Pale, slender fingers turned the page.
Flutter—
Crude paper that stood in stark contrast to delicate fingers without a single callus.
But the owner of those fingers carefully examined the illustration inside the page.
"...Hngh."
The fingers trembled slightly for a moment.
—Knock, knock.
At the sound of someone outside, the owner of the fingers hurriedly hid the book beneath the bed.
—"Saint Arina. The engagement ceremony rehearsal will begin shortly."
The girl, having steadied her breath several times, opened her mouth and replied calmly.
"I-I'll be right out."
◆
"I've truly lost my mind."
I grabbed my head and hung it low.
No.
No matter how much I confused the genres.
To NTR the saint female lead from an obsessive tyrant male lead with an eromanga?
And the final line was even...
—To thiiink it would feel this gooood, I've wasted haalf my liiife♥︎!!
"You crazy bastard. Die, die!"
As I was banging my head against the wall, a calm and cold voice spoke from beside me.
"Young master. I do not believe you will die from that. Shall I assist you?"
When I turned to look, there was Estelle approaching, even putting on black leather gloves.
This maid!
I hurriedly pulled my forehead from the wall and leaned back against the sofa.
Even the maid is giving me crap...
A deflated voice flowed out of me involuntarily.
"Estelle......."
"Yes."
"About His Highness the Crown Prince. Um... His Highness Leonhardt Bell. What would happen if he were to become terribly enraged?"
To my question, Estelle looked down at me with an expression that seemed to ask, 'Why is the young master only asking such foolish questions today?'
"Why do you ask what any Imperial citizen already knows? His Highness the Crown Prince is destined to become a benevolent, perfect monarch."
"R-Right?"
"However, judging by the circumstances, His Highness's political rivals have suspiciously died in accidents or by tripping. If one opposes His Highness, no one knows when, where, or how they will die."
No way.
How does this maid know facts that only readers would know?
"One does not read the newspaper for show. You must read the context within it."
Yes.
She was simply a smart maid.
As expected, it's a waste to have her in our household.
Why is someone so smart attached to this beggarly noble house?
Continuing my train of thought, I realized once again that now was not the time for me to worry about this clever maid.
Leonhardt, the male lead of 'The Golden Chain,' is destined to become the worst tyrant of the Empire.
I used that mad tyrant Crown Prince's one and only savior and fiancée as a model, drew smut filled with all kinds of degenerate fantasies, and scattered them in the heart of the Imperial capital!
"H-Haha...."
If my pen name 'Extra's identity were revealed?
If the Crown Prince saw that manga and flew into a rage at the depiction of his sacred fiancée being violated, losing his reason?
'Before that madman wrings my neck, I need to pack my bags and flee in the night...!'
The moment I was devising a grave survival plan, a very frivolous sound echoed from my stomach.
Gurgle—.
"...It is mealtime, young master."
Estelle opened the drawing room door.
Right. Even if I run, I should fill my stomach first before fleeing.
I staggered toward the dining room on unsteady legs.
◆
The dining room of Count Aswi's manor openly displayed a dire financial crisis that wouldn't seem strange if they were thrown out on the streets tomorrow.
On the dining table that should have been grand and splendid for a noble family, four woefully humble wooden bowls were placed.
Inside them sloshed a thin, transparent liquid of unknown identity.
"Ian, come and sit."
Father cleared his throat and greeted me.
Head of the house, Albert Aswi.
A romantic who loved art, and a debt-producing machine—my father.
The very architect of ruin who squandered the family fortune on sponsoring unknown street painters and publishing incomprehensible poetry collections that never sold.
"...Father. What is today's menu?"
"Ahem. It is clear cabbage soup, embodying the breath of the earth laden with dew..."
It's just a piece of cabbage floating in water.
As I sat down with a hollow expression, my sister, Chloe Aswi, who sat across from me, spoke while flipping through the ledger with a cold gaze.
"Even that cabbage was picked up by Estelle from the field of our neighbor, Old Thomas. There is no dinner budget today."
The second daughter, Chloe—the acting head of the household who blocked the family's mountain of debts with her own body in place of an irresponsible father and a runaway eldest son.
Dark circles hung beneath her eyes like medals.
"Chloe, reading the ledger at the table is bad for your digestion."
"Please be quiet, Father. Tomorrow, the installment payment for that 'ancient statue of unknown origin' you bought last month is due."
Father Albert slyly averted his gaze and spooned the thin soup.
Then, Amelia Aswi, my eldest sister, walked out from the kitchen with a warm smile.
The Aswi family's angelic eldest daughter who took over the household affairs in place of their late mother.
