Chapter 1: The Two Villainous a Baron and the  Lady

The Lazy Villainous Noble.

“Oh, right. I’m the villainous noble.”

The thought just occurred to me.

I was the villainous noble.

This is the world of some fantasy novel.

And I’m the antagonist. Someone who is destined for ruin, eventually.

Seriously? What the hell do I do now?

“L-Lord Alban…! I-I am truly sorry!”

Huh?

Why’s this woman apologizing out of nowhere?

Ah, I remember now.

I bumped into a serving maid in the hallway, and she dumped hot tea all over my head.

Burns… I don’t think I’m burned. Phew, thank God.

“My carelessness caused this… I will gladly accept any punishment you deem fit…!”

“I-It’s fine, really. Don’t apologize so much.”

“…Erm?”

The maid blinked at me, dumbfounded.

“Huh? Ah.”

I instinctively clapped a hand over my mouth. Shit, I wasn’t supposed to talk like that.

—My name is Alban Odrant.

I am the head of the Odrant baronial family, a noble house.

Now, I am fifteen years old.

My physique is plump, even obese.

And my personality is, to put it mildly, the absolute worst.

I’m the quintessential piece of trash: arrogant, insolent, and profoundly lazy.

I treat everyone with a condescending air, and if something displeases me, I’ll use my authority to punish the offender. Yet, I am an extreme slacker who avoids anything I deem a nuisance.

Despite this, I was born with a natural talent and could generally accomplish anything with ease. Consequently, I never learned the meaning of effort, and my shallow pride made me an even greater nuisance.

Despised even by the noble society I belong to, I was essentially a human caricature of a hate-sink character.

Having lost my parents to illness at a young age and grown up without parental affection, my personality developed into this warped state.

In any case, I never apologize to anyone, which is why the maid was so taken aback.

“A-Ah, God, what a pain in the ass! It’s even too much of a hassle to get angry!”

“Lord Alban…?”

“I can’t even be bothered to get mad, so you’re free to go. I’m going back to my room to change.”

“! Th-Thank you very much!”

Realizing I was letting her off, the maid bowed her head and hurried away.

…Did I manage to pull off the ‘Alban’ act just barely?

“My clothes are soaked. My room is… there.” Relying on my memory, I hurried back to my private quarters and eagerly began to strip.

My flabby, hanging stomach was revealed.

“Ugh, what the hell is this stomach? I’m way too fat.”

The original Alban was such a slacker that he basically just ate and slept all day. There was no way he’d ever lose weight; he’d only gain it.

“…This won’t do, will it?”

Knowing I was Alban Odrant, one thing was absolutely clear: If I kept this up, I was ruined.

In the fantasy novel, I got expelled from the Royal Academy, stripped of my title, and utterly disgraced. Wasn’t the cause losing a duel to the protagonist? I only remember fragments. Either way, this current lifestyle is a no-go. I refuse to die homeless on the streets.

Just as that thought crossed my mind—

knock-knock

“! Who is it?”

“Pardon me, Lord Alban. It is Sebas. ”

The door was knocked on, and an old man’s voice sounded from the other side.

“Hmph, enter.”

When I granted permission, the door clicked open.

An elderly gentleman with distinguished white hair and a matching beard appeared.

This was Sebas Christian.

He was the butler serving the Odrant family and the reliable pillar supporting the household in place of the perpetually lazy Alban.

“I heard the serving staff committed a blunder earlier. Are you injured—good heavens, Lord Alban!?”

“Huh? W-What is it?”

“You are changing your clothes by yourself!? You never even attempt to put on your undergarments without assistance from the serving staff!”

—Oh, right.

The old Alban was such a profound layabout that he wouldn’t even dress himself. But to be that shocked over this? Seriously, Alban Odrant, you took laziness to a whole new level.

“Wh-What has happened to you!? Is it possible you are feeling ill somewhere—!?”

“N-No! It’s nothing like that!” I quickly denied it.

“I-I just got too lazy to call the servants! It’s way faster to just change my own clothes, right!?”

“Lord Alban…! Sniffle… Your Old Butler is moved to tears, indeed…!”

