A shadow was staggering ahead in the dark alley. Muttering some random remarks about perfidy and killing, it was just about to proceed forward when abruptly it felt someone's presence.

Before the shadow can veer around to face the assassin or whoever it is, he feels the fringe of a cold sword at his throat.

"Who are you?" Even though his life was at stake here still he didn't quiver and ask in a cool manner.

"Who I am is not necessary but your failure, which has gained you a token to the Netherworld." The killer hissed as the sword's edge was nearly enough to cut his head off.

"W-wait a minute sir, I-i can still kill him, just give me another chance." The shadow pleaded as a chill ran down his spine, he knew boldness was important but still that skill alone can't save his miserable life so beseeching for another chance was the only left alternative he had.

"You've one week to end this nuisance or else your head will roll in that dirty street of yours." The assassin said in a cold tone.

"_"

The shadow couldn't help but get stunned at the mere mention of his group's hidden locale, even though he displayed some symptoms of fear yet he was taking him for granted as he could merely go hide or get undergrounded stuff after conning him in name of another opportunity but now that this Bastard has cited his group he couldn't afford to be careless anymore.

After which the new information of the prey was whispered in his ears and before he could do anything excessive the killer hit him in the skull making him unconscious.

[scene change]

Under the bright glow of the silver moon, a wagon draped in crimson was enacting through the forsaken grove. In which an aged man sitting by the side of the window scrutinised anxiously at the sleeping chap whose face was scarred as an outcome of partaking in an unruly brawl.

Keough.. cough.. cough…

The boy abruptly woke up from his slumber while coughing absurdly. This was a fine sign for that old man as he didn't wish to die because he couldn't keep a vile-mouthed brat alive for some months as he'd promised.

"young-master, are you alright?" The old man asked, wearing the shammy old worried expressions on his wrinkly face.

"y-young master?" The boy muttered while clutching his skull as if it would explode any moment now from the pain as many unknown memories were surging in his head.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

'Holly Crap, did I get transmigrated in the Mediaeval era and even at that I'm Duke Lucian's Youngest son.' Kang-Yoon thought that as the bundle of memories were still being merged.

After periodic instances of happiness, reality reverses and mercilessly throws him back to the ground from the clouds of happiness when he finds that he had reincarnated in the body of a young master who was notorious for his evil deeds or in simple terms a wastrel.

"Young master, why did you jump into the arena? what would've happened to the people of G-rental if something bad happened to you?" The old boot rained him with a lot of questions.

Kang-Yoon tried to recollect his memories as he heard the old man and from the original host's memories, this dude didn't seem like the type of guy who would risk his life for some meagre coins.

'Why did this bastard Jump in that hell hole?' Kang-Yoon thought as he couldn't find any valid reason to deduce any possibility.

ouch..

The beating from the arena was still giving him a cold shoulder.

Now that every bit of probable left-out recollection has merged with kang-yoon's consciousness successfully, he began discerning a little better as if his soul had successfully conquered the throne of the host.

As Kang-yoon was lost in his thoughts, the aged uncle looked at him in distress, 'Even after being in a crypt crisis some hours ago Young master nonetheless must be thinking about how to find difficulties for this old man.'

Being the personal attendant/servant of the young master for some years now, Gramps was conscious of all his bad obsessions so he was sure that the young master's brain was cooking some kind of plan to squander money in gambling dens once again.

But to his surprise, the wastrel asked, "Arthur, How many combatants do we have?"

"w-what do you mean by that young master?" Arthur asked as he got stunned by the sudden question.

"Are you deaf or something, gramps, I'm asking about warriors." Kang-Yoon spoke in a tone befitting of true westral.

"Ten, you have ten personal guards, young master." Arthur replied.

'Hmm, only Ten, That's too insufficient." Kang-Yoon thought as he was already brewing a plan to handle the plot of this world as from his remembrance he figured out that he was a nominee of being called one of the worst villains.

"There's certainly no way that I'm not a miscreant with this kind of stage setting." He muttered as a vicious smile appeared on his swollen face, making him look like a mashed potato.

Ouch…

The pain pounced on him again as he tried to stretch his facial muscle.

"Arthur, don't you have anything that can ease my pain?" Kang-Yoon asked, hoping that the Gramps would help him out here.

"Sorry young master but we don't have anything that can help you right now." Arthur answered with a whiff of helplessness.

'Sigh, so all of those things are true it seems.' Kang-Yoon thought with a sigh. From his recollections, even though he was a fiend, the level of his power was so low that he didn't have any value in the whole picture so he was about to be erased by his siblings but strangely his old man the Duke Lucian of kingdom Lunar who was on the verge of death activated some hidden ropes protecting the wastrel from perishing.

'But why did it have to be that place? didn't he'd better place to offer his son?' He thought while remembering that the place he was about to go was nothing but a Barren land that was surrounded by wilderness and even had a weird ass dungeon at the back of mountains as a topping on the overall situation.