Chapter 3 : Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Markberg, who was dispatched as the regent of the Moner family, asked Ian's personal physician in a cold voice.
“So that scoundrel tried to quit the drug?”
“Yes. The fool abstained from all food and drink, only to cry and beg for the drug after five days.”
“Hmph, no matter how much a wretch like him struggles, his body is already at a point where it can neither live nor die without that drug.”
Queen’s Mercy was not a poison one could endure with sheer willpower.
It was the ultimate poison that even the great heroes and saints could not withstand.
‘How could a brat who just came of age overcome a legendary elixir that only the Empire could create?’
The very fact that he tried to quit the precious drug, a gift from the Empire’s grace, was insolent.
“Tsk, he should have lost his mind and gone on a rampage by now.”
“You need not worry. According to rumors, he tried to rape a maid before he abstained from food and drink.”
“Did he?”
A vile smile spread across Markberg’s face at the thought that the damn punk had already fallen into an irreversible swamp.
“Just in case, increase the dosage. His 17th birthday is approaching, so before then, you must make him tremble at every single word.”
“I am already mixing small amounts of the drug into all his water and food, so there is no need for concern.”
“Good, with that, the brat won’t be able to prevent the addiction no matter what he does. Pick out a bottle of fine liquor and give it to him as a gift.”
“Yes.”
Markberg waved his hand to dismiss the physician and looked down at the domain spread out beyond the lord’s office window.
“This entire duchy is mine.”
More than half of the duchy's leadership had already come over to his side.
All that remained were the fools in the military who insisted on being loyal to their lord, even in death.
The more the young duke broke, the less they too would be able to hold out, and they would break their noble will.
The King and the Empire both supported him.
Once that fool died from the poison or lost the loyalty of the military, it would be none other than himself who would possess this domain.
Markberg stared at the domain spread out beyond the window for a long time with a satisfied expression.
* * *
Ian holed himself up in his room and devoured the diary.
The diary, which he had kept every day since he was 10, was unbelievably detailed for a child’s writing and was of great help in understanding the current situation of the domain.
‘As expected, Ian started to change after that regent arrived.’
After the regent, dispatched from the kingdom to replace his suddenly disappeared father, arrived, the vassals who had long been dedicated to the domain began to leave one by one.
In the days spent barely holding on with the help of alcohol and drugs, the only person he could truly trust was Reina.
The latter half of the diary was stained with resentment and self-loathing for his inability to break free from the drug.
“And then he lost his senses and made a mistake.”
Ian, who had miraculously regained his senses while trying to rape Reina under the influence of the poison, resolved that he would rather die in pain.
‘He might have actually died.’
The pain I felt after transmigrating into this body was enough to render both Immovable Mind and Steel Heart useless, so it wouldn't be surprising if Ian had really died.
“Well then, shall I head out?”
Since the poison problem couldn't be solved until Reina returned, I had to focus on the things that needed to be done right now.
‘No matter what, I just have to make sure it doesn't go over 70%.’
I closed the diary, staggered to my feet, put on a black formal uniform, strapped a sword to my waist, and looked in the mirror.
A boy with a gaunt, frail face and sharp eyes.
‘It starts now.’
A sly smile appeared on Ian's face as he left the room.
* * *
As Ian stumbled out of the door, there was no one to support him.
When the young duke's door opened, the servants lowered their eyes and scurried away, and the remaining servants nearby were busy avoiding his gaze.
‘A scoundrel is a scoundrel, after all.’
[The Scoundrel of the Moner Family] was not an ordinary title.
It was an irremovable title, no different from a curse, that lowered Charm, Likability, and Trustworthiness by a whopping 100.
It was a relief that it wasn't -200 like in the game, but whether it started at -100 or -200, being treated as less than human was the same.
The so-called young duke had come out of his room for the first time in days, yet there was no one to greet him, not even a servant to call upon nearby.
‘It means I’m trash they want to avoid as much as possible.’
I walked confidently while busily moving my head to look around.
Who feared and avoided him, who looked at him with eyes full of contempt and scorn, who mocked Ian, and who kept their mouths shut.
‘I may not have any allies, but it’s not like I don’t have enemies.’
Contempt and enmity were different.
