Chapter 59
Chapter 59
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Rewards and the Baron's Demise
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Rachel's curt reply left Carion looking bewildered.
“Huh? Money? Not a title or anything?”
“No need. If it doesn't come with duties, just give him an honorary title like a non-executive peerage with honor but no obligations. Something to make things easier for Father when he's working, since he couldn't get one because of Uncle's interference.”
It was odd that everyone working in the castle was nobility, yet the only doctor there had no title.
She had overlooked it before due to her lack of common sense, but now that she knew why Henri hadn't received a title, this was a justified request.
“Really? That's all you want?”
“Yes. But give us a lot of money. About a tenth of what you seized from the baron?”
“You're greedy, huh?”
The question had shifted from 'That's all?' to 'You're greedy?'. Paris Emporus's wealth had been that vast.
“With this chance, the national treasury's full too. Show some generosity.”
“That's the national treasury, not my personal funds.”
“You won't just fill the treasury and stop, right?”
Rachel grinned slyly, just like she did when dealing with Abyss. Carion's eyes sharpened, perhaps thinking Louis was being cheeky, and Rachel covered her mouth.
“And it will all become Your Highness Carion's in the end.”
Everyone gasped at her whispered words. Carion glared sharply at Rachel.
“You can't just say things like that carelessly. It could cause big trouble.”
“His Majesty's health is poor, right? You need to prepare in advance. I hope Your Highness Carion becomes this country's master rather than Prince Demian, who deals with the Black Sorcerer.”
“Prince Demian dealing with a Black Sorcerer?”
It was a crazy thought that anyone with a brain would dismiss, yet he acted as if hearing it for the first time.
Even as half-brothers, he seemed firmly convinced his brother wouldn't touch such things. Or perhaps it had never crossed his mind.
“Who do you think was watching Uncle's back? Check the flow of funds to House Emporus all this time. You'll find something interesting.”
The funds heading straight to Demian, that is.
“So, what will you do with all that money if you get it?”
“I'll use it for world peace.”
Carion scratched his cheek at the out-of-left-field answer.
He looked like he wanted to check what was inside that little head of hers.
But Rachel was serious.
Using the money to track down the Black Sorcerer and prevent the Demon King's summoning—that was world peace, wasn't it?
On a small scale, her own peace; on a larger one, her family's safety. For that, the kingdom needed stability, and the world needed safety.
'The Black Sorcerer trying to summon the Demon King is a madman.'
“Alright. Since you want world peace that badly, I'll put in the effort.”
“Please do, Your Highness!”
At her coquettish plea, Carion chuckled and ruffled Rachel's hair wildly.
“Cute kid. I want to adopt you as my little sister... Nah, can't.”
He shut his mouth upon seeing Enoch's expression while voicing his wish.
“It's late. Business is done, so you should go.”
Enoch spoke in a somewhat stiff tone. He approached Carion to act on his words, turning his body halfway and pushing his back toward the door.
“You?”
“I'm leaving now too.”
“Enoch, are you going?”
“Yes. But I'll visit you tomorrow.”
He erased his stiff tone as if it had never been there, replying to Rachel gently.
He gave a slight nod in simple greeting, and the pushed Carion turned his head back to wave.
“I'll head out because of this guy. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, looking forward to tomorrow!”
Naturally, what she anticipated wasn't their meeting, but the reward.
Soon, Carion and Louis were escorted out of the room by Enoch.
The boisterous room fell quiet.
***
Drip.
The sound of water dropping echoed. The underground prison of the royal castle was damp and dark. In that place where not even an inch ahead was visible without candlelight, a prisoner groaned.
“Ugh, no way. This can't be happening!”
Paris Emporus, the man who once eyed the throne, refused to accept his fall and denied reality.
He had to appear fine until the trial, so he looked neat, but the reality was different.
From having his nails and toenails pulled to tortures that left no major lasting injuries on the body—they had all been inflicted on him.
Then a watching priest approached to heal the wounds.
Those standing behind the torture experts asked only one thing. Who was the Black Sorcerer he colluded with?
It was excruciatingly painful, but Paris Emporus couldn't answer that question.
When he had contact with a group of Black Sorcerers from the Daimon organization, they made a soul-binding contract.
If one's identity was exposed and they were captured by priests or others, they would not reveal each other's names or identities.
If they did, their souls would fall into the hands of the demons they served.
At the time, he had gladly accepted, thinking even if the Black Sorcerer was caught, his own identity wouldn't be revealed. But now the opposite had happened, becoming a massive constraint.
The moment he answered their questions, his soul would fall into the demon's hands.
“Damn it! Taking my money like that and being useless!”
In the trial, they wouldn't hesitate to use a confession drug that affected the mind once his guilt was confirmed.
“If I can just escape this place...!”
The hidden assets he had were as plentiful as those revealed. If he escaped and reached just one, he could flee to a country on the opposite side of the Cudas Kingdom.
“What the hell are the others doing? While I'm stuck here like this!”
His title was merely a baron, but how many nobles had he fed money to and scratched their itches for?
Many would be in trouble if he disappeared.
“If only the Third Prince had lifted a finger!”
He bit his lip and muttered, a habit from childhood resurfacing.
Then, he suddenly realized one fact.
