* * *
Zavad, unbothered by Ranshel’s internal chaos, crossed his arms and asked casually:
“So, Hans, was it?”
“…Yes, my lord.”
Zavad looked down at the kneeling Hans with a curious expression, then turned slightly to glance at Ranshel.
He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
Ranshel, seated on the table against his will, was close enough to see every nuance of that expression.
Zavad leaned in and whispered, just loud enough for Ranshel to hear:
“See? What did I tell you?”
“……”
Ranshel pouted.
Sure, he knew he was a bad judge of character—but being smug about it made him not want to admit it out of sheer spite.
Even aside from that, how could you blame someone threatened through their family?
Ranshel could fully understand Hans’s feelings.
In the same situation, he would’ve poisoned Zavad’s food without hesitation.
Honestly, he would’ve done it way earlier—on day one.
Hans’s biggest mistake had been hesitating for too long.
If he’d used the poison sooner, they might have returned to the castle already.
‘If that had happened… I wouldn’t have had to meet Frey so soon…’
Ranshel swallowed a sigh.
This had been a rare chance to send Zavad back to the castle through someone else’s hand.
And yet, despite knowing that, he’d stopped it.
He might be resistant to poison, but that didn’t mean he wanted Zavad to be poisoned.
Petro had said there would be no aftereffects, but what if there were side effects even he didn’t know about?
If Ranshel had known how the truth serum would work, he wouldn’t have used it on Petro either.
“So then, Hans. Is your family inside the castle right now?”
“No. But… the apothecary who makes my mother’s medicine… he’s connected to that person.”
“I see. So if you had to get tangled with a noble, the medicine must use rare ingredients… Hard to make by common pharmacists, expensive, and requiring someone with skill. Without someone from the upper class, it would’ve been impossible.”
“……”
Hans didn’t answer, but his silence was confirmation.
He bowed his head and awaited Zavad’s judgment.
Zavad smiled gently.
Ranshel grew nervous at how kind that smile was.
‘He’s not… going to hang the guy as a warning, right?’
Ranshel thought Zavad might use Hans as an example.
The Zavad he knew had always made cold, calculating decisions—unless it involved Frey.
Sure, he wasn’t the same yet, not fully possessed by the vengeful ghost from before… but who knew when that might happen?
At that moment, the viscount who had been observing everything took the opportunity to jump in.
“That wretch dared to harm a noble! Someone like that doesn’t deserve your attention, my lord. At dawn, I’ll make sure he’s sent straight to the court. He’ll face the most excruciating punishment available!”
If things had gone slightly differently, Hans might’ve been framed for poisoning the Duke’s son.
The viscount looked like he wouldn’t rest until Hans was burned in hell.
And he had technically tried to harm a noble—so he might very well end up boiling in a pot.
Ranshel watched Zavad anxiously.
Even with the furious viscount ranting in front of him, Zavad remained composed, arms crossed—and then smiled with unexpected mercy.
“Hans, it’s lucky your mother isn’t inside the castle. If she were being held here, I wouldn’t have had a choice… But from the sound of it, this is something I might be able to resolve.”
“…What do you mean by that…?”
Hans lifted his head, which had been bowed so low it nearly touched the floor.
Zavad looked down at him and spoke kindly.
“When the escort returns to the castle, be sure to pass a message to your mother on my behalf. Tell her there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”
“…That means…?”
“While I’m staying in the capital, I plan to officially employ you as my personal guard. Your payment will be in the form of your mother’s medicine. How does that sound?”
“……”
Hans was speechless. So was Ranshel.
A storm of questions surged through his mind.
How was Zavad planning to get the medicine?
And on top of that—he wanted to make him a guard?
That ever-suspicious young master choosing a lowly common soldier?
“This won’t do! We can’t let this matter pass just like that. If we don’t punish such transgressions properly, the lower class will forget their place and act out again!”
The viscount protested, clearly desperate to see Hans punished.
Zavad, however, merely smiled warmly at him.
“We can’t do that, can we? He was simply following the teachings of the Holy Scripture: to be loyal to one’s family.”
“W-Well, yes, but…”
“I believe God has already forgiven him for any sin he may have committed.”
“……”
Once the Scriptures were invoked, further argument was impossible.
The viscount shut his mouth tight and backed down.
Ranshel began to wonder if Zavad had decided to take on the role of some saintly figure.
All this talk of God and holy scripture felt bizarre coming from him.
As far as Ranshel knew, Zavad was more the type to…
“…Young Master, I have done you a terrible wrong! I let myself be swayed by mere rumors, misunderstood you, and even tried to justify my own actions!”
Ranshel didn’t have time to think further—Hans suddenly dropped flat to the ground and began slamming his forehead against the floor.
“You not only forgave me, but even considered my difficult circumstances… I don’t know how such rumors came to be. Young Master, you’re not someone possessed by a demon—you’re my savior, sent by the heavens! I swear my life to protecting you under any circumstance!”
So now it wasn’t just evil spirits—there were demons involved too?
Apparently, the rumors about Zavad inside the castle were worse than he’d realized.
There was Petro, the source of those rumors, standing in shock, pale as a ghost.
But Ranshel had no time to focus on him.
A system window appeared in front of him.
[Contribution score has changed.]
[Event Contribution]
?* : 5▷-0%
[A specific villain’s role has been altered.]
[Villain ?* has been removed from the contribution list.]
Ranshel blinked.
The unknown listed villain had been Hans.
It was a relief to recover the contribution points he nearly lost, but…
‘Then what about Doter?’
Was it really just a coincidence that he had Merk’s medicine and handed it over?
Ranshel looked around and spotted Doter among the crowd.
The boy wore an expression full of emotion, and then—suddenly rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside Hans.
“Young Master, I too misunderstood you all this time! I’m truly sorry…!”
At that, the other members of the guard, who had been awkwardly standing at a distance, all came rushing over and knelt in unison.
“We’re sorry, Young Master!”
“To think we failed to recognize someone so holy… How dare we…!”
“It wasn’t you possessed by demons—it was us!”
Ranshel was beginning to suspect they’d all taken the same medication.
He was the only one who’d taken Merck, and yet they acted like their brains had gone numb.
Behind them, Petro also knelt down and wept.
Sure, Zavad’s decision not to send Hans to trial had been unexpected—but this level of reaction was ridiculous.
‘No, more importantly—!’
He was the one who’d taken the poison, not Zavad!
* * *
