Normal. The carriage rolled smoothly over the cobblestones of the Royal Capital’s Upper District.
Alan de Laval leaned against the window frame, bored, his gaze sweeping past the exquisite yet somewhat dreary noble mansions outside.
The jolts from the wheels against the road were negligible—almost imperceptible. Alan keenly noticed this detail.
He recalled his experiences from countless past reincarnations, riding in all sorts of broken-down carriages, the kind that rattled your bones apart—that “primitive” experience was…
“Suspension?” Alan muttered, frowning. This era already had that kind of technology?
His mind flipped through neglected details like a movie reel, all sorts of clues converging to gradually piece together a clear picture: This world wasn’t a true game world.
Its economic and cultural level was closer to Renaissance Europe, but its social structure and military power stubbornly remained in the late Middle Ages.
‘Pain. It was there. It hurt.’
It was as if an invisible hand had forcibly pressed down on the wheel of history, locking it into a specific stage.
What role did the Church play in this?
Thinking of the periodic destruction and the sleeping God described in the holy scripture, Alan’s mood sank like the sky outside.
Watching the silent young master, Marianne felt uneasy.
She had grown accustomed to Alan’s recent “villain-possessed” manic energy, but now he radiated a familiar oppressive sorrow, as if the ghosts of the past had caught up with him again.
Marianne’s heart clenched in sympathy.
All of Alan’s mania, all his neurotic behavior, seemed more like a performance to cover his despair. The more someone pretends to be brave, the more fragile their heart becomes.
Marianne had learned to put herself in his shoes. She gradually understood many things she had never considered before.
The old Alan had only been “playing” the part of a scoundrel young master. He bullied the weak to mask his cowardice with ferocity. He drank himself into a stupor every day, and sometimes when Marianne passed his room, she heard him crying quietly.
Marianne understood why Alan looked relieved when he drowned. Only in death did he not have to hide his true self.
And now, Alan seemed to be repeating the same tragedy. He began to play the “villain,” packaging his kindness as calculation, desperately convincing himself he was a bad person.
Because he was a villain, even if he suffered unfair treatment or countless sorrows, he deserved it. If he never held hope, he would never feel sad.
‘So that’s it?’
He was so hopeless that he wanted her to stay away. He thought that if she and Livia were together, she could be happy. But he excluded himself from happiness.
Maybe she could be happy. But if the young master couldn’t be happy, her happiness would turn into pain.
Determined to make Alan happy too, Marianne asked with deep concern, “Young Master, what are you thinking?”
Alan didn’t turn around. He just lifted his finger and pointed at the heavy clouds outside the window that seemed ready to crush the entire city. “It’s going to rain soon, Marianne. We’re in trouble.”
He habitually spoke in cryptic villainous tones.
‘Nice! That line had great villain style!’
Marianne’s heart tightened. ‘He… already foresaw what was about to happen? Is the young master going to face all the darkness alone again? No! I want to face the coming danger together with him!’
“Young Master, we’re almost home.”
Old Butler Jean Leclerc’s steady voice rang out at just the right moment, like a stabilizing anchor.
Alan’s tense nerves relaxed slightly. He forced a smile. “Yeah, it hasn’t been that long, but I’m already homesick. I really want to lie down in my big bed. That crappy bed in the Inquisition Tribunal was so hard it hurt my bones.”
“You’ve worked hard, Young Master. The Master specially bought you a new bed, and the room has been thoroughly cleaned. However…” The butler hesitated. “…Young Master, would you like to consider changing rooms? After all… that incident happened.”
The butler was referring to Alan’s previous thrilling battle.
Alan immediately put on a standard cold-blooded villain face and sneered. “It’s just two dead people. What’s there to be afraid of? If anything, I sleep better hearing the howls of those heretic ghosts every night!”
‘Oh! That line had great villain style too! As expected of me!’
