There was a saying: If life ever feels boring, raise a son.
It turned out the saying applied to me as well.
“Our little Lucian… why are you so quiet today…?”
People often said that the most dangerous moment when raising a six-year-old was when the child suddenly became silent.
With a growing sense of unease, I pushed open the door to his room—and froze in horror.
“Lucian!”
Flour was everywhere.
The walls, the floor, the furniture… every surface had been dusted white. Completely covered in flour himself, Lucian ignored my horrified cry and continued smearing handfuls of it across the wall as if painting a masterpiece.
I rushed inside and scooped him into my arms. The moment I lifted him, clouds of white powder cascaded from his tiny body.
“I’m going crazy. Where in the world did you even get all this flour?”
There was no way a child this small had wandered into the kitchen, found the flour, and carried it here by himself. And the kitchen staff would never have stood by and watched him do it.
“Where’s your nanny? Where’s Grace?”
“She went out. I pretended to be asleep!”
“What?”
Lucian puffed out his chest proudly, as though he had accomplished something remarkable, leaving me momentarily speechless.
“You pretended to be asleep?”
“Mhm.”
“But why?”
“So Auntie would be surprised!”
He beamed innocently.
Looking at that bright, carefree smile, I no longer had the energy to scold him.
“I see… Our Lucian is such a thoughtful boy… Training your aunt’s heart to become stronger by giving her shocks…”
“Huh?”
He frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my reaction, but I had bigger problems to worry about.
As I stood up, my foot landed squarely on one of the flour sacks lying on the floor.
“Aah!”
With a sharp cry, I slipped.
A dull impact exploded through the back of my skull.
“Hahaha! Auntie’s so silly! Watching you fall was hilarious!”
Lucian clutched his stomach and laughed until tears formed in his eyes.
His voice gradually faded into the distance.
“Lady Ruchella!”
The maids, hearing the commotion, came rushing into the room.
By then, I had already lost consciousness.
While I lay unconscious, countless images flashed through my mind.
A black-haired woman reading a book while lying in bed.
That same woman closing the book through her tears.
They said a dying person’s life flashed before their eyes.
But after thinking about it carefully, I realized none of those memories belonged to me.
Only then did the truth dawn on me.
Those were memories from my previous life.
And this world I was living in now… was the very world of the novel I had once read.
From Bastard to Patriarch.
Its protagonist, Edwin, was the illegitimate son of Duke Bellomon, head of the most prestigious family in the Roberta Empire.
After suffering through one orphanage after another, Edwin was finally brought to the Bellomon estate at the age of nine—the place where he had always belonged.
But life there was far from easy.
Lucian, the duke’s legitimate son, tormented him every day, while the family retainers looked unfavorably upon the newcomer who had suddenly emerged as a potential heir.
Driven out in all but name, Edwin eventually entered the Academy, where he met the heroine, Violetta.
With her help, he overcame every obstacle, defeated his enemies, and ultimately became the head of House Bellomon.
And among those enemies who would one day receive his retribution…
“Auntie sure sleeps a lot. How can anyone nap all day?”
…was my own nephew.
My only remaining family.
Lucian Bellomon.
As my blurry vision slowly focused, Lucian’s bright little face came into view.
“Lady Ruchella! You’re awake!”
“Are you feeling alright?”
The maids hurried to my bedside, their faces etched with worry.
“What happened?”
Still rubbing the throbbing back of my head, I asked weakly.
“You slipped on the flour sack lying on the floor.”
“And unfortunately there was a toy right there… You hit your head on it when you fell.”
“You were unconscious for half the day.”
“So that’s why my head hurts so much.”
When I touched the back of my head, I found a lump the size of a fist.
It was a miracle I hadn’t suffered a concussion.
“Do you feel nauseous?”
“No.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No. I’m alright. More importantly… where’s Lucian?”
“He’s over there.”
I followed the maid’s gesture.
Lucian was happily pulling stuffing out of a cushion, scattering feathers and cotton everywhere.
Just moments ago he’d been sitting quietly beside my bed.
Now he was causing mischief on the opposite side of the room, as if he could teleport.
“Lucian.”
I called softly.
The little troublemaker waddled over with his lips puffed out.
“You’re going to lecture me again, aren’t you?”
Ordinarily, I would have told him that flour was for cooking, not for playing, and that tearing cushions apart was wrong.
But this time…
I simply wrapped my arms around him.
“Huh?”
Without saying a word, I hugged him tightly.
