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But there was no other way.
The game system had set a reward.
A reward that came with a price.
No amount of protesting would make the predetermined price disappear.
His life had been far too rough for him to be ignorant of the law of equivalent exchange.
For now, emotions needed to be set aside.
Focus only on the goal.
Ranshel rubbed the back of his head as he looked down at Zavad, who remained hunched over with his head lowered.
‘For now, I’ll just leave him be.’
Just as he was about to close the door, the system window suddenly popped up.
[You have made contact with the main character.]
[You can now check your event contribution rate.]
Ranshel’s eyes widened as he scanned the floating window.
[Event Contribution Rate]
The Sleepless One = 5%
The Blood Seeker = 3%
The Soul Breaker = 2%
? = 0%
.
.
.
The Most Villainous One = 0%
Ranshel blinked at the cryptic list of titles.
He knew at least one of them. —that was him.
A glorious title that referred to him in the game.
‘Then these other titles must belong to people as well.’
Most of them were still labeled as question marks, but it was clear: these were all the ones tormenting Zavad.
‘Why is the villain competition so damn fierce?’
It made sense that he was still at 0%, since he hadn’t done anything yet.
But the fact that some people had already started accumulating contribution points?
That was unfair.
Shouldn’t everyone start on equal footing?
‘Wait, this already adds up to 10%.’
His goal was to reach 80% contribution.
If the others stole just 11% more, he’d lose his reward entirely.
This was too much of a disadvantage.
Something was wrong.
Zavad had a long road ahead of him for revenge, but if things were already this bad, what was he supposed to do?
Ranshel stared intently at the system window before a thought crossed his mind, making his brow furrow.
The gauge was already stacked against him before he even started.
Leaving it like this wasn’t an option.
Why would the system even show this to him?
‘It’s telling me to stop them.’
Prevent the villains on this list from contributing to Zavad’s suffering.
Stop anyone besides himself from tormenting Zavad….
In other words, protect Zavad from the other villains while increasing his own contribution.
‘Does that even make sense…?’
Ranshel pressed his fingertips against his sore neck and exhaled.
He needed to figure out who these title holders were.
He had to know his competitors to counter them.
The one with the highest contribution so far was .
Titles were usually tied to their owner in some way, but there wasn’t enough information to go on yet.
Thinking wouldn’t get him anywhere right now.
He didn’t even have a clear idea of who was in the castle, let alone how to track down suspects.
One thing was clear: he couldn’t leave Zavad in this state.
A storage cabinet wasn’t exactly an ideal place for a good night’s sleep.
Ranshel bent down and spoke.
“Young Master? Young Master?”
“……”
“Zavad?”
There was no response, as if he were deeply asleep.
Ranshel carefully reached out and placed a hand on Zavad’s hunched shoulder to wake him.
“Young Master?”
At that moment, Zavad, who had been unresponsive until now, suddenly jerked his head up.
His long black hair, which had been hanging forward, swayed as it lifted, revealing his hidden face.
His trembling red eyes locked onto Ranshel.
‘Whoa….’
Ranshel found himself admiring him at the worst possible time.
Porcelain-smooth, pale skin, like sculpted marble.
Deep eyelids, with feline-like, upturned eyes.
A straight nose bridge, rounded nostrils, and perfectly shaped lips.
It was as if a master craftsman had poured years into sculpting a masterpiece.
It was so unreal that he wondered if someone had placed a doll here instead of a person.
‘This is exactly what it means to look like you stepped out of a game….’
Ranshel had been staring absentmindedly when his body suddenly moved on its own—instinctively retreating.
A sharp object whizzed past the spot where he had just been.
“Stay away!”
Zavad shouted.
His once elegant face twisted into a vicious snarl, and those jewel-like eyes were now brimming with hostility as they glared at Ranshel.
In his hand was a shard of glass—the weapon he had just swung at Ranshel.
This wasn’t a mere threat.
If Ranshel hadn’t moved, that shard would’ve been lodged in his shoulder by now.
‘I haven’t even done anything yet….’
Feeling awkward, Ranshel glanced at the scattered glass shards in the corner of the room.
Whether it was an accident or intentional, Zavad must have broken a decorative piece and kept one of the fragments with him.
“Alright, alright, just calm down….”
“I said stay away!”
“Okay, I’m not coming closer. I won’t.”
Ranshel stayed at the same distance, carefully assessing the situation.
Wasn’t this too extreme of a reaction for someone he’d just met?
Could it be related to those hallucinations he had been hearing about?
Regardless, he couldn’t just leave things like this.
He needed to figure out how to deal with this unexpected obstacle.
At that moment, drip, drip.
Blood began to fall from Zavad’s hand.
The once-clear shard of glass was now stained red as it dug into his skin.
“……!”
Ranshel instantly closed the distance and grabbed Zavad’s arm.
“D-Don’t touch me…!”
“Loosen your grip!”
Ranshel’s voice was louder than Zavad’s, making him flinch in surprise.
But the hesitation lasted only a second.
Zavad’s wide eyes quickly turned cold again, filling with renewed hostility.
He tensed his arm, trying to shake off Ranshel’s grip.
Instead of resisting, Ranshel abruptly let go.
With the sudden loss of support, Zavad’s fingers instinctively spread apart, and the shard of glass slipped from his grasp.
Clang!
The shard tumbled out of the cabinet and skidded across the floor.
Ranshel immediately stepped on it, pushing it further away into the pile of other broken pieces.
“That was dangerous! Why were you holding that?!”
Ranshel, who had been shouting in frustration, suddenly froze when he saw Zavad’s expression.
Zavad was staring at him with wide eyes, as if he had just witnessed something unbelievable.
Seeing that face, the heat drained from Ranshel’s head, and he snapped back to his senses.
‘What the hell am I doing right now?’
He had been worrying about Zavad.
He had been concerned that his hand might get badly injured from the shards of glass.
It was fine to think that way.
But he must never say it out loud.
Ranshel, as the villain, was not someone who cared about Zavad.
No matter what thoughts ran through his head, he could never let them show.
With a deep sigh, Ranshel felt his head spin.
He had to do the exact opposite of what a likable protagonist would do.
Comforting him kindly was not the right move here.
His expression hardened as he spoke again.
“Tsk. Do you even know who has to take responsibility if you get hurt, young master? It’s such a pain, seriously.”
Ha. A sigh laced with irritation escaped his lips.
In truth, he had nothing more to say, so he was stalling for time, trying to squeeze something out.
Blaming Zavad when he obviously wasn’t at fault wasn’t easy.
Apparently, even being bad required some talent.
Translator: Sorry guys, ‘<‘ using this characters make the words enclosed to them unreadable.
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