Alan wasn’t afraid of ghosts at all. He had died hundreds of times—he himself was the most terrifying vengeful spirit.
“Young Master, do you usually have trouble sleeping?” Marianne suddenly interjected, her voice soft, her cheeks slightly flushed. “If someone… slept with you, would it help?”
“Pfft—! Cough, cough, cough!”
This line, which would only be spoken at high affection levels, instantly shattered Alan’s villain persona.
‘Marianne, what’s wrong with you, girl? I spared your life so you could pursue Livia and complete the survival plan. Saying things like that makes people think I’ve won you over! I won’t pursue you.’
‘We’re comrades in fate, partners in the same trench! I won’t allow anyone to develop an unhealthy relationship with me! I’m a villain!’
‘Do villains who get involved with women ever come out okay? Villains are hardcore killers who sacrifice women to prove their dao! Don’t get it wrong!’
Alan was furious!
“What are you talking about! Marianne! Before you get close to Livia, don’t get too involved with me, this big villain! How could a garden of lilies have a bug like me?”
“I’m warning you! This is a serious all-ages story! You need to keep the scale in check, understand?”
Scolded like this for the first time, Marianne instinctively shrank her neck, but her heart felt like it was soaked in hot spring water—warm, dizzy, and an indescribable happiness welled up.
‘The young master… is worried about me! He’s afraid I’ll “go astray”!’ (Alan: ???)
Marianne floored the accelerator on the road to self-conquest, racing at full speed!
When the Laval mansion’s weathered but dignified gates finally came into view, the expected tranquility was nowhere to be found. The mansion’s main doors were tightly shut, but twenty or thirty people were blocking the entrance.
These people were dressed in a motley assortment—greasy rough-spun shirts mixed with worn leather armor pieces.
Their faces bore scars or burn marks, and their eyes were fierce yet shrewd. They held up crooked wooden signs reading “Return our hard-earned money!” and cursed loudly.
“You bastard nobles! Hiding in your shells like turtles?”
“You’ve sucked our marrow dry and still want to cheat us out of the last drop of soup?”
“Pah! Damn your dignity! Not paying debts is the greatest indignity!”
A few of the most excited ones were carrying buckets of thick, dark red paint that reeked of turpentine, splashing it violently against the closed oak door and the stone walls on both sides, leaving messy, glaring stains.
Watching this debt-collection scene with such “period flavor,” Alan felt an absurd sense of “homecoming.” ‘So across all ages and cultures, debt-collection tactics are basically the same.’
“Tsk. I casually joked about trouble, and trouble actually shows up? What a jinx I am.”
Alan narrowed his eyes. A cold gleam flashed in his black pupils.
‘Just out of the Tribunal, and I come home to a blockade? Not even a moment to catch my breath?’
“Marianne, what do you think?” Alan asked casually.
Marianne wasn’t surprised. ‘The young master really did foresee everything!’
She analyzed calmly, “The Master usually owes money to major nobles. They wouldn’t resort to such indecent methods. This kind of door-blocking paint-splashing is my first time seeing it, too.”
Old Butler Jean’s expression was unusually calm, as if this scene had already been anticipated. Only his straight back seemed a bit stiffer. He gently pulled on the reins, stopping the carriage a short distance from the crowd.
“Young Master, please don’t worry. Leave this matter to this old servant.” Butler Jean’s voice was as steady as ever.
Alan nodded. “Stay safe.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Young Master.”
Butler Jean straightened his starched collar, gracefully pushed open the carriage door, and walked with steady steps toward the center of the commotion. His posture was elegant, as if he were going to a banquet.
“Gentlemen,” Jean’s voice was not loud but cut clearly through the noise, “to be so clamorous and to gather before the gate of a kingdom’s viscount is highly improper.”
“The affairs of House Laval have their own rules and solutions. Please elect a representative, and let us speak calmly and reasonably. How does that sound?”
