What the Hell Is My Favorite Character's Attack Power?
A short while later, the annex door clicked open with careful hesitation. Four nobles with bloodless faces shuffled inside, shoulders hunched. But every whispered word they’d exchanged outside had already reached my ears.
“Why would His Highness the Prince summon us in private?”
“With Baron dead, maybe he needs new hands and feet?”
“Not a bad idea. The Grand Duchess is about to wring us dry anyway. Might as well suck up to the Prince and nibble at his power.”
After Giselle said she’d let it slide once, these idiots already thought they were home free. Their brains had sprouted entire flower meadows.
“Y-Your Highness. You called for us?”
The four lined up in front of me, bowing low with oily, servile smiles. I crossed my legs, leaned back into the sofa, and lazily swirled the wine in my glass.
“Yeah. I saw you groveling like pros in front of the Grand Duchess earlier. Your acting was top-tier.”
“Pardon? Ah, haha… It was an unavoidable survival tactic to avoid drawing Her Highness’s suspicion.”
“Claiming Baron scammed you in an investment deal, that you were totally deceived. A real tearjerker performance, no doubt.”
I curled my lips and tossed the parchment I’d pulled from my coat onto the table. It landed with a heavy slap.
“So what are you going to do about it? You bastards who say you were the victims of fraud.”
The parchment unfurled across the table. The moment they saw it, their pupils quaked like they’d been hit by an earthquake.
“You wrote a blood covenant with your own hands swearing you’d overthrow the Grand Duchess and crawl under my feet. Where do you get the nerve to flap your tongues like that?”
“Hii, hiiiiik…!”
It was the covenant Baron had presented to me. Their names, the number of private troops each could mobilize, and the vivid blood thumbprints. Undeniable proof of treason.
“Y-Your Highness! How did that document end up in your hands…!”
“That pig Baron offered it to me as proof of his loyalty before he died. Pathetic, right?”
I knocked back the rest of the wine in one gulp and slammed the glass down.
“Go on, then. You were sobbing and making excuses in the conference room earlier. Let’s hear you explain this one.”
The four turned the color of ash and slammed themselves flat against the floor.
“Your Highness!! Please spare us!! We only followed Baron’s orders…!”
“Her Highness the Grand Duchess said she would forgive us if we donated to the relief fund! Please, show mercy…!”
“Mercy?”
I pulled out the note Viola had sent and fluttered it in their faces.
“You whined that it hurt just to replace the money the Grand Duchess squeezed out of you? Yet you planned to fob her off with pocket change from the territory warehouse while hiding every last bit of your real wealth.”
“…What?”
“Let’s see. Baron Killian, you own three luxury villas in the southern empire under false names, right? Buried thirty thousand gold in gold bars, too. Baron Rowen, you’re skimming two thousand gold a month from that illegal gambling den you run.”
“H-how could you possibly…”
As their hidden assets and dirty cash flows spilled from my mouth one after another, the four nobles choked and gasped, unable to draw a proper breath.
“Choose.”
I leaned forward on the sofa and looked down at them.
“Should I take this covenant and the list of your hidden wealth straight to Giselle and wipe out all nine generations of your families?”
“……!”
“Or will you spend the rest of your lives as my loyal cash cows?”
The Grand Duchess’s execution ground or the Prince’s slave. The answer was obvious.
“We’ll be your cash cows!! We’ll be Your Highness’s slaves!!”
“We’ll give you anything!! Just please don’t hand that document to the Grand Duchess!!”
Good. Contract sealed.
“Smart boys. Conditions are simple. Don’t touch a single coin meant for the territory people’s food and livelihood. If you cause a riot and disturb my sleep, I’ll be pissed.”
I snapped my fingers.
“Instead, after you’ve spent everything the people need, whatever pure personal profit ends up in your pockets? Eighty percent of that comes to me every month as regular ‘dignity maintenance fees.’”
“…E-eighty percent?!”
The nobles’ eyes nearly popped out of their skulls.
“Your Highness! That’s too harsh…! If you take eighty percent, what are we supposed to live on?! Are you telling us to starve to death…!”
“Not my problem.”
I cut them off with a snort.
“You should have lost your heads for treason anyway. If you can eat, sleep, and shit with the remaining twenty percent, you should be kissing my feet in gratitude. What more do you want?”
I tapped the covenant on the table with a finger.
“Or should I hang all four of your heads at the front gate of the Grand Ducal Castle before you even have the chance to starve?”
“Hiiiiik!!!”
At the hopeless threat they slammed their foreheads against the floor and shook like leaves.
“Sell your southern villas, sell your fancy mansions, I don’t care how you do it. If you’re truly broke, take your private soldiers, grab swords, and run to the front lines yourselves to hunt demonic beasts and mine mana stones.”
I smiled brightly and stepped closer.
“Remember this. If you’re even one day late, this document goes straight to Giselle’s desk. Understood?”
“We’ll remember… we’ll remember, Your Highness… Sob, sob…”
And just like that, four legal ATMs were officially activated.
As I left the annex, I looked back at the four sobbing, broken men and allowed myself a satisfied smile. This money would soon flow through Viola into the northern reconstruction funds and be put to very good use.
That same afternoon, in Giselle’s office.
“…What did you say?”
Giselle, listening to the report, doubted her own ears.
“Those four visited the Prince’s annex?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Right after the morning meeting ended, the escort knights clearly witnessed them heading to the annex after receiving a secret summons from His Highness the Prince.”
At Hexion’s words, Giselle’s eyebrows twitched.
So that was it.
Giselle clenched her jaw until her teeth creaked.
The reason Cael had killed Baron wasn’t for the North’s sake. It was to swallow the entire faction Baron had led in one bite.
