Rachel Drogo. The younger sister of Layfon who ends up wanting to fuck the MC. The same girl who was said to possess strong familial attachment and looks up to Layfon. I know I'm harping on this a little, but it's not like I hold some grudge for Layfon from beyond the grave. I just find it weird how she and their family who were supposed to be so caring and accommodating to their family would so warmly receive the MC after killing their adored child.
The story doesn't even address it. If anything, it hammers in and makes it worse. Rachel isn't even introduced until after the MC kills Layfon. So, while we are told about his family, we don't know much about specific members. So, when she is introduced, the readers don't know anything about her. The narration specifically says how she looked up to Layfon. If she was not close or cared, her taking a liking to the MC would make more sense.
Still…Looking over Rachel…She's fucking cute. The novel had some character art, but it does not do them justice. I already figured that out from looking at Layfon's reflection, but looking at Rachel…
"U-Um, is something wrong," Rachel asks after I suddenly opened the door and spent several moments just staring at her.
"No, everything's good. Just a bit lost in thought. Did you need something, Rache?"
"No one has seen you all day. Mom asked me to come check on you. If you were okay, she was hoping you'd come down for lunch with everyone."
"Everyone?"
"Yeah, things have been slow lately, so apparently the whole family decided to take a day off to have a family lunch. You coming down?"
Shrugging, I reply, "Sure."
Rachel gave a small smile at my reply. "Good, Mom was worried about you not eating breakfast and had the cooks make extra for you."
I give a smile of my own. "I had some stuff on my mind earlier, but I'm good now. But I'm actually famished. Lead the way."
A happy smile and spring in her step, Rachel turned on her heel and walked down the hallway. Maybe I'm just a perv, but I can't help but notice the subtle sway of her hips as she walks. Then again, the nature of this world, people seem to be unintentionally sexy for no reason.
Oh well, musing aside, I decide to follow that mesmerizing rear.
What's important right now isn't how fuckable I think the youngest Drogo child is. It's how I'm going to deal with the rest of the family. The setting with Rachel makes her easy, but the rest might be an issue. I may have Layfon's memories and have gained some reflexive memory like calling Rachel 'Rache', but that doesn't mean I've become him. It's more like…watching a show to the point that you've memorized most of the story. I'm heavily invested in the fandom that is Layfon's life and could probably lay the role of Layfon, but I'm still me. It's why I can think about fucking his sister despite technically now being my sister.
Just because I think I can pretend to be Layfon doesn't mean I actually can or want to. For one thing, I've never been a good liar. Then, there's the fact that acting like someone I'm not would be exhausting after a while – especially since I've never really been the outgoing type. I may be an entitled ass, but going out of my way to be an arrogant young master is definitely out of my comfort zone. It's not just being an arrogant dick, Layfon's more nuanced than that.
While this world may be some sort of shonen hentai bullshit, that doesn't mean people are dumb. Mind control, body snatchers, and shapeshifters are a known thing, and the upper class like the Drogo family have countermeasures. Not some anti-brainwashing magic nonsense but secret passwords, codewords, ridiculous security bullshit. If they find out I'm just some body-snatching imposter, it won't be good.
I guess my best bet is to just maintain Layfon's manners and make gradual changes until I either don't have to act or enough of my actual personality comes out that it isn't an act anymore.
Anyway, in the time it took me to think of this, Rachel and me arrived at an elevator and are currently riding it down. I am convinced that the Drogo family own the whole building. Why live in a mansion when you have a whole hotel to call home? Or maybe it's such a big mansion that it has an elevator?
Whatever. I have to admit I'm a little excited to meet the fam. Except the sisters, the rest kinda just faded into the background of the story. So, getting to know them a little more will be interesting. All I have to do is make sure not to show that I'm not Layfon. Powerwise…
Actually, that gives me an idea.
Glancing over to Rachel, I lean against the back of the elevator to stay out of her field of vision. Concentrating, I try to activate Analyze.
Rachel Drogo, Rank: E
Okay, confirmed that Analyze works…doesn't actually tell me much though.
Looking down at my hand, I decide to try again.
Layfon Drogo (Stan Jude), Rank: C
…I can't help but frown. I hope there's a way to upgrade this. Because as it is, all I can tell is whether someone is stronger or not…Also, doesn't this story have its own power-level system where people's power is based on 'Levels'? Why are things presented as 'Rank'?
Running a hand through my hair, I try to use my story knowledge to get what I can out of this. Everything has a Level from one to twelve. It's a little rough, but generally, animals are level one, humans are two, etc. Systems that use letters to rank things typically have one or two levels above 'A' and then goes down however many letters are used.
*DING*
The elevator stops and the doors open.
I press of the wall as I continue to follow Rachel to the dining room to meet the rest of our family.
Now, where was I…Right! According to the story…Layfon should be Level 6…If it's a one-to-one, then that means…Analyze's ranking system should go from 'A'-to-'H' with, like, four levels above A…Why not just use the same system as the story?
