When Ian pressed down with his fingernail, a green viscous liquid oozed from the sap.
“What is this?”
“A suicide poison. Also called mangrove toxin. Even a troll would be bedridden for days from this amount.”
“……!”
Viola’s eyes widened in shock.
A poison so potent that even a troll—renowned for its exceptional resistance and regenerative abilities—would suffer for days?
Ian’s earlier actions meant he had expected the assassin to carry something like this.
“How did you know they would have this?”
Ian replied as if the question were obvious.
“They dared to strike at the house of Duke Endran. Of course, they would have prepared multiple means to kill themselves in case of failure.”
For Ian, it was a familiar scenario—predicting such things came easily.
The only thing he hadn’t anticipated was:
‘How can she look so unfazed in a situation like this?’
While it might be routine for Ian, who had played as an assassin before, this was entirely unfamiliar to Viola.
Playing as royalty or nobility in a kingdom often meant facing assassination attempts, but experiencing it first hand was different.
And though he had knowledge from his assassin playthroughs, he had grown so accustomed to it that he overlooked how shocking it might be for her.
Perhaps his judgment was still dulled by lingering intoxication.
‘The best choice is suicide, but since that could fail, poisoning is more reliable.’
Not to mention, they had shattered his teeth to prevent him from biting his tongue.
The drugs would keep him from feeling pain for now, but their effect would soon wear off.
The assassin didn’t need to think hard to imagine what awaited him.
“Ah, it sounds like the soldiers are finally coming.”
The heavy footsteps of soldiers rushing toward their location grew louder.
‘Finally, freedom!’
All Ian wanted was to hand over the assassin and return to his quarters.
***
Duke Endran and Viola sat together, sipping tea.
“So the assassin took his own life.”
The day after the attack, they had intended to interrogate the assassin while treating his injuries, but by morning, he had been found dead.
The cause was poisoning—a powerful neurotoxin.
Despite a thorough search, he had hidden another dose somewhere on his body.
Ian had removed one poison, but the assassin had another concealed.
“Now we’ll never know who was truly behind this.”
“There are plenty of suspects, but too many to narrow down. And without concrete evidence, we can’t accuse anyone.”
In the end, the case would remain unsolved.
A brief silence settled between father and daughter.
Only after half their tea was gone did Viola finally speak.
“Father.”
“What is it?”
“It might just be because it was the day after the banquet, but… the patrols that night felt unusually less.”
Even before arriving at the Garden of Whispers, Viola had noticed something was off.
Fewer soldiers patrolled the estate, fewer servants roamed the garden paths—almost as if they were inviting assassins in.
It might have been coincidence. Or perhaps her own paranoia.
But she needed to hear it from her father directly.
Duke Endran drained the last of his tea and met her gaze.
He was smiling.
“This incident will make them regret their actions. They attacked the strongest vassal under our banner, after all.”
Viola clenched her fists.
‘So Father knew all along.’
This had all been part of his plan.
He had known infiltrators were lurking within the estate but let them act—waiting until they made their move.
And by targeting Schrantz, he had ensured the man would never side with their enemies.
No one would align themselves with a faction that had tried to kill them.
Even the slightest possibility of Schrantz being swayed by opposing forces had been eliminated—without Ian ever realizing it.
The Duke had willingly risked his family’s reputation for this outcome.
‘Honestly, I had hoped to actively win him to our side.’
But after their conversation during the tea gathering, the Duke had concluded that Ian’s ambitions were… lacking.
‘The lie-detecting artifact didn’t react. That means everything he said was true.’
The jewellery he always wore was a magical tool that revealed falsehoods.
To confirm it wasn’t malfunctioning, he had tested it on a servant—it worked perfectly.
Ian had never lied.
‘Just wants to live comfortably?’
A man should have ambition, even if it exceeds his station.
Yet the Duke found none in him.
At best, he was practical. At worst, complacent.
A man content with his lot, lacking the courage to jump into the fire for greater things.
The kind of man the Duke despised most.
He had once held Ian in high regard, but after their talk, his disappointment was immediate.
A decent drinking buddy—nothing more, nothing less.
“Regardless, an unsavory incident occurred within our household, and he did protect you. We should send him an apology along with a suitable gift.”
Securing their rear and ensuring Shrantz would never stray from his influence was a worthwhile gain.
Now, he could charge forward without looking back.
Viola nodded, watching her father.
‘Now he’ll truly move for his ambitions.’
The Duke would never let an opportunity slip.
Word of this incident would spread quickly, and the already tense imperial court would erupt into open conflict.
Until now, the princes had hesitated, lacking justification—
‘But this gives them all the pretext they need.’
A perfect catalyst for action.
More than enough to satisfy him, judging by his smile.
‘He’s my father, but…’
The more she understood him, the more terrifying he became.
