Volume 1 Chapter 19 Sister-in-Law is a Natural
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
There are little demons in this world who wear the masks of angels. You find them in every world, really.
”Monica-neesan said she wants to have s*x with Uncle Larry,” Lyrica chirped. With an innocent smile and zero regard for the carnage she was causing, she simply replayed the words she’d overheard.
She was a demon under the age of three, a creature that could snuff out a bug’s life out of pure curiosity without feeling a microscopic grain of guilt. “She said Uncle Larry decided he wants Mother to be the one to deflower him.”
The demon’s words continued to pour out, systematically demolishing the future of a man who only wanted a moment’s peace.
”Is that so? Lyrica, you’re picking up words so fast. What a good girl, what a good girl.”
Sister-in-law was likely stroking Lyrica’s head, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up.
”Lyrica good girl?” the child asked.
”Yes, very good. Tell me, do you remember anything else?”
The demon had a mother, and that mother was harboring pure malice. I thought I could hear Teressa-sama’s voice trembling, just a fraction.
”Um… let’s see. Oh! A big uncle said Mother is the ‘favorite’.”
That was probably Ed.
”Is that all?”
(Give me a break, Teressa…)
”There’s more! Granny Ferris said ‘the drum’, and… oh! She said Aunt Nico is ‘the hole’!”
Clack.
The sound of silverware hitting the table came from Nico’s direction. I felt a sharp intake of breath as if my heart were being cinched tight by a wire.
”I wonder… who was saying things like that?” Teressa-sama asked.
”Um, Aunt Sheeta. And the tall uncle, and Monica-neesan too.”
Because she lacked any actual ill intent, the kid was all the more terrifying—a natural magnet for impending disaster.
”I see. Thank you for telling me. You’re such a good girl, Lyrica.”
”Lyrica good girl?”
”You are. Now, because you’re such a good girl, I want you to go to the room with Nico and rest.”
”Okay!” Lyrica hopped off her chair and scurried over to Nico.
”Nico, take Maria to the room as well. Please, both of you, turn in early,” said Teressa.
”Yes, Teressa-sama,” Nico replied.
It was a perfectly mundane exchange, yet the air in the room was sharp enough to draw blood. The tension was overwhelming. What was I even supposed to do?
”Herta. Herta, come here,” Teressa-sama called for the head maid. “We’re going to Bours-san’s place. Prepare a light. You’re coming with me.”
With that, Teressa-sama dashed up to the master bedroom on the second floor.
”Young Master Larry, what on earth happened?” Herta asked.
”No… it’s nothing,” I replied.
I couldn’t find a decent answer for her. Soon after, Teressa-sama came back down, and she and Herta headed out into the night. I sat there alone at the massive table.
(What am I even doing with my life?)
When I really thought about it, it wasn’t entirely my fault. It was common knowledge that Larry—the original owner of this body—had a crush on his sister-in-law. No one in their inner circle would be shocked to hear he wanted his first time to be with her. If that was the case, I shouldn’t have felt so guilty. And yet, even as a parasite host, I felt this desperate need to be forgiven by her.
(Whatever. It doesn’t matter.)
I tried muttering it aloud, but it was futile. I couldn’t retreat into a dissociative state the way the original Larry used to.
I sifted through Larry’s memories. In a village tucked deep in the forest, gambling was a cornerstone of entertainment. Who would marry next? Who was the favorite? There was always a bookmaker running a line. These bets were incredibly popular among the women; Al’s recent marriage to a local girl had sparked a whirlwind of gossip. Usually, ten percent of the pot was handed over to the couple as a wedding gift.
The current hot topic was the next Village Head. However, since it had only been a month since Iffens-niisan passed away, they’d held off on betting out of respect. But “one month” meant the moratorium ended at sunset tomorrow. Talk about bad timing. They bet on everything else, too—piglet litters, the first snowfall… even the most trivial nonsense was fair game. To be a bookmaker, you needed social standing and capital. Naturally, Hans-niisan fit the bill, though he couldn’t book his own races.
