The carriage rolled smoothly along the cobblestone streets of the Capital’s Upper City.
Allen de Laval leaned idly against the window, his gaze drifting over the exquisite yet somewhat somber noble mansions outside.
The jolts from the wheels passing over the uneven road were almost imperceptible.
Allen keenly noticed this detail.
Normal.
He recalled countless previous cycles of reincarnation, riding in all sorts of rickety carriages, where every bump felt like his bones would shatter—this was the “raw” experience.
“Shock-absorbing suspension?”
Allen murmured, frowning slightly.
This era already had such technology?
His mind replayed like a film, dredging up overlooked details and piecing together various clues into a clearer picture: This world was not a genuine game world.
Its economic and cultural level resembled Renaissance-era Europe, yet its social structure and military strength stubbornly remained stuck in the late Middle Ages.
Wounds.
Frozen in place.
It was as if an invisible hand forcibly pressed down on the wheels of history, imprisoning it at a certain stage.
What role did the Church play in all this?
Thinking of the Scripture’s descriptions of cyclical destruction and sleeping gods, Allen’s mood sank slowly, much like the darkening sky outside.
Marianne, Chief Maid of Laval House, watched the young master in silence, unease creeping in.
She was used to Allen’s recent bouts of manic “villain possession,” but now he radiated a familiar oppression and sorrow.
It was as if ghosts of the past were once again catching up to him.
Marianne’s heart tightened.
All of Allen’s excitement and nervousness seemed more like a mask hiding his despair.
The braver someone pretended to be, the more fragile they were inside.
Marianne had learned empathy over time.
She gradually understood many things she hadn’t before.
The Allen of the past appeared only to be “playing” the part of a bastard noble.
He bullied the weak to disguise his own cowardice.
He drank himself into a stupor every day, and sometimes Marianne would hear him crying quietly through the door.
She understood why Allen had looked so relieved when he nearly drowned.
Only in the face of death did he not have to hide his true self.
And now, Allen seemed to be repeating the same tragedy.
He had begun to act the “villain,” disguising his kindness as calculation, desperately convincing himself he was a bad person.
Because he was the villain, any injustice or endless sorrow he suffered was deserved.
Having no hope, he would not feel sadness.
Is that really it?
He was desperate, so he wanted me to stay away from him.
He thought that if I was with Livia, I could find happiness.
But he excluded himself from that happiness.
Perhaps I could have happiness.
But if the young master could not have happiness, then my happiness would turn to pain.
Determined to make Allen happy as well, Marianne asked with great concern,
“Young master, what are you thinking about?”
Allen didn’t turn his head.
He merely raised a hand and pointed at the thick clouds looming over the city, heavy enough to crush it.
“It’s going to rain soon, Marianne. We’re in trouble.”
He habitually spoke with the dramatic flair of a villain.
Indeed, that line was very villain-esque!
Marianne’s heart suddenly tightened.
Had he…already predicted what was about to happen?
Was the young master planning to face all the darkness alone again?
No!
I will face the coming danger with the young master!
“We’re almost home, young master.”
The calm voice of Butler Jean Leclerc sounded at the right moment, steady as an anchor.
Allen’s tense nerves eased slightly as he forced a smile.
“Yeah, though it hasn’t been long, I’m already homesick. I really want to lie on my big bed—those rickety ones at the Inquisition made my bones ache.”
“Poor young master. The Old Master specifically bought you a new bed, and your room has been thoroughly cleaned. But…”
The butler hesitated, “Young master, have you considered changing rooms? After…that incident.”
He was referring to the recent thrilling fight Allen had been involved in.
Allen immediately put on a cold-blooded villain’s expression and sneered.
“It’s just two deaths, what’s there to fear? Honestly, I sleep better hearing those damned Crimson Spiral Cultist ghosts wailing every night!”
Oh!
That line was also full of villainous flair!
Allen wasn’t afraid of ghosts or monsters.
Having died hundreds of times himself, he was the most terrifying ghost of all.
“Young master, do you usually have trouble sleeping?”
Marianne suddenly interjected softly, cheeks faintly flushed.
“If someone…kept you company, would it feel better?”
“Pft—cough cough!”
Marianne’s sweet line, one said only to those she trusted deeply, instantly broke Allen’s villainous act.
Marianne, what are you playing at?
I spared your life to have you help me win over Livia as part of the Black Lotus Plan.
If you say things like that, people might think I’m trying to win you over!
I’m not interested in you.
We’re comrades in arms, bound by fate in the same trench!
I won’t allow any unhealthy relationships!
I’m a villain!
Have villains who get involved with women ever had a happy ending?
Villains are hardcore loners who ascend through bloodshed!
Don’t get it twisted!
Allen was furious!
“What nonsense! Marianne! Until you’ve made peace with Livia, don’t get too involved with this big bad villain! How could a place like the Lily Garden have a worm like me in it?”
“I warn you! This is a proper all-ages story! Watch your language! Got it?”
For the first time, Marianne was scolded so sharply by the young master.
