The Male Lead is Dead
"Even so, don't you think I've gotten a lot more handsome than at first?"
I muttered to myself in the mirror, and the adjutant bitch right beside me pulled a blatantly contemptuous face.
"Cut the bullshit, sir."
"You little fucker, cursing at a general officer?!"
"That doesn't faze me at all. I am a little fucker, after all."
Beastman. Wolf tail sprouting from a human torso, wolf ears poking up from the top of her head. And even with those ears on top, she's got two human ones too, so the bitch hears like a goddamn bat. I glared at her as she tidied her sharp fangs with her tongue, then turned back to the mirror one more time.
Nearly two meters tall. Shoulders broad as hell. Traps bulging like mountains. Muscles so ripped they strain even against my uniform. Angular face covered in scars. Yeah, definitely manlier than when I first transmigrated into this godforsaken romance fantasy novel.
"Don't chicks dig this look? You know, the tough guy vibe."
"That's exactly why you need to cut the bullshit, sir. You're past tough—your face is straight-up violence. And your whole body's covered in tattoos to boot."
"Hey, asshole, what was I supposed to do? Shrapnel fucked my body to shreds."
She glanced at my torso, scarred up so bad you couldn't look straight at it without wincing, and my beastman subordinates from various tribes had inked their tribal patterns over the wounds to cover them. Covering tattoos, they called 'em? Problem was, the motifs were roaring wolves, snakes coiled in the grass, glowing fox eyes—shit that made my current ink look even more like a full-on gangster than some street thug.
"Still, it's a hell of a lot better than before, right? Huh?"
"Your back was hunched, you were morbidly obese, acne everywhere, teeth all crooked needing braces—a state even a succubus wouldn't touch. Compared to that, sure, you've improved."
"Right?"
"Back then it was just unlikable. Now it's terrifying. Who'd see you as a war hero? You look like a street punk fixer you can't tell apart from the thugs. Fuck, even the punks would back down. You're just a straight-up beast."
"Where'd you sell your respect for superiors, you little shit?"
"Expecting respect from a little shit is the real joke, isn't it?"
"'Isn't it?' No dana particle? You need to go back to basic training, you fuck."
"Let's just keep it casual. Between us."
Harsh words, but we were both chuckling. I patted her shoulder and headed outside.
Outside, all 5,000 of my subordinates stood waiting. Neatly arrayed in perfect ranks across the vast plain—these bastards who'd followed only my commands through the brutal hell of the last ten years to get here. The special thing? Every last one a beastman.
I looked down at them fondly.
"All of you, listen up."
A low voice. But it would reach every single one of the 5,000 troops arrayed before me, crystal clear without a single miss. That was my innate noble—and mage—ability. Transmitter. More precisely, the power to send my voice and thoughts to designated targets. With this, I'd handled 5,000 troops like extensions of my own limbs, clawing through nearly ten years of pure shit.
But today, that ended.
"You've all worked hard for the Empire these past ten years. Six against the monster hordes. Four against the Kramkin Duchy. Brutally long. We lost so many comrades. But we survived in the end."
And the reason these guys had ground their lives down fighting for the Empire was simple.
"Today, the war is officially over. Victory ceremony in the Capital. And I swear this: I'll make the Empire keep its original promise to you. All of you—and hell, the entire beastman race—will get citizenship in the Empire."
The Empire's current state was chaos. National strength drained by six years of monster wars, then the Kramkin Duchy—no, really the kingdom alliance with Kramkin at the head—invaded the weakened Empire, leaving imperial authority gutted. The Empire's nobles were demanding payback for their war sacrifices from the Emperor, and the old, sickly bastard was thrashing around trying to tamp down their unrest to hold the Empire together. Situation unstable, future unknown.
But a promise was a promise. For my subordinates—no, my brothers and sisters—I'd force the Empire to honor that first vow, come hell or high water.
"Who am I? War hero, brother of the Grand Duke of the North, Duke Adrakkin! I stake my rank and all my honors on this promise! You'll get recompense for all your suffering—guaranteed!"
"With blood and honor!"
My adjutant bellowed beside me, and the 5,000 roared back as one, thundering the motto.
"That's enough pep talk, you bastards. Rest up! Drink hard, play hard! We won!"
