Prologue

The Kingdom of Inraku had reached the very pinnacle of its glory.

Yet, beneath that veneer of prosperity, numerous organizations conspired to bring about its downfall. If one were to trace those shadows back to their source, they would arrive at a single door: the Lousouth Ducal House.

The family was headed by my father, Balan Lousouth. Despite being the King’s older brother, he had been stripped of his succession rights due to his wretched personality and mediocre talents. Now, he and his house were primarily entrusted with the kingdom’s "dark work," acting as the realm’s unofficial—and, in his own mind, highly competent—tacticians.

But my father was also a man of boundless, twisted ambition.

"We are the ones who should truly inherit this nation!"

That was Balan Lousouth’s favorite refrain.

As the third son born into such a house, I, Yuri Lousouth, knew the future awaiting this family better than anyone else. I had a good reason, of course. In the world of the RPG Saint Quest, Yuri Lousouth was the ultimate mastermind.

Saint Quest was a title often described as a "depressing game." My family was the core of every incident aimed at subverting the state. As Yuri, I was supposed to be the protagonist’s ally until the final act, only to abandon the party once the truth was revealed. Later, I would stand before them as the final boss.

I realized all of this on the day I turned ten.

At first, I couldn't bring myself to believe it. But the more I investigated, the more undeniable it became: this was the world of Saint Quest.

And that meant this coup was destined to fail.

No matter how many schemes my father devised, the "protagonists" would thwart every single one of them. When the dust settled, the mastermind Balan would be executed—and under the law of collective responsibility, the entire Lousouth family would follow him to the block. As the man destined to reign as the final boss, my fate was especially sealed.

Because I had played the game religiously in my previous life, I remembered the gruesome details all too well.

I finally get reincarnated into a game I love, and of all people, I have to be Yuri? The one guy guaranteed to meet a miserable end? I would have been perfectly happy as some nameless mob character who never touched the plot.

I couldn't help but lament my circumstances. However, even as I wallowed in self-pity, the clock was ticking toward my destruction. I had to take early measures to avoid my ruin. The only question was... how?

Independence. That’s my only play.

The first rule was to stay away from the main story. But as long as I remained a member of the Lousouth House, I’d be executed along with the rest. To survive, I had to establish a new house entirely separate from the Duke.

The fastest way to achieve that would be to earn a knighthood. Of course, such a title required significant merit. For example:

Subjugating a dragon, the strongest of all species. Annihilating a legendary band of thieves. Developing the frontier to expand the national borders. Or, perhaps, taking down the traitors plotting to overthrow the government.

In other words, if I simply handed my family over to the authorities, I’d have my title in no time. Problem solved.

Except, obviously, it wouldn’t be that simple. If I tried to report my father now, he would just pin everything on me, and I’d be the one sent to the gallows. Between a trusted Duke and his ten-year-old son, it wasn't hard to guess whose word the court would take.

I had been reborn, and I had no intention of dying again. To live, I had to get out of this house as soon as possible. Time was a finite resource. Having set my course, I immediately began acting to derail my predetermined fate.

Dinner time.

Fortunately, it was a rule in the Lousouth House that the family ate together. Of course, there was never any conversation; we simply ate the food placed before us in suffocating silence. In such a heavy atmosphere, even the finest delicacies tasted like ash.

It was no wonder. If anyone so much as made a sound, they were met with a piercing glare and a barrage of verbal abuse. There was even a story about a servant who had been fired on the spot just for dropping a piece of cutlery. My father loathed anything that didn't go exactly as he intended.

I wish he’d just eat in another room.

But for Balan, these meals were his only opportunity to monitor the state of his family, so he insisted on these gatherings whenever he was home. For me, however, today was the perfect opportunity.

The meal proceeded in its usual, oppressive silence. My throat felt tight with tension, but I steeled my resolve and spoke.

"Father, I have something I wish to discuss with you."

The moment I broke the silence, my siblings’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads. None of them dared to speak, though. They knew better than anyone what kind of punishment Father handed out to those who interrupted his meals.

Knot, the eldest son, pretended he hadn't heard a thing and kept eating. Marco, the second son, looked at me with eyes full of pity, as if he were already watching my funeral. Miranda, the eldest daughter, wore a nasty, mocking smirk. Only Sasha, the youngest daughter, looked at me with genuine worry, shaking her head slightly as if to say, Stop, don't do it.

My mother, Martha, ignored the situation entirely, her face a mask of apathy. My father, Balan, simply narrowed his eyes.

"...We are eating."

"I am sorry, Father. However, it is a matter of great importance to me."

Balan set his fork down with a deliberate clatter and fixed me with a sharp, predatory gaze.

"...Speak."

"I have turned ten years old."

"So I have heard." His tone was dismissive, signaling that the conversation was already over.

I didn't let the pressure crush me. "I believe it is time for me to see the world beyond these walls, for the sake of my future education."

My father’s hand clenched into a tight fist. His rage was palpable, a physical weight in the room. But in an instant, he regained his composure, returning to his usual cold, calculated self.

"...Fine. I have a small territory on the frontier. I shall grant it to you. Go there and learn what it means to be a lord."

"Th-thank you, Father!"

I hadn't expected him to hand over land so easily. My voice cracked slightly from the sheer relief. If I had my own territory, developing it would count as a significant achievement—a shortcut to total independence. He was likely dumping it on me because it was in terrible shape, but that was fine. The worse the starting point, the more credit I’d get just for making it functional.

"Make your preparations immediately. I want you gone as soon as possible. I will have the appointment papers sent to you later."

And so, I chose the frontier as my sanctuary to escape the story.

After dinner, Balan returned to his private office. He summoned his butler immediately to discuss the exchange.

"You are making Lord Yuri the governor of that frontier land, sir?"

"That place needed a ruler. The timing is perfect," Balan said, a thin, cruel smile touching his lips.

The butler understood everything instantly. "Shall I dispatch... someone?"

"And make it look as though I’m assassinating my own son? Don't be absurd."

"My apologies, my lord. That was short-sighted of me."

"It is a village on the verge of collapse anyway. Leaving it be costs me nothing."

"True. And if a village is already dying, there's no telling when monsters might finish the job," the butler replied with a bow.

Balan’s smile widened.

"I shall see to the arrangements, then." The butler bowed again and slipped out of the room.

Left alone, Balan let out a low, dark chuckle. The scene at dinner had merely been a convenient excuse. Compared to his older brothers, Yuri’s talents were mediocre at best; he was a potential stain on the Lousouth name. Balan had intended to dispose of the boy eventually, but he hadn't expected the child to volunteer for his own exile.

Perhaps he realized I was planning to eliminate him.

For the boy to suggest leaving the house himself... it seemed that even if he lacked talent, his survival instincts were sharp.

"To choose to leave the stage of his own accord... how admirable. Though, if he actually manages to survive in that wasteland, perhaps I’ll find a use for him after all."

Balan’s sinister laughter echoed through the empty office.