She instinctively shrank back but felt warm and dizzy inside, as if soaked in a hot spring—an indescribable happiness surged up.
The young master…cared about her!
Worried she’d “go astray”!
(Allen: ???)
Marianne hit the gas on her self-seduction journey and raced forward without looking back!
When the not-so-grand but weathered gate of the Laval Family estate finally came into view, the expected tranquility was completely shattered.
The manor’s gates were tightly shut, but a crowd of two or three dozen people blocked the entrance.
They wore a motley mix of clothes: oil-stained rough shirts patched with worn leather armor, faces marked with scars or burns, eyes fierce yet shrewd with street smarts.
They held crooked wooden signs that read “Pay Us Our Blood and Sweat!” and shouted curses: “Bastard nobles! Hiding like turtles in their shells?”
“Sucking us dry, and now they won’t even pay for a scrap of soup!”
“Bah! What damn dignity! Not paying debts is the biggest disgrace!”
The most agitated among them carried buckets of thick, dark red paint with a sharp pine resin smell and threw it wildly at the oak gate and stone walls, leaving ugly stains.
Allen looked at this distinctly “period-typical” debt-collection scene with a bizarre sense of “homecoming.”
It seemed that everywhere and every era, the way people collect debts was much the same.
“Tch, I joked about having trouble, and trouble actually showed up? What a jinx.”
Allen squinted, a cold glint flashing in his black eyes.
Just came from the Inquisition, and now a mob’s blocking the door?
Not even a moment’s rest!
“Marianne, what do you think?”
Allen asked casually.
Marianne was not surprised.
The young master had indeed foreseen everything!
She analyzed calmly: “The Old Master usually owes debts to Great Nobles. They wouldn’t stoop to this kind of uncivilized behavior. I’ve never seen debtors block gates and throw paint like this before.”
Butler Jean’s expression remained unusually calm, as if this scene had long been expected.
Only his once-straight spine seemed a bit more rigid.
He gently tightened the reins, stopping the carriage a little distance from the crowd.
“Young master, please do not worry. Leave this matter to your old servant.”
Jean’s voice was steady as ever.
Allen nodded.
“Be careful.”
“Thank you for your kind words, young master.”
Butler Jean straightened his stiff collar, calmly pushed open the carriage door, and strode toward the noisy center with the grace of attending a banquet.
“Gentlemen,” Jean’s voice was low but cut clearly through the clamor, “such loud disturbances at the manor of a royal viscount are quite inappropriate. The affairs of the Laval Family have their own rules and ways to be settled. Kindly select a representative so we can discuss matters peacefully.”
He addressed a particularly burly man with a vicious scar across his bald head, clearly the leader of the group.
The man crossed his arms, sneering disdainfully at the well-dressed, well-mannered butler.
“Rules? Decorum? Old man, you think I care about that?”
He gestured to the still-wet red stains on the gate.
“Look! This is your precious Laval family’s ‘rules’! Owing us, the poor bastards who work our backs raw, and then hiding behind doors like scared turtles! You talk about decorum? Bah! You bloodsucking nobles don’t deserve to mention the word ‘dignity.’ I’m here to rip off that fake skin of yours!”
Jean frowned but kept his tone measured.
“There may be reasons for the debt, but violence and defamation are no way to solve it. Viscount…”
“Cut the crap!”
The bald man interrupted harshly, spitting nearly onto Jean’s face, “Reasons? I only know this—work means pay! Either you pay today, or we break this damn door down and take what’s owed ourselves!”
His thugs cheered loudly.
“Yeah! Pay your debts, it’s only right!”
“Boss, don’t waste time! Let’s just smash it!”
Inside the carriage, Allen’s frown deepened.
Marianne narrowed her eyes, her gaze sharp and deadly.
“Young master, this isn’t right.”
Marianne’s right hand unconsciously slid toward the outside of her thigh, fingertips seeking the cold, hard touch they were used to—but found only warm skin beneath her maid’s skirt.
It was empty.
The leg garter that once hid her Poisoned Dagger was now just a soft band.
“Hmm, definitely not right.”
Allen’s gaze sharpened like a hawk, scanning the seemingly disorganized thugs.
“Marianne, remember what I taught you about paying attention to details?”
“Yeah. What did you notice?”
“Look at them—they joke and curse, but their stances are disciplined, footsteps steady, covering each other. These aren’t debt collectors—they’re mercenaries who’ve been licking the blade for a long time, used to team coordination! Someone’s backing them; their real goal isn’t money!”
Allen’s mind raced: The Laval Family was in trouble, but the Old Master was a cunning fox—shuffling debts here and there was standard.
This gate-blocking, paint-throwing scene was designed to let the entire Upper City, all potential creditors and allies, see that the Laval Family was finished!
Not even able to pay these “lowly” debts—complete credit collapse!
It was a strike to the foundation!
The backer must be a high-ranking, powerful Great Noble hostile to us!
In a flash, Allen saw through the situation.
Heh.
Picking a fight with my family?
Picking a fight with me, the villain?
Looks like someone’s ready to die!
“Butler!”
