Became the Mid-Boss Who Kidnaps Heroines (4)
It's been roughly three months since I possessed Regiph Hapsderk. I've done a ton of thinking during that time, but no matter how I slice it, there's only one conclusion when it comes to this family.
'This house is doomed. Just let it crumble.'
The Hapsderk family? Yeah, it needs to go down. Someone might say:
"You're living large, huh? Enjoying all the perks of being a noble young master while wishing for your family to fall?"
It's true—I've become Regiph Hapsderk, the seven-year-old eldest son of a count's family, and I'm reaping massive benefits from it. If I'd possessed some serf in Hapsderk County, like Jake or Michael's seventh son Zeke, I might be scavenging for tomorrow's meal on an empty stomach right now.
"But the family's not in debt or anything. It's a solid noble house with a strong foothold in the kingdom!"
The Hapsderk Count's family is pretty wealthy. Despite avoiding blood ties or alliances with other houses, they've built up their fortune over generations.
"You could turn this territory into a kingdom-devouring empire in just ten years if you played the estate management genre right?"
Whether it's the talented people in the family or the land itself being a goldmine... 'A place that sucks honey from hunting monsters.'
Just step outside the territory, and you hit the Monster Zone teeming with beasts. Kill 'em, and they drop hides, materials, and most importantly, mana stones.
"Gonna throw away this prime hunting ground?"
In modern kaiju stories, it's like "cores" or "mana stones"—valuable stuff.
"Farming mana stones here could give you real power!"
These shards embedded in hearts, crystallized mana gems, fetch top prices in a world with magic.
"Your mana reserves already outstrip what a seven-year-old could build naturally, thanks to Hapsderk blood and environment."
It's no exaggeration to say a third of the family's income comes from mana stone trading.
"To survive, shouldn't you make the most efficient choice?"
Thanks to that, over these three months, I've efficiently built a foundation as a being in this world—one facing an apocalypse in the future. But still, I plan to bring this family down.
"Oppa, studying magic in your room again?"
"Seia."
"Yeah, Oppa."
"Mana stone."
"Here."
Seia, who dropped by my room today as usual, hands over the mana stone I'd "requested" without a peep.
"You didn't get caught by Mom, right?"
"Nope!"
She pulls the stone from her bosom and holds it out. An unpolished raw chunk, rough like granite or basalt from a wooden science kit—split haphazardly. It should have monster blood and flesh on it originally, but that's been cleaned off. Now it's ready for shipment to magic towers or merchants—prime merchandise.
"Mom didn't ask what it's for, did she?"
"Nope!"
I'm siphoning off more than my allowance permits through my little sister, a future angel candidate.
"She asked where it was going, so I said to you, Oppa!"
"...Tch."
"Huh, why?"
"Nah, nothing."
I was using Seia to sneak extra mana stones beyond quota, but a seven-year-old's movements are easy to spot in this house. 'Mom's okay with me pushing the limits, at least.'
Three months ago, I told my parents I wanted to learn magic. They hooked me up with a family mage for basics. How'd a modern guy like me pull it off?
'Anyone with a mana-sensitive body can use magic—common sense in this era.'
My soul and mind are a modern gamer who'd cleared this game 1,000 times, but the body is Regiph, a native. It's like riding a bike, swimming, or driving—muscle memory kicks in. The body felt awkward at first, but in just three days, I nailed a basic spell.
"Alright then..."
Today's basic magic training. I grip the red mana stone shard. The moment I imagine moving the alien energy pooled in my heart with my hand, mana flows through my veins and gathers in my palm.
My mana pierces my skin, resonates with the stone, and activates a spell formula inside it.
"Flame formula."
Arm forward, aimed out the window.
"Ignite."
Snap.
Flick my fingers, envisioning flint striking steel to channel mana. With the snap, flames whoosh into existence in midair.
"Wooow!"
Seia claps at my magic flame.
"Amazing!"
"...That good, huh?"
"Yeah!"