He faced an especially burly, bald man with a fierce scar across his face—clearly the leader of the group.
The bald man crossed his arms and looked askance at the neatly dressed, well-mannered butler, letting out a contemptuous snort. “Rules? Propriety? Old man, you’re talking to me about that?”
He pointed at the still-wet red stains on the door.
“Look! This is the rule of your Laval family! You owe us poor sods our hard-earned money, hide behind your door like turtles, and still talk about propriety?”
“Pah! You bloodsucking noble lords, you don’t deserve the word ‘dignity’! I’m here today to tear off your fake dignity!”
The old butler frowned slightly but kept his tone restrained. “This matter of debt may have its reasons, but violence and slander are no way to solve it. The Viscount…”
“Shut the hell up!” the bald man cut him off roughly, spittle nearly flying onto Jean’s face.
“Reasons? All I know is, we did the work, we need the pay! Today you either give us the money, or I’ll smash this damn door and take it myself!”
The “thugs” behind him began to chant along.
“Yeah! A debt must be repaid—it’s only right!”
“Boss, stop wasting words with him! Let’s just start smashing!”
Inside the carriage, Alan’s frown deepened.
Marianne narrowed her eyes, a sharp murderous intent flickering in them.
“Young Master, something’s wrong.”
Marianne’s right hand unconsciously slid to her outer thigh, her fingertips habitually seeking the cold, hard touch, but they only found the warm skin beneath her maid’s skirt.
It was empty there. The thigh holster that once held a poisoned dagger was now just a soft strap.
“Yeah, something’s definitely wrong.” Alan’s gaze was as sharp as an eagle’s, sweeping over the seemingly casual “thugs.” “Marianne, remember what I taught you about paying attention to details?”
“Yes. What did you see?”
“Look at them. They laugh and curse, but their positions are deliberate, their steps steady, they cover each other. These aren’t debt collectors—they’re mercenaries who’ve been living on the edge, used to team coordination! Someone’s backing them, and their goal isn’t the money at all.”
Alan’s mind raced.
“House Laval is in a tight spot, but Father is an old fox—robbing Peter to pay Paul is basic. They block the door, make a scene, splash paint and shout slogans—they want the entire Upper District, all potential creditors and allies, to see that House Laval is finished!”
“That we can’t even pay off ‘lowlifes’ like them. It’s a complete credit collapse! This is a scorched-earth tactic! The one backing them… must be some high-ranking great noble hostile to us.”
In a flash, Alan saw through the situation.
‘Heh. Looking for trouble with my family? With me, the villain? Looks like someone really wants to die!’
“Butler!”
Alan suddenly raised his voice, his face instantly switching to the frivolous, arrogant smile typical of a spoiled noble.
He threw open the carriage door and stepped out, his voice loud enough to make everyone turn.
“So many ‘honored guests,’ and you’re all stuck outside in the wind? How rude! Invite them into our home—let them experience our hospitality!”
When he said “hospitality,” Alan’s smile turned ice-cold.
‘The heretics just got sent off, and now someone’s volunteering to come. My garden seems to never run out of fertilizer.’
“Young Master!”
Both the old butler and Marianne, who had just climbed out of the carriage, shouted simultaneously.
“What are you following me for?” Alan frowned at Marianne.
“Are you trying to do something dangerous alone again?” Marianne glared at him, her eyes stubborn.
“Yeah, what else?” Alan replied curtly. “Have you ever killed anyone? Your mission is to pursue Livia, not to be a burden to me.”
“I have,” Marianne answered calmly.
“Huh?” Alan was taken aback.
Seeing Alan’s surprise, Marianne added, “That noble who raped and killed a commoner girl—I killed him and his guards. That was my promotion mission.”
Alan racked his brain and finally remembered that guy—a hundred times worse than the original owner.
‘Oh, that guy! Good riddance! Wait… Marianne killed him? And his guards too?’
Alan shuddered belatedly.
