Szczecin Count's Family (3)
Russell placed his palm below Laila's navel on her unconscious form.
Examining her mana hole, he saw no signs that she'd learned any breathing method.
She was at Class 3, the level of a well-trained elite soldier.
"No need for mana restraints."
Calix didn't respond.
Unexpectedly, he already seemed to know.
Russell felt a sharp sense of dissonance at the young lord's demeanor.
But he swallowed the questions rising to his throat. Interrogating this assassin took precedence right now.
He dragged the limp Laila over and bound her to a chair.
As he tied the knots, last night's words from Calix suddenly came to mind.
"Very well. We'll skip that part. But I have one request. You can grant me that much, right?"
He had claimed there would be an assassination attempt.
Russell thought it possible. But he had no choice but to turn a blind eye.
Acting rashly without justification would only put Calix's life in greater danger.
For now, his neutrality was the only thing keeping the countess's faction from extreme measures.
"To reiterate, if it could greatly impact the succession, I cannot comply."
Russell had withdrawn his foot once more.
The blood of his long-served lord.
But with Collin Count dead, his loyalty was to the count's house itself, not some young heir.
No matter how sky-high Stera Countess's lust for power, the one to inherit the title would ultimately be her son, Gramvine.
If he had to choose between them anyway, he figured the clever Gram was better than the incompetent Calix.
Yet unexpectedly, Calix showed no sign of disappointment.
On the contrary, his eyes sparkled as he boldly declared to Russell.
"No, it's nothing like that, so don't worry. Considering my injured state, it's a perfectly reasonable request anyway."
Up until then, he'd answered indifferently.
"Sigh. Speak."
"Just for today, after you clock out, come to my bedroom secretly without anyone knowing. And stand guard against assassins. Surely you won't heartlessly refuse a request to protect my life for just one day?"
Russell had felt doubts.
He couldn't understand why he shouldn't just stand at the entrance but instead hide secretly in the bedroom.
Perhaps sensing his lukewarm attitude, Calix pleaded earnestly once more.
"You must hide so the intruder doesn't notice. And order the knights to ensure no one enters this room tonight. Of course, don't reveal my condition. Just until tonight."
"...Understood."
Russell still couldn't comprehend, but he didn't refuse. It was guilt over failing to protect Collin Count.
He couldn't hand the title to his blood, but at least he wanted to safeguard his life.
That's all he'd thought.
Until he'd caught this damned assassin.
Once Russell finished tying Laila, Calix knelt before her.
Her wrists, fixed to the armrests, dangled limply.
He poured a potion on her floppy wrists and splinted them.
Then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the cold sweat beading on her forehead.
Laila lifted her head at the tender touch.
Sparkling emerald eyes gazed at her from inches away.
Her heart pounded—was it from the threat to her life, or from Calix's handsome face and gentle touch? She was confused.
Calix spoke to her then.
"Slowly Creeping Death takes about three to six hours to gradually stop your breathing. It's beloved as a suicide poison because you die peacefully, like falling asleep."
His tone was dry, at odds with his gentle touch.
As if he'd never had emotions to begin with.
If he'd shown lust, disgust, or contempt toward her, it might not have fazed her.
She was used to such treatment.
Laila realized his impassive expression could evoke even greater terror.
A sudden chill washed over her.
Her shoulders trembled faintly.
Undeterred, Calix continued.
"I have a history of suicide attempts, so if I'd died from this poison, no one would've suspected murder."
He grabbed her cheeks with both hands, forcing her evasive gaze to meet his.
"Laila. If you'd prepared an instant-acting poison and resolved to die with me, there would've been no failure."
She said nothing, her eyes darting about.
Meeting his gaze made a corner of her heart feel uneasy.
"Why?"
"W-what do you mean?"
"Why didn't you use an instant poison?"
"..."
He didn't wait for an answer.
"Because you didn't want to die. In other words, you lack the loyalty to offer your life to Stera Countess."
"!!"
Laila bit her molars lightly.
He'd struck the nail on the head.
Calix stared at her quietly before ordering Russell.
"Russell, we need to feed the culprit something, so fix her mouth open."
"Understood."
He seized her jaw mercilessly with his pot-lid-sized hand.
Being rigid didn't mean ethical.
Fanatics armed with convictions often committed cruelties without hesitation.
Russell had slain hundreds on the battlefield and tortured countless prisoners for information.
His grip was ruthless.
"Aaak!"
Sensing something ominous, Laila struggled, but Russell's iron grip allowed no resistance.
The gap between Class 3 and Class 6 was clear.
A small black pill appeared before her eyes.
A metallic stench assaulted her nose.
"What do you think this is?"
