Renard climbed out of the bed, stretching slightly.
"If this is the 'new me,'" he muttered, "I should probably see what I'm working with."
Across the room stood a tall mirror framed in dark carved wood.
He walked toward it.
He looked up. And then he froze.
"…Holy shit."
The man staring back at him was absurdly handsome.
Snow-white hair framed sharp aristocratic features. His eyes were a piercing gray that almost seemed to glow.
He stepped back to take in the full silhouette. He was tall, imposing, even. Broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and lean, corded muscle.
"And he's huge. What is this guy, six-two? Six-four?" Renard turned sideways, checking his profile with a skeptical whistle. "Jesus. This guy won the genetic lottery."
"No wonder the original Renard was a world-class womanizer," he mused. He squinted at his reflection, a stray thought crossing his mind. "Honestly, if I'd seen this guy in my old world, I might've turned gay."
A beat of silence followed.
"…Okay, that was too far." He cleared his throat, shaking off the weirdness. "Enough glazing. Focus."
Renard waved a hand through the air, his tone turning businesslike. "Alright, System. Give it to me straight. Show me my stats."
The familiar blue screen appeared.
[Host Status]
Name: Renard Vyre
Title: Heir Candidate of House Vyre
Race: Human
Strength: A
Agility: A
Endurance: A
Mana: A+
Charisma: S
Renard blinked, momentarily stunned. "What the hell? These stats are... ridiculous."
More text scrolled upward, detailing his inherent capabilities.
Skills
• Advanced Swordsmanship
• Noble Etiquette
• Draconic Bloodline Affinity
• Intimidation Aura
Renard tilted his head, his brow furrowing at the third entry. "Draconic bloodline? Like... literal dragon blood?"
Before he could dwell on it, a final section pulsed in a distinct, golden color.
Blessing: Granted by the God of Entertainment
• Spectator's Insight
Ability: Allows the Host to perceive the hidden stats, skills, and emotional states of others.
Renard let out a long, low whistle. "Okay, now that is actually broken."
Being able to see other people's stats was super useful.
He leaned back against the glass of the mirror, his mind racing to connect the dots. "Alright... let's see what I actually know about this place."
The truth was sobering. "Not much."
He had binged maybe thirty chapters of the original web novel before dropping it. The rest of the story had been locked behind a paywall he couldn't afford at the time. He let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "Damn greedy authors."
The worst part? In those thirty chapters, the "real" Renard Vyre hadn't even made an onscreen appearance. Everything he knew about this body came second-hand from the Princess, one of the story's primary heroines.
In her POV chapters, she spent half her time venting to the protagonist about her looming political marriage to a man she loathed.
To Renard Vyre.
According to her descriptions, he was the ultimate trash-tier noble: arrogant, cruel, and a shameless, predatory womanizer.
Renard rubbed his temples, feeling a headache brewing. "Great. I didn't just get isekai'd; I got cast as the one guy the main heroine wants to see dead."
He looked back at the system screen, a specific detail clicking into place. "Wait... House Vyre. I remember now."
He snapped his fingers. "Dragon Knights."
House Vyre was legendary for its riders. To truly be recognized as an heir of the house, one had to form a soul-contract with a dragon. Renard scanned his status again, but the 'Contract' field was conspicuously empty.
"Huh. So, this guy hasn't made the contract yet."
Suddenly, the blue screen didn't just flicker, it pulsed red.
[WARNING: Main Story Event Approaching.]
"Wait... already? What?"
[Main Story Event: The Baron's Fury]
[Objective: Resolve the situation without killing the Baron.]
Renard stared at the warning, his heart hammering against his ribs. Resolve the situation? What situation?!
BAM!
The heavy doors of the bedchamber burst open. Renard didn't even flinch not because he was brave, but because his [Intimidation Aura] had kicked in automatically, locking his muscles into a predatory stillness.
In the doorway stood a man who looked like a literal grizzly bear. His face was a shade of purple that shouldn't be biologically possible, and his hand was holding around the hilt of a massive broadsword.
Behind him, Roric and Fenris were trying to hold back a squad of the Baron's personal house guards.
"VYRE!" the man roared, his voice vibrating in Renard's chest. "You think you can disgrace my family and hide behind your father's name?!"
Renard's brain short-circuited. Disgrace his family? His eyes flicked instinctively toward the mirror, then down at himself. He was still standing there, stark naked.
...Oh. Oh no.
His stomach dropped.
The Baron's sword slid halfway out of its sheath.