But—
“So you’re saying I was exposed to danger because of your scheme.”
Twitch!
The Duke’s shoulders jerked.
“N-Now, don’t misunderstand! I never intended to put you at risk. I assumed they’d strike when I was drunk—I didn’t expect them to target you.”
His sudden decision to call for wine during the tea gathering had been part of the act.
‘I thought it was strange how drunk he seemed despite drinking less than usual.’
It had all been an act.
“Please, believe me.”
Desperate not to earn his beloved daughter’s wrath, he tried to soothe her temper.
But—
“I’ll take my leave now.”
She wasn’t furious, but Viola rose and walked away.
He had failed to account for variables, after all.
The Duke looked as if the world had crumbled around him.
A week after Ian arrived at his territory, a gift arrived from Duke Endran’s household.
Surprisingly, it was a magic item.
[Tear of the Wind Spirit]
Defense: 3
[Effects]
―Agility +2
―Movement Speed +3%
―Attack Speed +2%
―Wind Attribute Magic Resistance +7%
―Additional 4% Attack Power in Open Fields
―Once per month, activates Wind Shield defensive magic at the wearer’s will.
The only magic item Ian currently owned was Lycanthrope’s Blessing.
‘Huh, a necklace?’
In Meta Pangaea, it was possible to equip multiple magic items of the same type, but only the effects of the first one equipped would apply.
‘But this is reality, isn’t it?’
What if things worked differently here?
Would the effects stack?
There was no harm in checking, so he put it on.
[Effects of the same type of magic item do not stack.]
“…….”
He had hoped, but of course, it didn’t work.
A quick check confirmed that only Lycanthrope’s Blessing’s effects were active.
“What a shame.”
Disappointing, but this alone was still a generous gift.
‘This is perfect for someone who fights up close like me.’
A multi-effect magic item was the best kind of present for Ian.
Duke Endran must have chosen it carefully, knowing exactly what would suit him.
It was likely a gesture of gratitude for protecting his daughter.
‘Just wearing it grants constant effects, and they’re not bad either.’
Lycanthrope’s Blessing only worked at night, but this item was active all the time.
And the last effect was the real prize.
‘A magic item that grants defensive spells too.’
That single effect alone would make it an incredibly valuable item—
But it came with multiple additional bonuses.
‘I could sell this and become filthy rich right now.’
At the very least, it would fetch several hundred gold.
The fact that the Duke had gifted something like this showed just how grateful he was.
‘Speaking of which, if assassins are already making moves, the civil war must be close.’
Within a year at most, this kingdom would be engulfed in chaos.
‘I’d better prepare.’
Once the civil war broke out, bandits would multiply like rats.
More would spill into his territory, meaning even more work.
“Still, I really blabbed too much at that tea party.”
He now understood the saying “Drunken words are sober thoughts.”
Recalling how he had rambled on needlessly made him cringe so hard he wanted to kick his blankets at night.
Even drunk, he shouldn’t have spilled so much.
Especially that line about “just wanting to live comfortably.”
“What a damn stupid answer.”
What must Duke Endran have thought of him?
‘What the hell is this guy even doing?’
Now, every time he remembered it, he wanted to scream into a pillow.
‘And that “sponsorship” thing…’
The word sponsorship lingered in Ian’s mind.
‘Wait, was that a recruitment offer?’
In the game, if a prince or someone tied to imperial quests took interest, they’d extend a recruitment offer.
That so-called tea party—had it actually been a setup to rope him into imperial quests?
Had he almost been dragged into royal affairs without realizing it?
The thought sent shivers down his spine.
He could’ve unknowingly signed his life away.
‘In that case, was my idiotic self-deprecating answer actually a blessing?’
At least now, the Duke was disappointed enough to leave him alone.
‘Good enough.’
That was Ian’s take.
It was a little regrettable that the Duke would no longer see him as valuable, but—
This distance was just right.
He wasn’t planning to climb any higher anyway.
‘And with the Duchess interrupting and the assassin showing up, he’s got bigger things to worry about.’
He decided to bury his drunken embarrassment deep in his heart.
His optimistic nature was a blessing in times like these.
‘On another note, Millio’s already showing promise.’
As soon as Ian arrived at his territory, he had entrusted Millio to the merchant guild.
At first, they had been sceptical, but after observing him, they were impressed—his mind was sharper than expected.
They praised him, saying he had real potential as a merchant.
‘Of course. He’s going to be a tycoon in the future. His talent was obvious from the start.’
No matter how hard a hardworker grinds, they can’t beat a hardworking genius.
Ian eagerly looked forward to the day Milio would bring him vast wealth.
“Young Master.”
Oswell’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“What is it, Sir Oswell?”
Ian immediately noticed Oswell’s grim expression.
“The Lord has summoned you.”
No further explanation—just duty.
Sensing something serious, Ian headed to Hugo at once.
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