"Ian, you must be very hungry? I could hear your stomach growling."
"Uh, well. A little."
"Would you like another bowl?"
My sister Amelia smiled brightly and poured something sloshily into my soup bowl.
It was just plain water.
"...Sister, isn't this just water?"
"It's magic—when the density thins, the quantity doubles! Now, eat lots."
Before Amelia's beaming smile, I couldn't even bring myself to be angry.
It was the wretched reality of the Aswi family that could not be witnessed without tears.
I could feel to my bones why the Empire's social circles mocked our family as 'a house of suckers with no money yet unnecessarily high standards.'
'...Fleeing in the night, my ass.'
Running away without even emergency rations to take from home—it was obvious I would starve to death.
And for some reason, it felt a bit wrong to abandon this family I had grown attached to.
'Well, I do have paper and pens at least.'
Come to think of it, I had published the eromanga while thoroughly maintaining my anonymity.
As long as I don't get caught, I'm fine, right?
Then.
"Ah!"
A sudden realization struck me.
The bowl of watery soup before my eyes.
What had initially looked like cabbage soup had become soup for washing cabbage after water was added.
If I churned out even more eromanga.
'Rather than a lunatic who NTR'd the female lead, I could just be a pervert.'
This was the ultimate eromanga watering-down tactic.
'Yes. If I can't avoid it, I might as well take it all the way.'
As expected, they say masterpieces come from artists when they're poor.
I was the one who attained enlightenment from watered-down cabbage soup.
It was the moment I was gulping down that watery soup, steeling my resolve.
A laugh flowed out of me involuntarily.
In a way, this household too could be helpful at times—
Bang, bang, bang, bang—!!
The manor's front door thundered as if it would break.
"Count Aswi! We know you're all in there! Open the door at once!!"
A rough, ferocious voice. It was the debt collectors from the merchant company.
"Hieek!"
Father Albert threw down his spoon, his complexion turning pale in an instant as he rose from his seat.
"C-Cough! Father suddenly has a chronic ailment acting up and must recuperate! Ian, mind the door!"
And with that, he bolted through the back door.
"...Really."
—This damn household is never of any help.
◆
No matter how much I was merely a smut artist, my humanity hadn't deteriorated to the point of throwing two beautiful family members to the debt collectors.
No.
Precisely because I was a smut artist, I could absolutely not hand my family over to the debt collectors.
This is an eromanga cliché.
"Open up, Count Aswi!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming."
I went out to the drawing room and opened the door, and three rough-looking debt collectors from the merchant company surged in.
The man who seemed to be their leader stepped on the drawing room carpet with muddy feet and looked down at me askew.
"Where did the Count go again? Well, no matter. You know today is the promised deadline, yes?"
He used the term 'young lord,' yet his tone was brimming with mockery.
Being a notorious sucker family even in the Empire's social circles, we were thoroughly disrespected even by trashy usurers like these.
I glanced once at Estelle standing behind me, then sat down on the sofa nonchalantly.
Honorifics were a luxury for men like these.
"I know. But was there any need to bang on the door as if to break it? You lack courtesy toward a noble house."
"Ha! Courtesy? What courtesy for a worthless noble who'll be on the streets tomorrow! Hand over this month's interest at once!"
The man slammed his fist down on the drawing room table.
"If you cannot pay, then this time we truly must stamp the transfer deed for the Aswi family's territory."
"Territory transfer deed?"
I furrowed my brow.
In that instant, a strong sense of wrongness flashed through my mind.
Our family's territory was located on the outskirts of Calliora Capital, but it was practically abandoned wasteland where crops barely grew.
They demand it now, of all times—in other words, after they've already squeezed everything they could from our house?
'Strange. Usually, when someone is so obsessed with wasteland... it's a cliché that either an enormous mana stone mine is hidden underneath, or there's redevelopment prospects.'
As a creator myself, I was fairly well-versed in novel clichés.
I couldn't remember the details about Count Aswi's family, but this definitely had some kind of hook.
Perhaps the Aswi family wasn't merely a house of suckers buried in debt.
I sat with my legs crossed leisurely, the corners of my mouth rising.
"I cannot hand over the territory."
"What? So you'll throw caution to the wind? Hey, boys! Drag out everything of value in this manor! Including the women!"
The man jerked his chin at his subordinates. Chloe, watching from behind, tried to rush out with a blue, terrified face.
At that moment.
Clink—!
I pulled out a heavy leather pouch from my pocket and casually tossed it onto the table.
A brilliant golden light clashed inside the pouch, producing a beautiful sound.
"...Huh?"
The man's eyes went wide.