Reincarnated as a failed hero?! Watch me Defy Fate!-Chapter 237: Reasons to be Loyal

I stared at the moon above—it was breathtakingly beautiful tonight. The night was quiet, almost too quiet. The only sounds I could hear were the chirping of insects and the distant croaking of frogs.

Next to me, Envi lay sprawled on the ground, occasionally groaning as he clutched his bruised face—his face that I had just finished punching.

I wasn’t any better. My face and stomach throbbed from his blows. Both of us were hurting, silently enduring the pain.

He was waiting. Waiting for me to explain—waiting for the reason why I was so fiercely against his idea of a harem.

I took a deep breath, slowly letting it out, trying to steady myself—my heart, my mind—and then I began to speak.

"Envi... you know about my family background, don’t you?" I asked, my voice a little hoarse.

"Uh... yeah. I do," Envi replied awkwardly. "But... come on, that’s your old life. This is your second chance! You can be whoever you want to be now!" he said, trying to sound encouraging.

"You’re right. That’s exactly why I want to be a man who stays loyal to the one he loves. Because that’s the kind of person I choose to be," I said, turning to look at him.

He was surprised. My words seemed to hit him harder than any punch I’d thrown.

"I don’t want multiple partners. I don’t want a harem like you suggested," I continued, raising my hand up to the sky, as if trying to grasp something far above.

"To me, loving more than one person... that feels like betrayal."

I clenched my fist.

"My mother was abandoned by my father. My older sister—she was cheated on and left deeply traumatized. I hate that kind of pain more than anything."

. . .

Memories from my past life on Earth came flooding back—memories I wished I could forget.

I remembered the days when my mother struggled just to get by. My father had walked out on us, choosing to live with his new wife. But even after leaving, that man refused to officially divorce her. He still needed her—for money.

He used her.

Whenever my mother couldn’t give him what he wanted, he would come to the house, furious—and he’d beat her. Hard.

My sister, Nana, tried to stand up for her. But even she got hit. She was just a teenager.

I didn’t understand everything back then. I was too young. But I still remember those nights. The sound of crying, the bruises, the silence afterward.

My mother would hold all three of us—Nana, my older brother Naki, and me—in her arms, apologizing again and again. As if she had done something wrong.

Years went by, and I began to understand. I realized the truth: my mother was being abused by the man who was supposed to protect us. My father was a cheater, a manipulator, and a coward.

And despite everything, my mother never let herself fall apart in front of us. She kept working. She kept smiling. She kept loving us.

But I knew... I knew she cried herself to sleep every single night.

The more I realized this, the more my hatred for my father grew. I swore to myself—I promised—that no matter what, I would never become a man like him.

When I hit puberty, around middle school, some girls started approaching me. A few even confessed to me—one girl even asked me to be her boyfriend.

But I couldn’t accept. I was afraid.

Afraid that, even without meaning to, I might end up becoming just like him. That the monster I hated might still be inside me, waiting to come out.

Even though I had sworn I wouldn’t follow in his footsteps, I couldn’t shake the fear. Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him. His face. His eyes. His mistakes.

So I stayed away. I avoided getting close to girls. I isolated myself.

Things only got worse in high school.

Nana had started working by then. She met someone—her first real boyfriend. At first, she seemed happy. For once, I thought maybe she’d found someone who’d treat her right.

But that illusion shattered.

I’ll never forget the night she came home.

Her clothes were wrinkled and torn. Her hair was a mess. There were bruises all over her face. She looked... broken.

My mom, Naki, and I stared in horror as she stepped through the door.

My mom asked what happened, her voice trembling.

And then Nana—shaking, crying—told us.

She had gone out for dinner with her boyfriend after work. He pressured her into drinking, even though she said no. He kept pushing. Kept insisting. Until she finally gave in.

The next thing she remembered, she was outside a shady love hotel. Her boyfriend had taken her there, planning to use her.

But before he could drag her into the room, she regained her senses. Realizing what was happening, she resisted.

She slapped him.

He punched her.

Hard.

She didn’t lose consciousness—but she was in pain, and terrified. She screamed for help, but no one came. The people around just turned their backs, pretending not to see anything.

She tried to escape—but he grabbed her again, hit her in the stomach, and threw her to the ground.

Nana, crying, told him she wanted to break up. That she didn’t want to see his face ever again.

And do you know what he said?

He laughed.

He laughed and told her she should be grateful—grateful that someone like him would even bother dating a "poor girl from a broken family."

That broke her.

Her spirit. Her confidence. Everything.

After that, a woman—clearly a prostitute the guy was familiar with—walked up to him and said something disgusting."Forget that girl. Why don’t you have fun with me instead tonight?" she said, giggling.

And he actually agreed.

He laughed and said, "Yeah, I missed sleeping with you anyway."

That’s when Nana finally realized—she’d been cheated on this whole time. She hadn’t known until that very moment, and the truth hit her like a sledgehammer.