No cheers—instead, the beastmen started stomping in unison, moving like a single beast. The ones I'd trained, built, dragged through hell with me. Empire 3rd Mechanized Shock Infantry Brigade. Too long a name, so nobody—us or outsiders—used it much. Hellhound Brigade. That's what we called ourselves.
"Let's head up. To the Capital."
My troops would booze and party here, but as commander, I had to go to the Capital for the victory banquet. A battlefield totally unlike the ones I knew—full of glances, whispers, rumors, politics. Had to go there.
"Fuck, I just wanna crack open a bottle here."
Grumbling, I climbed into the fancy vehicle the Emperor himself sent for his war hero, and it rocked under my weight. The adjutant hopped in beside me, snickering.
"Go scare the Emperor with your mug and get that promise fulfilled. Your face is strategic weapon-grade. Strategic weapon."
"You little shit."
"Yep. Little shit confirmed."
The vehicle revved to life. And I headed to the Capital.
I Became the Contract Bride of the Grand Duke of the North
I first encountered this novel on a community forum.
- "C-Colonel! That's not what I—!"
- "Shut your mouth! You're done in the military as of today!"
Colonel chewing out a brigadier and firing him on the spot.
Talks up a world with machine guns and 155mm artillery mowing down monsters, but the "hunting" illustration shows a flintlock musket.
- "How dare you! I could mobilize 20,000 knights from the ducal homeland and flatten your territory! Hands off my bride!"
- "Supreme Commander of the Ducal Forces! We see Colonel Theodor!"
Little hilarious bits like that everywhere. And get this: it's the undisputed #1 in women's web novels.
Makes you wonder, right? How the hell does a novel packed with this nonsense top the charts? Curiosity killed the cat—I sampled it, got hooked, binged to the end. Minor setting errors aside, the gut-wrenching romance between the male and female leads? Chef's kiss. Stayed up all night racing to their wedding finale, crashed hard, and woke up...
Oh fuck me, transmigrated into the romance fantasy world.
As an early-game villain extra, no less. Volka Adrakkin, younger brother of the male lead Theodor Adrakkin. Morbidly obese. Acne. Buckteeth. Sunken eyes. Tall as a beanpole but waddling unappealingly—the epitome of a repulsive villain. Early on, he gropes the heroine, gets schooled, executed. Couldn't wait for the canon neck-chop event.
"Bro, I'm leaving home."
Just that one line, then bolted from House Adrakkin and enlisted. Lost weight, suffered, fought wars. Somehow ended up here.
Heard my brother—the novel's male lead, Theodor Adrakkin—was marrying right before the monster war blew up. So current timeline? Over ten years past the original ending.
No clue on his newlywed life or post-finale North. Too busy warring to check. But one thing's sure: the North ain't been peachy. During the monster war, House Adrakkin handled the northern hordes alone. Me and other nobles got the western/southern ones. Then no breather before Kramkin war—Adrakkin got drafted heavy again by imperial order. Everyone suffered in ten years of war, but the North got fucked hardest.
'Welp, heading to the Capital now—gonna see his face, catch up on the gossip.'
Post-wedding male/female lead story? Kinda curious.
Thinking that, I was suiting up in formal tailcoat for the ball when clicking heels turned my head. There was my adjutant, decked in a flashy party dress.
"No idea why we wear this shit. Feet hurt, too revealing."
"Tell me about it. One wrong move and this thing rips."
"Never thought I'd say it, but uniforms are comfier."
"Same."
"You've gotten even more monstrous, sir. Imagine a monster in a tailcoat. Urk."
"You little shit."
She snickered, straightening my tie.
"Take care of us beastmen, yeah?"
"Yeah. Let's go meet His Majesty and push that bill through. With your war records, no way he says no."
"All thanks to you, sir. Impossible without you."
"Nah, you followed good."
I took a deep breath, glancing at the ballroom with its soft music.
Alright. Time to go claim our rights. Collect for ten years in hell.
"Heading in."
"Yes, sir. Right behind."
The moment my adjutant and I entered the ballroom.
"The younger brother of Duke Adrakkin! Volka Adrakkin enters!......"
"Young master! Young master!"
Before the announcement finished, someone rushed me desperately. Familiar face. House Adrakkin's head butler—a major side character in I Became the Contract Bride of the Grand Duke of the North.
"Ah, Head Butler. Long time no—"
"The Duke and Duchess have passed! I just got the wire! Hurry back to the estate! Now!"
No time for greetings—he dropped that bomb on me.