There Is No Hidden Villain in This Novel Chapter 94

After Dick Baskerville said he would follow my orders, Ivan Karpin resumed his attempt to sort out the situation. I waited, worried about what I would do if he tried to play with words again, but Dick Baskerville’s name was not called until he finished speaking. It seemed he had avoided all potentially risky pronunciations altogether.

‘Should I call this a shame, or a relief…’

Anyway, Ivan Karpin, seeming acutely aware that the atmosphere had been utterly ruined, decided not to schedule a meeting right away. Instead, he said he would summon all the Players sometime tomorrow to plan the raid strategy. I watched his stern and serious face and nodded my head. I guess leaving troublesome schedules like commanding to others is the best. Just because he orders everyone to assemble doesn’t mean everyone will listen properly, but when he says it with such flair, it seems plausible. I guess it’s fine for a man to look like a sheer glacier like that. His chest is thick too. Mm. A good man. Good.

‘Wait, a moment. Forget I said that. I’m not always like this. It’s just that seeing a handsome rock made me feel quite pleased.’

…Changing the subject back, a full assembly. I can’t do something like that. Though I can’t roll on the front lines either. How can one be confident that things will get done properly just because they gave orders to others? No, maybe it’s because I’m not used to having proper authority, but I feel like it would be more comfortable to handle important tasks myself. In that sense, for things like commanding and leading such a large group of people, it seems better to leave it to someone else.

Having reached this conclusion, my heart seriously leaned towards not participating in group projects.

‘Why should I do a group project if I’m not even going to learn how to command?’

Right. Even when I return to the academy, I should skip all the group projects. Firmly resolving to do so, I looked at the wide space inside the tent. Here, where a fireplace was warmly heating the air, was a cozy 850-square-foot home that couldn’t possibly be considered a tent on the outside. When a master of space-expansion magic and an absurd amount of money are invested together, you can create such an awesome interior space for a tent. It means you can recreate a house with three rooms and a spacious living room.

Did I do it? No, I bought it. Cassis de Millang’s bank account turned out to be like a never-ending spring.

‘How the hell are there so many zeros…’

Let’s skip the rest as it’s private. What’s certain is that even Jung Ian, who was the youngest son of a chaebol family, had never had a bank account like Cassis de Millang’s. Of course, thanks to quickly waving the white flag in the succession battle, I enjoyed the life of a free profligate with a thousand percent satisfaction, but as you might expect, if you lose in a succession battle, your bank account balance tends to become modest. Even I was easily in the top one percent of young people in South Korea. But the real Cassis de Millang might snort at my bank account. The gap was that large.

‘Ah, thinking about my bank account is making me feel full again.’

With a leisurely smile on my lips like a well-fed cat, I pattered across the warm wooden floor, went to the living room where a rug was laid out, and threw myself onto the sofa.

The sofa, made of genuine leather, was moderately soft and moderately firm, so even people with back pain could enjoy it comfortably.

‘And what does that mean? It means you can have sex on it.’

I feel so sorry for Ryuseong, who pities a guy who only thinks things like this, that it’s driving me crazy. Today, too, I send him a quiet apology in my heart. That aside, it’s mealtime. Shall I try to make Ryuseong work for once?

‘Ah, but looking at my bank account does make me feel full.’

That’s that, and this is this. No, before that, shouldn’t he be moved to tears if I say I’ll keep to meal times? I, who hated eating so much, am even giving an order to prepare a meal of my own volition. This is a change on the level of a childcare program. I felt I had to share this amazing discovery with Ryuseong immediately.

At that, Ryuseong finally released the stern and serious face he had been keeping rigidly since earlier. He looked somewhat sad, but he was smiling nonetheless.

This is satisfactory. A pass.

“I’m well aware that you’re not in your right mind, so you don’t have to be so surprised.”

…Unsatisfactory. A fail.

I quickly revised the scorecard in my mind and glared at him with a rather bitchy expression. Ryuseong chuckled and said he would prepare a meal, gathering the ingredients and heading outside. There’s a small kitchen inside, but he insisted on going out. For the reason that inhaling a lot of smoke while cooking is bad for the body. When I quietly asked if crawling out bare-bodied in minus 27-degree weather was a determined effort to freeze to death, he looked down at me as if he was dumbfounded.

“…If what I’m wearing isn’t clothes, then what is it?”

He was saying such dull-witted things, so I aimed for his head and threw the temperature-regulating robe I was wearing at him. Unfortunately, Ryuseong, probably not wanting to lose his cool, snatched the robe out of the air with a flick of his wrist. When I immediately made an overtly disappointed expression, Ryuseong’s smile brightened even more. That bastard seems to like it when I act up.

In any case, Ryuseong left the door slightly ajar when he went out, and I half-lay on the sofa and took a moment to recall his expressions. I put on some hollow-style jazz at a low volume and tapped my toes as I recalled the moments he had smiled. Huh? Hmm. No, it’s true. Come to think of it, every time I got angry, that bastard liked it…?

‘Shit, is he really a madman?’