The old gentleman actually started crying. Well, after spending years looking after a lazy degenerate like the old me, I guess that reaction is understandable.

“Right, Sebas.”

“Ahem… What is it, if I may ask?”

“I’ve decided I’m going to lose weight.”

“Pardon…?”

“Also, you know how to use a sword, right? While I’m at it, teach me swordsmanship.”

“L… L-Lord Alban!? Have you perhaps struck your head!? Otherwise, to hear such words from your own lips…!”

“H-Hold on! I absolutely did not hit my head!”

I did get hot tea poured on it, though. But I didn’t hit it, so that doesn’t count.

More importantly, I need to properly convince Sebas here.

—Alban Odrant absolutely has to change.

If I rely on my natural talent and neglect effort, I’ll end up with the same fate as in the novel. To avoid ruin, I need to start small, doing what I can, little by little. First, a diet. Learning swordsmanship and getting exercise in the process is two birds with one stone.

If I say, “I want to avoid ruin” it will not convince Sebas. I need to come up with a more plausible excuse…

“Er… It’s just… I figured I wouldn’t be able to get a wife looking like this.”

“A wife… you say?”

“A fat man who can’t even hold a sword will inevitably cause unnecessary complications at future marriage meetings. And I hate trouble.”

“With a status such as yours, Lord Alban, I do not believe you would ever be troubled by a lack of marriage proposals, however…”

“Sebas.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

“! Such a firm resolution…!”

Sebas looked profoundly impressed, a sense of surprise mixed with awe.

He closed his eyes for a moment. And—

“…Understood. I, your unworthy Sebas Christian, will dedicate my all to assisting Lord Alban.”

“Don’t hold back, you hear? Teach me swordsmanship like you’re trying to kill me.”

Otherwise, I’m never going to trim this physique.

…I wonder what Alban Odrant will look like once he slims down? Maybe I’ll even be a little popular? If I can avoid the ruin ending, I’d love a cute wife, I mean. Oh, daydreaming about it actually got me fired up.

“It’s too much of a pain to drag out. I’ll do it in half a year. I’ll lose the weight and master swordsmanship in six months.”

▲ ▲ ▲

—Well. Just like that, a week had passed since the diet and swordsmanship training began—

“What is the matter, Lord Alban? Are you giving up already?”

“M-Mmmph…“

My body, which had spent years piling sloth upon sloth, was already screaming in protest. I was done. I couldn’t lift my sword. My legs were trembling uncontrollably. My lifelong lack of exercise was taking its toll, and my body simply couldn’t keep up with the sudden, intense movements.

“To give up over something such as this, I greatly fear for your future. We shall proceed rigorously, indeed.”

“F-Fine by me…!” Sweating profusely, I grit my teeth, put all my strength into it, and raised my sword.

Alban did possess natural talent. Just swinging a sword, I was able to move in a way that wasn’t like a complete amateur.

—However, facing a seasoned master of the blade was a different matter entirely.

Sebas was a renowned swordsman who had once distinguished himself on the battlefield, his skill nothing short of master-class. In fact, he was hired by the Odrant family specifically for his swordsmanship. No matter how well I could swing a sword, the gulf in physical capability and experience meant I was being treated like a child.

“Lord Alban should first and foremost acquire the fundamental movements. You must not rely solely on your innate talent.” Sebas advised.

“I know that!”

I lunged at Sebas, slashing, but he casually parried my blade and knocked me straight onto the ground.

“Guh!“

“Furthermore, it would be advisable to train your musculature more evenly. Your body is not keeping up with the movements you attempt.”

“I-I can’t go on, I can’t stand…”

“Shall we conclude for the day, then? Though I doubt you will achieve your six-month goal at this rate.”

“…That would be a hassle.” Whipping my trembling body, I forced myself back onto my feet. “Going back on what I said is too troublesome. Stick with me a little longer, Sebas.”

“That is the spirit, indeed. I shall accompany you to the very end.”

▲ ▲ ▲

Sebas Christian: Side View

—One month has passed since Lord Alban began his training.

When he first declared, “I’m going to lose weight,” and “Teach me the sword,” I was utterly dumbfounded. I truly thought he had lost his mind.

