Chapter 2

Seymour Mausoleum (1)

Three hours later.

Dragged off by the knights who had stormed in, I now sat in the bathroom of the lord’s castle.

To be precise, in front of the full-length mirror.

“A kind-looking face… a face that looks like it’s thinking kind thoughts… absolutely not the face of some sinister mastermind…”

Each time I moved the muscles of my face, the man in the mirror gave back an awkward smile.

It looked as though he had never once smiled in his life, his muscles undeveloped for the task, yet even that awkward expression was absurdly handsome.

“Whoever designed this face is a genius, seriously.”

I had become the very character I designed.

It was insane, incomprehensible—but the last three hours of agonizing pain tests in the carriage proved this was no dream.

‘Honestly, if this were a dream, I’d beg never to wake up.’

Perched on the enormous bathtub, I studied the reflection of “me” in the mirror.

Seymour Mausoleum.

True to the name of a villainous mastermind, the face was cold and unyielding. Black hair and golden eyes—it conjured the image of a leopard lurking in the shadows, ready to strike at a throat.

“What does that mean?”

It means he’s good-looking.

No matter what expression I made, it suited him perfectly.

Even if he just stared blankly at the night sky, some flowery line would describe it: His eyes, steeped in melancholy, counted the stars in the heavens. Was that shining star his golden gaze, or Venus itself?

“All that hard work paid off.”

I had spent countless hours revising designs to perfect this face.

Back then, I cursed the art director for rejecting my drafts again and again—but now I could bow to him in gratitude. That face was mine.

I stroked my chin, admiring the reflection.

“Being handsome really is the best. Every look in the mirror feels fresh and exhilarating.”

My Earth-self hadn’t looked bad, but compared to this in-game character? Not even close.

My gaze slid downward—no longer the sagging body ruined by overtime and late-night snacks, but a lean, sculpted physique packed with taut muscle.

“Khh…”

I tried saying aloud the line I’d repeated in my head for three hours straight:

“A perfect face and body, granted without any effort.”

What a beautiful sentence.

I knew a fair bit about literature, but not a single book had ever contained words this exquisite.

And the best part? There was a second verse:

“An enormous fortune and power, bestowed without a drop of sweat or blood.”

The taste of the words themselves was sweet on my tongue. Sweeter than any love confession whispered by a first crush.

Sweet enough to give me diabetes.

“Khuhuhuhuhu…!”

A dark, villain-like laugh burst out of me again and again.

—How did I end up inside a game world?

That wasn’t important. Honestly, I didn’t even care.

The world is full of laws and mysteries I’ll never understand. One of them must have worked.

—Then why did I end up inside this game world?

That’s the real question. And I knew the answer.

Just before dying on Earth, I’d left behind a prayer—a final wish like a will.

“Please, in my next life, let me be a landlord. Let me live without working, just eating and playing.”

And so I had become—

The richest man in the empire.

Not just rich, but young, handsome, and healthy!

“Fufufufu…!”

On Earth I was a poorly paid wage slave, but in this world? A top 0.001% platinum spoon pretty boy.

Like the title of a cheesy novel, it was absurdly true.

“Ahahahaha!”

Schemes? Shadow plots? Fighting the protagonist? Why would I?

I’d do nothing at all, live peacefully, and die of old age.

Con★gratulations.

A villain who does nothing.

The first villain strike in history.

With this, not only I, but this whole world, was guaranteed a peaceful happy ending.

After bathing, I went to the bedroom to wait for Lucis.

She had also returned to the mansion and gone to bathe with a few maids.

I admired the furnishings for a bit until Lucis entered the room—yet strangely, the head maid beside her was drenched in sweat and bathwater.

Puzzled, I glanced at the butler, who whispered quietly:

“The other maids were too frightened to assist with the bath.”

“Ahh…”

Fair enough.

To suddenly be asked to bathe a dragon—a young one at that, whose intelligence was uncertain—of course they’d be terrified.

“Even then, the young lady refused to let anyone touch her, so the head maid had a very hard time of it.”

That made sense, given the lore. Dragons were proud, only allowing a rare few into their personal space before age mellowed them.

‘If she were a more ferocious hatchling, she might have killed someone for even trying to bathe her.’

Bowing politely after finishing her duty, the head maid left the room.

Lucis stared up at me with a blank expression as I approached.

‘Even cuter now that she’s clean.’

Already carrying a divine aura of nobility and charm, she now looked radiant, her pale skin dazzling.

I crouched before her.

“Lucis. May I hold you for a moment?”

“…”

“It might be more comfortable to sit on the bed while we talk.”

The child stared silently into my eyes.

Her huge golden irises made me feel as though she could see straight into my soul.

‘Is this the power of a dragon’s gaze?’

It felt impossible to lie in the presence of those eyes.