The Ian in the diary had committed outrages that were difficult to simply call those of a scoundrel in order to obtain the drug.
Therefore, this lord’s castle was filled with a mix of those who wanted to turn Ian into a ruined person through addiction and those who held grudges against him.
As I walked with a swagger, picking out the gazes mixed with enmity and malice and memorizing their faces, a somewhat familiar man approached and greeted me.
“Young Duke, you’ve finally come out of your room! Congratulations on your recovery!”
The vile-looking man with a rat-like mustache laughed heartily, saying it was a relief to see him looking healthy, and patted his shoulder as he continued.
“From now on, you must make sure to take your medicine on time. It would be a big problem if you were to run out of medicine, wouldn’t it?”
I remembered the identity of the bastard who was arrogantly stroking his mustache while saying that the medicine must be taken on time.
‘So he’s the physician who gave me the drug back then. Was it Baron Malfoyeu?’
The physician the regent had brought from the kingdom's capital to cure Ian's seizures.
The baron, who was nothing more than a low-ranking official, habitually threatened Ian with the drug, making him one of the figures the Ian in the diary feared the most.
‘If he didn’t take the drug, the pain would grow, so he had no choice but to rely on the baron to get it.’
The baron would say he was sending medicine but send salt or sugar instead, or he would secretly hide the drug to forcefully induce a seizure, only treating Ian after he showed signs of madness.
Because of this, Ian had no choice but to be servile to the baron to receive even a slightly more generous amount of the drug.
‘There’s no son of a bitch like this son of a bitch.’
Having organized my thoughts, Ian smiled brightly and replied.
“I was able to get up thanks to the Baron. Where might the Baron be heading?”
“I am on my way to the morning meeting. Ah! I have acquired something good for you, Young Duke.”
As if it were a grand gift, the baron ordered the servant standing behind him to hand over an elegantly wrapped bottle of liquor.
“What is this?”
“It seems the Young Duke has been having more sleepless nights due to the pain, so I have procured a bottle of fine liquor. A glass before bed will greatly help you sleep soundly.”
As I accepted the bottle with a reluctant expression, the servant standing behind the baron held up a glass that had been prepared in advance.
“Please have just a sip.”
Taken aback by the baron suddenly offering him a drink in the hallway, Ian looked around and asked.
“Here?”
“Yes. It would be a great problem for the domain if the Young Duke were to fall ill again. This is a health liquor I specially prepared for the Young Duke, so please don’t worry and drink up.”
At the subtle threat that he would cut off the drug until he had a seizure if he didn’t drink right now, my brow naturally furrowed.
‘No matter how much of a scoundrel I am, you want me to drink in the hallway first thing in the morning?’
The place and the appearance were not good.
Moreover, if the young duke, who had locked himself in his room declaring he would quit drinking to stop the drug, drank alcohol as soon as he came out after five days, how would others see him?
‘Still, it’s not like my notoriety will build up just from drinking a little bit of alcohol. What is this? Is it drugged?’
I briefly looked at the baron, who was staring intently at the bottle with a sly expression that made his intentions obvious.
Unfortunately, the baron didn't know that Ian had changed.
Nor that the pitiful boy who would do anything he said, even feign death, no longer existed.
He also didn't know that the young duke before him was a hardcore player who had discovered the most effective way to play a scoundrel through thousands of games.
“Hahaha! The baron is the only one who looks after me!”
As Ian opened the bottle with an exaggerated gesture as if he were thrilled and shouted while pouring the liquor into the servant's glass until it was full, the servants watching them in the hallway grimaced.
‘To think he’s having a drinking party in the middle of the hallway, not even in his room, in broad daylight…….’
‘Just like a scoundrel!’
‘With the young duke like that… what will become of the domain, tsk.’
However, I ignored the gazes that felt like they could cut my skin, looked only at Baron Malfoyeu, and poured the liquor until the glass overflowed.
“Isn’t it because the baron tries so hard for me that I am alive!”
“Of course, of course. It’s all thanks to me!”
Looking at the baron who nodded without even hiding his sneer, Ian pointed at the full glass.
“In that spirit, have a drink.”
“What?”
