Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Both Bosses and Santa Pierce True Hearts to Survive (4)
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“Duke! There must be some misunderstanding! I’m no spy!”
Ambria clung to the bars of her cell, pleading desperately. I glanced at the black heart above her head for a moment before turning to the head butler.
“Any information out of her yet?”
“I tried sweet-talking her, but she won’t spill anything. If I may be so bold, what if we really are mistaken...?”
I narrowed my eyes sharply. The head butler immediately bowed his head in apology.
If this status window was lying, then yeah, it’d be a misunderstanding. But if what I’m seeing is real, then she’s a spy, plain and simple.
“No way to make her talk? What the hell was she even infiltrating for?”
In my past life, I’d tried every job under the sun, but interrogating spies wasn’t one of them.
“Should we try something out of a foreign movie? You and me playing good cop, bad cop. I’m the nice one, and Alberto goes full aggressive bad cop...”
“Pardon?”
“Nah, forget it. It’s just something from my world.”
I racked my brain for anything useful in this situation, but nothing came to mind. With Ambria’s fake pleas as background noise, a memory from high school suddenly surfaced. Our biology teacher, looking at the garden plot we’d been tending, had said:
-Oh, it’s all dead. Not even a flower in sight, let alone fruit.
Not that line—the one after.
-Time heals all things. The weeds will grow back if you wait. Unlike your grades, so let’s head back to class.
Right. Spot on. Obsessing over something you can’t fix right now is just wasting energy.
“Alberto. Let’s head back up.”
I shot a warning at the imprisoned spy.
“Tomorrow, you might feel like talking. Your plan’s been onto us for ages.”
Total bluff, of course.
“Keep in mind how merciful I am. If you’d swing your sword for me instead, I promise better treatment.”
I dropped the hint like I was offering a double-agent gig and backed off. Hell if I knew what she really was, and I had zero plans to use her as a double agent. But I knew I had to act like I had it all figured out. Can’t let her think I’m a pushover.
‘At least she’s not an assassin. Rookie spy probably hasn’t pulled off much espionage yet.’
Clinging to that positive spin, I headed back to my study. Like that old junk dealer said: You gotta find sunlight even in a trash heap to survive.
Once in the study, I had him bring me the ledger on the people I’d fired.
“As expected of you, Alberto. Sorting this out so quick—thanks.”
“Just doing my duty, my lord.”
I stopped Alberto as he moved to leave. The most important part was still pending.
“Make sure those I fired today get a fat severance package.”
The head butler’s bushy eyebrows twitched.
“You cut them loose so ruthlessly this afternoon, and now you’re showing mercy out of nowhere?”
“I can see the suspicion in your eyes. But I’m no fool, and I’m not cruel enough to fire people willy-nilly.”
Everyone I let go hated Dalia. No way they’d shown it to their lord, though. And quiet little Dalia sure as hell wouldn’t have tattled to me.
From their side, it’d feel like wrongful termination.
You think people like that badmouth their old workplace after getting the boot?
Fat chance.
They’d trash the wicked Gluttony family far and wide, spreading nasty rumors. That’d just polish Dalia’s villainess arc to a shine. I want her happy, not paving the road for her to turn evil ASAP.
The booted ones deserved compensation for that.
“I’ve got my reasons—don’t worry about it. Just give ‘em generous severance and recommendation letters so they can jump straight to another house. I know it’s a hassle, but I’m counting on you.”
“Understood.”
The head butler nodded readily.
“I was worried about that myself. Whatever your deeper intent, I feared bad rumors might swirl around the Gluttony ducal house.”
“Until we hire replacements, pay extra to the current staff. Mother’s gone, so there’s budget to spare. Let’s use some of it on the people we’ve got.”
“That’ll be quite the burden, my lord. Didn’t you say before you’d just freeze spending?”
“Hmm.”
Looks like old Sierra planned to play it safe with finances. Makes sense—her head must’ve been a mess. Turns out the duchess had been siphoning funds, only revealed after her death. The game mentioned it was enough to sway the national economy.
Eventually, it was fated to get blown on Dalia’s luxuries.
Sure, I want Dalia living large, but you gotta invest to get returns. No bait, no fish.
“We’ll have to carefully decide how much to allocate. But my stance hasn’t changed: seize back what Mother stole. Use force if needed. Claw every coin from her family. That money goes solely to the Gluttony house.”