I wondered what my other brother was doing in the capital…
As I lost myself in thought, the kitchen maids finished their shifts and headed back to their quarters, laughing. Their cheerfulness only made the room feel emptier. The departure ceremony was tomorrow, then the city of Obernbach. Larry’s memories showed it was a large city, but there was no record of the rumored riverside district where the prostitutes lived. His strongest memory was the “Month of Slaughter” in November. He had gone there with his father to drive the livestock.
As winter approached, the animals were slaughtered and processed before the first snow. Obernbach handled the processing for all the surrounding villages. The animals were first auctioned at a place called the Basilica¹—a massive expanse of cobblestones littered with the crumbling pillars of a grand assembly hall from the old Rome Empire era.
Once the deals were done, the livestock were herded into pens near the Dona River. It was a grim assembly line of slaughter. The memory was thick with the smell of blood and woodsmoke—a scent so cloying it made me feel physically ill. Young Larry had just stood there, watching the gears of life and death turn.
Back to reality.
”Hah… seriously, what am I doing?”
I realized I’d said the same thing twice. My heart felt like lead. But I really did have to apologize to Teressa-sama. I’d been disrespectful, and for the sake of Larry’s future, I couldn’t leave things like this.
As I sat there brooding, my backside started to ache. I stood up to stretch and caught sight of Yutia. Had she started hating me because of what happened today? The moment our eyes met, she hurried off toward the maids’ quarters with that strange, stiff gait of hers.
(Great. Another one.)
Her defiance toward Nico after the haircut was odd. And her being there the night she saw Egil and Herta… I knew she liked Larry, but was that all? If I wanted to help her, I had to prioritize her dystonia—the abnormal muscle tension. I called it “treatment,” but in this world, it was a form of Mana healing.
In my old world, there was a psychiatric treatment called TMS—Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. It used magnetic pulses to induce electrical currents in specific parts of the brain. I remembered reading a paper suggesting that electrical brain stimulation could help with dystonia. There was no electricity here, but there was Mana. During kumite, I’d felt that tingling sensation—a clear indication that Mana was stimulating the nerves.
It’s well-known that blocking Dopamine 2 receptors causes extrapyramidal symptoms, including dystonia. The nigrostriatal pathway is the primary culprit. If I used Mana to stimulate those nerves, I might be able to trigger some improvement. Of course, I could also make it much worse. Back in my old world, this would be a massive violation of the Medical Practitioners’ Act. But here? Different world.
The plan: slowly flow Mana from the back of the head toward the brow. A specialized application of kumite. But I couldn’t risk experimenting on Yutia. I’d need to go to a Magic Academy, dig through their archives, or consult a professor. Regardless, the Academy was a non-negotiable goal.
My thoughts were interrupted by a commotion at the front door. Teressa-sama and Herta were back. I quickly sat back down.
”Goodness, once November hits, the nights really do get a chill. Herta, I’m sorry, but could you brew some herb tea?” said Teressa.
”Yes, ma’am. May I have some as well?” Herta asked.
”Of course. Let’s break out the special stash then.”
I found myself staring blankly as Teressa-sama removed her coat. She had an incredible figure; even after two children, she hadn’t lost her shape. I realized I was looking at her with the eyes of a total creep.
”Herta, make that three teas,” said Teressa.
She’d caught me. Teressa-sama didn’t seem to mind, though. She tossed her coat onto the table and disappeared into the pantry. A few moments later, a plate of apple pickles cured in ale dregs and a steaming cup of herb tea were placed in front of me.
”These are delicious, you know,” Teressa said.
”Teressa-sama’s recipe is one of a kind,” Herta added.
”It’s a family secret. Go on, try some.”
Urged by her, I took a bite. The aroma was like sake-lees pickles—sweet, salty, and with a lingering hit of alcohol. This would have gone perfectly with an Oolong-highball, if such a thing existed here.
”Well?” Teressa asked.
”It’s… it’s delicious,” I replied.
”I’m so glad.”
I’d actually eaten these several times before. So why did she look so genuinely happy to hear me say it?
”Did you… go to see Bours-san?” I asked.
At my question, Teressa and Herta shared a look and burst into fits of laughter.
According to them, when they arrived, Sheeta-san had already realized why they were there and started making a flurry of excuses. After hearing her out, Teressa-sama had simply slapped a gold coin down on the table and said, “I’m betting on myself.”