He didn't expect an answer from her clamped jaw.
Calix dropped the pill down her throat, then poured in the rancid goat milk from earlier.
"Russell, make her swallow."
"Understood."
The moment Calix spoke, Russell forced her mouth shut and pinched her nose.
"Grrrk! Mmgh! Grrk!"
He didn't release her until she'd swallowed everything—even as her eyes began to roll back.
"Kuhk! Blech! W-what did you make me eat?!"
Terror made Laila's voice quiver faintly.
'As expected of an assassin, she's got a strong attachment to life. I can use her.'
Calix, having quickly sorted his thoughts, continued leisurely.
"You poisoned me, so I poisoned you back."
"Poison?"
"Cid's Puppet, you've heard of it, right? No assassin worth their salt wouldn't know it."
Laila's eyes widened like saucers.
"That's ridiculous...! How would you even know about such an advanced poison?!"
"Then how did I detoxify Slowly Creeping Death? You watched me drink it yourself."
"!!"
"Everyone keeps an ace up their sleeve."
Laila shook her head.
"No way. I can't believe it. How could a young lord who's never left the count's estate obtain something like that?"
"With enough gold coins, anything's possible. If you still can't believe it, I'll tell you one key ingredient: white radish. Ring a bell?"
Her wildly shaking eyes answered for her.
In the center of the spacious bedroom sat the chair—and Laila bound to it.
Having successfully captured her alive, Calix had pondered.
'Should I just end it with simple revenge?'
The answer was, of course, no.
She was merely a tool.
Who'd smash a thug's knife and call it a day? You catch the thug and punish him properly.
'The one who ordered it is probably the countess or her close aide.'
To tie them in, he needed evidence and a witness.
Fortunately, the forged suicide note he'd just seized served as evidence.
All that remained was to win Laila over.
"No way..."
Laila muttered in disbelief.
At first, she'd scoffed at the claim he'd fed her Cid's Puppet.
No ordinary person could obtain it.
But the words white radish began to shake her convictions.
Calix saw the wavering in her eyes and knew his bluff had worked.
'Well, the fact that yogurt neutralizes Slowly Creeping Death isn't public knowledge yet, so it makes sense I'd seem revived. Plus, no internet here. Knowing trade lingo lets me pass as an insider. This could get tricky.'
The black pill he'd fed her was just well-worn flour dough. But she had no choice but to believe.
Russell eyed him suspiciously from the side, but mercifully didn't interfere right away.
Calix would smooth it over later.
"I'm going to release you now. Go back to whoever sent you and report the mission succeeded."
"Why would I obediently follow your orders?"
"Because you have to, to get the antidote. Cid's Puppet has over three thousand antidote variants depending on the recipe. Don't gamble with your body—behave."
"Kuh!"
Laila bit her lip hard.
Calix was certain she'd accept.
If she'd truly been ready to die today, she wouldn't have become a prisoner.
Mutual destruction was standard assassin training.
Of course, suicide wasn't easy for anyone, so few actually did it.
Usually, they used hallucinogens, but they couldn't risk feeding one to her, known as the countess's close aide.
She might blurt something wrong under the influence, causing bigger issues.
From her status window, Calix knew her trait: cool-headed survivalist.
Despite ample chances, she'd always chosen survival.
'She'd probably have ditched a hallucinogen too. A Class 3 assassin prioritizing survival. Useless as a witness otherwise.'
"Your answer?"
"O-okay, just untie me already!"
To firmly imprint the hierarchy, Calix pressed her.
"Politely."
"P-please untie me quickly. I beg you! Hic... sob..."
He was a bit flustered.
He hadn't expected the threat to break her so thoroughly into tears and pleas.
Her reaction was far more intense than anticipated.
'What's this? Some hidden agenda?'
As he tilted his head, a thunderous rumble echoed from Laila's pale face and lower belly.
Grrroooowl—
"P-please!"
Only then did Calix realize her plight.
Feeding her the rancid goat milk for revenge had backfired.
Letting out a small chuckle, he told Russell.
"Russell, release her."
"Is that wise, my lord? She's a dangerous assassin."
"Hmm, as an important witness, I want to preserve at least the minimum human dignity."
"Dignity?"
Russell cocked his head, and at the sight, Laila shrieked.
"You dense idiot! Untie me now! I-I gotta... please!"
That night, she barely overcame the worst crisis of her life.
After hours shuttling between life, death, and the toilet from the rancid goat milk, Laila finally recovered enough to deliver her false report of mission success.
But that wasn't enough.
To perfectly deceive those behind Calix's assassination order, she needed one person's cooperation—someone who could mobilize the knights.
The one eyeing her suspiciously.
Russell.