“Why is it so quiet?”
Whenever he muttered to himself like this, a guard would appear, banging on the bars and telling him to be quiet.
But now, there was no guard's voice or presence.
“Did someone pull strings?”
He muttered, peering outside the bars. Only a distant torch flickered; no one was there.
“No one?”
If there was a chance for escape, it would be now.
But he had no key or anything. He rattled the door, wondering if it was unlocked, but it didn't budge.
“You think that'll break the door?”
At that moment, a young man's voice came from the darkness.
Paris Emporus flinched. It was a voice he knew.
A Black Sorcerer he met in the Daimon organization. The one the priests so desperately sought.
“Hel!”
The baron didn't know his real name. But the Daimon Black Sorcerers called him Hel.
Estimated in his late twenties or early thirties, he appeared beside Prince Demian whenever he showed himself.
He had never revealed using black magic, but the Black Sorcerers knew he served a tremendous demon.
That was because the scale of his offerings was immense.
While other Black Sorcerers offered a few humans, he spilled blood on a village scale.
He provided high-grade information or weapons to enemy ethnic groups hostile to Cudas or bandit hordes, or calmly committed acts like starting mountain fires that ordinary people couldn't.
It was because of Hel that Paris Emporus started human trafficking. When he burned a slash-and-burn village, he and the Black Sorcerers just hid nearby and caught the fleeing residents.
“You here to rescue me? It'd be hard to procure funds without me, right? Sent by Prince Demian?”
Paris Emporus clung to the bars and asked. He had no doubt Hel would save him.
“There are still many assets not revealed! Until I secure my position, you can use those...”
His words didn't finish. A sound like leather piercing rang out—from his own stomach.
Paris Emporus fell from the bars amid the spreading pain from his gut. His staggering body lost strength and collapsed.
Hel licked his bloodied white hand as if nothing had happened, having pierced Paris Emporus's stomach.
“Baron, you talk too much. What if you reveal my identity?”
Paris Emporus pressed his wounded stomach. He had to staunch the gushing blood.
Hel had attacked him. He had no intention of letting him live.
'I have to escape!'
But this was a prison. There was nowhere to run.
Yet Hel couldn't enter the cell. Ironically, the bars that kept him from escaping now blocked Hel.
“Baron, you worked hard all this time. But looks like your role ends here.”
“This can't be. All I've done...”
“Crow said something funny. That the temple folks came to the castle, he got caught, but you'd pin all the crimes on him.”
“What do you—”
“So he ran first, he said. Nonsense. But that's your true nature.”
A merchant who dealt with many people and was quick on the uptake, yet now he couldn't grasp Hel's intentions.
“Our relationship wasn't that close. Just bound by black magic, and now your contract's broken. You have no more value. So,”
In the darkness, white teeth gleamed. Paris Emporus felt the wound in his stomach tear further.
“Aaagh!”
Piercing through the hand blocking the wound, black birds burst out. One, two, three...
The number of birds increased, covering the baron's body.
“Farewell.”
Hel vanished into the darkness, and the black birds sank into the shadows and disappeared.
Where the birds had been, only Paris Emporus's corpse remained.
***
“They say a prisoner died in the prison.”
Rachel heard those words on the very day she was to receive her reward.
That day was her reward ceremony, but also Paris Emporus's trial day.
The maids had seated her and were helping with makeup when one standing behind mentioned it.
Rachel's attention turned back, and the maids continued in hushed voices.
“There was a big wound on his stomach.”
“Then suicide?”
“No weapons in prison... And the guards lost consciousness then, so probably murder?”
“Black Sorcerer's doing? Ugh, scary.”
Whether truly scared or faking it, the maids' whispers didn't die down easily.
Rachel gently closed her eyes while seated.
'Grudge, silencing? Who the hell?'
She wanted Paris Emporus gone, but not like this.
Through the trial and exposing his crimes, people needed to become wary of black magic.
But with him murdered in prison before trial, the incident would fizzle out.
'Abyss won't like this.'
Rachel thought of who would be disappointed by this. She didn't feel great either, but not as much as Abyss.
“Done! Your skin's so good, probably because you're young.”
“And the hair texture. Would've been even prettier if longer, but short's a shame.”
“No, it's cute.”
At the announcement that styling was finished, Rachel opened her eyes.
They had removed facial fuzz and applied light powder. Instead, her lips were painted a bit darker, standing out against her very white skin.
Her hair had a slight wave added, which suited her well.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. A girl getting a reward—we're all proud. Receive it well and keep living strong.”
In this world, a woman's life was like a part assisting men.
In childhood, for her father; after marriage, for her husband, managing the home while he worked outside.
Women like Evelyn with exceptional talent who worked outside were rare, and even princesses just received bride training in the castle before being sold off in political marriages.
Noble daughters weren't much different.
They were educated according to their patriarch father's will and entered political marriages without their own consent for alliances with other noble houses.
Thus, the castle maids felt fondness for Rachel, who had reported her uncle's crimes of her own will.
“Yes.”
Etiquette training had been strict, but knowing their goodwill, Rachel shyly expressed her thanks.
The maids, who had fiercely vied for position in the castle, found the untainted Rachel utterly adorable.
As they encouraged her not to tense up before His Majesty, the door opened without a knock.