Yet, somewhere in my heart, I believed he would abandon it after three days. That lazy brat couldn’t possibly maintain any kind of effort—or so I thought.

But I was mistaken. One month later, Lord Alban is still diligently training. And in the span of just one month, he has already begun to master the swordsmanship I taught him. I must confess, this is nothing short of prodigious.

Even I, who was once lauded as a swordsman equal in skill to the Knight Commander in the Royal Knights, pride myself that while my body has aged, my sword arm has not withered. Yet, my techniques were forged over decades on the battlefield. They are not something that can be acquired overnight. Despite this, Lord Alban…

…For now, I still hold the advantage. But for how much longer? Lord Alban’s capacity for absorption is unnatural. He masters every technique the moment it is taught. Truly, he possesses innate genius. I feel as though I am being given a blatant demonstration of what happens when a genius applies himself to effort.

“This is a pain, but how about this!” Alban challenged.

“Nonsense, not yet!” I replied.

—It is enjoyable. How long has it been since my heart felt this thrill? What changed you, my Lord? What drives you? I do not know. But Lord Alban, this Sebas shall bear witness to whatever you become, indeed.

“Haa!”

“Not a poor sword stroke.”

“Not even close…!”

“However, it is slow.”

When I swung my sword, it bounced the blade straight out of Lord Alban’s hand.

“M-Mh… Not good enough.”

“Hahahaha, it seems your body is still a trifle sluggish, my Lord.”

“Hah, hah… God, what a hassle of a body. Why won’t this fat just drop off easily…”

“Nonsense, no. You are steadily slimming down, little by little, and your skill is most certainly improving.”

“I don’t need your flattery.”

“Flattery it is not. I am starting to feel genuine terror of you, my Lord.”

“Terror, you say?”

“In just one short month, Lord Alban has become capable of crossing blades with me. This is nothing short of miraculous.”

“Hmph, it doesn’t mean anything if I can’t win.”

“Hahaha, that is also true. Come then, let us continue the practice.”

▲ ▲ ▲

Sebas Christian: Side View

—The second month of training.

Lord Alban’s swordsmanship has practically taken shape. His footwork and blade work have become sharper and more incisive lately. He is completely unrecognizable from the person of one month ago.

Of course, this must also be a benefit of his lighter physique. Lord Alban’s body, once bloated and riddled with fat, has visibly streamlined, and the weight loss is evident. As his muscle mass increases beyond his body fat, his movements have become remarkably agile. Though, personally, I believe there is still room for further toning.

Today, as ever, Lord Alban dedicates himself wholeheartedly to practice with this Sebas. As the standard lessons were no longer sufficient, we have recently moved on to a more practical form of training—focusing on legwork and movement.

“What is the matter, my Lord? Your breath is ragged, indeed.”

“W-Wait… Sebas…!”

We were running full-tilt through the dense, overgrown mountainside. Yes, we were currently engaged in a game of ‘tag.’

I had informed Lord Alban that the goal was to land a single hit on the fleeing target while traversing the mountain, simulating combat against an escaping foe. As this also serves as part of the diet, I felt it wise to actively engage his legs.

I, the fleeing one. Lord Alban, the pursuer. Though I am but an old man, I shall not allow myself to be caught so easily. Nonetheless, a simple game of tag would be insufficient stimulation for Lord Alban. Thus—I have set booby traps throughout the area.

“Be vigilant, Lord Alban!”

While running, I yanked on a rope hanging from a tree. Immediately—a massive, swinging log hurtled toward Lord Alban with a WHOOSH!

“—!”

In that instant, he drew his sword from the sheath at his hip. Then, he slammed a single cut into the tip of the oncoming log.

—The log, far heavier and larger than Lord Alban’s body, was instantly cleaved in two. It was as if he were slicing through tissue paper. Naturally, there was not a single nick on the edge of the blade.

It was a stroke that was absolutely unbelievable for someone who had held a sword for only two months. In terms of ‘cutting’ and ‘cleaving,’ he was already near perfection. Merely swinging a sword, one could call him master-class. A normal person would struggle to even land the blade straight after just two months of practice.

