After accepting the conversion, another book materialized out of thin air.
It was the same size as the previous one and bore the title: 'A Successful Fuck-Up's Tool.'
Its contents were short and strange, describing a protagonist who was chosen—granted a miracle instead of despair. That same miracle was then transferred to him, granting him dominion over it.
Stiletto felt his forehead twitch as the system posed its question:
'What is the tool?'
The answer was obvious.
The tool was the system itself—meaning the "successful fuck-up" was none other than him.
In any case, it seemed that with {Sage} still at Flicker Rank, the books' contents and questions weren't too hard to understand.
Coupled with the fact that he'd only spent a short time in this new world, so the range of possible answers drawn from his experiences was limited—and easy.
It would surely get harder, though...
"The answer's a system."
-----
[Ding!]
The Host has provided the correct answer!
Passive Skill 'Sage' is now bestowing a skill upon the Host...
....
....
....
[Ding!]
Skill bestowed.
Check the Skill Page for descriptions.
-----
Already dismissing the screen, he navigated the system and made his way back to the Skill Page.
Scanning the bottom for the new entry, he read:
-----
*NEW*
{Toxic Benevolence (Active Ability)-}
Rank: Divine
...
-----
'HOLY. SHIT.'
Before even looking at the skill's description, Stiletto jumped up from the bed and paced the room, barely containing his excitement.
'Am I just insanely lucky, or what?! An Apex—and Divine—rank skill back to back? Shit... are the gacha gods blessing me?!'
He had no idea.
But he did know who had actually "blessed" him.
And that godforsaken Goddess would had never granted him luck like this.
Stiletto came to a stop and turned back to the screen, reading the description:
-----
*NEW*
{Toxic Benevolence (Active Ability)-}
Rank: Divine
Description: Grants the user the ability to bestow an artificial system upon another individual, regardless of race, gender, age, or Stage. The recipient gains an inferior version of the Host's system, including a Stat Page and Skill Page. They don't gain any skills, aside from any abilities they already possess. Stats will reflect the individual's existing physical and mental prowess.
The Host may enhance the recipient's stats directly, at a conversion rate of three Host stat points for every one granted. The Host may freely bestow skills; however, all bestowed skills will be inferior versions. If a bestowed skill is reclaimed by the Host, it will revert to its original form.
The recipient must reach certain conditions for the skill to activate. First, the target must possess maxed-out favorability.
...
Second, the Host must stab the recipient. Should the system decide it is not deep enough, the skill won't be activated.
-----
Stiletto drew in a deep breath, nearly feeling dizzy with rage.
He would've screamed again, but at this point he was simply flabbergasted—and utterly exhausted.
"I…"
He was at a loss for words.
Those two skills had cost him the experience of losing his virginity.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before it happened—but still.
All that sacrifice for two absurdly high-ranked skills.
Which would've been incredible…
If they weren't completely fucking ridiculous to activate.
"Stabbing someone to give them a system?! What kind of deranged lunatic would agree to some bullshit like that?!"
He dismissed the system as his body naturally carried him toward his walk-in closet. The muscle memory of the previous Stiletto seemed to take over.
With his head hanging low, he muttered to himself, a hysterical edge in his voice:
"Oh, hey! Yeah... I can totally make you way stronger! Nice and easy, too! Let me just... stab you, okay? Woah, woah—what's with that face? You're really fond of me, right? Just come here real quick~"
He pulled a clean white linen shirt over his slender frame and laughed under his breath.
"What a fucking joke."
Black, fitted trousers followed, then a neat pair of leather shoes.
'Let's just meet this dude's dad... then try to find the Nerd Goddess.'
A grin tugged at his lips at the thought.
Not that it was even his humor. He still couldn't believe her own divine friends called her that.
Walking out of the closet, he once more stood in front of the massive mirror, assessing his look.
'Hmm... not bad.'
After taking a moment to appreciate his improved height and upgraded looks—still not drop-dead gorgeous, but better—he swiveled his hips and headed for the exit.
It was a strange feeling: knowing where every little thing in the house was, recognizing each employee—at least those who had mattered to the previous Stiletto—and carrying every memory his former self had lived through.
It felt like waking from the most vivid dream imaginable—except this time, nothing slipped away with blinking eyes or a sleepy stretch. Every detail stayed.
