Reborn: Femme Fatale First Daughter - Chapter 483: The He Sister’s Background

This is an alternate history. Decades after the fall of the Eastern Jin Dynasty, the world is still in chaos, although there is hope for reunification.

Broken-hearted and drunk, Yoshida, a 26-years old salaryman, stumbled upon a runaway-from-home high-schooler on his way back from the bar.

“Hey, you. JK.”*

“What the heck are you doing out here. Go home already.”

“Uncle, let me stay at your place for the night.”

“You can do ‘that’ to me if you let me stay.”

“If you meant that as a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. It’s fine by me.”

“Then allow me to tell you that I have no interest in brats.”

“Hmm?”

“Then, just let me stay.”

Notes:

[*] JK is slang for Joushikousei (high school girl)

Amakawa Haruto died before he’d the chance to reunite with his childhood friend who disappeared five years ago. Rio, a young boy living in the slums seeks revenge for his mother who was murdered in cold blood in front of him when he was only five years of age.

There exists the earth many knows of and there exists an alternate world. Two people, each with their own backgrounds and values. For odd reasons, the memories and personality of Haruto, one who should have died resurrects in Rio’s body. As the two are confused over their memories and personality fusing together, Rio (Haruto) decides to live in this new world.

Along with Haruto’s memories, Rio awakens an unknown but special power. If he’s to use it, it looks as if he can live a better life, but before that, Rio encountered a kidnapping which results in involving the two princesses of the Bertam Kingdom.

After saving the princesses, Rio is given a scholarship to attend the Royal Academy, a school for the rich and powerful. His background being a poor orphan who once lived in the slums, the school full of nobles was rather a detestable place to stay at.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”