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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Afraid of Ten Years Later
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Argent Family.
The ducal house that made children cry just at the mention of its name, and had nobles spitting in disdain behind closed doors.
Even the royal family groaned nightly, "If only those bastards weren't around..."
All they did was one thing.
Slave training, management, and trade.
On the surface, they prattled on about noble bloodlines with dignified, refined smiles. But peel back the facade, and they were a monstrous cartel monopolizing over half the slave market.
Battle slaves born from death-row convicts scooped up in wars across the continent, slaves hunted from the forests, defeated tribal princesses, abandoned children...
No deal was too dirty for the hands of the Argent Family.
The imperial family saw them as thorns in their side not out of morality, but because they were too powerful to touch easily.
Corrupt officials.
Underground syndicates.
Monster research groups beyond the mountains.
Even power brokers within the royal court—they had tendrils woven across the entire continent, backed by mountains of gold and manpower that could rival a kingdom.
Truly, the main villains of this world.
That was the Argent Family.
And how did I know all about their dirty inner workings and secrets?
...Because I'm one of their kids.
Though calling me a "kid" was generous at best.
"Fuck... Of all people, Lucas Argent..."
Those were the first words out of my mouth when I opened my eyes.
The illegitimate child born from the Argent Family's extramarital scandal—a "mistake" in every sense.
Not even worthy of a proper name on the family register, treated by the maids like less than human.
That was the guy I'd possessed.
A filthy creature born from a filthy family.
Lucas Argent.
'No way... I got hit by a bus and died, right? Is this that famous isekai possession thing?'
Up to here, it might've sounded like your typical light novel protagonist luck.
But the problem? Why did I have to possess someone worse off than dead?
A brutal revenge tale with no mercy, no tears.
And one of the prime antagonists in that revenge story was Lucas.
I stood dazed before the cracked full-body mirror for a long while.
The boy staring back had a frail build, a half-unbuttoned shirt hanging loose, and a face blending noble gold with a courtesan's sultriness—illegitimate or not.
His delicate features only made him more repulsive, the young Lucas Argent.
And I knew.
Just how horrific a future this face led to.
This guy... from what I remembered, in the original story, he gets his arm chopped off, an eye gouged out, needles jammed between his fingernails, and even castrated—tortured artistically until he dies from shock.
That was the work I'd possessed into.
Even among all the villains in the 19+ despair novel Vengeful Goddesses, it was one of the goriest ends.
The plot was simple.
Three girls abused by the slave family, barely escaping with their lives.
They become this world's saviors, demon lords, queens—and top-tier heroes who return to crush the shadows that brought them tragedy: the Argent Family.
And in that story, the first pathetic villain to die was this body right here.
Lucas.
Was it the inferiority complex from being an unrecognized bastard?
From childhood, Lucas toyed with slaves by breaking their arms and legs—a textbook psychopath.
The kind of lunatic who saw it as mere play.
Never realizing three of his victims would grow into the world's pillars: savior, queen, demon lord. He kept at it for years.
Then, when he came of age.
The empowered girls returned, captured him, and what followed... the torture scenes were a spectacle.
I'd read the original with friends and thought, "Holy shit, that's why it's 19+..."
And now that villain—
The first slaughter scene in this insane world, Lucas, was me.
"Imperial Year 582... So I've regressed ten years before the original?"
The main story of Vengeful Goddesses kicks off in mid-October of 592, exactly ten years from now.
When the three heroines rise as hero, queen, and demon lord to dismantle the Argent Family.
In other words, if I bolted right now, survival was still possible.
Of course, problems abounded.
Bastard or not, as "family blood," I knew some Argent secrets.
If a guy like that tried to walk out saying, "I'm out!"?
Family rules—they'd just kill him.
These bastards respected no kin, no status.
"...Still, ten years. Gotta be enough to do something."
True to bastard form, my digs were a single-room shack worse than a baron's maid quarters.
Cracked walls, moldy stench.
But that didn't matter.
I wasn't taking the original Lucas route—abusing slaves to win family approval despite this treatment, like a madman.
To live, I had to go the opposite way.
