The Beloved Bastard (1)
My eyes opened.
Through a blurry haze of vision, a flood of information poured in.
That damn wooden ceiling. The distinctive smell of a timber building. And the rustling of blankets.
It was the cramped back room of House Rubrum — for the ninety-fifth time.
"Auuu…"
Failed. Failed. Failed. After all that hellish suffering, I still hadn't managed to see a true ending.
To vent the rage that felt ready to burst my chest open, I flailed my tiny arms and legs with everything I had.
"Oh my, Young Master Nox is awake?"
A young wet nurse's voice rose to soothe me. There was no need to check. It was Susan, the nanny who worked for Count Rubrum's household.
"Why are you thrashing about so much? Is the bed uncomfortable? Or… is it time for mama?"
Susan smiled softly, as she always did, and tried to calm me down.
"Uuung…"
I was clearly saying no, but from an infant's mouth only babbling came out.
"Aww, aww. Who does our little young master take after to be this adorable? There, there — mama's coming right up."
Before I could even resist, Susan scooped me up. She planted kiss after kiss on my cheek, then forced her breast into my mouth.
The first time I'd regressed, the sensation had been so intense it made my head spin. Now I felt nothing at all.
Once I'd filled my stomach and finished burping, Susan laid me back in the cradle.
"Time for sleepy-bye now, hmm? Night-night."
"Uuung…"
I had no intention of sleeping, but I blinked slowly and pretended to drift off.
"Hehe. Sweet dreams, Young Master Nox."
She pressed a kiss to my forehead and left to attend to other business.
"Uuuung…"
The moment the door closed, my eyes snapped open.
So what now?
Through ninety-four regressions I had twisted myself every which way, and that damned Demon King had still burned the world to ash every single time.
No matter how many times I thought about it, I couldn't understand him. Once you've torched the entire world, what exactly is left to enjoy?
Honestly. Did you have to be that far gone to qualify as a Demon King?
Anyway. Even a game only gets fun after you win at least one round — that's when you start wanting to play the next one. Getting beaten into the dirt for ninety-four straight matches? Not fun.
To put it more bluntly: it was hollow.
If the Demon King was going to win in the end no matter what, what was the point of any of it?
Especially the comrades who had thrown their lives away believing I would somehow make it work. They had died like dogs again this time. Because of me.
"Aung…"
Maybe it was because I'd personally assembled an all-star team. Controlling my emotions was harder than usual.
In an endless cycle of regression, the one thing you absolutely had to avoid was getting swept up in petty feelings. And yet.
Haa. Fine. This run, I'm taking a break.
I'd rest and shake these feelings off. I'd look after the lives of the comrades I'd only ever used. Even if that happiness would vanish like a mirage the moment the next regression began, it would remain forever in my memory.
And while I was at it… I might as well wake up the filthy little devil inside me that I'd been suppressing with endless self-denial.
Was it the tenth regression? The twelfth? After getting castrated in the middle of a convent for seeing too many young ladies at once and dying from it, I'd lived a life of excessive abstinence.
The current Count Rubrum — a strikingly handsome man with bold features. And a dancer of transcendent beauty who had shaken the entire continent. It was about time I enjoyed this body that had properly inherited both of their genes.
Heh. Suddenly my mood's lifting.
This time I'd be careful not to get castrated. Once was more than enough of that experience.
I was running through a mental catalog of pretty young noblewomen who suited my tastes when—
"Waaaaah…!"
Suddenly her face surfaced. My two-year-old body burst into tears against my will.
Even I — a man wandering this wretched webtoon of a world — had shaken my head at the sheer misfortune of her life.
Lavender Parfilla.
The nicknames attached to her were endless. The stain of House Parfilla. The cripple. The monster. And so on.
Honestly, she ranked number one on the list of women I absolutely never wanted to marry in this world.
And yet I had married her. It was the first time it had happened across all ninety-four regressions.
Of course I hadn't loved her. I'd needed to form a marriage alliance with the Parfilla Ducal family to obtain a precious artifact as a reward. Put more crudely, I'd entered a marriage that had no place in my destiny purely for material gain.
And yet the moment Lavender crossed my mind, every memory of our time together came flooding back — vivid and overwhelming.
"Wueeeeh."
I poured out tears and snot and kept thinking of her. She was exactly ten years older than me. By now she would be living through hell.
I wanted to help her — but with a body that could only babble, it was impossible.
Tch.
A bitter taste filled my mouth. Was this what they called marital affection? This was exactly why you weren't supposed to get married.
I did everything I could to scrub her from my thoughts.
Focus. What I'm doing this run is clear.
Make my comrades happy. And dive headfirst into the skirts of lovely young noblewomen.
And to do that…
The hero who has to save the world? Yeah, I'm not doing that. You go ahead.
Me? That? Why?
Gen-Z mindset: fully equipped.
With a rough direction set, I needed to draw up a plan.
One thing I'd learned across ninety-four regressions was how terrifying the butterfly effect could be. Until now, I'd followed a tightly controlled growth route carved out through countless failures. The "Hero Route" I'd chosen in the ninety-fourth regression had been exactly that.