For a moment, I got goosebumps all over, a chill ran down my spine, and my chest churned. A strange feeling. I scowled and was about to gesture to turn off the speaker when it happened.

“Now, now, you shouldn’t do that.”

This voice is ‘not Ryuseong’s.’ The moment I sensed that, I tried to swing my arm to burst my own flesh. Because it’s better to counterattack once blood is shed. Because the enemy is clear. Because there’s no such thing as an ally for Cassis de Millang in this world! But I was too late. My arm was grabbed. And my throat was choked, gasp. Shit—.

I shouldn’t have been relieved. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. The intruder is pressing on the carotid artery properly. This bastard is a pro. Is assassination the goal? My mouth falls open, and drool trickles out. Every attempt to somehow inhale is thwarted. My vision blurs. If I lose consciousness now, I’m dead. I forcibly tried to lower my eyes, which were rolling upwards, to see my opponent. But nothing is working properly, gasp.

Then the hand choking my neck loosened slightly. The fact that he’s deliberately abandoning an easy chance to kill me means he’s either a low-class type who enjoys sadistic murder or his goal is harm without killing. My mind was working coolly. But my body was not.

“Ngh, heok…!”

I greedily gulp for air like someone rescued from drowning. With every breath, my windpipe screams in pain. Could Ryuseong outside notice my strange breathing? But the jazz music, the damn jazz music swallowed my desperately cracking, terrible breaths. I have to scream. The decision was transmitted through my neurons directly to my vocal cords. The moment strength entered my throat.

“Hic…!”

Thud, I think I heard a sound like that. But I feel nothing. No, the pain is too great, it silences all other senses. Where was I hit? I try to wiggle my fingers to come to my senses, but like sinking into water, I can’t pull myself together…

“You can’t lose your mind from just this much, Young Master. Where do you think you’re going after starting something you deserve a beating for.”

My cheek, is it? Is what’s being slapped right now my cheek? My vision sways from side to side. That’s right. I’m being slapped on the cheek right now. Sob, keuk. A strange groan. I’m letting it out. It’s me. I am now crawling on the floor like an insect, held up only by my hair grabbed in a fist. To be precise, I can’t even crawl, I’m curled up, clutching my stomach.

My stomach. The starting point of this terrible, excessive pain. Right, I was being choked, then got hit in the stomach and almost fainted. As soon as I realized that, I was pulled up in one breath from a suspicious silence that felt like drowning, and slap, slap, my head turns a couple more times, and only then do I feel the pain. I lie there limply, and then I finally open my eyes.

In front of me, Dick Baskerville was smiling.

“Long time no see, Young Master?”

But I have a nosebleed, you son of a bitch.

‘You’re dead now.’

I don’t know if he’s slow on the news or if he hit me because he thought I was an easy target, but now that I’m bleeding and conscious, the situation changes. I can fight back. There’s no need to just take a beating. That bastard is raising his hand with a face full of glee, as if he sees me as nothing, but, ah, damn it. I’m not a cripple.

‘I’m not some vermin you can trample on as you please…’

I don’t know why, but tears came out. It seemed physiological, so I didn’t try to force them back and instead focused on forming a magic circle in my mind.

“You, Cassis de Millang. You were doing some cute things. For a little bug who used to get his ass kicked by me every day. Not even crawling on the floor. Huh?”

“Agh…”

“Speak. Beg for forgiveness. Now!”

With the determination to pour enough mana to destroy the entire vicinity into one spot and kill him for good.

“Fuck… you… asshole…”

“…You fucking bastard, you’re dead today.”

In exchange, I’ll take a few more hits.

‘Because I need time to complete the magic circle.’

I just honed my killing intent while being trampled like an insect. I sobbed openly and exposed my vulnerable flesh. I spewed out all my weaknesses, like where it hurts when I’m hit and where I shed tears. It was fine. It was miserable, but I was used to this. The despair that others didn’t have to experience was my everyday life. The default setting of my life was this. Getting beaten. Being trampled. Having shit smeared on my dignity.

But I was different from others. As much as I was used to being in this state, I could handle it well. And now, I even have an offensive tool called magic!

So I will kill this fucking bastard.

‘I can kill him!’

This moment, when the magic circle was finally complete. I was soaked in brilliant and miserable ecstasy and laughed hollowly…

And right after that.

‘Ah.’

I saw Ryuseong, standing with the sunset at his back.

Dick Baskerville hadn’t even locked the door, and Ryuseong, living his daily life as always, seemed to have opened the door to my room and witnessed this very moment.

I couldn’t help but laugh through my sobs. It seemed Dick Baskerville spotted Ryuseong at my appearance and was spouting some nonsense, but I couldn’t hear a thing. It was just funny to me. This whole situation felt like a joke… I felt a sense of disharmony. The moment Ryuseong, who was about to come to me with a plate full of warm stew, flinched and stopped, strangely shattered me to pieces. I was fine even when I was getting beaten. What was the reason? Was it because I could feel the emotion in his blue eyes? He was purely grieving, and feeling nothing but killing intent.

“…”

What I felt at that moment was shame.