Chapter 3
Chapter 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Thrill Felt During the Game Might Be Electrocution
-----------------------------------------------------------------
An older guy I met while doing delivery gigs back in the day told me that. He said keeping to the delivery time is about respecting the customer. Making someone wait without any word is rude.
‘Screw that courtesy crap. Starting now, it doesn’t exist for me.’
I had no intention of respecting the imperial folks, so I wasn’t going to keep to the schedule either. That guy probably never imagined I’d use his wise words like this, but good is good.
Seize the initiative.
I needed to show those bastards that the new Sierra wasn’t a pushover. To dodge the avalanche of disasters coming my way!
“Dalia, want to take a little stroll? Shall we check if the flowers are blooming? Do you like flowers?”
I scooped Dalia up in my arms, then turned toward the flower beds. The head butler scurried after me in a panic.
“Lord Duke! The funeral is about to begin.”
“No. Don’t start it.”
The head butler’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the church’s front gate. I strolled along with deliberate nonchalance.
“Who’s the host of this funeral?”
“W-well, naturally, it’s you, Lord Duke!”
“Right. It’s my event. So it’s only natural to start after I arrive.”
“But the imperial people are already waiting…”
The head butler seemed to grasp my intent, his shoulders twitching. His mustache quivered—he was clearly rattled.
“This isn’t like you, Lord Duke. You’ve always been considerate of others. Especially this time, with the imperial folks…”
Fair enough. In the game, Duke Sierra was a timid straight-A student type. Good personality.
No, more like overly nice to a fault.
He got pushed around in the power struggle with the Crown Prince, had all his money snatched by relatives, and just laughed it off like an idiot.
Some people found that charming—namely, the heroine.
Showered in the heroine’s love, the affection-starved Sierra gradually became bold and assertive. That let him solidify his position as duke… which was the Sierra capture ending.
Let me say this straight.
If Sierra had just been bold from the start, he wouldn’t have had a single worry.
The Gluttony Ducal House held a status rivaling the emperor. There’s a saying about lying where you fall. For Sierra, that spot was wide enough to build an industrial complex. He could’ve sprawled out however he wanted.
Sure, some nobles looked down on us now, but I’d remember that and get revenge later. Principal plus interest, compounded by the second.
I’d already figured out Sierra’s assets and what businesses brought in the cash. I’d played this weird otome game, Moonflower, to death.
For anyone in my way, cut their funding, take their kids hostage, seize their land as collateral.
I’d learned how to buy pity in the past; I knew how to be ruthless too. The info broker boss who employed me taught me plenty of tricks.
Having died once already, I had no hang-ups.
“Head butler, you said this to me in the carriage. That in times like these, I need to leave a strong impression.”
“…Did I say it like that? I think I just said to present a neat appearance…”
“I’ll go in thirty minutes. Don’t start the funeral until I do. Make up any excuse you want. Just nothing involving Dalia.”
“Understood.”
The head butler nodded, not hiding his displeasure. With that, I was fully convinced.
‘I can do whatever I want.’
If not, he would’ve grabbed my leg and stopped me by now. The head butler was the loyal retainer type that the villainess Dalia drove away. This upright old man had accepted my proposal.
Maybe I should push the spoiled brat act a bit further.
With that thought, I decided to add one more move.
“Bring a new dress for Dalia to wear right now. Something bright. Dalia, what color do you like?”
“Blue.”
“Let’s go with yellow. It’ll stand out more. Ideally, a flashy yellow dress.”
A flashy yellow dress would definitely pop amid the black mourning clothes. Plus, in this empire, yellow held special meaning because of the imperial family’s dazzling golden blondes.
If black symbolized sorrow and death, yellow stood for joy and the empire’s prosperity.
I planned to show, through Dalia’s outfit, a mindset utterly at odds with a funeral.
The Gluttony Duke’s fierce resolve not to be underestimated by the Crown Prince.
“She’ll look so pretty, right? Amid those nobles with their dead-fish eyes, if our Dalia shines like a yellow flower.”
Dalia flowers rarely come in yellow. But my Dalia would shine brighter than any flower in vivid yellow.
I’d make sure of it.
We siblings—not the deceased—would steal the spotlight at this funeral.
***
While waiting for the head butler, I decided to kill time behind the church. As I went to sit on a bench, Dalia grabbed my collar with a sullen look. Tiny hands, but her grip was insane.
“Blue.”
“D-Dalia?”
Dalia glared at me. Five years old, but her presence was no joke. Her voice was calm, but her eyes gleamed with murder. The flat tone made it even scarier.
“I like blue.”
Strong opinions—she’s got big things ahead. But,
“Oh? How about red, Dalia? Like it? Good, right?”