Then, as if she were nothing, the guy turned to her and said, "I don’t need you anymore," before casually walking off with the other woman, disappearing into a hotel room like nothing had happened.

That shattered Nana.

The fact that she even managed to make it back home in one piece, physically and mentally, was nothing short of a miracle.

Our mom held Nana tightly in her arms and told her to forget about that bastard. My older brother, Naki, embraced her too, trying his best to comfort her despite being visibly shaken himself.

And me?

I sat there, frozen, burning with rage. My heart was crushed seeing my sister broken like that. But the fire in my chest—that uncontainable fury—was something else.

I turned to Nana, trying to keep my voice calm."Nana... Where’s the hotel he took you to?"

She looked at me, startled."Why? What are you planning to do?"

"I’m going to report him. For assault," I lied. My voice was steady, but my fists were clenched so tight they trembled.

Mom nodded firmly. "Yes. That bastard needs to be punished."Naki, who rarely even left the house, stood up and said, "I’ll go with you."

Nana was hesitant at first. She didn’t want me to get involved. But after I pleaded, she finally told me the name of the hotel... and the room number: Room 14.

So, Naki and I left.

It surprised me that Naki, who spent most of his time inside as a hikikomori, pushed himself to step outside for the sake of our family. Though I could see the anxiety in his eyes, especially around the busy streets, he didn’t back down.

We reached the police station, and I told Naki,"You go ahead and file the report. But don’t tell them I’m going to the hotel."

He looked confused for a moment but eventually nodded. "Got it."

And with that, I left.

Before heading to the hotel, I pulled on a pair of gloves, a face mask, and a hat I’d brought from home. I couldn’t risk being recognized. Not tonight.

When I reached the hotel, the receptionist tried to stop me, but I quickly said, "I have an appointment with the guest in Room 14. His name is—" I gave the name Nana had told me.

He paused, checked the list, and let me through.

I made my way to the room. At first, I tried to break the door open, but to my surprise—it wasn’t even locked.

Stupid.

I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

And there they were.

That bastard and the woman were on the bed, in the middle of having sex, completely unaware of my presence.

I closed the door behind me and locked it with a soft click. Then I crept toward the bed.

I felt sick. Disgusted.

But even through the dim lighting, I saw his face clearly. It was him—Nana’s ex.

There was a leather whip on the side table—probably one of their playthings. I didn’t hesitate.

CRACK!

I struck his face with it as hard as I could.

"Aaarrgh!!" he screamed, jolting up.

"Who the hell are you?!"

The woman shrieked and scrambled to cover herself with the bedsheet.

"What’s going on?! Who are you?!"

I turned my glare on her. My voice came out low and cold.

"Shut your filthy mouth, whore. Say one more word and I’ll break your jaw next."

She backed away, trembling and sobbing, but said nothing more.

Then I turned back to him.

And I let loose.

I punched him again and again—his face, his mouth, his nose.

"Ugh! What are you doing—"

"Gah—stop!"

"Aghhh—mercy!"

I didn’t stop. Not even close.

His teeth flew. His nose bent sideways. Blood poured everywhere.

"You think you can do that to my sister and get away with it?!"

I grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head into the floor.

Then I stomped on his groin.

THUD!

He howled in pain, but I shoved a pillow over his face to muffle the screams.

I kept hitting him until he stopped fighting back. His body went limp. He was barely conscious.

And just before he passed out, I grabbed his bloody face and said,"If I ever see you in this city again... I’ll kill you."

His eyes rolled back. He was out cold.

Then I turned to the prostitute."You didn’t see anything. You didn’t hear anything. If you even think about telling the police, I’ll post pictures of you like this all over the internet."

It was a dirty move—but I didn’t care. I had no other way to guarantee silence.

Terrified, she nodded and rushed out, still wrapped in the bed sheet.

I grabbed the same whip and tied the bastard up to the bedpost. There was no way I’d let him slip away before the police arrived.

Then I found my way to the hotel’s rooftop and climbed down to the alley behind the building.

Once I was clear, I tossed the gloves, hat, and mask into a dumpster and disappeared into the night.

A few minutes later, I saw patrol cars pulling up to the hotel.

They found him.

Naki and I met up shortly after."It’s over," I told him.

In the following days, we heard the news: the man was arrested for assaulting Nana. The hotel’s CCTV footage caught enough to back up the charges. But the cops also said they were looking for a mysterious assailant—me.

Fortunately, months passed and they never found me. Eventually, the case went cold.

It was over.

But Nana never recovered mentally. She couldn’t bring herself to go back to work. She barely left her room.

That was the final nail in the coffin.

From that day forward, I swore—truly swore—that I would never become a piece of trash like that man. I would never cheat. Never betray. I will be a loyal man.

My mother and my sister were both victims of men like that.

And I refuse to be part of that cycle.

...

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