* * *
“I’m suggesting an alliance. We may be headed for different destinations, but our path is the same. I want something from the young master, and you… you need to atone for your sins.”
“…You want me to help the young master enter the Imperial capital?”
“Isn’t that the only real way you can apologize to him?”
Words alone mean nothing.
Show it through actions.
Reading Ranshel’s intent, Petro stared blankly into space.
His face, stiff with shock, slowly crumpled.
He began to sob—painfully, bitterly.
“You’re right… I was so foolish. I was blinded by the thought of avenging my son… but I never should’ve done that to the young master.”
Tears trickled down the layered wrinkles of his age-worn face.
“I’m already at an age where dying wouldn’t be a waste. I’ll give this old life to help the young master.”
The old man’s pale, faded eyes shimmered with tears.
“Until the very end of this life, I’ll be on the young master’s side.”
“……”
Ranshel smiled. A system message appeared before his eyes.
[Contribution Score has changed.]
[Event Contribution]
The Sleepless One: 8 ▷ -%
[A specific villain’s role has been modified.]
[Villain (The Sleepless One) has been removed from the contribution list.]
Ranshel clenched his fist. He was finally starting to understand the system’s intent, if only a little.
To become the greatest villain, he had to eliminate other villains—either by removing them completely or by turning them to his side.
If possible, the latter was better.
‘I need a spare life.’
Ranshel had four lives left—four chances.
He didn’t know when or how he’d need to use them, so he wanted to set up as many safety nets as possible.
He needed someone willing to take a blade for Zavad in his place.
If it was a villain who’d already committed sins—then maybe, just maybe, it would be okay.
…Even though he knew, deep down, there’s no such thing as a life that’s okay to throw away.
Ranshel felt sick to his stomach.
‘I’m going to hell for this…’
Even so, he didn’t care.
There was something more important than his life. More important than his future.
Ranshel untied the chains binding Petro.
It wasn’t because he fully trusted the man—it was simply that he couldn’t carry him all the way down the corridor.
He offered a hand to the now unbound Petro.
“From now on, we’re comrades.”
“…Could you put the scythe down before saying that?”
“No.”
Even as he extended his hand, Ranshel gripped his long-handled scythe tightly in the other.
Petro accepted the handshake with a grimace.
One villain, dealt with.
Now it was time to decide on the next target.
‘I want to catch the Imperial watchdog hiding in the castle…’
But of course, it wasn’t something he could do right away.
Ranshel swallowed a sigh.
He had suspected the Imperial Court was spying from inside the estate, but he hadn’t expected the mastermind to be someone who manipulated the gardener.
“Do you still have the letters you exchanged?”
“No. The rule was to read and burn them on the spot.”
“…And you really burned them all?”
“What else could I do? I couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the Imperial family.”
Just because they tell you to, doesn’t mean you have to obey. Ranshel clicked his tongue.
‘Back to square one.’
He had finally found a lead, only to lose it again.
Frustrated, Ranshel ruffled his hair and let out a long sigh before speaking calmly.
“Leaving the young master as he is… is far too dangerous.”
“I know, but… what can we do?”
“If there’s no way, we’ll make one.”
Ranshel raised a finger and pointed upward.
“You knew today was the physician’s scheduled visit, and that’s why you broke in, right?”
“Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t be in the room…”
Petro paused for a moment, thinking, then continued.
“Come to think of it, how did you know I was coming? I told you to work in the kitchen—why were you in the young master’s room? And that fighting… what are you?”
“Let’s not dwell on the small stuff.”
Ranshel didn’t feel like explaining himself to this old man.
“If you’re that curious, figure it out yourself. What I want to know is—do you even know what that physician does when he comes to check on the young master?”
“…Didn’t you just say it yourself? He’s here for a check-up.”
Ranshel was so stunned, he momentarily lost the ability to speak.
It seemed the physician and the attendant were working together, but Petro had no idea what the physician was actually doing.
That meant the gardener-manipulating Imperial spy must be part of another faction.
There were too many villains to deal with.
Ranshel felt a bit depressed.
“I’m sure you already know the Imperial Court is watching Zavad closely, so I’ll keep this simple.”
The so-called physician—a monk—would inject demonic blood into Zavad’s wounds every time he got hurt, then use a (Purification) skill on the spot.
Zavad’s body was flawless, without a single scar, because the hidden eyes of the Imperial Court were obsessively maintaining him—like some kind of twisted caretaker.
“I always wondered why they used demonic blood—weren’t they afraid it might damage his mind? But now I get it.”
Maybe that’s exactly what they wanted.
If something went wrong, they could always blame Petro or one of the attendants.
The villains targeting Zavad weren’t trying to kill him.
They wanted to drive him insane—to sever his connection to the Imperial bloodline and drive him out of the estate.
But opposing factions meant they couldn’t act openly, so they resorted to underhanded, hidden tactics.
‘They’ve been managing his body so perfectly to avoid suspicion if anything goes wrong…’
The assassin Ranshel had received an “indefinite standby order” to kill Zavad once all forces protecting him had been eliminated.
That was also why Ranshel tormented Zavad in the game.
The goal was to completely break Zavad—shatter his mind and leave him a husk.
After all, the client’s objective was to weaken the Empress’s power within the imperial court.
In the end, Zavad was nothing more than a scapegoat in the imperial power struggle.
‘But Zavad turned out to be tougher than expected.’
He clung to his shattered, broken heart and endured with sheer grit—until he finally completed his path of revenge.
Ranshel suddenly felt like crying. It hit him just how much it meant that he had been the biggest obstacle on that path.
‘He must’ve hated me with everything he had.’
…But that didn’t matter.
Ranshel shook his head, as if trying to toss the thoughts away.
Petro, meanwhile, looked furious.
“You’re telling me that so-called physician was doing tha* to the young master?”
‘You did it too, though… You’re clearly losing it.’
“The real physician was replaced by a monk. I don’t know who’s behind it, but whoever they are, they clearly mean harm to Zavad.”
Ranshel replied nonchalantly.
The physician was just a pawn anyway—cutting them off wouldn’t do much.
What mattered now was making sure they never got close to Zavad again.
“How do we do that? Is there a way to stop the physician from coming?”
“Of course. There’s something you’re very good at, Petro.”
Petro frowned and narrowed his eyes.
* * *