Then, she’d topped it off with: “If something this interesting is going on, you really should have invited me!”
The village regulations were clear: if a wager became too lopsided, the house was forced to shut it down. It wasn’t just a matter of fairness. If the payout on a favorite dropped below 1.1, the thrill vanished and the crowds thinned out. Conversely, if a long shot actually hit, the resulting payout could be astronomical—enough to bankrupt the bookie in a single night.
In a desperate environment like this, some men would do anything to win. In Larry’s case, there was a very real fear that certain thugs might try to reverse-r*pe him just to ensure the bet went their way. To maintain public order, the village elders had long ago decreed that these excessively biased gambles were prohibited.
Furthermore, because this was a celebration of Larry’s manhood ceremony, the house was expected to provide a celebratory gift. If the betting was cancelled, the bookie wouldn’t just lose the commission; they would have to refund every copper and pay the gift out of their own pocket, landing them deep in the red.
The single gold coin offered by Teressa—my sister-in-law—carried enough weight to vaporize the entire pool Sheeta-san² had built. At that price point, the odds would shift so heavily that Teressa would become the absolute favorite.
”Um… could you at least make it a silver coin?” Sheeta-san asked.
When Teressa didn’t nod, Bours-san stepped forward. He seemed to have been following the drama from the shadows, but as the tension between him and Sheeta-san reached a boiling point, it became clear the “house” had changed hands. Without anyone’s consent, Bours-san had taken over the bookie duties from Sheeta-san. It looked like a full-blown domestic dispute was about to erupt right in the middle of the street.
”Fine, that’s enough. I’m taking the gold back,” Teressa said.
Herta later told me that the look on their faces was priceless. Bours-san, a former officer in the Royal Army, and Sheeta-san, a woman usually known for her steel nerves and being ten years Teressa’s senior, both looked like shell-shocked pigeons.
”But next time,” Teressa added, her shadow lingering as she turned to leave, “if you’re going to make one of my household the subject of a village gamble, I expect a proper report.”
As Herta finished the story, she and Teressa dissolved into another fit of laughter. We spent the next hour in the kind of mindless gossip that defines village life: how the Pastor is a complete moron but lucky to have such a sharp wife; the scandal of Ed’s sister moving to the city of Obernbach only to end up with Al; and the rumors about a new slave over at Granny Ferris’s place.
Herta seemed to know everything; I had no idea where she dug up her intel. As the herb tea gave way to ale and the stories finally ran dry, a heavy wave of lethargy washed over me. I couldn’t stop yawning.
”Herta, I’m sorry, but could you give us the room?” Teressa asked, her expression suddenly turning grave. “I need to have a serious talk with Larry.”
Herta didn’t protest. She gave a simple nod and retreated to the maidservants’ quarters.
”Now then, Larry, why were you still here? Why did you wait for us to get back?”
The question jolted me, clearing some of the cobwebs from my brain. “I wanted to apologize to you, Teressa.”
”For what?” she asked.
”If I hadn’t said those strange things… this whole mess wouldn’t have happened.”
I bowed my head. It was a bizarre sight: a man who felt like a forty-year-old salaryman on the inside, lowering his head in supplication to a girl who hadn’t even reached twenty.
”I thought you were more thick-skinned than that, Larry,” she mused. “You’re surprisingly… serious.”
(Serious. Back in my old life, people said that about me all the time. It never felt like a compliment.)
I wasn’t exactly anti-social, but I was definitely a loner. That “seriousness” had been my armor, a defense mechanism I’d built to survive the grind of middle management. If I stayed “serious” and “principled,” I could maintain a barrier between myself and the world. I could hold the high ground.
But it wasn’t the real me. Sometimes, being called serious was a relief—a sign that my defenses were holding. Other times, like now, it felt like a cage. I wanted Teressa to see past the armor. I wanted her to know the man underneath, even if the “Larry” persona made everything a tangled mess.
”You know, I always wanted to go to magic school,” Teressa said, her voice dropping to a soft, nostalgic lilt.
