I’m the White Pig Nobleman, but With the Memories of My Previous Life, I’ll Raise My Little Brother

When I finish my morning routine, I start being selfish.

As I said earlier, I am the eldest son of the Count family. The maid would have come and helped me, but I said no to this because I'm five years old now.

I just properly pulled out my trousers and blouse in the tans and dressed them, ringing the ringing bell placed on a small table by the bedside.

Then, from next door refrain, a woman wearing made-up clothes came in, about thirty ways ahead of her with glasses on her shingled hair, which seemed to have a harsh atmosphere.

This is Mr. Rottenmeyer.

The science of the Kiphoenix Empire seems to lag much behind the previous world, and Mr. Rottenmeyer's glasses are too thick to see those eyes from this side.

Press up the string of glasses with your right hand all the time and stroke this one with your gaze from top to bottom.

"The button can't be misaligned either. You have been properly summoned. Passed."

"Yes, thanks for checking"

"It's my job."

Mr. Rottenmeyer with a dusty head down. The interaction with her is always clerical like this.

If you follow her out of the room, she will also do the hotel banquet hall to guide you to the big dining room where you feel.

Fifteen people will be able to sit on each of the left and right. I'm the only one on the long table.

I haven't seen my parents' faces in the last year or so.

What comes out is the breakfast menu I requested, and I'm getting the full use of my previous knowledge to make it a diet menu.

They're not supposed to allow this, but Mr. Rottenmeyer hung up on me.

When I went to thank her in the kitchen, the chef said frighteningly, "I didn't like it, but Mrs. Rottenmeyer told me I had no choice...!" He told me.

I remember being eclampsia all I could.

The only reason I was frightened was because the menu I asked Mr. Rottenmeyer for was a primitive one, so they thought it had come to yell at me for touching my scales. I'm so sorry.

For this reason, what I asked you to do is practice 'seldom tender' and tell me that the amount of three-time meals is as good as regular children's and that snacks should be around fruit, su or something.

Sue hits yogurt, cheese where the previous world says.

"Sesame tender" is an acronym for legumes, sesame seeds, seaweed (seaweed), vegetables, fish, shiitake mushrooms (mushrooms), and potatoes, and refers to ingredients with excellent nutritional balance. When you assemble menus around this, they are also effective in dieting for growth.

As he eats silently, Mr. Rottenmeyer opens his notebook as he pours white water.

"We will confirm your plans for today. In the morning after breakfast we take a walk and embroider the needle Elise and after lunch we make a vegetable garden with the gardener Yuansan and pinch the snacks to study"

"Yes, if you go back from the walk, Elise will hear from you, so tell her to work freely."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Rottenmeyer exits with his head lowered with a dust.

When that happens, I'm alone in a large dining room, and the meals I eat like that don't taste good.

When you're done eating everything, leave the dishes to the maid to come down for a walk.

A cat bus. Walking and running at a constant speed through the garden of a wide mansion, mumbling the theme song of a movie depicting a relationship between an elementary school sister and a kindergarten or so, and then a strange fairy living in the woods.

They say it's easier to get muscles to repeat walking and running for a certain amount of time than walking normally, and doing it while singing leads to aerobic exercise.

When I started doing this, it made a scene that I was "touched by fever," and I stopped having eclampsia, so I was called a doctor, or a priest who said, "Isn't the devil possessed?"

But no.

It's not like the devil is possessed or crazy. If you insist, you've been reborn.

Before I accepted my previous memories, I was a very nasty child. If you get eclampsia and get violent, all adults will listen to you. So when I had seizures all I could, I made adults listen.

But when I touched on the knowledge and memory of the previous' me ', I knew why adults would listen to me.

Nothing. My parents are their employers, and they're just holding onto that biocide. And my parents neglected to teach me that.

'Cause I haven't even seen my face in a year or so.

I was taught in the previous world that "" "means to make yourself beautiful."

Because it is a kind action that is carried out to make the child beautiful, both on the inside and on the outside, so that everyone likes her.

And my parents would never do a thing to me, nor would they even come to the bed of death.

The only people who were doing that to me were the nanny Mr. Rottenmeyer, and the only people who visited me as a substitute for the floor of death were those who worked in the mansion where Mr. Rottenmeyer spoke up to me.

I mean, nobody loved me.

Just a little, because dying alone is pathetic, and he didn't hate me enough to see me.

The parents of the previous "I" loved and nurtured "I". There was also fraternity between me and my best friend.

Just touching that memory, an unloved fact just stabbed me in the chest after recovering from the disease.

Soon, I said "I'm sorry" to Mr. Rottenmeyer.

Thank you so much for not abandoning such an asshole so often and asking me to visit one more person who works for your mansion.

I told Mr. Rottenmeyer a little bit to spare him the memory of his previous life, and that he had devoted himself to children to the extent that his parents would not come to the death floor, that he had figured out everything about how foolish he had ever been, and that if he could still make it, I would change his mind, so don't abandon him, even though I tried my best to explain with a bite of a tongue that didn't turn so hard.

Of course, all the people at the mansion got together and explained it to me, "I'm sorry."

And I decided to let the evidence of the change of heart let me learn the work that everyone is doing in this mansion.

I was wondering if that would be the best way to show my sincerity.

All of you who worked at first were skeptical, and by the time my social studies lasted a month or two, you seemed to have broken them down a long time.

This, however, also brought me unexpected by-products.

When I say mansion work, I am reminiscent of my taste in previous life.

I mean, my soul is stained with moves, cleaning, sewing, cooking, gardening.

Walking through your thoughts, you arrive at the garden's deepest garden.

This is a hidden attraction where no one comes but the gardener Yuansan, and many wild roses stretched but were left behind.

When I look around and make sure no one is around, I breathe heavily with my strength in my belly. And to go with the melody, I started singing Schubert's "Wild Bulbs".

It was three days ago that I found a wild rose as bright red as blooming blood and I couldn't help but want to sing 'Wild Bulbs'. Then I come here every day to sing a song.

Roses are roses, even in the wild.

The world line has nothing to do with glorifying the beauty of flowers.