At worst, hair-pulling, shoving, tripping, a slap. Routine stuff by now, almost familiar.
"Wow, this bitch closed her eyes too?"
"Won't talk, won't look—just gonna sit there no matter what?"
"Fine, fuck it. Let's see who breaks first."
She'd hoped today would be different. So many people around—surely someone, anyone, would step in. But no one meddles in others' business.
Maybe the day itself stirred up false hope, leaving her raw. Just as she resigned to the violence...
"I think I'll win, though?"
"What?"
"You—you're...?"
"Hey, isn't that... him?"
The unexpected voice snapped Airi alert.
'What?'
First time hearing it, but somehow familiar. More shocking was their reaction. These girls wouldn't blink at any intervener.
Yet one voice froze them solid. Airi cracked her eyes to sneak a peek.
"Yeah, yeah—that's her, and that's me."
Three conglomerates you had to know for Korean academy enrollment.
Mountain Lords, Empire, Rags-to-Riches.
Of them, the most notorious—bad rep, surefire loser if you tangled: Mountain Lords' bastard, Kim Geon-ho. His sudden arrival widened Airi's eyes. Ignoring her, he slipped right into the fray's center, slinging arms around everyone but her.
"What're you, kids? Still bullying? That shit'll haunt you when you're famous. Live decent. No dramas? This is how you get revenge-plotted outta nowhere."
"W-what the hell?"
"You got no business here—piss off?"
Kim Geon-ho's rude intrusion pissed them off, but the bullies were no pushovers either. Tense standoff, one spark from a brawl. He smashed it with a single gesture.
"Haaang..."
"Sunken nipples, huh? Pop right up when I touch 'em, though?"
"Thith ith tho... wong..."
"I love bullying too. Nipples especially."
Stick around if you wanna play with me like this—no skin off my back.
Unpredictable as hell. Groping tits out of nowhere? Unthinkable. But for the Mountain Lords' bastard? Totally plausible.
No upside to hanging with scum—they bolted like they'd stepped in dogshit.
'Even folks who ignore pleas to stop...'
Handled that easily—no fear of backlash? Doesn't consider the fallout? Airi fretted over his future more than her relief.
Chaebol spawn or not, a reject's position wouldn't shield from storms. Ignoring her turmoil, Kim Geon-ho spoke up.
"You good?"
"Uh? Y-yeah..."
"Cool. Later."
Going.
Thought it coincidence, but he'd really come to save her?
'Why?'
That brief act clicked everything—Airi blurted out.
"Why'd you save me?"
"Wanna fuck you so bad."
Crude as dirt, sleazy leer included.
With that, Kim Geon-ho actually left.
"What the...?"
Kind eyes earlier—why the sudden leer? Needless doubt lodged in Airi's mind.
'Fuck, that was close.'
I'd jumped in headfirst without thinking—what now? Sexual harassment complaint comes in formal? I'm toast.
'Nah, I've got fixes. Just too lazy.'
Solutions prepped for most scenarios—no real panic. Worst case? Bumping into someone off-script.
"Well, if it isn't Mountain Lords' bastard Kim Geon-ho."
Yeah, like this.
Derogatory nicknames only fly in two scenarios: bad blood, or nuclear bad blood.
Glanced back—yep, the nuclear crowd.
"Hey, sup, assholes."
Can't just take the bait—fire back.
Time they learned exactly what Wastrel Son Kim Geon-ho was made of.