She narrowed her eyes and smiled. The room was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of the Magic lamps, but her eyes seemed to catch every stray photon. They were framed by long, dark lashes, shimmering as they focused entirely on me. My heart began to hammer against my ribs.
Was this Larry’s lingering attraction? No. This was mine. A visceral, terrifying heat. An emotion I thought had shriveled up and died decades ago—the sharp, twisting ache of a first crush—was suddenly clawing its way out of my chest.
(A forty-year-old man with failing eyes and the stench of middle age… falling for a nineteen-year-old girl? It’s a sick joke.)
”In Besanburg, where I grew up, there were schools for everything—magic, the military, you name it,” Teressa continued.
I watched her lips move. Her teeth were small and white, her lips slightly parted and damp.
”The boys at the military academy were all so stiff and gallant, but the girls at the magic school… they were so free. They had these incredible robes, and underneath, they all had the latest hairstyles. Every little girl in the city worshipped them.”
I could hear her, but the words weren’t making sense anymore. My body felt like it was made of lead. This wasn’t just the exhaustion from the militia drilling. Something was wrong. (I can’t… I can’t sleep now…)
”I begged my father to let me study. He finally hired a researcher from the school, a woman named Henrietta, to be my tutor…”
The world turned to static. I couldn’t keep my eyelids up. My muscles gave out, and I felt myself sliding sideways, tumbling off the chair. I hit the floor, but I couldn’t even feel the impact.
”Larry? What’s wrong? Nico! Herta! Get in here!”
Teressa’s voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. I tried to speak, to push myself up, but my limbs were disconnected. I was a passenger in a paralyzed body.
”He’s so young… maybe it was too strong?” I heard a voice whisper.
”What did you do to him?”
”It was just something I got from Granny Ferris…”
”He didn’t need that…”
…?
—
Summary:
A toddler named Lyrica accidentally exposes the village’s scandalous gossip and gambling pools involving Larry and Teressa. Larry retreats into scientific analysis of local livestock slaughter and medical theories about dystonia. Teressa handles the situation with surprising levity, even participating in the bets herself.
A village betting dispute involving Larry’s Rite of Passage is settled by Teressa’s gold coin. Later, while sharing intimate memories of her desire to attend magic school, Teressa seemingly sedates Larry using a substance obtained from Granny Ferris. Larry collapses, his internal monologue revealing a deep-seated emotional conflict between his past-life identity and current feelings.
—
Trivia:
- The ‘Month of Slaughter’ occurs in November to save on fodder.
- The Basilica ruins suggest a fallen ‘Rome Empire’ existed in this world.
- Village betting pools take a 10% cut for the bookmaker or a gift for the couple.
- The Village Head betting is currently on hold due to Iffens’ recent death.
- Larry possesses deep knowledge of psychiatric medicine like TMS and Dopamine receptors.
- The ‘reverse-rape’ rule is actually a village safety measure against lopsided gambling.
- Bours is a former Royal Army officer, explaining his disciplined and imposing presence.
- Larry identifies his ‘seriousness’ as a defensive trauma response from his corporate past life.
- Teressa’s childhood in Besanburg heavily involved longing for the freedom of magic users
—
Character Insight:
Larry is struggling with his identity as a ‘parasite host,’ feeling guilty for Larry’s feelings while utilizing his own advanced medical knowledge. Teressa shows a ‘natural’ airhead side that might actually be a coping mechanism or a bold defiance of village gossip.
Larry experiences a ‘synchro’ of emotions, realizing his adult soul is genuinely falling for Teressa, while Teressa displays a manipulative or protective side by drugging him for an unknown reason.
—
Lore And Worldbuilding Context:
The author blends dark, ‘broken’ societal morals with high-level medical and historical references, creating a jarring contrast between the village’s crudeness and Larry’s modern intellect.
The author uses Larry’s ‘middle management’ past to contrast the often hyper-competent isekai protagonist trope with a more psychological, self-defensive realism.
—
Glossary:
Notes:
• Lyrica – Larry’s niece, a toddler under three, appears innocent but harbors a demonic edge; she bluntly repeats scandalous gossip she overhears, exposing adult secrets with childlike honesty.