Seia's thrilled by my fire magic, but she's actually the talented one. The Hapsderk Count's family traces back to "Persian Hapsderk," the founding count—a genius swordmaster, grand mage, S-rank magic swordsman at the peak of both fields.
His talents split between sons and daughters, spiraling down generations per "Haps' tradition"—mixing and matching. One kid gets martial prowess, another magic. Sometimes it concentrates in one.
'Like Seia.'
Magic swordswoman Seia. Her magic talent dwarfs mine, and she's got killer sword skills too. While Regiph maxes at basics after three months, Seia at 10 will hit at least C-rank, probably B-rank combat power once she starts seriously.
Seia's a genius. Of course, so is Regiph.
"Seia. Wanna try 'that' again today?"
"Th-that? Yeah, sure!"
She primly sits in the chair at my words.
"Good. Let's start."
I sit facing her, raise my index finger to her eyes.
"Illusion Flame."
Whoosh.
A flame tinged gold outside, black and gray within—heterogeneous, alien hues. Unlike attack spell Ignite, it bubbles softly atop my finger like incense smoke.
"Stare at the flame."
"Okay..."
Seia's eyes glaze over. Her clear pupils cloud to gray flame hues, grip loosening on the armrests.
"Seia, you'll listen to me well, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Good girls obey me. So listen close, etch it in your heart, and I'll call you a good girl."
"Mmm..."
Her eyelids droop. Trying to brainwash via hypnosis flame, but Seia's mind resists a bit.
"I..."
"Obey Oppa, and you'll become a good bride someday."
"Bride..."
The keyword melts her resistance. Hypnosis needs lowered mental tension and trust in the caster—resistance dooms it.
"Got it... I'll be a good bride..."
Success. Eyes closed gently, I maintain the gray flame and whisper in her ear.
"Seia. Deep down, you think it's best not to follow Hapsderk traditions."
"Mmm..."
"Because your brother Regiph hopes you won't."
"Mmm..."
"Until adulthood, be a 'good child' for our parents, right? Act like you always have— the dutiful daughter upholding family traditions."
"......"
No reply from Seia.
"Then, as an adult, you'll choose: sacrifice for the family, or choose for yourself."
Forcing outright rejection now could spark backlash, so I plant suggestions.
"On your 20th birthday, you'll decide. Live as a Hapsderk, or as Seia the woman."
"...What do you want, Oppa...?"
She murmurs sleepily, like asking me directly—chills for a sec.
'Hypnosis magic's working fine?'
No issues with the spell. Problem's this Hapsderk environment itself.
'Gaslighting a five-year-old raised on family traditions is tough.'
Born into it as "right," she won't easily accept ditching it. Fine. Hypnosis and gaslighting aren't one-and-done.
"Listen well, Seia."
And this mid-boss Regiph?
"I want you to make the wisest, rightest choice—for yourself."
Mediocre in swordplay and attack magic, but unrivaled specialist in hypnosis and brainwashing.
"Then you'll be the world's most beautiful bride."
"......Yeah."
Whoosh.
The flame dies quietly; a faint smile graces Seia's lips.
'No Haps for her. No way.'
At least not with me.
I just used brainwashing magic on my one and only sister—a heroine, no less. And the content sounded like prepping her to become someone's bride and smash Hapsderk traditions.
'Doesn't have to be the protagonist. No way.'
She's my little sister first. Not blood-related, but three months together, knowing her future, makes handing her to the original protagonist feel like a waste.
'Can't send her to that guy who charms women and men alike—too much heartache.'
Players call the protagonist a "magnetic charmer," but including blood kin in his harem? Uncomfortable and gross.
Ten years until the original story. Gotta prep as much as possible in that time—
"Young master. A guest has arrived."
"A guest? For our family? Who?"
"The Silverstar Merchant Group."
"........."
The moment I vaguely grasped the cause of Hapsderk's demise, unmentioned in the original.
Silverstar Merchant Group. Merchants of death.
"Does our family owe them money by any chance?"
One heroine's the heir; they'll topple noble houses for profit without blinking.
Their motif: the Rothschilds.