* * *
Ranshel knew exactly how much to use, depending on its purpose.
He was so used to measuring it that he could do it by feel—there was no way he’d messed it up.
What he’d given Petro this time, mixed in water, was a dose somewhere between what would act as a sedative and what would act as a poison.
In other words, the amount that turned it into a truth serum.
“Mister Petro?”
“…….”
Still no response.
That meant Petro’s unconscious was putting up a strong resistance.
His defense mechanisms were solid.
In this kind of case, he had to push harder.
He needed to hit where it hurt.
The words that had first flustered Petro—the words that had made him talk.
“…The young master was badly hurt. Because of you.”
“…uh…”
Petro’s stiff lips twitched slightly.
Ranshel narrowed his eyes and curled his lips into a smirk.
“He bled a lot. Enough to soak the rug completely.”
“…ugh.”
“I’m worried he might’ve already died. We might have to decorate his grave with flowers from the garden.”
“…Why…”
The man’s lips trembled.
“That… wasn’t… the plan. Just wanted… a rumor… Just needed a rumor that he’d lost his mind…”
“…A rumor that he was possessed by an evil spirit?”
“That’s all. I wasn’t trying to get him killed…”
“Why?”
“…….”
“Why spread a rumor like that?”
“…….”
Petro’s lips stopped moving.
The silence that followed felt like it lasted hours.
Ranshel felt itchy inside, his butt practically bouncing from impatience.
‘Yeah, I know you’re the culprit.’
But why?
Why start the rumor?
‘Why the hell did you steal all the credit I worked for?!’
But the man wouldn’t play along with Ranshel’s script.
“…The madam…”
That was all he said.
No matter how much Ranshel asked after that, he stayed completely silent.
As Ranshel debated whether to just slap him a few more times, the servant who had gone to fetch something returned.
Would’ve been nice if it went easier.
Ranshel clicked his tongue inwardly and put on a concerned expression as he turned back to the collapsed gardener.
“How is he?”
“I’m not sure… His face is still red, and it looks like he’s having trouble breathing…”
The servant gently patted Ranshel’s shoulder, who was speaking with a nearly tearful voice.
“He’ll be okay after some rest. Don’t worry too much.”
Of course he’d be fine after some rest.
The redness in Petro’s skin was just a side effect of the truth serum.
His mouth was probably dry as well.
He’d feel an intense thirst and chug down water, and after downing a few buckets, he’d start flushing the drug out through his urine.
And then?
“I collapsed, you say?”
“Yes. Now that you’re getting older, you should let other servants help during the day.”
“What? No way! I’m not that old. I’m still full of energy!”
Just like that, he couldn’t remember a thing.
It was a truly terrifying drug.
“What do you mean no way? If this kid hadn’t been here, you’d have been in real trouble!”
The servant pointed at Ranshel.
Ranshel didn’t miss the opportunity.
With his hands clasped together and eyes sparkling, he looked up at Petro.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“…Ahem.”
Petro couldn’t find any words to argue and simply cleared his throat.
After all, Ranshel looked even younger than his actual age, with a naturally small build.
To Petro’s eyes, he must’ve seemed like nothing more than a little fledgling.
And now that little kid had apparently saved him—how could he not find it endearing?
Whatever happened before he passed out must’ve crumpled in his mind like paper soaked in water.
Even if some fragments of memory floated up, he probably wouldn’t be sure whether they’d actually happened or not.
It’d be hard to speak confidently about them.
So then, how did Ranshel know all this?
‘Because I’ve taken it myself.’
Dozens of times?
Hundreds?
He’d never really counted, but it was probably around there.
Ranshel had taken so much of it himself that his body had developed a tolerance.
He wouldn’t experience the same symptoms Petro did.
But the memories he gained from those experiences?
They never faded.
‘And those memories are proving to be very useful.’
Ranshel turned his head toward the servant approaching him.
The man gently ruffled Ranshel’s red hair as he spoke.
“From now on, whenever the young master has a checkup, help out Mister Petro with his work.”
“Ah, but the gardener said he doesn’t want my help…”
Both Ranshel and the servant looked toward Petro.
Scratching the back of his head, Petro mumbled awkwardly,
“Once you’ve learned the basics of the grunt work, I’ll teach you how to handle the flowers… Whether you come or not, that’s up to you.”
“Oh! I’ll definitely come!”
“I’m warning you now, I’m not the most patient teacher. Don’t go crying on me, got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
Ranshel replied proudly.
It wasn’t like he planned to work hard enough to cry anyway.
He hadn’t managed to get the key confession today, but he’d have another chance next week.
Things were going better than expected.
Feeling refreshed from a short break, Ranshel hummed a little tune and lightly walked away, taking a small side path.
Beyond the castle walls, guards were once again inspecting incoming visitors.
Ranshel walked up to a soldier whose face he recognized.
“Hello.”
“Yeah.”
The guard nodded lazily—then did a double take when he saw Ranshel’s face.
“You’re that kid from last time, aren’t you? The new servant, right?”
“Yep, that’s me! I’m surprised you remembered.”
“Well, you don’t see many runny-nosed kids coming to work at the castle. I was curious how long you’d last. Out and about at this hour… Don’t tell me you got fired already?”
“No way. I’ve just got a bit of free time, so I wanted to send something to my family. Is the delivery guy still nearby?”
“Hmm… let’s see… Ah, there he is. You’ll have to hurry if you want it sent out today.”
Ranshel followed the guard’s pointing finger with his eyes.
A man carrying a backpack stuffed to the point of bursting had turned around, sensing someone looking at him.
Ranshel walked straight over and greeted him with a nod.
“Got any space left in that bag?”
“Hmm, as you can see, not really… Is it something urgent?”
“Yes, sort of.”
“Then follow me. I’ll check the ledger and try to squeeze it in.”
“Ah, thank you so much!”
Ranshel gave the guard a polite bow and moved with the courier toward the corner of the castle wall.
The man rummaged through the cart he had parked there as he began to speak—
“Am I supposed to take it, or bring something back?”
“Both.”
“…You already found something to bring back?”
The deliveryman frowned as he pulled a leather-bound notebook from the cart.
“What’d you write down?”
“Scopolamine. I need a truth serum.”
The deliveryman, who had been scribbling something into the notebook, paused mid-stroke.
“You touched that young master, didn’t you?”
“Of course not. I just used it to clean things up a little.”
The deliveryman fixed Ranshel with a cold stare.
“You didn’t forget the Lord’s orders, did you?”
“Please. I’ve got them etched into my brain.”
“Don’t pull any dumb stunts trying to win favor. Remember, I’m watching you.”
“I know, I know. Hyung.”
Ranshel grinned, and the deliveryman sighed, closing his notebook.
“This time I’ll pack you a generous dose of scopolamine. But if it looks like you’re going to disgrace the Lord—just kill yourself.”
“Wasn’t it your job to clean up after me?”
“I’m busy. I don’t have time to fuss over just you.”
The deliveryman tossed the notebook back into the cart and crossed his arms.
* * *
I have conspiracy theories