"Stand," the Patriarch growled, his voice more command than word.
I forced air into my lungs, chest screaming with every breath, and pushed myself upright. My legs trembled, but I stood.
Another strike came, this one across the jaw. My head snapped sideways, a spray of blood hitting the marble floor.
My vision blurred, the world dipping into black at the edges, but I did not fall.
I would not.
The Patriarch loomed over me, his shotgun raised again. His eyes were sharp, dissecting me, searching for the moment I would break.
There was silence.
I braced myself, expecting another blow—but none came.
That could only mean one thing: I was allowed to speak now.
Truthfully, I was furious. My pride burned, and every part of me wanted to lash out. But that would be beyond stupid.
No, I had to be careful. Every word had to be measured, calculated.
"Patriarch, what are you doing is child abuse you know?" I said with chuckle, showing my bloody teeth.
For a moment, the entire room went silent.
Dead silent.
Even the maid stopped breathing.
The Patriarch stared at me as though he had just heard a dog recite poetry.
"…What did you say?"
Ah.
Right.
Different world.
Different terminology.
Maybe "child abuse" didn't translate well here.
Blood dripped from my chin onto the marble floor as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
"I said," I repeated slowly, "this is a bit excessive, don't you think?"
The Patriarch's expression darkened.
Dangerously.
The pressure pouring from him intensified, crushing against my skin like invisible chains.
"Child abuse?" he repeated.
His voice was calm.
Far too calm.
And somehow, that terrified me more than the beatings.
"I break your bones," he said quietly, "because you are my son."
A suffocating pressure filled the room.
"If you were anyone else… I would have buried your corpse already."
…Yeah.
Okay.
Fair point.
I probably should've kept the child abuse joke to myself.
Still, I forced out a bloody grin.
"Well," I croaked, wiping blood from my mouth, "that doesn't exactly sound healthy either."
The maid made a strangled noise in the corner.
The Patriarch's eyes narrowed dangerously.
His voice turned colder, sharp enough to cut through the air like a blade.
"Have you already forgotten why you're in this pathetic state?"
I resisted the urge to click my tongue.
Of course I knew.
How could I not?
This entire mess was the result of Damian Valtor being exactly what the story described him as—
A worthless trash villain.
"Our family has become the laughingstock of high society because of you," the Patriarch continued, disgust dripping from every word. "Do you understand how humiliating it is for me to show my face outside?"
Then don't show your face. Simple.
The words almost slipped out automatically.
Almost.
Thankfully, survival instincts kicked in before my mouth committed suicide on my behalf.
Because judging by the shotgun in his hands, this man clearly believed in aggressive parenting.
So instead, I stayed silent.
And honestly?
I understood his anger.
The incident Damian caused wasn't some harmless schoolyard argument.
No.
It happened at Cosmos Academy.
The most prestigious institution on the continent.
A place where the children of dukes, counts, military commanders, and wealthy merchants gathered to shape the future of the empire.
Even commoners could enter—provided they possessed monstrous talent.
Which was exactly why the protagonist became such a problem for Damian.
At seventeen, Damian Valtor enrolled into Imperial Academy.
Not to study.
Not to improve himself.
And certainly not to honor House Valtor's name.
He went there searching for entertainment.
That alone perfectly summarized the kind of person Damian was.
Arrogant.
Spoiled.
Rotten to the core.
The moment he arrived at the academy, he gathered several noble heirs around him—other rich degenerates who enjoyed throwing their weight around.
Officially, they called themselves a social club.
Unofficially?
They were nothing more than organized scum.
A mafia made up of privileged teenagers.
Using money, status, and family influence, they controlled gambling rings, extorted weaker students, and maintained ties with underground cartels operating beyond academy jurisdiction.
And Damian?
He loved every second of it.
Watching others fear him gave him satisfaction.
Seeing weaker students lower their heads made him feel powerful.
He enjoyed stepping on people.
That was the kind of villain he was.
Then the protagonist appeared.
A commoner.
No noble bloodline.
No political backing.
No family influence.
Yet despite all that, the protagonist entered Imperial Academy through pure talent alone.
And worse—
He excelled.
Professors praised him.
Students admired him.
Even influential nobles started paying attention to him.
To Damian, who had spent his entire life relying on status rather than ability, the protagonist's existence became unbearable.
Jealousy slowly twisted into obsession.
And eventually…
Damian targeted him.
First came petty harassment.
Textbooks thrown into toilets.
Uniforms vandalized.
Rumors spread behind his back.
Mockery aimed at his parents.
Cruel little games designed to isolate him socially.
But that wasn't enough.
Not for Damian.
The bullying escalated.
His group cornered the protagonist repeatedly.
Threatened students who associated with him.
Even attempted ambushes outside academy grounds.
Unfortunately for Damian…
The protagonist wasn't alone.
One by one, future key characters began gathering around him.
Every single one of them despised Damian.
And together?
They crushed him.
Publicly.
Violently.
Humiliatingly.
The scandal exploded across the academy like wildfire.
Soon, even high society heard the story of House Valtor's disgraceful heir.
A noble who abused his authority to torment a talented commoner out of petty jealousy.
The academy couldn't ignore it anymore.
Not when public opinion had already turned against Damian.
So they issued punishment.
A public apology.
Five hundred hours of community service.
100,000 Credits in fines.
150,000 Credits in compensation.
Failure to comply would result in immediate expulsion.
An unprecedented punishment.
And Damian's response?
He refused.
Even after being restrained.
Even after being publicly condemned.
Even after the academy practically begged him to settle the matter quietly.
Damian still screamed about "noble dignity" and "lowborn insolence."
An absolute idiot until the very end.