* * *
Still, identifying the base plant was incredibly helpful.
Merk, which thrived by absorbing magical energy, came in various strains across the continent.
The average person wouldn’t know at a glance whether a plant was harmful or not.
Only cultivators or herbalists who practically had the plant encyclopedia memorized would know.
“What kind of plant is Merk?”
“Depending on how it’s used, it can be either poison or medicine. Like I told you, if it’s mixed with water, it’s effective for treating wounds.”
“So… if it’s used differently, it becomes poisonous?”
“Exactly. If you inject a large, undiluted dose all at once, it causes problems. The victim coughs up blood, and their body becomes paralyzed.”
“Paralyzed? Is that permanent damage?”
“Not quite. But it’d take at least a week before you could function normally again.”
…So that’s what it was.
Ranshel thought he was starting to understand the true aim of the traitor hiding among the escort.
“Seems like the mastermind’s goal is to force the young master to return to the castle.”
“What?”
“They planned to strike while we were en route to the capital. The aim was to keep him from even taking the exam.”
“Oh—so that’s why they tried to paralyze him? If he can’t move, there’s no way to show up for the exam. That would be treated as an absence, and he’d have to wait for the next term…”
“No one’s going to wait around for months in an unfamiliar city, so naturally, he’d go back to the castle. It’s quite a clever scheme.”
Clicking his tongue, Ranshel pulled out a vial of rabbit blood from his coat.
“Why were you looking for this again?”
“Ah, good job keeping it safe.”
Petro let a few drops of blood fall onto the table, then added some diluted Merk solution.
The white liquid mixed with the red blood and began to harden like jelly.
“This is a simple antidote.”
“…What?”
“Merk is a plant raised by feeding blood to its roots. When you mix it with blood, it weakens the toxicity. It’s not a full antidote, but it can reduce full-body paralysis to something more manageable.”
Ranshel poked the jelly-like substance with his finger, awestruck.
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to know how to make antidotes too. You’re practically an herbalist!”
“You pick up a lot when you live long enough. Though if a real herbalist heard that, they’d be furious. They can whip up medicine that cures you in thirty minutes.”
Despite the grumbling, Petro looked quite pleased with himself.
Ranshel figured he’d much rather deal with this old man’s quirks than the difficult Zavad.
‘This is a talent more valuable than any inheritance.’
Though he still held some resentment toward Petro, there was no need for emotional depth here.
They were allies with a shared goal—there was no reason not to get along.
Ranshel decided to make an effort to be on good terms with Petro—not because he was mad at Zavad, but purely out of necessity.
Showering the old man with compliments to make him puff up with pride, Ranshel clapped his hands and said,
“So, all we need is Merk extract and animal blood, and we can make a simple antidote?”
“Exactly. I was thinking of making a batch in advance just in case. We don’t know what they’ll try next, and we can’t sit around doing nothing.”
Tok, tok.
Flicking the jelly with his finger, Ranshel looked up and asked,
“Should we strike before they make a move?”
“That might be tough. We can’t just go rifling through everyone’s belongings. They could just say it’s for treating wounds.”
“Right. So we make it so they can’t use that excuse.”
…How?
Petro looked at him in surprise, and Ranshel grinned mischievously.
After wrapping up the conversation, Ranshel barged into Zavad’s room.
“Young Master, it’s time to eat!”
Zavad, who had been sitting on the bed, frowned and looked up.
“Have you given up even pretending to knock now?”
“I decided to go silent mode. You never respond anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
“…If you served any noble other than me, you’d have been slapped and run out by now.”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for not hitting me. Please keep being your usual kind self.”
Zavad pressed his fingers against his brow, as though he was getting a headache.
“So, why are you this late?”
“Huh? I came just in time for dinner.”
“You should’ve been in my room before that. You must’ve unpacked a while ago—so what took you so long?”
Ranshel narrowed his eyes.
Sure, he had stepped out briefly to conspire with Petro, but it wasn’t like he had anything urgent to do.
Was it really necessary to be glued to Zavad at all times?
“Excuse me, young master. I do have a private life, you know.”
“What private life? You’re my personal servant. My life is your life.”
The sheer lack of human rights was staggering.
Ranshel wanted to toss in a resignation on the spot, but seeing as he was bound to this job until death, he held himself back.
“Anyway, get moving. The viscount prepared a banquet since you’re here.”
“Not because it’s me—because the son of the Duke Pomel is here. I bet he doesn’t even know if I’m the first son or the second.”
Zavad gave a sarcastic chuckle and gestured at Ranshel with a flick of his fingers.
“More importantly, come over and put that on me.”
He pointed to an earring casually laid out on the bed.
Now that Ranshel looked properly, Zavad was dressed quite differently from when he’d arrived at the estate.
Much more elaborately.
The cape draped over his shoulder was embroidered with gold, and his tie sparkled with a silver ornament.
A sleek satin shirt hugged his slim frame, and a gem-studded ceremonial dagger rested in a scabbard hanging from his leather belt.
“I figured you’d bring some ridiculous rag again, so I picked something myself. Just help me finish up.”
“There’s no ‘rags’ among your clothes, young master. Everything you own is practically perfect.”
“Oh? So you’re saying you’d have picked something better? I assume you do know what’s appropriate for a banquet hall, yes?”
“…I’ll put the earring on you.”
It stung, just a little, to be labeled someone who couldn’t even dress his master properly.
Still, having once mistakenly put him in funeral garb, Ranshel had no right to protest further.
Zavad had only tolerated his awful fashion sense because he was stuck in his room most of the time.
Now, facing other nobles, there was no reason to invite mockery.
Ranshel carefully lifted the earring from the box.
A single ruby glimmered vividly under the light, its worth obvious even to someone as untrained as him.
But there was only one. Knowing Zavad’s fastidious nature, it couldn’t be an oversight.
So he must intend to wear just one.
“Should I put it on the left, or the right?”
“Right.”
Got it.
Ranshel handled the ruby earring as if it were a newborn, delicately and with utmost care.
[Subskill ‘Exceptional Focus’ activated.]
He couldn’t do it calmly without help. Locating the piercing hole, he aligned the sharp tip precisely.
His fingertips trembled slightly, but the skill kept him from making a mistake.
‘Glad I’m wearing gloves…’
Touching a gem with bare hands was kind of terrifying.
Though the peeled part of his nail wasn’t painful anymore, Ranshel still intended to keep his hands gloved until the bandages came off.
That was why Zavad kept glancing at his fingertips.
The earring swayed gracefully, hanging from the tender lobe.
Crimson light shimmered against pale skin.
* * *
