Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End Chapter 1: What a Darned Sweet Death Flag I Have

“Her name is Alicia. She’ll be your little sister from now on, Roel.”

In a lavishly decorated room stood a handsome, yet frail-looking, middle-aged man. He held on to the hand of a silver-haired girl as he introduced her to a well-dressed, black-haired boy who stood before him.

The middle-aged man was known as Carter Ascart, a marquess of the Saint Mesit Theocracy. Aside from serving as the Chief Magician of the Holy Knight Order, he was also the patriarch of the illustrious Ascart House. He was also Roel Ascart’s father, the stunned ten-year-old boy standing before him at this exact moment.

Roel Ascart was the sole son of the Ascart House. He had dignified facial features and a head of slightly long black hair. Standing just under 1.5 meters tall, he was on the shorter end among the nobles of this country. His skinny physique also revealed his lack of physical training. However, the noble education that he had undergone from a young age gave him a composed and quiet disposition, which gave most people a reasonably good first impression of him.

This, however, was nothing but an empty facade.

In truth, Roel was infamous as a little tyrant. Young as he was, he had a long list of misdeeds to his name. Even the servants of the marquess’ house would pale whenever his name was mentioned.

And it was this little tyrant who currently stared at the young girl who was soon to become his adopted sister. The golden eyes, which he inherited from his mother, narrowed tightly, and his complexion looked awful. His body was as stiff as the sculpture standing tall above the water fountain in his family’s garden.

“Roel, what are you doing? You’re scaring her!”

Noticing Alicia cowering behind him with a frightened expression under the pressure from Roel’s intense gaze, the middle-aged man howled at his troublemaker of a son.

Your looks are your only redeeming feature, and even they’re ruined when you act like an arrogant little villain!

Do you have to behave in such a manner?

I know that Alicia is beautiful, but you’re the son of a marquess. Where in Sia’s name have the manners your etiquette teacher taught you gone?

Carter Ascart was clearly embarrassed by his son’s behavior. He raised his hand with the intent to give his son a whooping, but then the image of his deceased wife flashed across his mind. After a short moment of hesitation, he put down his hand with a deep sigh.

Cough cough. “Alicia, it would appear that your brother Roel is exhausted. I shouldn’t have put him through so much magic training earlier.”

As Marquess Carter gave up his pride to help clear the situation for his darned son, he discreetly gestured to the maids at the sides of the room. The sharp-witted maids immediately stepped forward and took Roel back to his room to rest.

It was then that Roel finally heard the strained voice of a little girl behind him.

“I-I’m alright. It’s not father’s fault….”

…

Roel Ascart was really questioning his life at the moment.

He realized that he was actually a transmigrator. Or, to be more exact, he had just remembered the memories of his previous life.

Roel, a heterosexual male, had been a twenty-year-old university student from Earth. He was born to an average family, and Roel didn’t have any particular experience in romance, either. To summarize, he was a perfectly ordinary person. If one had to point out something different about him, it would be that he was practically a NEET. He liked to spend his time reading novels and playing otaku-esque games.

Cough cough, you get it.

This perfectly ordinary guy had ended up being involved in an unfortunate traffic accident. Before he knew it, he had already joined the army of transmigrators venturing to the worlds beyond Earth.

He found himself transmigrating to a place known as the Saint Mesit Theocracy, one of the Three Great Powers of the Sia Continent, and becoming the sole son of the long-standing noble lineage of the Ascart House. He had become the successor to a marquess’ house; he was a real blue blood.

Had he not known anything at all, Roel would have been more than delighted to be born into a prominent, land-owning noble house in his second life. This meant that he had unlimited money to squander, and he could do practically anything he wanted. But that was only if he really knew nothing at all.

“The Xeclyde House… exists.”

“The Sorofyas… they exist too!”

“Lukas Ackermann - If this man truly exists as well….”

Bam!

A heavy book fell to the ground, ringing the final death knell in Roel’s heart.

“He exists as well… Hahaha… It’s over. My life is over!”

The black-haired boy inside the study room grabbed his head in disbelief as his blood pressure rocketed through the roof. He felt a little anemic, as if there was a blood clot in his head.

“Just what kind of hellish abyss did I land myself into?”

After comparing the information in his memories to the records of this world, Roel was certain that he had entered the world of a gal game he had played in his previous world… and to make things worse, he was the villain here!

The name of the game was Eyes of the Chronicler, and it was a rather atypical gal game of epic proportions, with a gigantic and well-detailed world and grandiose storyline. It boasted multiple romantic interests that one could aim for, and the illustrations were lovely too. If one had to pick a flaw with the game, it was just not popular.

There were many reasons one could cite for its lack of popularity, but Roel felt that it could all be summarized into two points. First, it was rated PG. Second, its plot often proceeded in a sketchy manner.

The game’s mechanics were extremely bizarre, proceeding in units of ‘years’. It would still have been fine if that was all, but the storyline kept jumping around the place too. Wars literally broke out at the click of a button, and crucial characters could die in the midst of these wars, including the female capture targets!

Roel’s evaluation of this game was that it was outlandishly eccentric. It was as if the scriptwriter was really just a historical chronicler with extremely limited information. The player had just the broad strokes of events, and they were left to fill in all the missing blanks.

The only reason Roel could bring himself to continue playing this game was that he had an attachment to this incredibly handsome villain that shared a name with him, making it easier for him to immerse himself in the world. Not to mention, the female characters were absolutely gorgeous!

It was for this reason that he recognized the little girl the moment he saw her earlier.

Alicia Ascart.

The Silverash Child, the possessor of the legendary Silver Bloodline, the Silver Moon of the Saint Mesit Theocracy.

Her beauty was often compared to the untouchable crystal ice formed at the highest peaks of the harshest mountains once a century. Her body had a perfect harmony of features, as if it was put together by the hands of a god. Her valiant crimson eyes would not have been out of place on the faces of the heroes of grand epics.

She was cold and lofty on the outside, but her heart was tender and fragile.

Of course, that was all in the future, when she finally matured to become the female capture target in the game. As for now, she was just a little eight-year-old brat.

Roel, as her ten-year-old elder brother, found himself in a very tempting position.

As the sages often said, age is not a problem. A two-year age gap didn’t pose a problem to Roel at all. If he hadn’t known better, he would have rushed straight to the side of the angel who had yet to unfurl her wings to strike up a friendly relationship with her right away.

Unfortunately, he knew better, and that was why he was afraid.

He wasn’t rendered speechless earlier just because he had remembered the memories of his previous life; instead, it was out of fright.

Ten years later, the frail little girl his father had been protecting earlier, Alicia Ascart, would kill her brother, Roel Ascart.

In cold blood, without a hint of mercy.