‘Marianne is a former Pseudo-Knight! If she also participated in the attack that night…’
Alan touched his neck, feeling a chill.
“Thanks for not killing me!”
Marianne tilted her head, looking confused.
“Marianne, can you handle it?” Alan signaled with his eyes.
“No problem.” Marianne understood instantly, a cold murderous glint flashing in her crimson eyes.
“What are you two muttering about!” the bald man roared impatiently.
Alan turned to the bald man, a exaggerated, almost cheeky grin spreading across his face as he swaggered closer.
“Yo, big brother! Hard work, hard work! I’m Alan de Laval, the bastard son of that bastard Laval family you’re talking about. Pleased to meet you!”
He cupped his hands in a mock greeting.
The bald man was taken aback, looking over this noble young master with a bright smile and a streetwise demeanor.
‘So this is the famous wastrel? Looks decent enough, but that smile… sends a chill down my spine.’
“Heh, so you’re the young master Alan?” The bald man crossed his arms and deliberately mimicked a refined tone, but with his appearance it looked ridiculous. “We poor souls broke our backs building your father’s garden, but our wages have been delayed again and again. We can’t make a living, so we shamelessly came to collect.”
The mercenaries behind him burst into laughter, clearly amused by their leader’s posturing.
“Oh my, I see.” Alan immediately switched to a pained expression, beating his chest. “I never thought my father would do such a thing. What a sin! But hey, money is easy! Easy! Butler!”
Alan waved at the butler.
The old butler immediately caught on, quickly walking over to Alan and bowing slightly. “Young Master.”
Alan threw an arm around the butler’s shoulders, leaning in close to his ear. His smile vanished instantly, and his voice dropped low and urgent.
“Butler, they’re mercenaries hired by an enemy. This is hostile. Take the carriage to the nearest guard station right now.”
“Tell them that unidentified armed thugs have gathered in front of Viscount Laval’s mansion with malicious intent, possibly about to attack a noble residence and cause chaos. Have them come with reinforcements immediately!”
Butler Jean’s cloudy but sharp eyes sharpened. He understood the young master’s intent instantly.
He didn’t hesitate for a moment. The young master could outmaneuver even the most terrifying heretics; dealing with these brainless mercenaries would be no problem. As a butler, he just had to trust the young master.
“Young Master, please take care of yourself.”
“Don’t worry. These trash are no match for me.” Alan’s clenched fist lightly punched the butler’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you. Go.”
“Understood!” Butler Jean nodded imperceptibly, his face returning to a professional respectful expression. “Very well, Young Master. I’ll go to the treasury to fetch the money. Please wait a moment.”
He turned and gave a slight bow to the bald man.
“Gentlemen, please wait. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he nimbly jumped onto the carriage and gave the reins a sharp snap.
“Alright, everyone,” Alan turned back, his face once again wearing that cynical smile, but his eyes had turned to ice. “The butler has gone to get the money. But look.”
He pointed at the Upper District residents who had been alerted and were now watching from windows or door cracks.
“With all these people watching, even though House Laval is on its last legs, we still need to keep some face. It’s so ugly, you lot making all this noise. How about we call it a day? Tomorrow, I’ll prepare a feast and welcome you all as guests!”
“Hahaha!” The bald man burst into loud laughter.
“Little young master, you’re adorably naive! Thanks for the reminder! Once your butler brings us our brothers’ wages, we’ll leave immediately. We won’t delay your family’s ‘dignity’!”
He deliberately emphasized the last word, dripping with mockery. The surrounding mercenaries joined in the laughter.
“Alright, I have some money here. See if it’s enough.”
Alan’s smile gradually faded. He pretended to reach into his pocket, and at that moment, he struck!
Bang!
Without any warning, Alan lifted his leg and kicked the bald man with all his might, aiming precisely at his groin.
Aaaaagh—!!!”
A piercing, distorted scream tore through the sky!