But this time I intended to sit the hero role out, so there was no need to be so rigid.
In that case, wouldn't the Easy-Play Route be perfect — the path where you pick out only the tasty side dishes without breaking a sweat?
I mulled it over a little longer, but it felt right.
Eight years remained until Nox Rubrum's first major turning point: his tenth birthday. Normally I'd have been grinding myself to the bone with mana breathing and swordsmanship. This time, I'd just hit the gym hard. Young ladies tended to like muscle, after all.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step — so I figured I'd start building my motor skills with some rolling and flipping. But—
"Hic… hueeeeh!"
I couldn't stop crying no matter what. I'm going to lose my mind. Just shut up already!
"Oh no, oh no! Young Master Nox! What's wrong?"
Susan came rushing back into the room. With practiced hands she gathered me into her arms and gently patted my back. Strangely, the tears began to subside.
"There, there. You must have had a nightmare. Oh, you poor thing. It's all right! I'm right here."
"Uuung…"
No, just go away. I need to work out, okay?
"I understand, I understand. This time I'll stay right by your side."
Words weren't getting through. Cradled like that, my eyelids grew heavy as lead.
"Yaaawn…"
It was almost funny. After enduring ninety-four hells, I couldn't even overcome a single nanny's touch.
"That's it. Sleepy-bye, sleepy-bye, my little baby."
Fine. I'll sleep and deal with it later. Time is on my side.
"Rise and shine!"
I opened my eyes at six o'clock sharp, same as always, and stepped straight in front of the mirror.
Slightly tousled but thick black hair. A high, straight nose that hardly belonged on a ten-year-old. And a pair of deep, sorrowful eyes that carried every hardship of a bastard's life.
"Looks really are everything."
Just like in previous regressions, my appearance was barreling toward the kind of handsomeness that topples kingdoms.
Looks check complete — time for the morning routine.
I threw the window wide open, stripped off my shirt, and started bodyweight training.
"Huff… huff…"
My breathing roughened. Blood surged through every vein. That pleasant sensation of muscle fibers tearing.
"Nngh…"
I paid special attention to the squats. If I was going to live as a womanizer, lower body strength was essential.
I pushed myself to the absolute limit until sweat poured off me like rain. Then I struck a pose in front of the mirror.
I'd already been blessed with excellent genes, and after layering on high-intensity training, the result was a physique no one would believe belonged to a ten-year-old. A perfect face paired with lean, sculpted muscle.
I dared say it: every woman's ideal type was me.
"At this level… there's not a single kid in this neighborhood who could take me."
Deeply satisfying. I would have liked to admire myself a little longer, but time was short.
"Yikes. Any later and I'll run into the nanny mid-shower."
I hurriedly washed myself clean with cold water and towel-dried my hair. Right on schedule, hurried footsteps echoed from far down the corridor.
The door burst open without so much as a knock.
"Y-Young Master Nox!"
Susan was gasping for breath.
"Th-the Count…! His Lordship!"
"He summoned me to breakfast?"
"Hah! How did you—?"
"Even a dog that hangs around a village school for three years learns to recite poetry. I've lived here for ten years — of course I'd pick up on something like that."
"I have no idea what that means. But you're right, Young Master. His Lordship has invited you to breakfast."
Susan's face was dark. Calling a bastard who'd been locked in a back room for ten years with nothing but a single nanny to an official gathering was not a good sign.
"Don't worry so much. The Count is probably going to bestow a family name on me."
"…Pardon?"
Susan's eyes went round. She'd clearly been expecting the exact opposite.
"So just help me get dressed."
"Y-yes, of course."
With slightly trembling hands, she straightened my clothes. Looking in the mirror, I could see the fruits of my consistent training.
"Heh."
"Um… Young Master Nox. I know it's not my place, but even if you don't receive a family name, please don't be too disappointed…"
"Come on, Susan. I told you not to worry."
As long as I didn't leave this back room before my tenth birthday, what happened at breakfast never changed — not even if the sky fell.
"Ah… yes. Forgive me, Young Master."
"Let's go to the dining hall together."
After reassuring Susan, we headed for the dining hall side by side. Every servant we passed in the corridor whispered and stared as though they'd seen a ghost. Fair enough — a bastard who'd lived like a phantom for ten years was now walking the halls with his head held high. And he happened to be extremely handsome, too.
"…Young Master Nox has arrived."
At the dining hall entrance, the head butler announced my presence with a distinctly uneasy expression.
"Enter."
From within came Count Rubrum's cavernous voice, granting me permission.
All right. Player entrance.
I squared my shoulders and walked into the dining hall, where two countesses and three siblings were already seated.
But… something was off.
"Hmm?"
Normally, the first wife — a textbook villainess — would have hurled tableware at my face, and I would have caught it with a shameless grin. The scheduled WWE match never happened.
The first wife couldn't even meet my eyes. Her shoulders were trembling — not with rage, but with raw terror and dread.
This was… a pattern I had never once seen across ninety-four regressions.
All I'd done was quietly work out in a corner of a back room. And already, the worldline had twisted.