The maid's voice, trembling with fear, broke the silence in the room. "Y-young master Zeph, the Lord is requesting your presence."
Zeph glanced at his reflection in the mirror, barely acknowledging her presence. His reflection stared back, the bloated face flushed and eyes tired. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."
"I understand, y-young master," she stammered, her hands clutching the fabric of her apron tightly. She looked as if she wanted to vanish from his sight, already feeling the beatings from two days ago when she forgot to bring the sugar with the tea.
Thanks to the Count's kindness in bestowing low-level healing potions, the thrown hot tea hadn't left a burn mark on her face.
Zeph didn't bother to look at her again, his focus returning to his reflection, already aware of everything but for now focused on himself.
'I hate this guy,' he thought, scowling at the mirror.
'Sure, he's a villain with my name, but that's not the real problem. The problem is this body—so damn heavy, it's like being trapped in a fat suit.' He clenched his jaw, his fingers digging into the plush fabric of his robe.
For someone who used to pride himself on muscle, nothing was worse than being encased in layers of fat.
And the man staring back at him from the mirror was the archenemy of his former self—fat and lazy.
"I suppose I need to first lose this weight," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
The thought of exercising in this state felt both laughable and depressing.
As he reached for the door, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His breathing became labored, and each step felt like a mountain climb.
'Unbelievable,' he thought, 'this body is so damn heavy.'
After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to exit the room, leaning heavily on the doorframe for support. "Fuck, haa... haaa..."
"Y-young Master?!" Servants rushed over, carrying a litter.
The litter, decorated with intricate designs, looked absurdly out of place considering its purpose.
They lowered it carefully, creating a path for him to step onto it, making his teeth grit in frustration. 'It's this kind of pampering that turned this body into a giant tub of fat,' he thought, annoyance bubbling up inside him.
"I will walk." Pushing his irritation aside, he tried to walk.
GASP
Servants, hearing such foreign words, gasped in unison, not understanding if it was a dream.
Naturally, everyone was aware of young master Zephyr's habits of beating, drinking alcohol, and even going around creating ruckus. But today,
'He changed.' Servants saw a new glimmer in those bulky shoulders, big enough to hold the responsibility of the whole Vinlig County.
Zeph managed about ten steps before his legs gave out, sending him crashing to the ground.
'Or not.' Servants' dreams shattered the moment they saw those huge, boulder-like shoulders hitting the floor.
'Damn it. Seriously?' Zeph thought, his face reddening with a mix of shame and anger.
"Hooh, haiyah!" Twenty servants quickly lifted him and placed him onto the litter.
"Haah... haah...." To him, it felt more like a stretcher, and he lay there, panting heavily, sprawled out like a beached whale. 'You damn god! I hope the protagonist of your favorite novel gets NTRed!'
"We're here, young master," a servant announced. Zeph could hardly believe it—real Zeph's father's office was just thirty steps away from his room, yet he still needed a litter to get there.
"Give me a hand," Zeph ordered, his voice tinged with frustration as he cursed this hefty body under his breath, annoyed at the laziness that kept him from even walking thirty steps.
"Oh, come, come, my dear child. How was your day?" His father's voice was warm and welcoming. The middle-aged man, Count Vinlig, with his neatly trimmed beard and soft, caring eyes, looked every bit the doting parent.
His smile was genuine, but it only fueled Zeph's disdain.
'This man is the reason for this shit's current situation,' Zeph thought bitterly. 'Spoiling him to the point of ruin.'
"I'm alright, Dad," he replied, forcing a smile.
This father of the original body's owner, a noble who wore his wealth in the form of extravagant clothing and a perpetually kind expression, had spoiled him so thoroughly and intensely that real Zeph believed he could treat the mansion's staff however he pleased—beating, abusing, and even sitting on some of them.
"Take a seat. Hey, fetch his chair!" His father commanded, gesturing to a custom-made chair designed to accommodate Zeph's oversized frame.
"What's going on, Dad?" Zeph asked, wary of the summons. 'What could he possibly want now?'
"Child, your fiancée is paying a visit tomorrow," his father announced, his eyes twinkling with excitement.
Ba-dump.
Zeph's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his fiancée. 'The same heroine who led to this body's downfall,' he thought, a shiver running down his spine.
It wasn't fear, but a deep-seated dread, born from the fact that this woman was sly enough to orchestrate the original body's fall.
"Thalia is also eager to meet you," his father continued, completely unaware of his son's internal turmoil.
'Eager to meet me?' Zeph thought, the idea almost laughable.
Thalia was far from ordinary; she was one of the major characters in the novel and cunning enough to clear this old lad's body from her path.
Technically, when anyone sees this 260+ kilograms of meat mountain, what will their first thought be?
Indeed, it will be, 'A damn hippo!'
And Thalia just called him that.
End result?
Zephyr Vinlig pounced on her with the intent to beat her, but a 250+ kilo fat man falling on a hardly 49 kg girl was definitely more than a small beating.
Wouldn't that be an attempt to murder?
Still respecting the Count's kind heart, she said nothing and accompanied him to the academy.
And coincidentally, on the way there, she threw this damn lard inside the wilderness to die after he again tried to attack her.
Already overweight and unable to walk, this guy died of exhaustion and thirst—the end.
Thinking about all these events, a visible mouth twitch formed with clear frustration on Zeph's face. 'In short, if someone called a potato a tomato, would you just let it slide? No way,' Zeph thought. 'So this idiot right here? A hippo, and he deserves to be called one.'