“Does the baron not work day and night to always look after me? As the young duke, I haven’t done anything for you, so at least accept a glass.”
As Ian, holding the bottle, spoke with a smile, the baron replied with a flustered expression.
“Oh my, Young Duke. Your words alone are more than enough. However, I must attend the meeting now, so……”
The baron waved his hand in disgust, but Ian kept smiling and offering the drink.
“Ahem! Can I not attend one meeting in the baron’s stead! Don’t you worry and just accept the glass.”
The baron’s face crumpled at the unexpected situation.
‘This crazy bastard is suddenly doing something he’s never done before!’
His plan was to get the scoundrel drunk before the morning meeting and bring a new piece of mockery to the meeting, but who would have known that the scoundrel, who used to tremble at his every word, would come out like this?
“Young Duke, I am a physician, so I must always maintain my sobriety. Drinking during work hours is……”
Clang!
Before the baron could finish his sentence, the sword at Ian’s waist was at the tip of the baron’s throat.
“Hic!”
The servant, who was startled out of his wits, couldn't even scream and fell over, spilling the glass.
However, Ian still looked at the baron with a smiling face and opened his mouth.
“Oh dear, the glass has been spilled. Strangely, the more I continue the treatment, the less patience I have. Since there is no glass, please forgive me for using the bottle instead.”
Ian, holding a sword in one hand, grinned and offered the bottle, and the baron had no choice but to accept it with a stiff face.
‘Did I give him too much of the drug last time? No. Then did I mix too much into his food?’
The baron, his face a picture of confusion at Ian’s dramatic behavior which he had never seen before, pondered over and over, but the only thing he could be sure of right now was that the young duke had gone mad.
‘Damn it, of all times.’
It was a mistake to think he could grasp the young duke’s condition better than anyone, having watched him for over 10 years.
For something like this to happen today of all days, on the day of the meeting.
“Young Duke, I will come to see you in the evening, so……”
The moment he forced himself to gather his wits and open his mouth, he felt the sword dig into his neck and heard the shockingly cold voice of the young duke.
“No, no. I am Ian de Moner, the young duke of the Moner family. You are clearly my servant, yet you refuse to accept even a single glass of liquor I offer.”
* * *
Ian leaned his face in and looked at the baron intently, wondering what kind of trouble would arise if he killed the baron here for not accepting the young duke’s glass.
“My father always said to be wary of vassals who do not share a glass. He said there might be a rat mixed in.”
There was no way the Duke of Moner, famous as a great knight, would have said such a thing, but it didn't matter at all.
‘If they wanted a shitshow, I had to show them a real shitshow.’
“And he said that it is the duty of a lord to exterminate a rat by any means necessary once it is found.”
After finishing his words, Ian raised his sword as if he would swing it at any moment, and the baron quickly brought the bottle to his lips.
Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!
“Keuh! Thanks to the Young Duke, this precious liquor……”
As the terrified baron hastily drank a few mouthfuls and took his mouth off the bottle, Ian grabbed the bottle again and shoved it into his mouth, saying.
“More, drink more. I’ll give you as much as I love you.”
“Gack, gack, Young Duke. P-please stop……”
“Ahem! Do you intend to ignore my sincerity? Didn’t you say it yourself? That a delicious liquor’s taste doesn't change whether it’s morning or evening.”
He put the sword down on the ground completely, then grabbed the bottle and poured it down the baron’s throat.
“Gurgle, gurgle”
“Hahaha! My dear baron. If you were so thirsty, you should have said so!”
After completely emptying the prepared bottle and confirming that the baron had lost consciousness, Ian stood up with a cheerful expression.
He couldn't kill the baron here.
The moment he did, the numerous vassals who were waiting for their chance would rise up, claiming the young duke’s madness had gone too far.
He might even be locked up in his room and die from the poison disguised as treatment.
‘As expected, he fainted,’
I didn't know how much drug was mixed in, but since it was a specially prepared liquor that they intended to make him drink in the hallway, it wouldn't have been an amount one could withstand in one go.
“Right, anyway, the baron was on his way to a meeting.”
Ian, who stood up holding the empty bottle and sword, ordered the servant who was still collapsed on the floor.
“Lead the way to the conference hall.”