In the evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city, I stepped out to meet the brats.

To be honest, I’m grateful they still choose to follow me, even though I routinely beat them up until they’re black and blue. I hope it doesn’t awaken any strange tendencies in them—though knowing these brats, I wouldn’t put it past them. They actually remind me of my “friends” from my previous life.

It’s strange because they don’t have the slightest thing in common with my so-called friends from back then. So, what’s the reason? Why do I feel this odd sense of déjà vu? Maybe it’s because, deep down, I know why they follow me. They admire and respect me, even if they never outright say it. Their loyalty is undeniable. They’re always by my side, in good times and bad.

In contrast, my “friends” in my previous life… they weren’t exactly loyal. Sure, they’d do anything I asked—quickly and efficiently, too—but that loyalty wasn’t to me. It was to my money.

At the time, I thought they were true friends. I even lent one of them a million dollars for his mother’s treatment without hesitation. I believed in them, trusted them. But in the end? I fell into the abyss of bankruptcy and lost everything. No money, no dignity, no friends. Their loyalty vanished as soon as my wealth did.

Enough with these sad thoughts.

These brats, on the other hand, are different. They’re genuine. I consider them my loyal friends—a replacement to heal the wounds left by past betrayals. I have high hopes for them. Maybe that’s why I tolerate their antics.

“Ah, Boss! You’re finally here! Hey, everyone! The Boss is here!!” one of them shouted as I approached.

Even so, their over-the-top behavior still grates on my nerves.

Oh, I should probably mention how many of them there are. Twenty-three in total. Their self-proclaimed leader is Arthur Yvonne.

Arthur is thin, handsome, and back when we were in elementary school, the older girls in middle school used to gush over him, calling him an “adorable shota.”

Now, let me make one thing clear: I am not a shotacon. I was a man in my past life, for crying out loud. BUT… I have to admit, those older girls weren’t entirely wrong. Arthur really is the kind of shota that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and hug him tightly.

Even though he’s grown a bit over the years, his cuteness hasn’t faded at all. If anything, it’s just matured into a more refined charm. But let’s not talk about his personality—it’s obnoxious enough to balance out his looks.

Oh no… why is my breathing getting unsteady? What’s wrong with me?

Alright, focus, Aria. Ask them what they wanted to tell you and get it over with.

“So… what do you brats want to say?”

They exchanged nervous glances, silently debating who would speak up. Finally, one of them shoved Arthur forward.

“Why do you always push me for this…” he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

“Um… well, Boss…” Arthur began, fidgeting slightly. “We actually didn’t know you were a girl until now. So first of all, we want to apologize.”

Before I could respond, they all dropped to the ground in unison, prostrating before me. It felt like I was being worshipped.

“Stand up!! Your clothes will get dirty if you prostrate like that!!” I said, my voice cold and sharp.

“…but… we have to…”

“Stand up!! Or I’ll make you stand!!”

They scrambled to their feet immediately.

“…I’ll accept your apologies. After all, it’s not a big deal,” I said, trying to sound indifferent.

Though truth be told, if they hadn’t apologized, I probably would’ve beaten them up.

“Boss… you’re so generous… also… we’ve discussed this. We’ve decided to change how we address you, Boss.”

“Change how you address me? Because I’m a girl?”

“That’s right, Boss… no… Princess. We’ve decided to call you Princess!!”

.

.

.

Haaaah!! What have I gotten myself into?

They said they were going to call me "Princess" from now on. Just because they recently found out I’m actually a girl. Aren’t they just trying to mock me?

The moment Arthur said it, my foot connected squarely with his jaw. Don’t think that just because you have a cute face, I’ll go easy on you. Cute or not, you’re rotten inside—a piece of trash at the end of the day.

“You’re really asking for a beating, aren’t you!!” I growled, already cracking my knuckles.

“…Damn it… I told you it was a bad idea,” Arthur muttered weakly, cradling his jaw.

I didn’t care. My fists found their way to each one of the brats, one after the other. No one gets a free pass today. As usual, a few of them tried to run. But you can’t escape. Not from me, you trash!!

“...Princess!!… no, I mean Boss… please have mercy!!”

“Mercy?” I sneered, towering over them as they cowered in a pile. “Your plea for mercy is meaningless right now. I’m really pissed off.”

After my anger subsided, I exhaled deeply, brushing my hair back to collect myself. It wouldn’t do to completely destroy them. They’re my brats, after all.

“Listen up,” I began, my voice steady but laced with irritation. “Just call me Boss… or maybe Aneki. That’s fine too. No need to get creative.”

“Yes, Boss! Of course, Boss!” they chanted in unison, too scared to argue.

“Good. Now…” I fixed my gaze on Arthur, who was still struggling to sit up straight. “That’s not the only thing you came to inform me about, right? You didn’t drag me out here just to mess around, did you?”

Arthur winced but forced himself to stand. I had avoided hitting his face too much—aside from the kick to his jaw, of course. His face was still intact, and annoyingly enough, still pleasant to look at.

“Yes, Aneki… there’s something else we need to tell you.”

So, he’s settled on calling me Aneki, huh? I’d prefer if he called me Onee-chan, but his rotten personality disqualifies him from such privileges.

“Well? Spit it out already.”

Arthur straightened his posture and began to speak, though the nervous tremor in his voice was hard to miss.

“Before the opening ceremony started, a group of people calling themselves the Royal Guards confronted us.”

Royal Guards? Seriously? That name practically reeks of Chunibyo energy.

“And what does that have to do with me?” I asked, already growing bored.

“…Normally, we wouldn’t bother you with something like this,” Arthur admitted hesitantly. “But after they found out that Aneki is our boss, for some reason, they declared war on us.”

“What?!” I snapped. “I don’t even know who they are! Why would they have a grudge against me?”

Arthur flinched at my outburst, but he held his ground.

“…This is a hassle. I don’t want to get involved in your little war games or whatever this is. But if they’re targeting me and not just all of you…”

I narrowed my eyes, staring him down. Arthur, are you sure you’re not making this up? Trying to drag me into some nonsense?

He shook his head vehemently. “A… Aneki… please don’t look at me like that. I swear I’m not making this up!”

Huh. He can read my mind now, huh?

“Well then…” I crossed my arms, glaring down at him. “Do you have any clue why they’re targeting me?”

“I… I think it’s because of their boss, Aneki.”

“Their boss?” I frowned, leaning in slightly. “Do you know who that is?”

Arthur nodded gravely. “Yes… their boss’s name is Minami Kotori.”

Time froze. I felt my blood turn cold as the name echoed in my mind.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, my hands curling into fists.

Minami Kotori. Of all people.