"I should gut you where you stand," the man growled.
"My lord," Roric said quietly, his hand hovering near his own blade, "perhaps we should—"
Renard's mind was racing.
Think. Think. THINK.
The System window was still hovering in his peripheral vision, pulsing with a malicious light.
[Failure Condition: Reputation Collapse / Immediate Execution.]
Execution?! I literally just got here! I haven't even had breakfast!
Renard swallowed hard as the Baron took another heavy step forward.
"You drugged my daughter," the Baron snarled, his spit flying. "Dragged her here like some common whore!"
Renard blinked. Daughter? Suddenly, a fragmented memory from a few hours ago, the "original" Renard's memory flickered in his mind. Golden hair. A girl. Blurred shapes. Moaning..
He tried very hard to suppress the mental image. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
He risked a glance at Roric. The veteran knight was staring at him with a look of profound, weary disappointment. It was an expression that screamed: You are absolutely guilty.
The Baron slammed his heavy boot against the floor. "Say something, you bastard!"
Renard flinched. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. His brain was scrambled, unable to find a single "noble" thing to say. The first words that tumbled out were the most cliché thing imaginable.
"...I can explain."
The Baron stared at him like he had just uttered the dumbest sentence in human history.
"My daughter is sobbing in the hallway," the Baron said with terrifying slowness. "You are standing naked in your bedroom. What, pray tell, is there to explain?"
Renard nodded weakly. "...Right. Yes. Valid point."
The Baron's eye twitched violently. "Do you really think there is anything left to discuss? I should end your life right here!"
God help me, why did I say that? System! [Spectator's Insight], quickly!
[Spectator's Insight Active]
A golden ripple washed over his vision. Suddenly, a holographic panel hovered next to the raging Baron.
[Target Analysis]
Name: Elric von Astora
Title: The Bear of the South
State: [Berserk Rage], [Calculating], [Humiliated]
Hidden Note: He is less concerned with his daughter's virtue than he is with his financial ruin. He plans to use this scandal as leverage to cancel his massive debts to House Vyre.
Wait... he doesn't care about the daughter? He wants his tab cleared.
Renard's fear cooled into a sharp, cynical clarity. He stood a little straighter, ignoring the draft in the room.
"Baron," Renard started, his voice surprisingly steady thanks to his high Charisma. "Killing me right now won't solve your problems. In fact, it would only create a much larger one for you."
The Baron paused, his sword hand trembling.
"I am... deeply ashamed of the dishonor brought upon your house," Renard continued, forcing a look of solemn regret onto his face. "But perhaps we should discuss a proper 'compensation' in front of my father. With the Marquis's involvement, we can reach an agreement that would be far more... profitable... for House Astora than my corpse would be."
Renard narrowed his eyes slightly. "Besides, making an enemy of the Dragon Knights over a 'misunderstanding' would be a tragedy for your people, wouldn't it?"
The Baron's rage didn't disappear, but it went cold. He looked at Renard, really looking at him, and realized the boy wasn't cowering like he usually did.
"I am not afraid of House Vyre," the Baron spat, though his grip on the hilt loosened. "But wasting my blade on a degenerate like you would be a mess I don't care to clean. Very well. Inform your father at once. We will settle this 'compensation' in the Great Hall."
He sheathed his blade with a resonant, metallic clack.
"If your father cannot satisfy my demands," the Baron leaned in, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper, "I will return." His gaze hardened into something icy and final. "And next time, boy… I won't bother knocking."
He cast one last look of visceral disgust at Renard's state before turning on his heel. "Cover yourself. You look pathetic."
As the Baron stormed out, his heavy boots drumming against the stone, Roric let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for a lifetime. He glanced at Renard, his brow furrowing with a mixture of suspicion and bewilderment. What the hell happened to the young lord overnight?
Roric snapped his attention to Fenris. "You heard the man. Go!"
"Aye, sir!" Fenris didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled after the retreating guards, nearly tripping over his own feet.
The doors closed, leaving the room in a ringing silence. Renard slumped, the adrenaline leaving him in a rush. He shivered, finally feeling free from all of this situation.
"Fuck..." he whispered, rubbing his face. "That was way too close. Someone please... just bring me some pants. It's freezing down here."
[Objective Complete!]
[The God of Entertainment is delighted by your performance!]
[Rewards Pending:]
500 Entertainment Points (EP)
Skill: [Actor's Mask] (Passive)
Mystery Loot Box: [Starter Villain's Essentials]
[Would you like to open your rewards?]