“What’s wrong, Auntie? Why are you acting weird?”
Caught completely off guard, Lucian squirmed in embarrassment, trying to wriggle free.
But I held his tiny body even closer.
Because I now knew the terrible future awaiting my little villain.
I had been born into the House of Count Lilfrey and enjoyed a childhood with nothing lacking.
Our family was wealthy.
My parents were loving.
And my older sister, five years my senior, was kind beyond words.
Compared to the exhausting life I’d lived before reincarnation, it had been paradise.
But happiness didn’t last long.
When I was twelve, both of my parents died in a carriage accident.
Since my sister and I were still minors, the title naturally passed to our uncle, Adolf Lilfrey, our father’s younger brother.
Once he became Count Lilfrey, he treated us like burdens.
Seeing us as thorns in his side, he wasted no time arranging my sister’s marriage the moment she came of age.
Marriage was the perfect legal way to dispose of relatives he didn’t want around.
And so, my sister was practically driven into the Bellomon ducal family.
Our uncle boasted proudly about becoming in-laws with such an illustrious house.
My sister, however, found no happiness there.
Duke Bellomon already loved another woman.
With nowhere to turn and no one to rely on, she made me an offer one day.
“Ruchella, come live with me. If you stay in Lilfrey, you’ll end up trapped in an unhappy marriage just like I was. I want you to find someone kind and live a truly happy life—not be sold off like I was.”
She meant to protect me until I was old enough to stand on my own.
“But I’m not a member of House Bellomon. I still carry the Lilfrey name. How can I continue living with you when you’re the duchess?”
“I’ll speak to Dehart.”
Dehart Bellomon.
Master of House Bellomon.
My sister’s husband.
I never imagined a man as cold and iron-willed as him would tolerate another dependent under his roof.
“Go ahead and ask.”
Yet his permission came far more easily than expected.
“On one condition. Whatever I do or wherever I go from now on, don’t concern yourself with it.”
It was a hurtful thing to say.
But my sister showed almost no reaction.
She was simply happy that we could stay together.
I knew better.
She was hiding wounds too deep to reveal.
So I tried every day to make her smile.
After all, we only had each other.
When I learned she was expecting a child, I couldn’t have been happier.
Someone besides me would finally shower her with love.
I would have someone to whom I could repay all the affection she had given me.
But before I could repay even a fraction of that debt…
She fell terminally ill.
“Ruchella… please protect my child.”
“I will. I promise I’ll protect Lucian.”
“Thank you… and I’m sorry for asking this of you.”
Leaving behind only those few words, she passed away.
She was only twenty-three years old.
At eighteen, I was left alone in the world with my two-year-old nephew.
Determined to give Lucian all the love my sister never had the chance to give him, I devoted myself entirely to raising him.
Some people mocked me, saying I had thick skin for living in the duke’s estate despite sharing not a drop of Bellomon blood.
I ignored them.
No matter what happened, I intended to keep my promise.
Still, raising Lucian was anything but easy.
Even with nannies and maids helping, he was far more mischievous and energetic than other children his age.
Sometimes, after exhausting days spent chasing after him, I would quietly cry by myself.
But more often than not, he made me laugh.
Watching that little boy—who looked so much like my sister—grow up brought a kind of fulfillment I had never known before.
“And now I’m supposed to believe Lucian becomes a villain?”
Worse still, a villain destined to be punished by Edwin after the latter became head of House Bellomon.
“How can this be?”
Lucian had lost his mother at the age of two.
His father had never once shown him genuine love.
And despite all that…
His destined ending was death.
Wasn’t that unbearably cruel?
Of course, Lucian bullied Edwin terribly…
His troublesome personality was at its worst whenever the protagonist was involved.
He mixed worms into Edwin’s pasta.
Locked him in rooms.
As he grew older, he even devised increasingly clever ways to torment and isolate him.
I understand why Lucian hated Edwin.
Edwin was an illegitimate child who had appeared out of nowhere.
And despite that, he monopolized the duke’s affection—love that Lucian himself had never once received.
But that doesn’t justify cruelty.
Bullying and violence could never be excused, no matter the circumstances.
I have to raise Lucian into a good person.
To him, I was as much a parent as anyone.
And no parent wished for their child to grow into someone wicked.
More than anything, if I wanted to prevent the tragic fate awaiting him, I had to guide him onto the right path.
Please protect my child.
For the sake of fulfilling my sister’s final wish…
I would make absolutely certain that Lucian survived.