Whatever. Not like it matters a whole lot. Level had more to do with 'energy' than actual ability. Depending on their actual skill a lower level can take out a higher level easy.
"Here we are," Rachel called out – looking back at me. "You sure you're okay?"
Guess she noticed I wasn't paying close attention. In front of us is a large pair of doors. "Yeah, I've just been thinking about the coming school year is all. I am entering my final year. Figure I should start thinking about what to do after I'm done."
"Why," she asked somewhat incredulously.
Understandable. Layfon doesn't really have a reason to do anything. Neither of them do. But I have an excuse ready! Giving a lazy shrug, I say, "If nothing else, I figure I should have some idea to occupy myself with to cure my boredom."
Rachel just shrugs, "I guess, but it still seems kinda like a waste of time." She turned away and knocked on the door. "I brought Layfon."
Then, as if on que, the doors opened from the inside.
Unphased, Rachel simply strides in while I follow her lead.
The room is large and decorated in reds and gold. A bright red carpet covers the floor and twinkling chandeliers hang from the ceiling. We enter from the left side of the room and looking around there are four doors – two on either side of the room. In the middle is a long, polished, wooden table capable of seating fifty people. Each of the chairs surrounding it are made of a similar wood with curling arms and plush, red cushions in the seat and back.
And there, sitting at one end of the table is the Drogo family. Patriarch, matriarch, mistress, heir, second son, and first daughter.
Oh, there's also a couple maids and butlers standing by the walls to serve. And the doors to quickly let people in.
"Welcome back Rachel," said the matriarch. She then turned to me and spoke with some concern. "And, Layfon. Good to see you're up. Did you have a late night or something?"
Lidia Drogo, Drogo family matriarch and mother of four of the five children of Drogo. She looked a bit like Rachel but older, more refined. Despite her youthful appearance, she was in fact in her mid-to-late forties. Of slightly below-average height, she had the same wavy, black hair, but it reached past her shoulders. Her eyes were a brownish, maroon color, and unlike her daughter, her face lacked any unnecessary fat – possessing sharper features. She wore a dark maroon, button-up, silk top and black pants with flat-heeled shoes, but neither could hide her curvaceous figure with F-Cup chest pressing out against her top and pants stretched around her big rear.
"No need to jump on the boy right when he enters the room," the patriarch said. "Let him take a seat at the very least."
Robert Drogo, head and patriarch of the Drogo family and current CEO of the Drogo conglomerate. He was a well-built man of over six-feet tall and sharp, piercing green eyes wearing a dark, reddish business suit and tie. In his mid-fifties, he had a head of thick, swept-back, black hair that was beginning to gray along with a well-groomed beard and mustache that did not disguise his sharp, chiseled facial features.
"It's fine, Dad," I say as me and Rachel approach the end of the table and take our seats. "I was just thinking about stuff and wasn't in the mood for breakfast."
Robert sat at the head of the table with his wives on either side of him. Next to Lidia and across from me was her first and second born. Rachel was on my left while my right had the first daughter of the Drogo family situated between me and Robert's second wife.
A cold, flat voice spoke from beside me, "You shouldn't skip meals. It's bad for your health."
This was Velma Drogo, first daughter born to Veronica Drogo. Twenty-three-years-old, she had long, platinum blonde hair that was pushed back and held by a reddish-brown hairband. She stood almost six-feet tall and had green eyes and sharp facial features. Possessing a C-cup chest, she wore a maroon pantsuit with a white undershirt. A cold aura seemed to surround her that gave every move she made the impression it might cut you and every word an underlying chill.
"What could have such importance that it would trouble you," the woman beside Velma asked. "It's not like you to not eat?"
The mother of Velma and the unofficial second wife of Robert Drogo – Veronica Drogo. She was a lithe woman who despite being almost fifty still managed to look like she was in her twenties. Her eyes were a pale blue and her straight, silver hair reached her chin. She was above average in height and wore a plain, long-sleeve, white dress. Where her daughter gave off the impression of sharp ice, the aura around her was just as cold but gentler – giving the impression of snow.
"If it's something important, he would tell us about it. There's no reason to go prying into his business."
"Either way, I'm betting you're famished. So why not let him eat before asking a million questions?"
"Oh my," Lidia said. "You two are right." She then gestured for someone to hurry up and get her children some food.
The first one who spoke and was sited next to Lidia was the Drogo heir. Twenty-six-year-old Richard Drogo. Over six-feet-tall, he was physically smaller than Robert and seemingly took more after Lidia in terms of appearance. He had long, black hair that was parted down the middle and reached his shoulders with bright brown eyes. He currently wore a suit one shade of red off from Roberts.
The other who was situated next to Richard and across from me was Lincoln Drogo. The twenty-five-year-old 'backup heir' and groomed assistant of the current heir. Somewhat shorter than Richard, he inherited Robert's strong build and green eyes. His black hair was cut short – almost like a crewcut. But unlike the other two Drogo men, he was wearing a maroon turtleneck and brown pants.