He had called the remnants to the annex either to plot another rebellion or to bleed the North dry in exchange for taking fat bribes and covering for them.
Flames of fury ignited in Giselle’s eyes.
“Send troops to the annex at once—”
“Your Highness, wait!”
Hexion urgently cut her off.
“The report that follows… is extremely strange.”
“Strange how?”
“The four nobles who left the Prince’s annex… returned to their territories looking completely soulless. Then they suddenly began selling off their possessions at breakneck speed. Their cherished purebred horses, valuable artworks, everything.”
“…What?”
Giselle asked again, stunned.
“And that’s not all.”
Hexion swallowed hard before continuing.
“They mobilized every private soldier in their territories, armed them, and the lords themselves are racing to the foremost defensive line to prepare for a demonic beast hunt!”
“……”
“Their stated reason is ‘To raise funds for a donation to the Grand Duchy, we will risk our lives to protect the territory!’…”
Giselle fell silent.
They were the most selfish and indolent nobles in the North. While they had never crossed the line too blatantly, they were the worst kind of opportunists who chased only money and pleasure, quietly gnawing away at the North.
Yet after a single visit to the Prince’s annex, those same men had suddenly seen the light?
“…Just what the hell did he do in that annex?”
Giselle muttered, dazed.
It made no sense.
The Eighth Prince, Cael. Despite wearing every vile reputation imaginable, ever since he arrived the North’s old festering wounds had begun to burst open and the soldiers had found new strength.
A walking contradiction that refused to add up no matter how you looked at it.
Cael Edgar.
Just what kind of man are you?
“Haah…”
Giselle sighed, gazing out the window.
One week later, in the Grand Ducal Castle’s office.
“The classification of all mana stones obtained during this demonic beast wave has been completed.”
At Finance Officer Godwin’s report, Giselle nodded while scanning the documents.
This defensive battle had been an unprecedented victory. Thanks to the miraculously appearing medicine, every injured soldier had survived. The quantity of mana stones harvested from the demonic beast corpses was also the highest on record.
“Well done. Distribute ample low-grade mana stones for the territory people’s heating and store them in the warehouse. Sell every middle-grade and higher stone to the merchants to secure funds.”
“I shall obey, Your Highness.”
“Ah, and is there still no word?”
“You mean the benefactor? Unfortunately, there has been no further news…”
“I see. Dismissed.”
Once Godwin withdrew, Giselle remained alone in the office.
“Haah…”
She leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.
Lately the North’s situation had been strangely, almost suspiciously smooth. When the first snow fell she had despaired that the entire territory would be buried in corpses of the starved and frozen, yet the unknown benefactor’s food aid had carried them past the worst crisis.
Moreover, Baron—who had constantly eyed her power—had tried to rebel only to lose his head in vain, and the four opportunists who once followed him had suddenly reformed. They were now on the front lines, covered in blood, personally hunting demonic beasts.
It was too peaceful. Everything flowed as smoothly as if invisible gears had perfectly aligned.
And at the center of this bizarre butterfly effect stood one man.
The empire’s trash, the Eighth Prince Cael.
“Hmm…”
Giselle rose from her seat and stared at the personal wardrobe in the corner of the office.
She couldn’t keep circling in doubt and confusion forever.
Opening the wardrobe door, she murmured under her breath.
“Tonight… I suppose I should at least talk with him.”
“Hey!! You call that careful?! Do you have any idea how much that costs?! If there’s even a single scratch I’ll slice your damn heads off!”
I roared at the top of my lungs.
A week had passed. The stab wound in my side from Baron’s dagger had healed enough that the sharp throbbing had mostly faded.
So I finally started the project I’d been putting off.
Annex remodeling.
“Put the wine display cabinet by the window! And don’t scratch the gold trim, you idiots!”
On the outside I was pointing fingers and cursing at the workers nonstop.
On the inside I was crying tears of blood.
Agh, fuck! That money could have bought so many thick steaks!
An obscenely expensive wine cabinet and the highest-grade silk rug. Honestly, what use were these things to me? In the North, a well-insulated mana stone heater was the real luxury.
But if I didn’t do this, Giselle and the vassals would definitely grow suspicious.
He took a hundred thousand gold and didn’t buy a single luxury item? Surely he used it for…
To cut that line of thinking off at the root, I had no choice but to splurge like a real wastrel and turn the room into a glittering spectacle.
Of course, the funds for this remodeling came not from the North’s budget but from the dignity maintenance fees I’d squeezed out of my lovely new ATMs.
Servants and vassals passing by the annex openly cursed through the open doors when they saw the luxurious furniture—“The people are suffering and that bastard is wasting money again!”—but I coolly ignored every word.
By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, the workers finally finished.
“Your Highness, all the requested construction has been completed.”
“Done? Then get the hell out before the smell sticks.”
I shooed them away like flies and threw myself onto the brand-new, fluffy sofa.
“Haah, I’m exhausted.”
I was just about to close my eyes for a well-earned rest when—
Click.
The door opened again.
“Ugh, seriously. I told you to scram, what the hell are you—”
I turned my head in irritation and promptly shut my mouth.
“Is the remodeling finished?”
Leaning crookedly against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking straight at me, was Giselle.
“……”
But what was this?
She normally wore a prim uniform buttoned all the way to the neck.
Yet the clothes she wore now… soft fabric that flowed along gentle curves, a hint of collarbone, silver hair cascading down. It was subtly decadent. A mature, quietly sensual style.
When I froze, Giselle uncrossed her arms and walked in with languid steps.
“Hoo.”
She noticed my stare and gave a small laugh.
“It seems my outfit has caught your eye quite thoroughly?”
Wow. What the hell is my favorite character’s attack power?