Allen raised his voice sharply, switching instantly to the scoundrel nobleman’s playful arrogance.
He flung open the carriage door and strode down with a loud voice that drew all eyes.
“Such a crowd of ‘distinguished guests,’ and you’re all just standing outside in the wind? How rude! Bring them into our home and experience our hospitality!”
As he said “hospitality,” his smile turned icy cold.
The Crimson Spiral Cultists had just been dealt with, and now more trouble was coming to his doorstep.
It seemed the family’s garden wouldn’t lack nourishment anytime soon.
“Young master!”
Butler Jean and Marianne called out simultaneously as they stepped down.
“Why are you coming with me?”
Allen frowned at Marianne.
“Are you going to face danger alone again?”
Marianne glared stubbornly.
“Well, what else?”
Allen snapped, “Have you killed anyone? Your job is to win over Livia, not to hold me back.”
“I have.”
Marianne replied calmly.
“Huh?”
Allen was taken aback.
Seeing his surprise, Marianne added,
“The noble who assaulted and killed a civilian girl—and his guards—were killed by me. That was my promotion task.”
Allen racked his brain and finally remembered that bastard far worse than the original master.
“Oh, that guy! Good riddance!”
Wait…
Marianne killed them?
Including the guards?
Allen shivered belatedly.
Marianne was a former Pseudo-Sigil Knight!
If she had been involved in that night’s attack…
Allen touched his neck, feeling a chill.
“Thank you for sparing my life!”
Marianne tilted her head, confused.
“Are you confident, Marianne?”
Allen’s eyes asked silently.
“No problem.”
Marianne’s crimson eyes flashed with cold killing intent.
“Hey, you two, what are you whispering about?!”
The bald man shouted impatiently.
Allen turned to the bald man with an exaggerated, somewhat roguish grin and swaggered forward.
“Hey there, big guy, thanks for your hard work! I’m Allen de Laval, the bastard son you all love to hate. Pleasure to meet you!”
He bowed mockingly.
The bald man sized up the smiling, streetwise-looking noble heir.
“So this is the famous prodigal son? Looks decent enough, but that smile…gives me the creeps.”
“Heh, so you’re Allen, young master?”
The bald man crossed his arms, mocking an overly refined tone that looked absurd on his rugged face.
“We poor bastards busted our backs fixing your family’s garden, but your Old Master keeps delaying our pay. We had no choice but to come and demand it.”
His mercenaries behind him laughed, clearly amused by their leader’s act.
“Oh my, I see.”
Allen instantly switched to a look of grief and outrage, clutching his chest, “I never imagined my father would do such a thing. What a sin! But, well, money’s a matter we can talk about. Butler!”
He beckoned to Butler Jean.
The butler understood immediately and hurried to Allen’s side, bowing slightly.
“Yes, young master.”
Allen clasped the butler’s shoulder affectionately and leaned in close, his smile vanishing, voice low and urgent, quick as a flash.
“Butler, these mercenaries were hired by enemies. They mean harm. Go to the nearest guard station immediately! Tell them that armed, unidentified rioters have gathered outside the Viscount Laval Manor with malicious intent, possibly to storm the noble residence and cause chaos! They must bring troops to suppress them at once!”
Jean’s murky yet sharp eyes snapped wide open as he grasped the young master’s plan.
He didn’t hesitate.
If the young master could outmaneuver the most fearsome cultists, handling these brainless mercenaries was easy.
As the butler, all he needed was to trust the young master.
“Young master, please take care of yourself.”
“Don’t worry, these fools aren’t my match.”
Allen gave a light punch to Jean’s shoulder.
“I’m counting on you. Go!”
“Understood!”
Butler Jean nodded imperceptibly and quickly donned a professional expression.
“Very well, young master. I will fetch the money from the storeroom. Please wait a moment.”
He turned and gave a slight bow to the bald man.
“Please wait here, gentlemen. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he jumped into the carriage and snapped the reins sharply.
“All right, everyone,” Allen turned around, his face back to the carefree smirk, but his eyes cold as ice, “the butler’s getting the money. But look around.”
He pointed at the residents of the Upper City, who were peering nervously through windows and cracks in doors.
“With so many watching, the Laval Family might be on its last legs, but we still have some dignity left. Isn’t all this noise a bit ugly? Why don’t we all disperse for today? Tomorrow, I’ll prepare a feast and await your honorable presence?”
“Hahaha!”
The bald man burst into laughter.
“Young master, you’re so adorably naive! Thanks for the heads-up! As soon as your butler brings us our pay, we’ll leave immediately. We wouldn’t want to ruin your family’s ‘dignity’!”
He deliberately emphasized the last two words with heavy sarcasm.
The mercenaries laughed along.
“All right, I’ve got some money here. See if it’s enough.”
Allen’s smile faded bit by bit.
Pretending to pull money from his pocket, he suddenly exploded!
“Bang!”
Without warning, Allen raised his leg and kicked the bald man’s vital spot with full force, precise and deadly.
“Aaargh—!!!”
A shrill, distorted scream pierced the air!