Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master



'War? The islanders?'

Damien's heart skipped a beat as he overheard the mention of a war involving the Islanders. He leaned in closer, trying to catch more details from the conversation.

"That's true? Some fools they are," another man spoke, taking a large gulp from his tankard. "What happened then? Their arrogance has been deflated and they are now ruled by our King. Fools."

'Ruled? What the fuck is going on?' Damien felt a knot inside his mind. A cold feeling draped him. Back in his mind, he knew what happened, but he refused to believe it.

"Yeah. Look at the luck of the Zadkiels'," the first man said. "The Duke is the Governor there. Since the Silverthorne was always by his highness's side, I thought he would've been the Governor but no...it makes no sense at all."

'No fucking sense,' his mind screamed. 'They're lying!'

But he couldn't deny that.

Not after hearing these stories.

"You big oof, it's not a surprise. Remember, the King and Duke Zadkiel were old pals'. You think the King would give more power to the power-hungry Duke Silverthorne? No, why would he do that? That would be utter foolishness. Instead, by giving power to his loyal and honorable friend, he's doing two things; One, to reestablish a relationship between the old friends and gain the allegiance of the Zadkiels'. Two, to have the Island under control without fearing that the Dukes will rebel against him. By controlling the island, he controls the trade routes. In exchange for that, he gave the governor position to his friend."

"Our King is truly a genius, right?"

Damien called out to the men, "Excuse me, sirs," he said. "Can you tell me about this war? I was traveling a bit and didn't hear about the war. What exactly happened?"

Damien was ready to pounce on the men if they didn't speak, ready to mutilate them but surprisingly, they spoke. That too with enthusiasm. Like this whole thing was just another bedtime story for them.

...

He left the tavern and walked to the nearby river. He sat under a large oak and closed his eyes.

'She's dead. Serielle is dead.' He said it over and over again. Though the time they spent is a little, he liked her. She was likable.

Unlike Celeste or Daenys, she was respectful and approachable. She was stupid and naïve but had a charm unique to her. Now she's gone.

His heart ached. He wasn't sure if he loved her. But the pain he was feeling was true.

He thought he had saved her destiny that time. Saving her from that assassin. He thought he had changed the plot of the novel but this...this is fucking ridiculous.

He sobbed silently. His tears ran into his beard, making it wet.

"Why? Why did you leave me?"

Aviora flew in and opened her wings wide, hugging him with her little body. He cried harder. Her warmth comforted him.

Even though she won't feel the depth of his sadness, she did what she can, feeling he was down.

And that was enough for him.

After a few more minutes of crying, he washed his face.

He understood whatever overlooked this world, the novel, it doesn't want him to change the plot. It needed him to adhere to the original plot. If something changed, then that thing will surely make anything to rewrite it to the original one.

If it's like that, then the next one would be her!

If it is the original plot, then there would be nothing left that he loves in the world. This world will be pretty much destroyed by the war of the four kings. Even if he didn't want to instigate it, it will happen.

Rather than hopelessness, he felt a fire in him.

A fire to drag whoever wrote the novel from his high chair and bash them relentlessly until he bleeds out.

He will do it! He will certainly do it.

Aviora croaked and snuggled more. It was her silent approval.

"Hey, you?"

He heard a lovely voice from behind.

It was a sweet and melodic voice like an angel's. This was the first time he was seeing her, but he instantly understood who she was.

How can he not? The blonde hair and the bluest of blue eyes, the epitome of heroic characters characteristic of almost all fantasy novels.

"Yes?" He asked, removing all the worries from his face.

"Oh? Um...Sir, you cannot feed birds here. This area is a sanctuary, outside food can destroy their natural habitat." She said, looking at him with a gentle gaze.

She thinks he was an old man. "I'm sorry, miss. I didn't know about that. I'll stop it right now," he signaled his bond to fly away, and it did.

"That's alright, sir," she said. Her eyes fixed on the bird that flew away. "By any chance, do you know what bird that was, sir?" She was curious since in all her life, she hasn't seen something like that in this sanctuary.

It looked like a raven, but it was big for a small raven, and the blackness, was not a normal colour at all. She wanted to see it. She wanted to feel it. But alas, she doesn't know what it was at all.

"Oh? Curious, are we?" He chuckled, thinking how childish she looks when asking questions like that. He turned towards her and smiled. "Majestic, right?"

"Yes."

"A beauty indeed," he looked at her. Her face was perfect, with perfect jaws and a beautiful set of eyes. Her whole appearance was like a painting.

Her golden hair was flowing. The simple gown, which she might have used to hide her identity, hid most of the curves of her body.

He stared at those breasts for a moment before returning back to her eyes.

"Yes, he truly is," her eyes never off the bird. Though for Damien, who had been rising it since its hatching from the sliver egg, the bird was normal, but for someone outside, that was not the case at all.

·ƈθm Damien chuckled and gazed at his bond flying in the evening sunlight. "It's a 'she' actually."

"Sir, you know about her?" Her gaze sparkled.

"I certainly do," he chuckled again. "Do you want to meet her?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful." She almost danced there, but something held her from doing that. Maybe her own consciousness as a princess or something.