* * *
“…Don’t tell me you mean the hallucinogen?”
“Yes. The one you created yourself, right?”
The hallucinogen Petro used didn’t come from the imperial sentinels.
He made it using beredon, a flower grown on the miasmic air of the demon realm—demon-bloom.
To handle demon-bloom properly, your character trait had to be “Cultivator.”
In that sense, Petro, though annoying, had a very convenient skill.
‘We’ll need him around for the future.’
He might even risk his life to protect Zavad when it matters.
Until then, they had to make full use of his abilities.
…Maybe he was becoming a pretty convincing villain himself.
Ranshel let out a self-mocking smile, only to quickly wipe it away.
“…Anyway, using the hallucination, you can control people’s actions, right?”
“Well, yes, but it only works inside this room… It’s not enough to drive the physician away for good.”
“I’m not asking for something that tame.”
Too soft. Ranshel grinned, and for some reason, Petro went pale at the sight.
“…Are you saying I have to kill that physician or monk?”
“What? Do I really look like the kind of person who would ask you to kill someone?”
Ranshel laughed while twirling his sickle.
“Let’s start a fire.”
“…Huh?”
“Let’s make him start a fire. In Zavad’s room.”
“……”
Not murder… but arson?
Petro looked at the swinging iron sickle in front of his eyes and nodded slowly.
A week passed.
Zavad had started sleeping in his bed like a normal person, not on cabinets or chairs, and his complexion had clearly improved.
The evil spirit tormenting him must have vanished.
Still, nothing had really changed between the two of them.
They only spoke when absolutely necessary.
But now and then, Zavad, who had once stared into the void like someone who’d given up on everything, would simply fix his gaze on Ranshel.
Ranshel, busy as ever, never looked back or reacted—he just kept working.
And then the day came—the physician’s scheduled visit.
Ranshel jumped out of bed and skipped breakfast, sprinting through the forest to reach the secret passage. He had no time to waste.
He met up with Petro at their prearranged spot, and together they crawled through the passage to the space beneath Zavad’s room.
Ranshel knocked on the hidden door like he would when visiting Zavad’s room.
Then, he shoved it upward.
Clatter!
The chair that was always placed above the door toppled loudly onto the floor.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Ranshel said it casually as he climbed the ladder.
He peeked his head into the room and looked around.
Zavad, lying on the bed, stared wide-eyed at the figures emerging from below.
“Good morning, Young Master. Well, not that good, I suppose.”
“You, what are you—”
“Come on, come on. Over here, please.”
Ranshel beckoned with a finger.
Zavad slowly sat up in bed, pulled a book from under his pillow, hugged it to his chest, and approached Ranshel.
“What the hell are you trying to do?”
“I’ll explain later. For now, just go down.”
Ranshel pointed to the open door beneath them.
Zavad furrowed his brow and glanced between Ranshel and Petro before letting out a sigh.
Clutching the book under his arm, he descended the ladder.
Once Ranshel confirmed Zavad had reached the bottom, he followed, shutting the secret door tightly behind him.
“Wait a minute—what if the physician shows up? You’re just going to leave Petro up there?”
“That’s exactly why we’re leaving him.”
“What are you even talking about?!”
Ranshel pressed his gloved palm over Zavad’s mouth.
The smooth leather made Zavad freeze.
Ranshel raised a finger to his lips and locked eyes with him.
“From now on, we need to stay very quiet. Got it?”
“….”
Zavad glared at him like he wanted to kill him, but still gave a slow nod.
He didn’t like this one bit, but since Petro was involved, he decided to wait and see.
Ranshel removed his hand from Zavad’s mouth.
“You said you’d pay me to help you, remember?”
“…Didn’t you say no?”
“Well, that’s because you didn’t have any money. At the time.”
Ranshel’s eyes curved into a smile. Zavad scowled.
“Why did you ask for help back then, Young Master? What kind of help were you hoping for from me?”
After a moment of silence, Zavad sighed and gave a self-deprecating smile.
“…What else could it be if not begging for my life? I might die tomorrow for all I know.”
It was a request made when he saw hallucinations of the servants trying to kill him.
Had he given up on living, thinking no help would come?
Ranshel felt a twist in his gut but spoke as if it were nothing.
“Pretty modest, honestly. I was expecting something bigger.”
“What strange thing are you saying now?”
Zavad tilted his head.
Ranshel mirrored the gesture with a small smile.
“I don’t care about you personally, young master. But your position? That interests me. You’re a powerful noble, aren’t you? The people of the Pomel domain are practically handing over taxes daily, growing the wealth of this castle.”
“…And?”
Ranshel chuckled like he was imagining a feast.
A flicker of disgust crossed Zavad’s face.
He didn’t care about that reaction anymore.
Meeting Zavad’s gaze directly, Ranshel spoke firmly.
“Young master, there’s only one way forward. Don’t leave your life in someone else’s hands—take control yourself. Become someone no one can treat carelessly.”
“…”
“Become the master of this castle, with the power to decide everything yourself. Don’t spend your nights full of anxiety. Surround yourself with treasures and crowns of gold—use them to protect yourself.”
Zavad’s eyes flicked about as if deep in thought.
Then his gaze landed squarely on Ranshel.
“…What do you want from me, saying all this?”
Zavad’s eyes scanned Ranshel’s face, as if trying to uncover some hidden motive.
Ranshel grinned and formed a circle with his thumb and index finger.
“Come on, what else? This. Money.”
Zavad clicked his tongue, brows furrowing.
“…Is that really what you want? You like money that much?”
“I’m just doing as the young master says. Someone like me, a commoner, could work honestly all my life and still die of old age before saving a penny. So why bother? I’ll just stick by you and pick up whatever crumbs fall my way.”
Ranshel clearly read the contempt in Zavad’s eyes—and accepted it without complaint. It was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for.
“…You’d make me head of the family just for money?”
Zavad let out a disbelieving laugh.
“Do you even realize how dangerous that is? Do you know what kind of obstacles I’d have to overcome to become the family head?”
“Of course not. How would I know that?”
Ranshel laughed and bumped his shoulder lightly against Zavad’s.
Zavad recoiled like he’d touched something disgusting.
“You’ll have to handle the hardship and adversity yourself. What, am I supposed to lay out a nice fluffy blanket so you don’t have to struggle?”
“…Seriously, what is your deal?”
Zavad grumbled, brushing off his shoulder.
Ranshel couldn’t help laughing aloud before quickly clamping his hand over his mouth.
The physician might have entered the room by now.
“I’ll help where I can. Petro will help you too. So grab the baton and take charge. Just once—try doing what you want.”
No one would want to spend their whole life in that cramped room.
He must’ve once dreamed of a different life, one he saw beyond the window.
‘You’ve got two people willing to help you all the way to the end—might as well put up a fight, right?’
Ranshel had no intention of becoming Zavad’s hope.
* * *
