* * *
Zavad had suddenly grabbed his leg—The exact spot where Frey had rested her hand earlier.
“What a shame. That young lady doesn’t even see you as human. That’s why she treated you like an object.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“You didn’t notice? She treated you like her possession. She felt sorry for a crack in her favorite plate—that’s why she consoled you. You’re mistaking noble courtesy for affection.”
That gesture—her touching his leg—was supposed to mean that?
It was a shocking interpretation, but there was no time to be overwhelmed by it.
Zavad’s hand gripping his thigh was scorching hot.
He held on so tightly it almost hurt.
He was furious.
But why? Why such an intense reaction?
Just because a lowly commoner dared admire a noble?
Because he showed interest in the person Zavad fell for at first sight?
“She might’ve looked at you kindly, but that wasn’t human affection. She was just showing interest in a pet I keep at my side. Got it?”
“……”
“Nobles stand on higher ground than commoners. Don’t tell me… you thought you could imitate my story about my mother and pull the same stunt? Don’t dream. Seriously, what kind of idiot noble would care for someone like you enough to give you a title?”
“……”
“A pearl in the mud always gets noticed. But you’re just a worthless stone. Born lowly, meant to die lowly. And yet you dare… dare to…”
Zavad had been raging, spitting words without pause—
Then suddenly, his voice trailed off.
He was so fired up just now. Why stop?
…Maybe he was the one who was exhausted.
Ranshel realized how tense he’d been the whole time, waiting for the right moment to take the poison.
And now, just as things seemed to be settling, Frey had appeared.
Everything had changed.
He needed to revise his plan and start from scratch.
But what should he do?
He had promised—
Promised to return in one piece, fully healed and healthy.
He was sure she would be waiting.
A sudden surge of pain split through his head.
He couldn’t think straight.
He was running out of time, but he was too exhausted.
His vision blurred.
Then, in the middle of his daze, Zavad’s face suddenly came right up to his.
Ranshel instinctively tried to pull back, but his shoulders were grabbed.
Before the flustered Ranshel could even ask what was going on, Zavad spoke—his face close enough that their noses could almost touch.
“Why are you crying?”
“…Huh? What are you talking about…?”
The moment he said it, something felt off.
His vision was hazy, and his eyes stung with a strange sensation.
When he blinked, warm droplets rolled down his cheeks.
“What… where… why… Is it because you’re in pain?”
“N-No, no? W-What the hell?”
Ranshel frantically rubbed his face with his sleeve.
He had cried in front of Zavad once before, but that had been purely because his hand hurt so badly—it was an involuntary reaction.
This time, nothing hurt.
He couldn’t understand why tears were falling.
He wasn’t the type to cry easily.
If he crumbled and sobbed every time something felt sad, when would he make money, and how would he pay off his debts?
There was no room in his life for such luxury.
Suffering was simply part of the deal.
He could endure it.
He had to endure it.
That was just the way things were.
But gratitude…
“……”
Ranshel’s face cooled, as if the warmth had drained from him.
He snapped to attention, like someone waking from a foolish dream.
Whatever he’d been deluding himself into thinking—none of it mattered.
The only thing that mattered was getting the reward and leaving.
Everything else was utterly irrelevant.
‘Whether or not Zavad loved Prey.’
Zavad’s feelings weren’t even worth considering.
No matter how the game played out, all Ranshel had to do was accomplish his goal.
That was enough.
If the setup for the revenge event wasn’t sufficient, then he’d just create it himself.
If the event wasn’t going to trigger because they were still waiting for Charlotte to return…
‘Then maybe he’d have to show them a corpse.’
No matter how blinded by love he was, there was no way Zavad would forget his mother.
He wouldn’t just sit quietly like he did now, clueless.
His heart would turn completely.
He’d weep blood more crimson than his own red eyes.
And Ranshel would laugh at him, mock him, maybe even spit in his face.
Was now the time to worry about Zavad’s well-being?
No. He didn’t have the luxury.
Before he knew it, the tears clinging to his lashes had dried.
Ranshel had regained his composure, but Zavad still seemed visibly shaken.
“…Was it something I said? Was I too harsh?”
He was… reading the room?
That was rich, coming from him.
When had he ever held back?
Ranshel nearly laughed, but swallowed it down.
“Of course not. Why would I suddenly cry over that? It’s no different from the things you say to me every day.”
“……”
Zavad’s expression shifted into something unreadable.
He looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond—hesitant, as if he were choosing his next words carefully.
Did he seriously think Ranshel was crying because of him?
What a joke.
What were tears worth, really?
Even if Zavad broke down in front of him, eyes full of sorrow, begging and sobbing—Ranshel wouldn’t so much as flinch.
Even if those crimson eyes were drowning in grief, why would he even bother looking?
He should be glad.
Things were going exactly as he wanted.
“……”
A sudden chill ran through him.
Like a sharp needle had stabbed straight into his body.
With every thump of his heart, a pulse of pain echoed deep within him.
‘Was it guilt?’
So he still had that much leeway left in him.
Or maybe… he still hadn’t snapped out of it.
Ranshel bit the inside of his cheek.
Hard, until the taste of blood spread across his tongue.
The metallic taste lingered on his tongue.
Pain was the best stimulant.
Ranshel steadied himself and spoke with perfect composure.
“Anyway, are you really planning to take Hans along as your personal guard the entire time?”
“Would I go back on something I declared in front of this many people?”
“What about your mother’s medicine? Are you in any position for that right now?”
“Even if I had the means, do you really think I’d invest in a low-rank soldier like him? Use even half of that brain you normally waste.”
“Well, maybe I would—if you gave me anything to work with. There’s nothing to even strategize over.”
“Did you forget where we’re going? Delta Academy is a boarding school for noble children. If a plague breaks out, it’d be a disaster. They’ll definitely have daily physician visits, and full-time alchemists and healers on standby. It’s a fully prepared facility. Not taking advantage of that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”
So he was going to exploit the school’s free, unlimited student healthcare to create a cost-free personal guard.
Clever bastard.
“But why go out of your way to choose someone you barely know as a guard?”
“Because blackmail’s more trustworthy than familiarity.”
“…Excuse me?”
“His mother’s life is on the line. Of course he’ll behave. I just happened to need a hunting dog to leash and train, and he’s perfect for it.”
…What kind of ruthless monster says that? Ranshel’s brow furrowed. But Zavad went on like it was nothing.
“I’ll keep that one, and send the rest of the useless ones back.”
“…So this was your plan all along?”
“Why else do you think I brought up the teachings of the Holy Order? I can’t just let the rumors that I’m possessed by an evil spirit spread unchecked forever.”
“……”
So that’s why he was pretending to be some kind of saint.
* * *