I shuffled to the creaky desk and unrolled a sheet of paper.
Time to jot down the plan.
"First... Argent's downfall in ten years is a 'fixed event.' To escape alive, I need leverage with the kingdom ahead of time. Informant position secured."
I twirled the pen.
Two tasks.
One: Perfectly cut ties with the Argent Family.
Two: The three girls treated as trash slaves now.
But future grand heroes, queen, demon lord—the heroines. Win them over, care for them, never abuse, build bonds discreetly, then "liberate" them all away from family eyes.
Blunt their revenge route against me, smooth it out.
I tapped the paper.
"Time... is more precious than gold."
Born a bastard, but as a possessor, I've got the smarts.
And now—time to move.
Bang!
"...Young Master?"
No warm greeting or polite bow when the door flew open.
Just a flat, habitual drone.
"Karen. Tell them to prep the carriage. I'm heading to the market."
A noble heir should have maids waiting in the hall, cooing, "Good morning, Young Master..." But not here.
Empty corridor.
Air so cold even light shied away.
And in the middle, a woman eyeing me like trash under inspection.
Karen.
Officially my personal maid, but really the family's watchdog.
The great Argent family heads' "little courtesy": "He's a bastard, but he might sell someday—manage him well~."
Her expression proved it, always the same.
Sneer.
Contempt.
Weariness.
Loathing.
And today was no different.
"Sigh... Young Master. Off to pull some pointless stunt again?"
A mere maid talking like that to a noble's son—even a bastard with "blood"?
That was Argent Family reality.
Karen crossed her arms and snorted.
"Trying to catch the family heads' eye with some weird act? The market now? Where commoners go? Without ordering a maid? Oh dear... Almost shed a tear for your pity. Hoping to snag some sympathy from the Family Head?"
"..."
"For the record, I'm not calling the carriage. No interest in playing along with your pathetic act."
If this were original Lucas?
He'd be trembling, backing away, fleeing without even shutting the door.
Karen snickering venomously behind.
But—
Not anymore in this body.
I slowly raised my head.
"Hey... fuck. What'd you just say?"
"...P-Pardon?"
Karen's eyes flickered for the first time.
The total pushover who'd endured spit in his food, sneaky kicks, midnight needle pricks—suddenly snapping. Unheard of.
But the shock lasted one second.
To her, I was still just the "family-discarded bastard."
"Ha... ha! Did you just curse at me, Young Master?"
"Yeah. So?"
Karen smirked and lifted her chin.
"Unbelievable. Puberty hitting or what? You know something, Young Master?"
She paused deliberately, smacked her lips, and continued.
"I've got the Family Head's special permission for your 'discipline'—for when you act out like this."
Karen leaned down with a fake-friendly smile.
"Meaning, right here, I can 'correct' that arrogant attitude of yours however I see fit."
...Bullshit.
I knew what that "discipline" meant.
Just striking first when pissed.
Violence dressed up nicely.
Karen uncrossed her arms and strode forward.
Eyes screaming, "Time to show who's boss," like she owned the place.
But—
"Discipline?"
I lifted my head very slowly.
"You can still do that... right now?"
"...What?"
And without a word.
Thwack!
I punched myself in the face.
"Y-You crazy... What the hell?!"
A shriek tore from Karen's throat.
Her smug poise vanished.
And I? Smiling.
A grin she'd never seen, from a truly dangerous guy.
I did it again—self-inflicted "harm"—halting her charge in an instant.
"Karen. You know something? I'm a discarded bastard to the family... but before that, I'm merchandise."
Karen's face went white.
"Damage to the goods from the handler? And if the family finds out?"
Blood trickled from one nostril.
I ignored it, stepped close, tapped her shoulder.
"So... who really gets 'disciplined' here?"
"Y-Young Master..."
"Karen."
I brought my face to her ear.
"I'm in a fucking pissy mood right now."
Her body jolted at my breath.
"On days like this..."
I whispered softly, regardless.
"...I get this weird habit of 'self-harming'."
Silence.
The whole corridor froze.
I locked eyes with her one last time.
"So don't overstep again. Unless you wanna vanish without a trace."
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