* * *
Petro, now fully awake, looked around with a dazed, innocent expression, like a fool.
Ranshel hid his clenched fist behind his back and bit down hard, forcing himself to wear a concerned face.
“Petro! Are you alright?”
“Huh? Wh-what happened?”
Blinking, Petro sat up where he had collapsed.
“Don’t tell me I fainted again?”
“Yes. I think your health isn’t doing too well. Maybe it’s best if you rest for today?”
“Ahem… Yeah. Bring me some water first.”
He coughed dryly and motioned for his throat.
Makes sense—he must be thirsty after taking the drug.
Ranshel felt like his insides were all twisted up.
Overusing Skopol would lead to addiction and bodily damage.
Without having properly trained his body using Nameless’s education method, Ranshel would’ve long since become a wreck himself.
He could only administer the truth serum to Petro once a week—at most.
‘I almost got everything today… but now I have to wait until next week again?’
He felt heat rush to the top of his head out of sheer frustration.
“You slow little brat! Don’t just stand there staring—go get me some water!”
Petro lashed out, kicking Ranshel in the shin.
Forcing a smile, Ranshel turned toward the castle—but then changed direction and headed to the stables.
He scooped up some water that was meant for the horses and handed it to Petro.
“You put some tea leaves in here or something? It’s got a nice roasted flavor.”
Petro gulped it down greedily.
Ranshel was pleased—it seemed to suit his taste.
Now completely free of the drug’s effects and having forgotten everything, Petro announced he’d be resting for the rest of the day.
Ranshel, freed along with him, felt some of his rage subside.
“I’ll head to my room and get a nap. You—don’t slack off. Go help out in the kitchen.”
Or not. Ranshel scrunched up his nose, glaring at the old man’s back.
“What a cheap old bastard.”
Still, it wasn’t completely fruitless.
Ranshel walked at a pace slower than an ant, deep in thought.
His footsteps weren’t heading toward the castle kitchen, but instead toward the servants’ quarters.
He was following behind Petro.
He didn’t particularly want to go back to the kitchen and get stuck with leftovers or some other chore—but more than that, he was suspicious of Petro’s behavior.
It was odd for that prideful old man to suddenly declare in the middle of the day that he was going to rest and head straight for the dorms.
Sure, he had collapsed twice for unknown reasons, but people who woke up after taking Scopol usually felt more energetic than usual.
It wasn’t that their bodies were truly getting better—it was a temporary side effect.
The drug fooled the brain into thinking the body was more active than normal.
That was one of its side effects.
And yet he claimed he was tired and went to take a nap?
No matter how you looked at it, something was off.
Looking back, the things Petro had said while under the drug’s influence hadn’t been ordinary either.
High-ranking servants like gardeners had their own separate lodgings outside the main building.
Another servant exiting from one of the outbuildings greeted Petro.
“Heading in already today, sir?”
“Just stopping by to grab something. Is anyone still inside?”
“I’m the last one. I turned off all the candles inside—would you like me to bring you some light?”
“No need. I won’t be long. Don’t worry about it.”
They exchanged some light chatter, and the servant walked past the tree where Ranshel was hiding.
Of course he didn’t notice.
Ranshel specialized in erasing his presence.
[Support Skill (Stealth) activated.]
With his stamina at rock bottom, being good at hiding was the least he could rely on.
Sure enough, despite saying he’d be taking a nap, Petro emerged with something strapped to his back and headed off somewhere.
Ranshel furrowed his brow when he saw the edge of a sickle sticking out of the backpack, which was woven from tree branches.
‘…No way.’
Even as he thought that couldn’t be it, Ranshel cloaked his presence with (Stealth) and tailed him.
Petro wasn’t heading toward the castle gate.
In fact, he took the longest, farthest route away from it—toward the forest.
A forest located at the back of the castle, a place Ranshel had never explored.
Ranshel scanned the area with his eyes, memorizing the terrain as fast as he could.
The forest was so dense that it would be easy to get lost once inside, and he’d heard there were hidden traps for security.
That didn’t seem to be a lie.
At the entrance, a warning sign carved with an X was posted, but Petro paid it no mind and stepped right in.
He moved confidently, not a single moment of hesitation, as if his years working at the castle had familiarized him with every step.
Ranshel carefully placed his feet in Petro’s footprints and followed.
[Support Skill (Heightened Focus) activated.]
The terrain was rough, and maintaining the skill while stepping only where Petro had stepped quickly drained his stamina.
He was already nearing his physical limits, but he held his breath and made no sound.
‘Damn this body.’
How could he have less stamina than that old gardener?
It was ridiculous—but there was no fixing it. That was just part of his character traits.
After walking deep into the forest without pause, Petro suddenly stopped.
Ranshel stopped as well, keeping a safe distance.
Petro looked up at the sky, swaying between the blue-tinted leaves.
He muttered something under his breath for a moment, then set down his pack.
Ranshel frowned when he saw Petro take out a long-handled sickle and a coil of iron wire from the bag.
‘What the hell is he trying to do out here?’
Petro slung the wire over his shoulder, gripped the sickle tightly, and began to dig roughly into the ground around where he stood.
Ranshel almost let out a sigh of relief without realizing it.
‘So I panicked for nothing.’
He’d been worried that Petro was planning to bash in Zavad’s skull with that sickle.
After all, he had overheard the old man mumbling about killing someone with his own hands.
Maybe he was just out here gathering herbs or something.
Ranshel relaxed a little, stretching his back from behind the tree—then nearly passed out at what he saw next.
Petro, who had been digging, suddenly lowered his head into the ground—and then, like water slipping through a crack, his entire body disappeared into the hole.
From head to shoulders, to his bent back, all the way to his feet.
The large man had completely vanished.
Ranshel cautiously stepped forward to where Petro had disappeared.
There was a tunnel there, far too deep to have been dug by just a sickle.
It had clearly been reinforced to prevent collapse, even in the rain.
A man-made space.
A hidden entrance, buried with a layer of soil.
Petro had simply brushed away the dirt and entered.
‘…A secret passage?’
He had to make a choice. Stalking someone through a visible forest path was one thing.
Following them into a hidden tunnel—an unknown interior with no idea what lay beyond—was another level of difficulty entirely.
If Petro turned back suddenly, there was a high chance he wouldn’t be able to escape in time.
Follow now, or retreat?
* * *
