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My new name is Arc Noyadarma.

Honestly... "Arc Noyadarma" sounds like I was born to be some big-shot villain. But the real villains were my parents.

They were the classic corrupt lords: they treated people like dirt, took livestock and land by force, invented unfair rules to stuff their own pockets, forced ridiculous military service, and imposed huge taxes.

While their people starved, they threw fancy parties and pocketed bribes like it was no big deal. Total scumbags.

But those horrible parents of mine died a little while ago. They were out hunting—one of their favorite hobbies—when a monster showed up and killed them. At their funeral, I tried squeezing out a tear, but nothing came. Maybe I just have dry eyes.

By the way, this world has monsters and magic—basic fantasy stuff. I'm a sucker for beastfolk, but apparently they don't exist here. That fact alone crushed me way more than my parents' death. Seriously, I almost cried for real when I found out.

Whether my parents were really killed by a monster or got assassinated, who knows. Monsters don't just pop out of thin air, and my parents had a ton of enemies. Wouldn't surprise me either way.

Anyway, I inherited their position. Now I'm Count Garm (the domain is called Garm, with a fancy dog crest). But I'm just eight years old—you can't run a domain when you're a kid. So I turned to Lampard, the head butler who's served the Noyadarma family since my grandpa's day. He's this older guy with perfect posture, basically the platonic ideal of a butler.

My first order was to dig up every last bit of corruption.

"Lord Arc, a child of those two showing such strong justice... truly a miracle," Lampard sniffled, like I was some moral savior.

He's totally off. I don't care about justice—I'm done with that. I just can't stand other people ripping me off. In my past life, that "corruption" stuff messed me up big time.

Besides, everything in this domain belongs to me now. Embezzling is basically stealing from me—no way I'm letting that slide.

Lampard found evidence everywhere—so much that it was almost comical. Total corruption festival. So many names on the list. This place was rotten to the core and reminded me too much of my old life.

I told Lampard to handle it. Some people had been hurt by my parents' crap, so I gave them hush money and shut them up.

Ha! Money and power can fix anything. Being a crooked noble is awesome!

The domain was still falling apart, though. Lampard said we needed a huge amount of funds to turn it around. And a ruined domain wouldn't benefit me, so obviously I want it fixed.

I sold off all the art and antiques my parents had collected. Turns out they had good taste, because we made a decent profit. Not enough, though.

So I told Lampard we'd cut costs, meaning we'd downsize the army.

He argued, "My lord, we're overrun by monsters and bandits lately. Cutting our troops could be disastrous."

"A showy army is pointless if it can't protect us," I snapped back. "No point burning cash on something useless."

My horrible parents just liked having a big army for appearances. Image can matter, but not if it's draining my wallet. I'm not throwing my money away.

"But if we look weak, we'll be invaded!" Lampard protested.

"We're already being attacked by bandits—clearly they don't fear us. Enough said," I told him. "Cut the soldiers down to a third. Fire the higher-ups too. I'm not paying big salaries for zero results."

I saved a bunch of money that way and told Lampard to handle the rest. He wasn't thrilled, but he followed orders.

Ha! Having power rules. In my old life, I was the one constantly bossed around. Now I'm the boss. Being a noble is the best!

After I gave Lampard a bunch of commands, he complained about needing more staff. It's true, this mansion has barely any servants. That means crappy service for me—and I won't stand for that. This place is mine, so I want top-quality service.

So I decided to hire all the people my parents had kicked out. They probably despise me, but I'm their lord, so tough luck.

I know they hate me. So I told them:

"I'm not asking for forgiveness. I don't expect it. Hate me all you want—you have that right. But hate doesn't put food on the table. Is it going to fix your life? You've got two options: One, keep hating me and starve to death. Two, work under me while you keep hating me. It's all the same to me. But if you choose to work here, I'll at least give you the bare minimum."

"Bare minimum" by my definition, of course. We're broke, after all.

They cried, but I forced them to work. My word is law.

Ha! The rush of superiority is amazing.

I also cut the pay of the servants who were still here to the same "bare minimum." Our domain's finances can't afford more.

So there I was, sipping tea while Lampard and everyone else toiled away. Watching them sweat just made my tea taste sweeter.

"Mmm, delicious," I said.

And so began my life as a wicked noble.