She wasn’t matching up against my kids’ cafe experience.
“Pink’s nice too, right, Dalia?”
The kid hesitated a bit, then nodded in place of an answer. She’d fallen completely for my leading questions.
“Yellow? You like yellow too?”
Nod again.
“Then there’s no problem. You’ll wear the yellow dress you like, Dalia.”
“!”
Dalia realized she’d been tricked, but she was still too young to counter my sly manipulation clearly.
“Dalia who likes yellow, go play with the flowers.”
“T-that’s…”
“What? You said you like yellow? Don’t like the yellow dress? If you like yellow, you must hate blue then?”
“…”
Dalia surrendered to my absurd logic.
“Good girl. Go play by yourself.”
Your big bro’s busy.
After dazzlingly wrapping up this funeral today, I needed to head back to the duke’s castle and check my magic talent. I had to know my skill level to plan ahead.
Prepping for the upcoming beast subjugation squad came first. If my magic was decent, I could fight myself.
‘No. Even if my magic isn’t amazing, I can still fight.’
Revive my dispatch bodyguard experience and steadily take down beasts.
If worst came to worst, other options. Use my head—put up someone stronger but loyal as a proxy.
For a proxy candidate…
‘Plenty of promising ones…’
I recalled a few warrior characters from the game. Hmm, the most useful was Pippin, one of the male leads, but snagging him would be tricky.
‘Better to just hire mercenaries with cash. Faster and simpler.’
Our house needed to take first place in this beast subjugation squad.
I planned to slowly devour the imperial side, Crown Prince and all.
Why? Simple reason.
Dalia’s worst ending was the heroine’s Crown Prince capture route.
As the Crown Prince’s fiancée, Dalia failed to become crown princess and was exiled to a convent for “bullying the heroine.”
Just like how my sister was dumped on relatives, nursed by her useless brother, and died alone in a hospital.
In my past life, I was a failure. Couldn’t protect my sister, cried while gaming, and got electrocuted.
Maybe Dalia was my sister reincarnated. It felt that way. I wanted to believe it.
“As her brother, her only family, I have no choice but to do my best this life too.”
I steeled my resolve and looked up at the church’s towering building. Its stained glass windows shifted colors like silkworm moth wings depending on the light.
Dalia followed my gaze up to the windows, then made an OK sign and held it to her eye.
“Big brother.”
“Yeah?”
Her brown eyes sparkled sharper than the colorful glass.
“Can big brother see it too? The window with letters. You can see it if you open the eyes of your heart.”
“Window with letters…?”
“But Dalia can’t read them. Don’t know letters well.”
She declared it proudly.
***
Clack, clack, clack. The sharp sound of sturdy shoe heels striking marble rang out clearly.
I flung open the doors to the closed chapel with both hands. All eyes turned to us at once. As planned, I let Dalia enter first.
Dalia strutted down the red carpet in her flashy yellow dress, like a flower girl at a wedding.
“T-the Duke has arrived! Let the funeral begin!”
The priest by the entrance panicked, then bellowed. Startled by the shout, the conductor shook his shoulders and frantically waved his baton. The somber funeral music resumed.
I’d learned the conductor’s name from the head butler. I called him in the brightest voice possible.
“Jonathan!”
The conductor’s arms froze. He turned toward me, eyes wide, arms still raised.
“Y-yes?”
“My mother, the Duchess, always called your orchestra for banquets.”
“Yes, that’s right. An honor.”
Jonathan twisted toward me and bowed. The chapel seemed silent, but a tiny murmur started, like bat wings fluttering.
“So you remember what music Mother liked. Play the brightest piece from the songs she loved.”
“Yes?”
“Now.”
At my command, the conductor glanced around nervously, eyes darting. Far off, I saw the head butler nodding like a metronome. The conductor caught the signal, grimaced, and turned.
New music began. High-pitched strings played a fast, erratic melody. Lively, but chaotically so. That made me like it even more.
No one among the mourners or priests could easily speak after our bizarre entrance. They stared at Dalia, then shifted to me following behind.
I walked with forced boldness. Didn’t quiet my footsteps either.
The gazes pouring down were worlds apart from those in the church garden.
Back then, it was disdain. Now, shock. Maybe mixed, but fine. Their faces would change again after I checked the guest list.
I casually surveyed the chapel. Luckily, I spotted the imperial reps right away. They wore capes symbolizing the imperial family over pitch-black mourning attire.
Yellow, just like Dalia’s dress. Proof of how provocative my move was.
A world tree, the imperial emblem, was engraved on ornate gold fittings. Snatch it and give it to Dalia as a toy—perfect.
“…My goodness. W-what insolence…!”
The imperial envoy’s reaction was satisfying.