• Monica – Sun‑tanned, tomboyish Larry’s childhood friend, now a widow and mother of twins, she raises her kids while caring for infant niece Maria. Missing teeth and bitter about Larry’s neglect, she embodies how war’s danger touches even non‑combat villagers.
• Larry – Fourteen‑year‑old third son of the Strock headman, with reddish‑white skin, bronze eyes and curly bronze hair, now hosts a 40‑year‑old former middle manager’s consciousness. He carries faint Showa memories, minor fire magic, medical/scientific know‑how, and a backup‑heir mindset. He hides his talent, does chores, feels dread, silently admires his sister‑in‑law, and faces conscription, militia training, and a path to magic school as he trains to become Village Head.
• Teressa – Larry’s eldest sister‑in‑law, widow of former Village Head Iffens, now Village Head herself. Married at fifteen, mother of Lyrica and Maria. Blonde short hair, big‑chested, motherly aura, wool jacket over blouse with a button almost split. Sharp, mischievous, big‑sisterly manager of household and village reports; reacts with physical shock to Lyrica’s revelations. Air‑headed yet hides a sharp, terrifying edge; a quasi‑noble with an alluring, keen mind.
• Ed – A lanky village youth in simple farmer’s garb, Larry’s close friend, soon to be conscripted, fiercely protective of Larry’s interests.
• Ferris – Granny, an ageless elf who looks like a 30‑year‑old but is over 200 years old, runs a village pharmacy with deep magic and elf‑style healing. She claims to have known Larry’s grandfather, is blunt and unfiltered, and is the elderly woman Martin hopes to marry.
• Nico – A silver-haired young woman, once head servant and now Teressa’s stern yet protective lady’s maid, lives with Larry’s family as a sister-in-law figure—bluntly scolding Larry while quietly supporting neighbors. A childhood acquaintance with high social grace, she avoids chores by cleaning gear, once met Camilla, and is deeply affected by being called “the hole” in gambling contexts. Once a diligent rule-bound servant under her elderly manservant mentor in faded livery, she now carries a subdued air after recent events, yet still plays violin gallantly on stage, blending quiet duty with hidden artistry.
• Sheeta – A petite, dark‑haired village woman, ten years older than Monica, is Bours‑san’s young wife. She teases playfully, serves as the pragmatic bookie for Larry’s Rite of Passage betting pool, and secretly involves her husband in the wagers.
• Maria – The three-month-old second daughter of Ifens and Therese.
• Bours – Tall, scarred, in a faded Royal Army uniform, he is a former captain turned militia instructor, stern and short‑tempered, training village youth with archer precision, tactical Heal magic, orc‑hunting skill and wilderness survival. Married to Sheeta‑san, father of a son in the Imperial border division, heading for conscription.
• Herta – Head maid of the Village Head’s household, a slightly plump, voluptuous woman with a large chest, respected by staff and close to the family. She shares a secret affair with Egil and cares for Larry as a family member.
• Al – Full name Alberto. A massive, red-haired man recently married to Mary. A young man who has just completed his wedding ceremony in the village.
• Iffens – Eldest son of the Fee family, village head of Strock Village and older brother to Larry, he fell in battle. Remembered as a solemn, battle‑scarred figure, his death casts a heavy emotional shadow over the household and fuels Yutia’s fear.
• Hans – Rugged, wild‑eyed delinquent dubbed the ‘Mad Dog’ of Strock Village, Larry is the second son of the Fee family, a chronic alcoholic with assault and extortion convictions. As the older brother and heir to the Kessler estate, he abandons his duties, and his sudden return crashes the ceremony.
• Yutia – A hunched, muscularly abnormal servant girl with a severe speech impediment and lingering effects from a near-fatal fever, once lady’s maid to Teressa, now feels emotional distance growing as Larry’s status rises—yet remains exceptionally dexterous, quietly serving Larry’s household with unwavering loyalty despite her isolation.
• Egil – Tall, dark‑skinned head manservant with a shaved head, the household’s chief attendant. He commands respect, maintains close ties with the family and staff, and acknowledges Larry’s transition to Young Master.
• Pastor – An exiled clergyman from Besanburg assigned to the frontier.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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