…What’s more, that last cut was obviously held back. It was far from his full strength. This is proof that he can now swing his blade with such a degree of reserve. If Lord Alban put his mind to it, he might be able to cleave a block of steel with even a dull blade.

—Only two months. Just two months, and he has reached this point. He has already become capable of wielding a sword to this extent. This is beyond merely terrifying.

“Sebas, I caught up!”

Lord Alban, having increased his speed, was now closing in. This game of tag would end the moment his sword touched my body. However, I believe Lord Alban requires a little more exercise.

“Hahahaha, close one, close one!” I nimbly evaded the cut Lord Alban delivered. “My, my, this is most enjoyable, Lord Alban!”

“Hey! Take this seriously!” Alban yelled.

“This Sebas Christian is always serious in your presence, Lord Alban! Hup!“

Drawing my own blade, I clashed with Lord Alban. I have no intention of letting him land a hit so easily yet.

But Lord Alban would not back down now, powerfully pushing his sword against mine. Youth will tell. In a pure contest of strength, an old man is naturally at a disadvantage.

“Alright, this time I’ve got—!”

“Lord Alban, you are neglecting your footing.”

I parried Lord Alban’s sword, broke his stance, and tripped him. The soft overcomes the hard. This Sebas was often told in his youth that relying solely on brute force would only lead to being tripped up.

Lord Alban, who had just rolled most ungracefully across the ground—

“N-Not yet…!” He immediately corrected his posture and attempted to attack again.

Yes, yes, that tenacious spirit is excellent. However… did I not just caution you about ‘neglecting your footing?’

“No, the victory is mine.”

“Huh? Wh-Wha—!?”

I quickly pulled a nearby rope. The snare I had set instantly tightened, catching Lord Alban’s feet. Simultaneously, the snare was hauled skyward—leaving his body dangling in mid-air.

“Do you intend to continue?” I asked.

“Ugh… F-Fine, I give up…”

“Your blade work is excellent, Lord Alban. But you are too open. From now on, let us hone your swordsmanship through more practical movements.”

▲ ▲ ▲

—Four months had passed since I started swordsmanship practice.

The feel of the sword had finally become natural in my hand; a thousand practice swings every morning was now second nature. I had gained a significant amount of stamina and muscle, and I no longer tired out immediately at the start of training like I used to.

That protruding gut of mine had also noticeably flattened. Sebas, who seemed to track my changes meticulously, had gradually altered the content of our training. Despite that, I still hadn’t managed to land a single hit against his decades-honed technique. But just you wait, Sebas, I’m going to catch up to you soon… I thought to myself, when one day,

“Lord Alban, perhaps we should perform a test today?” He said this quite abruptly.

“A test…? What kind of test?”

“Yes, a test to see whether Lord Alban’s sword is useful in actual combat.”

Sebas said this with a friendly smile. Hearing that, I couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle.

“S-Surely you aren’t going to suddenly throw your master onto a battlefield, are you…?”

“Of course not. Even if this Sebas were a demon, I would not go that far. Our destination is not a battlefield, but a Dungeon.”

“A Dungeon?”

“Indeed. I wish for you to demonstrate the fruits of your training against the monsters that dwell within. After all, one cannot truly master swordsmanship without experiencing genuine combat.”

“Well, I guess that’s true, but…”

“Furthermore, Lord Alban’s blade has already entered the realm of proficiency. If so, only real combat remains. Come, let us make our way to the Dungeon.”

Sebas started walking. Reluctantly, I followed him. He led me into a mountain different from the one we usually used for practice.

Countless massive trees stretched toward the sky, their branches and leaves blocking out the sunlight. The air was dim, damp, and somehow clammy. Within it—was a small cave.

“This is the entrance to the Dungeon.”

“! Right here…?”

I was seeing one for the first time. In fact, I never knew we had a Dungeon inside our own territory. When you live as a noble, you naturally steer clear of dangerous areas like Dungeons. Plus, the original Alban Odrant was an extreme slacker who rarely even left the mansion.

“This is one of the less hazardous Dungeons. Only relatively weak monsters reside inside. Do not be so frightened, my Lord.”