“I’ll have my work cut out for me. Understood.”
“It benefits us all. I’m relying on you. I’ll make sure you get rewarded too, so no worries.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“It’s only right.”
Gotta manage my rep as lord too. I’m not some spoiled brat firing servants on whims.
“Also, I might fire a few more in the coming days, but fill vacancies through referrals. Pick a few reliable ones from the market staff and have them brag around town about their raises. Make folks itch to work for the Gluttony house. Give the younger servants snacks they can’t get elsewhere and free time to go out during the day.”
“Understood. Leave it to me.”
The loyal butler’s voice rang with reliability.
“So, personnel matters are settled for now?”
At his relieved words, I shook my head.
“Thought about it today, and I really should have a bodyguard knight or two. Finding that spy’s got me on edge.”
“A bodyguard knight, my lord? But you’re a mage. Didn’t you say honing your magic was enough to protect yourself?”
“Did I say that?”
Guess Sierra did. Whatever—not my problem. Promises are made to be broken, words to be eaten.
“If I say I need a bodyguard, I need one. End of story.”
“If that’s your will, my lord, very well. I’ll select an outstanding knight from the house guard.”
“No. I’ll hire from outside.”
I cut the head butler off firmly. I already had my eye on someone.
“You’ve heard of the Sloth Mercenary Corps?”
“The Sloth Corps? Isn’t that where only the elite gather? Hiring your bodyguard from there... I approve. Might even help with your training, my lord.”
“With that in mind, I want to go hire one myself. There’s a little village near their base. A day or two there should do it.”
My territory borders a deep forest, and right there’s a small village. Folks eke out a living hunting. Total countryside. Countryside’s countryside.
The kind of village you’d find anywhere in a fantasy world—no standout specialties. Part of the duchy in name only, practically abandoned. But it hides a unique treasure.
One of the male leads: the hero Pippin.
‘Mercenaries? Who cares.’
My real goal: track down Pippin.
Bodyguard? Barely an afterthought. Sloth Corps is just an excuse. Needed a reason to hit Pippin’s village. Their base and his village are close geographically—his master’s a big shot in the Sloth Corps.
Pippin swears loyalty to the crown prince, awakens as the hero, slays every monster. Conquers the hermit lands and snags the heroine’s heart along the way.
Of course, that’s future talk—hasn’t happened yet. Right now, Pippin’s a green country bumpkin kid, clueless about the world.
Take him out now, and I weaken the crown prince’s forces while nixing one creep who’d tangle with Dalia.
Perfect opportunity. A guy who’s only muscled up digging potatoes—how strong can he be? Great test for my necromancy. Worst case, drag him back as a servant under watch. Absolute worst: eliminate him.
“Prepare thoroughly.”
Gotta nip promising sprouts in the bud.
***
A week after the funeral.
I’d finished prepping to head out with my attendant Dandel. No one fully trustworthy in the mansion yet, so best leave the head butler behind.
It was dawn, the sun just peeking hazy over the horizon. The head butler emerged crisp as ever, like sleep was a foreign concept.
“You stressed ‘quickly,’ so I rushed preparations, but please don’t head out so suddenly next time. As lord, you must tend to your people...”
The head butler waggled his mustache, launching into a lecture. The attendants behind loaded the carriage: change of clothes, water, lunchbox—all bundled up.
“Treat it like a light trip. But no more than a week. If you’re delayed even a little, send word by letter. And message right when you arrive, don’t forget.”
“Got it, got it. What am I, a kid...?”
Mid-sentence, it hit me: Sierra was basically a kid. Just fifteen. Fair enough for the nagging.
“Anyway, don’t worry. Nothing’ll go wrong. Think of it as a casual outing.”
One where I casually lop off someone’s head. Just Pippin’s, and I’m done.
The head butler nodded, satisfied, and pulled a fancy trinket from his pocket—like an Olympic gold medal. Up close, the intricate engraving caught the eye: the family crest. A complex circle of letters and shapes, oddly like a futuristic manhole cover.
“I’ve packed funds, but if you need something pricey on short notice, show this token to any merchant. They’ll extend credit, and I’ll settle it later.”
“Got it.”
The fantasy world’s black card!