So, even though he hadn't personally experienced any of it, he felt as though he had.
He cared about, disliked, and felt indifferent toward people and places he had never truly encountered.
That was why he'd felt such a strong pull toward Mya in the first place. Of course, she was drop-dead gorgeous—even with a few plainer features—and he would have tried to advance on her regardless.
But the feeling inside him was still like a…
Suggestion, of sorts.
He didn't have to act on those impulses if he didn't want to, but he felt an inclination—some stronger than others.
It was an interesting, yet immensely odd, element he'd never considered before.
It felt as though he had truly become Stiletto du Life.
Nonetheless, at his core, he was still the same Stiletto from Earth—and nothing could change that.
And he'd be damned if he became nothing more than a perfect replacement for his predecessor. That guy had been a complete waste of talent, someone who never used the resources at his disposal.
With everything available to him, the boy should have been at least Stage 3 if he'd applied himself.
His own father was a Stage 4 combatant, after all.
But it seemed the former Stiletto had been timid—like his mother—and extremely sheltered.
His mother had always had a soft spot for him, since he was the only one of her five children to inherit both her crimson eyes and deep purple hair.
"I guess I lucked out in that regard."
Stiletto made his way through the halls at a leisurely pace, observing his surroundings despite technically remembering all of it already.
He wanted to feel as though he were experiencing it himself.
Warm light poured through the windowed walls as he took note of the workers scattered throughout the manor.
The du Life estate employed several individuals of different races—goblins and beast-kin, to be exact.
At a glance, they appeared to be ordinary employees. But upon closer inspection, each bore a marking engraved fully around their necks.
They were slaves.
After the war between the predominantly human nation of Vesteia and the mixed-race empire of Kalagmon ended, the victorious Vesteia claimed Kalagmon's territories in their entirety.
That battle Stiletto had been born during was the very climax of the war—the last and final battle.
In the aftermath of their defeat, the greedy, self-indulgent, and fearful leaders of Kalagmon surrendered nearly their entire population to Vesteia as slaves, on the condition that they themselves be spared and granted lavish lives in the capital.
Which would have been an absurd offer...
But for the king of Vesteia, the opportunity was too enticing to pass up—whatever objective he truly had in mind.
Over the following years, he ordered his soldiers and government officials to hunt down former Kalagmon citizens and force them to accept slave seals.
A few tried to fight back. Many more attempted to flee illegally to foreign lands.
Most, however, didn't resist at all. They knew there was no escape.
Those years became a period of utter despair—of grief and hopelessness—for a broken people.
Countless races were cast into bondage. Even humans—though rarer—were not exempt, as many had been citizens of Kalagmon.
At the time, slave trading became the most lucrative business in the world, entering a golden age of unprecedented wealth.
Even eighteen years later, it remained a profitable trade.
Profitable—but far from moral.
Many families had been torn apart during the process—in fact, it was rarer for them to remain intact.
Entire lives were derailed, and most of those changes ended for the worse.
There were many uses for slaves, after all—and most of them were sinister.
Still, some were fortunate. A few were taken in by masters who genuinely cared for them and even paid them. Such individuals were often well-intentioned and openly disdainful of the king's decision.
These masters treated their slaves as little more than regular employees, allowing them to live under the pretense of freedom.
Stiletto's home was one such place.
The du Life family owned slaves, as did most noble households.
Through the gossip of others, he had learned that it was his mother who had brought them in—and ensured they were treated with respect.
Among noble families, goblins and beast-kin were considered lower on the social ladder, making it commonplace for a baron to own them.
As he processed all of this knowledge, a sudden, burning emotion—one that wasn't entirely his own—erupted in his chest.
'Ah fuck.'
Stiletto stumbled, slumping against the wall to steady himself as he clutched at his chest.
This feeling—it was...
Disdain.
Then he remembered.
The du Life household had only ever owned goblin and beast-kin slaves… until recently.
His father, Baron Daeron du Life, had purchased another—a dark elf—for a hefty price.
And after that, he began treating her as his wife—sharing his bed with her night after night...
While Stiletto's mother lay bedridden—sick, weak, and unable to move.
'Ahh...'
His heart burned.