OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 483: A Young Master's Life



***

'So I'm gonna die now huh...'

I didn't know what to think about that.

I just didn't.

And now, even if I wanted to, I couldn't.

Memories flashed before my eyes. Memories that made up my really short fucking life.

I could do nothing but watch them... experience them.

I... I was barely a year old when I first became aware of the world around me.

A bit late compared to that bastard, but that didn't matter. He was a nerd since birth.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Besides, I was...

'Why am I even making excuses?'

Giving up on that thought, I returned to my memories.

The earliest ones were vague-an endless crib, a mother's soothing lullaby, a father's absence, and the comforting, rhythmic beat of a heart that wasn't my own.

Though my dad was barely around, I wasn't lonely. I had the world in my palm.

An Elite of great caliber, a part of the privileged few who commanded respect and authority.

By the time I was five, I was more than just a child; I was a... specimen? Yeah, a specimen under constant observation.

Not by my parents but by those they commanded.

My parents had become so absorbed in their world of power that they barely noticed me, their presence a mere formality.

I was more of an afterthought, a symbol of their status rather than a cherished child.

They rarely attended my events or showed interest in my achievements.

When they did, it was more about showcasing me as a trophy than about genuine pride.

I was a symbol of their success, not a child who needed attention.

The contrast between their public personas and their private neglect was stark, a rift that grew wider as I aged.

The world outside my family's estate was equally indifferent.

I was thrust into a world where everyone was vying for recognition, where the strong survived and the weak were left behind.

I was told that success was the only path, and that failure was not an option, but no one bothered to explain the cost of achieving it.

I learned quickly that to be Elite wasn't about personal growth or happiness-it was about domination and control.

Heh...

...Or so people might think if they saw how I acted.

No. Wrong. All of it.

It should've gone that way; it usually did in every similar story, but... it didn't.

They were there for me, always, and they gave me what I wanted, wished for, and needed.

I was all they could ask for in a child-talented and handsome.

The way they treated me reflected that.

Though most of my time was spent in the care of servants and tutors, who were more interested in their paychecks than in my well-being, they were still there for me.

Even when I stopped bothering with lessons too much, escaping to play with Ava, that bastard, and Sofia, at least whenever she was forced to come by.

My parents never made me feel wronged. My life was the dream of all commoners. The life of kings.

By the time I was ten, I reached the point where I neglected the lessons entirely.

My training, which was designed to mold me into an ideal representative of my family's name, worked naught.

They called it "character-building," but I didn't bother. The value of discipline, or whatever didn't matter to me.

I was an Elite, yet I didn't act like it.

Everything was boring.

My parents tried to get me to act right, or at least however 'right' looked in their eyes, but they never could.

After all, I was, and I am, a pretty stubborn guy.

'...That's when things took a turn for the worse.'

The surface gave me all it had, except a few unattainable things... which was annoying, but I was full; it no longer interested me.

I much preferred the sector's underbelly, a bunker where my words were law.

As the youngest and most talented officially recognized son of Ignatius Blackwood, my status was unquestionable, especially in our controlled territories.

So yeah, I grew up in a life most people only dream of.

A life so gilded, so wrapped up in nonsense, that I didn't really get the point of it all.

I got anything I wanted, anytime.

Food? Perfectly cooked every meal. Clothes? Best in class. Games? The ones that got me bored

in an hour got replaced by ones that could keep me busy for two.

Even when I was around people, I didn't actually see them.

Tutors, house staff, bodyguards-they all just blurred together.

They were more like... fixtures in the place than real people.

Yeah, sometimes I'd mess with them just to see if they'd react. They didn't, not really.

A fake smile was all I got.

I was the kid of Ignatius, their employer; they couldn't just ignore that.

Then there was that bastard... Elijah. Aria's slave.

He was probably the only one who had the guts to not care what I thought.

A kid who didn't blink twice at my actions, who'd argue with me till he was blue in the face,

like he actually mattered.

The bastard always acted like he was better than me. Like he was doing me a favor just by existing in the same damn room. Made me hate him, really.

Looking back, though, it was funny.

I probably would have done twice the dumb things I did if it weren't for Elijah.

He pushed me away from that shit, even if I hated him for it.

But for some reason, no matter how much I hated him, I'd still listen to him.

And that made me mad too. I didn't like feeling like I owed anyone, let alone some annoying

know-it-all.

So I'd double down, act out, try to prove I didn't need anyone telling me how to do things.

I guess that's where it all really started-the whole "young master" thing.

The name didn't mean much to me at first, but people started whispering it behind my back,

and before long, they said it publicly.

'Young master.'

It was like... I dunno, a badge declaring me as the problem child? Or maybe just a big, flashing

sign saying fuck you straight to my face.

But I didn't see it like that. This badge made me out to be different. Better. Untouchable.

That was the point, wasn't it?