“I-I’m certainly not frightened.”

“Hehehe, then that is splendid. Come, let us enter.” Sebas stepped inside without hesitation. I had no choice but to follow.

The inside of the Dungeon was exactly as it looked from the outside: a dim, damp cave. The atmosphere was precisely that of a monster’s lair. After walking for a while,

“—Lord Alban, can you see that?” Sebas raised his arm and pointed ahead.

There—was a small, green-skinned monster.

“That is a low-level monster known as a Goblin. They usually move in packs, but it appears this one has strayed.” Sebas explained.

“It looks… pretty weak, I guess.”

“Indeed. Do you think you can cut it?”

“Yeah, I can handle that much.”

Even I knew about Goblins. They’re the standard cannon fodder in any fantasy world. Honestly, I’d expected something bigger and tougher. But just one Goblin—The rest depended on how it felt to actually face one.

I drew my sword from its sheath and approached the Goblin. It noticed me, too.

『G-Gig!? GEE!』

As soon as it recognized me as human, it immediately rushed to attack. Though its body was small and its weapon a crude club, its expression was vicious. Someone without any fighting ability would surely find it terrifying.

But the moment I saw its movements, I understood. —It was utterly nothing to be afraid of. Its movements were slow. Too sluggish. It was as if it were moving in slow motion; I could easily read what it would do next. Sebas was ten thousand times faster and harder to predict. There was no comparison.

“Too slow.” Gripping the hilt tightly, I stepped forward. And long before the Goblin could attack me, without giving it a moment to evade—I delivered a cut.

The Goblin’s body was perfectly bisected. It probably didn’t even have time to register pain.

“Splendid. Truly worthy of you, my Lord.” Sebas clapped his hands, pat-pat-pat.

Yet, strangely, I felt no sense of accomplishment.

“Huh… Is that all there is to it?”

“Yes, this is your current ability, Lord Alban. A single Goblin is merely a trifle for your blade—”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“…? What are you suggesting, my Lord?”

“I thought cutting down a living thing would be more terrifying. That the act of taking a life would cause more resistance. But—I don’t really feel anything.”

I said, gazing at the blade of my sword. The silver edge was stained crimson with Goblin blood.

“So this is what ‘killing’ is like.”

It wasn’t fun, nor was it sad. No special sense of accomplishment or guilt. I didn’t feel any particular hesitation or misgiving when I cut the Goblin. Even now, after the kill, I feel less disturbed than I expected, or rather, I have no real emotion about it at all. It’s truly just, “Oh, so this is it.”

Come to think of it, the original Alban Odrant in the fantasy novel also treated other people’s lives like garbage. I wonder if it would feel the same to cut a human?

“Lord Alban…”

“Still, getting splattered with blood is disgusting. Cleaning the sword is a pain, too, so I’d rather not do the whole life-and-death thing unless I have to—”

Just then, 『GEE! GIGEEE!』 more Goblins emerged from the depths of the Dungeon. This time, it was a pack of over ten. They must have caught the scent of their comrade’s death.

“Talk about timing…”

“Oh dear, this is quite a crowd against just one. I believe it would be prudent to retreat, however—”

“No, let’s just wipe them out. If we leave them here, they might cause trouble for the villagers.”

▲ ▲ ▲

Sebas Christian: Side View

—Following this, Lord Alban annihilated the entire pack of ten Goblins. It was a literal extermination, accomplished in the blink of an eye. No emotion was visible on his face; he simply killed with detached indifference. Whether it was one or ten, nothing changed. This spectacle sent a shiver down my spine.

Yet, at the same time, I was filled with a sense of profound awe. Because the one quality absolutely essential for a swordsman had been definitively proven to exist within Lord Alban.

Can one banish all hesitation from their blade when confronting a foe? Can one cut without hesitation when facing an opponent? I do not mean becoming a pleasure-seeking killer. But a swordsman who lacks the mental resolve to ‘cut’ when the time comes is a failure.

This ‘test’ was designed to gauge exactly that. To confirm whether Lord Alban possessed that resolve, or whether he could develop it.