Thinking that Seymour, in the original story, exploited and eventually killed this child… perhaps he was impressive in his own twisted way.

Then, she suddenly stretched out her arms toward me.

It took me a second to understand.

“…Ah!”

That was her way of saying yes.

Gently, I lifted her by the underarms and cradled her in my arms.

She weighed nothing—or perhaps Seymour was just that strong.

Sitting on the bed, I tried to set her down beside me.

“Hm?”

But she clung tightly, refusing to leave my arms.

Contrary to how she rejected the maid, she seemed to love my embrace.

‘Because of the Mausoleum blood in me, perhaps.’

The Mausoleum family traced back to a dragon of the same name.

The Void Dragon Mausoleum had once taken human form, fathering descendants with a mortal woman.

And the child before me was that very dragon’s daughter.

‘So in a sense, we’re distant relatives.’

I gazed at her in my arms. She stared back at me.

The butler chuckled softly.

“You two look very much alike.”

Of course.

That was part of the lore—and I’d even designed them to look that way.

‘Especially these golden eyes, the symbol of the Mausoleum bloodline.’

She seemed fascinated by my eyes too, watching me intently.

Her little sausage-like arm rose, her hand reaching to touch my face. She patted at my eyes and cheeks.

Carefully, I brushed her cheek with a bent finger.

“Wow…”

A sigh slipped out.

It was like touching cotton candy. Soft enough to melt away at a breath.

Entranced by the sensation, I smiled as I stroked her cheeks. She giggled faintly, shrinking her shoulders.

Even that tiny laugh was angelic.

With sparkling eyes, she looked up at me and spoke.

“…Pa?”

Daddy.

The word hit me like a blow to the chest.

Her father, Mausoleum, had died a thousand years ago. With his death, he sealed his daughter Lucis inside his tomb.

And Seymour Mausoleum—the “me” of this world—was the one who killed her in the original story.

“…”

I was speechless. She tilted her head at my silence.

Then—

BANG!

Without knocking, the bedroom door burst open.

Shouts poured in before I could recover.

“Seymour! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

“How dare you enter the family’s sanctum without permission!”

“Blinded by the count’s title, you would break our traditions?!”

“This cannot be overlooked! The Black Dragon Society will raise this as an outrage!”

It was the extended family—just as my younger brother in the tomb had warned, the cadet branches were in uproar.

Seymour’s lore mentioned them briefly.

• After becoming count, Seymour Mausoleum’s first act was to purge every cadet branch.

It was meant to showcase his cruelty.

But facing them screaming to my face, I understood better.

‘They’re trying to take the title from me.’

The former count—Seymour’s father—had died ten days ago.

By law, the title should pass to Seymour. But the cadet branches weren’t about to let that happen quietly.

‘Well, what else would you expect from an “evil family.”’

The Dragon of Madness, the Dragon of Emptiness, the Dragon of Betrayal, the Dragon of Slaughter—

Every dark epithet for dragons in history had been coined for Mausoleum.

A family descended from such a dragon had, of course, spent centuries scheming and plotting in the shadows.

They’d never hand the title to a Seymour who couldn’t even use magic.

‘That’s why he gambled on the mausoleum. To overturn the situation.’

The Mausoleum Tomb—the family’s holy sanctuary.

Even dragons dared not tread there. Seymour had gone in alone.

‘The problem for the cadets is that the gamble succeeded.’

He gained magic. He awakened Mausoleum’s daughter.

Now the count’s title would surely be his. The cadets were desperate, barking to twist the outcome.

“Seymour. Hand over the hatchling to us. We’ll smooth things over.”

“You know I have ties with the dragon clans. One letter from me, and even the Black Dragon Society will let this pass.”

“Just listen to us. You’re too young to understand.”

I said nothing, only listened.

Because it was funny.

‘When people get desperate, their emotions are so transparent.’

Their eyes betrayed them. Even as they mouthed coaxing words, raw hunger and desperation dripped from their gaze.

‘So this is the look of someone losing what they thought was already in their grasp.’

It was a novel experience.

As an orphan with no inheritance, I’d never seen such faces before.

I wanted to see how far this little play would go.

“…Mm.”

But Lucis thought otherwise.

“Noise.”

One word.

Silence fell over the room.

“…”

“…”

“…”

I tried to swallow.

My throat was frozen, my Adam’s apple scraping painfully as it forced down a gulp.

…Gulk.

It felt like I’d swallowed acid instead of spit—my throat burned raw.

‘What was that…?’

It was like falling into the void of space, an instant silence overwhelming everything.

Even the cadets went pale, as though staring at death itself.

Thud.

One noblewoman fainted on the spot.

Trickle…

An elderly gentleman wet himself standing upright.

Only then did I understand.

‘Dragon Fear.’

No matter how small, frail, or cute—

The child in my arms was still an absolute, supreme being.