Like it ? Add to library!
"I got it, Dad. I'll be off then," Zeph declared, pushing himself up from the chair.
However, the custom-made seat seemed determined to hold him captive, its plush cushions clinging to his form like an overprotective lover.
'Seriously, this blubber's puffing up like a balloon. How in the world does a custom-made chair get stuck?' he muttered, frustration etching lines on his face. His cheeks, round and rosy, squished against the chair's back padding, his body trapped between armrests.
"What's everyone gaping at? Help him stand up!" his father bellowed at the servants, as if instructing a bunch of bystanders to rescue a buffalo trapped in the mud.
"Y-young master?!" The maids scurried, their eyes wide with panic, as they tugged at Zeph's arms, legs, and any other available appendage.
Of course, one of them also tried to hold his neck but there wasn't any.
"Pull!" A maid cheered with her thin hands pulling the stuck bull.
"Young Master, let us help you!" Hurriedly arriving inside the room were the twenty servants who had brought him here, surrounding him before pulling him up.
Finally, Zeph was free from the chair's grip after a struggle that cost the lives of three servants.
Like they were technically alive but logically dead—exhausted to the point of appearing lifeless.
.
.
.
Zeph finally entered his room and collapsed onto his bed, hands covering his face. "Sigh... Finally, that ordeal is over."
His eyes weren't teary; they were just sweating.
Definitely not crying.
More like swearing up a storm at that god for dumping him into this mess.
If only he had scored a decent body.
Then he could care less about being the protagonist or getting entangled in some mess.
He'd be out there, living life to the fullest.
Not stuck inside this chubby dude with a mana pool the size of an ocean.
Indeed, the body in which Zeph resided had a lot of mana, but seriously, who needed that much mana?
It was like having a bank account with infinite overdraft protection—great in theory, but a pain in reality.
By the way, let's clear up this villain business. Yeah, so the thing is, Real Zeph died really fast, hence the "villain" title?
Not exactly a grandiose entrance into the world of villainy and becoming the final boss but.
After the original owner of this body got tossed into the wild, he kicked the bucket, got resurrected by some dark sorcerer dude who also bit the dust because he couldn't control his own puppet.
This puppet, mind you, had more mana than the sorcerer himself.
Then there was this whole hero versus resurrected villain showdown.
But honestly?
Zeph couldn't care less. Heroes, villains—labels were for people with too much time on their hands.
He had decided to deal with his upcoming death first, or avoid it somehow.
Step one: He decided to scrap this absurd wedding plan.
After that? Well, he'd figure out what to do next. Perhaps take up knitting.
Or maybe learn to juggle flaming swords.
Anything to distract from the impending doom of feeling like a mere plot pawn.
.
.
.
.
.
As the first rays of sunlight hit his face, Zeph groaned and muttered, "What a way to start the day."
"Oh, forgive me, young master. I was just collecting clothes for laundry," stammered a maid, her voice quivering with fear.
"Yeah, yeah, I know you come in the morning for laundry duty." Zeph thought to himself, 'This guy here doesn't even realize that half the maids are sent by his own mother.'
The Duchess, his mother, had her spies everywhere. And by spies, he meant maids. They flitted around the mansion like gossip-hungry hummingbirds.
Again? You see, his mother, the daughter of Duke Liander, married his father for political reasons.
Confusing, right? Well, this lad's father discovered a mana mine, and to gain control, the Duke schemed by marrying off his daughter.
Sounds like a plot from a novel, doesn't it?
A year after marrying the count, she gave birth to this... well, let's just call him a character.
Who knows how pent up his parents were to have him so quickly.
After giving birth, His mother returned back to her own duchy with the mana mine under her ownership.
And the count vowed to protect him just because he resembled his mother, as if he were more like a guarantee for his mother to come back one day.
The mana mine now belongs to Duchess Kassidy Liander, yes, the lad's mother.
Care for him? Not really.
She abandoned her husband once her mission was complete.
She doesn't care about this lad.
The maids are here to keep an eye on him, in case he's a genius. But that mission was called off a year ago, and now there's only one maid left in the entire mansion.
"How dare you! You're going to wash all the mansion's clothes," Zeph snapped, feigning the anger to make this last remaining spy maid to not snitch on him.
"...b-but" Maid's voice trembled under his roar.
"Get out!"
"Y-yes, young master." As she left the room, Zeph could hear her murmuring, "But I'm already the one who washes all the clothes."
Hearing those words from maid, Zeph realised that it was not enough to not awaken any suspicion from that woman. "Hey, wait! You'll wash them without using your hands and legs."
"O_o"
.
.
.
.
"Hey, why is your face like this?" the head maid asked, noticing the perplexed expression on the young maid's face.
"Oh, Head Maid," the young maid replied with a sigh, "it's just that the young master ordered me to wash clothes without using my hands and legs."
The head maid raised an incredulous eyebrow. "What? Doesn't he know you wash the entire mansion's clothes alone?"
"That's why I'm bewildered, Head Maid," the young maid replied with a mischievous grin.
"In the first place, I don't even have to touch the clothes to wash them."
As she spoke, a magical spectacle unfolded before their eyes, where she effortlessly used her awakened ability to clean the clothes without lifting a finger or leg, leaving the head maid both amused and impressed by her magical prowess.
In the upcoming chapters,you will know about awakened abilities
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