Admittedly, if he were merely learning the sword, such a high level of resolve would be unnecessary. But I found myself unable to think otherwise: I want to teach Lord Alban everything I know. I want Lord Alban to become a true swordsman. I want Lord Alban—to surpass me.

And he passed the test without a hitch. No, ‘passed’ is an understatement. As a swordsman, he scored a perfect hundred. That frigid, indifferent gaze of Lord Alban’s as he cut down the Goblins. It was terrifying. Extremely so. But I cannot help but rejoice. For the essential foundations for a swordsman—mind, technique, and body—have all come together.

That man is a true genius with the sword. A swordsman beloved by the gods. I absolutely, positively must witness him reach the pinnacle of his art. Ah… even in this role as a butler, with my mind and body wholly aged, I realize that my true nature remains that of a swordsman.

…Lord Alban, this Sebas Christian has become utterly fascinated with you. Just as you wished—I shall ensure you have mastered the sword in the remaining two months.

▲ ▲ ▲

—Half a year had passed since the diet and swordsmanship training began.

Finally, that day arrived.

CLANG!

“Hah… hah…!”

Finally—I knocked the sword right out of Sebas’s hand.

“…You have become strong, Lord Alban.”

“Sebas…”

“The victory is yours, my Lord.”

He bowed deeply, his expression one of complete satisfaction.

“There is nothing left for me to teach you. You have perfectly mastered the art of the sword.”

“I see… Thanks for all the trouble.”

“Not at all. I am proud to have taught you the sword, my Lord.”

Though defeated by his own student, Sebas was smiling broadly for some reason. I didn’t understand why he looked so happy—but a genuine smile naturally spread across my own face.

“Have you noticed it yourself? Lord Alban, you have become entirely slim.” Sebas observed.

“Yeah, I’m aware. I’ve lost a lot of weight.”

Six months into swordsmanship practice. My flabby body had become completely lean and muscular, and I felt infinitely lighter. My abs were even rock-hard. Not only swordsmanship, but the diet was a success, too. Anyone who only knew the old, fat Alban wouldn’t recognize me as the same person right away.

Also… I feel like my face got handsomer, somehow. Just slimming down the jawline really changes a person’s impression. Maybe I’ll be a little popular with this look…? Maybe I’ll get a nice, cute wife? I’m due to enroll in the Royal Academy before long, so I’m looking forward to it.

“Heheh, with this appearance, I shouldn’t have any trouble finding a wife.” I chuckled.

“Ah, speaking of which… We just received a marriage proposal.” Sebas said.

“What? Seriously!?” What perfect timing! All that effort really paid off! “That’s great news! I can’t wait to meet her!”

“Indeed… but it is also a grave announcement.”

“—Huh?”

“And it will be difficult to refuse this proposal, I’m afraid.”

“—Hah?”

Wait a minute…? The conversation is starting to take a strange turn…?

“Hold on a second… Exactly which family proposed this marriage?”

“The Barrow Ducal Family.”

“H… HAAHHHHH!?”

I let out a completely ridiculous shriek of surprise. I knew that name well. No, anyone living in the Kingdom of Vahlrund would know it. Because—the Barrow Ducal Family was renowned as one of the kingdom’s most distinguished and ancient houses.

“The Barrow Dukedom is way above a Baronial house like ours! Why would they pick someone… like… us…”

Mid-sentence, it slowly came back to me. Ah—that’s right. In the fantasy novel, Alban Odrant does get married. And the woman he marries is—a troublemaker whose outrageous conduct led her fiancé to break off their engagement, leaving her with nowhere to go. She was the Villainess Lady who also became an antagonist to the protagonist.

Alban only married her for the power, so they must have had a terrible relationship. Which means I’m already guaranteed a cold, loveless marriage. Plus, I have a feeling that Villainess Lady was the catalyst for Alban’s ruin… Wait a minute…? Does this mean I’m heading straight for the ruin route after all…?

“W-What was the point of my six months of hard work…?”

“The Young Lady of the Barrow family appears to have quite the difficult disposition. Good luck, Lord Alban.”

“THIS IS SUCH A GIGANTIC PAAAAAAAIN IN THE ASS!!!”