DxD: The fake X fate - Chapter 27 -: Phantom Cigar

The only Paladin of the forgotten god, Nameless Chaos, and also the only Pope, Priest, and Worshipper.

When I woke up, I had been reborn as a baby. My mother passed away and I was neglected by my father. Even though I was born in a Marquis family, my life started on a HARD MODE. But I won’t be discouraged. I will eat well, sleep well, move much, get whatever I can get and live happily.

Leaving a normal life is boring, but I was happy with what I had.

Even when I spent most of my life in regret and misery, I lived because I had someone that I loved dearly.

And that said someone took my life...

But fate had different plans for me...

As if death wasn't enough for me.

As if the gods were mocking me.

I got reincarnated into a hardcore romance game that I used to play.

That too when the prequel game that I played the most ended twenty-five years ago.

A game where death is everyone's mistress.

A game that people either liked or hated too much.

Now reincarnated into the body of the Villainess's son.

I became someone that I hated the most...

“Hahaha...”

I laughed at my own misery.

As if that too wasn't enough, I also became the slave of someone else's desires.

Now, one might say a mother is a mother even if the world sees her as a Villainess.

But what if your mother is the very incarnation of evil?

That your mother is the hurdle that you have to overcome?

What if your mother is the very reason you might die?

Gentleness and love are the last things one could expect from her.

“Hahaha...”

Again, a hollow laugh escaped my lips as the realization dawned on me.

That I have been...

Reincarnated As The Villainess's Son...

……………………………………………………………

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It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.