Derek was utterly bewildered.

What had he just said?

Hadn’t he meant to say, ‘Expel Kana’?

How did it come out as, “You must pay for your mistakes. Let your daughter take your place in pleasing me!”

Make Teresia replace Kana to please him?

What kind of monster says that?!

Teresia was only ten years old—how could he be this scum?!

No, that wasn’t the point now. He needed to figure out what was happening!

Steward Xinzel opened his eyes, staring at Derek with unreadable thoughts.

The servants’ gazes shifted, now filled with horror as if witnessing something monstrous.

Duke Wudewen’s smile only widened. Delighted and deeply pleased, the flames in his hand dimmed with his cheerful mood.

Kana was drowning in regret. She’d wanted to live for Teresia’s sake—only to drag her daughter into this nightmare! She’d never dreamed of a wealthy marriage for Teresia, only her happiness. Sending her here meant condemning her to become a noble’s plaything, discarded when bored.

“No, no, no, Young Master Derek! This fault is mine alone. Punish only me. I beg you, spare my daughter!” Kana kowtowed desperately, tears streaming down her pale face.

Seeing her despair, Derek’s heart ached. (*Just go. I won’t pursue this.*)

But…

“Take it alone? Who do you think you are? Can you even bear the weight of offending me? I’m offering mercy—you should be grateful.” Derek sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.

The servants dared not meet his eyes, terrified a single glance might draw his attention.

Derek himself was stunned.

What the hell was that?!

He hadn’t meant to say that—why did his words twist?

Game subtitle team, do you even translate properly?!

“Young Master Derek, I beg you! Spare my poor Teresia!” Kana scrambled forward, kowtowing at his feet.

Her desperation flustered him. (*Alright, alright, I promise.*)

“Fine. Then you’ll both atone together.”

Kana froze. “What?!”

(*Damn it, why am I dragging Teresia into this again?!*)

Derek was spiraling.

But to Kana, he only loomed coldly. “What did you expect? Your daughter might have lived. Now you’ve doomed her too.”

“No! Young Master Derek, please!”

(*I’m begging you to stop begging me! I’m helpless too!*)

Derek’s mind was chaos.

He’d thought game knowledge would save him from ruin—but this cursed subtitle team was sabotaging him!

“Begging won’t change my offer. Think carefully.” The villainous Derek remained icy.

“Hahaha! My son, Yuri Wudewen’s blood runs true. Derek, you’ve made your father proud!” Duke Wudewen laughed heartily, thoroughly entertained. He draped a loving arm over Derek’s shoulders. “Let her ponder here. We’ll rest. Chef Yeger’s feast awaits soon.”

Dazed, Derek followed his father away.

Steward Xinzel gave Kana one expressionless glance before leaving. The servants pitied her but kept their distance, avoiding her like a plague.

Alone in the courtyard, Kana finally collapsed into loud sobs.

Derek felt like crying too.

This was a disaster.

Still… at least Kana hadn’t died by Duke Wudewen’s flames today. A small victory.

…

On the fourth floor of the Wudewen estate lay a spacious terrace connected to Derek’s room.

Night wind stirred the gauzy curtains, revealing opulence within.

Gold and artistry adorned every surface. An expensive magic lamp blazed on the desk, turning night to day. At the room’s heart stood an absurdly wide bed where Derek now lay, staring at the ornate canopy, troubled.

He’d transmigrated as Derek Wudewen, the game’s doomed villain. With his knowledge, he’d planned to avoid ruin and live happily.

But what happened this afternoon?!

He’d meant to free Kana, avoid enmity with Teresia—why did his words twist into monstrosities?

After that, he’d stayed silent. The servants assumed their young master was “ruthless and terse.” Duke Wudewen praised him over dinner while Derek chewed his steak in gloom.

Now alone, the truth hit him: his words betrayed him.

Loose lips sink ships—and as a villain, this curse would get him killed.

Was his fate unchangeable?

No. In the original plot, Kana would’ve burned alive today.

His body obeyed him—only his mouth rebelled.

One possibility remained: his mouth was cursed.

He tested it with soft murmurs. Nothing amiss.

He replayed the afternoon…

His speech started normal. Then, inexplicably, twisted.

Why?

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.

“Enter.”

He sat up. This time, his words stayed true.

But he barely noticed—

The door opened like a sigh. A golden-haired girl stood at the threshold.

Her petite frame swam in a black-and-white maid uniform, yet her charm shone through. Silk-like hair gleamed under the magic lamp, highlighting porcelain skin. Long lashes framed vivid green eyes, wide and luminous. Her beauty was effortless, untouched by artifice—a fallen angel.

Where she stood, it felt as if flowers bloomed.

No wonder—she was a masterpiece by a famed artist.

Yes. The girl at Derek’s door was Teresia Shalier, one of *Destiny*’s heroines.