No Plan
Time seemed to freeze inside the dining hall. The reactions of the ducal family to my impassioned, venom-laced outburst were as fractured as they were varied.
The family head pierced me with an iron, emotionless stare, while the duchess clapped a trembling hand over her parted lips in sheer astonishment. The eldest son scowled deeply, his grip tightening around his cutlery until his knuckles whitened, and the second daughter glared at me with undisguised contempt, as if beholding something utterly absurd. As for the youngest... she merely blinked, her eyes wide with unadulterated shock.
Gulp, gulp!
I tipped my head back, pouring several gulps of the fiery liquor straight down my throat, and let the rising heat fuel my voice to an even louder pitch.
A plan? I had no such thing.
I was simply vomiting out raw information, letting it spill forth like an emotional purge.
"Haha! Hahahaha! The ducal house is on the verge of total ruin, yet everyone looks so utterly tranquil—it's enough to make a man burst into laughter! Hahahaha! A black magician is etching ominous magic circles right under our noses, monsters masquerading as our own fief citizens stroll the streets, and a High Demon is meticulously plotting our extinction! Meanwhile, the fine, outstanding members of our noble house sit here in merry bliss, chewing their way through thick, succulent cuts of meat!"
"...Just what do you think you are doing, Stanashila Aljen?"
Unable to stomach my cracked, echoing voice rattling through the dining hall any longer, the eldest son, Stanashila Berga, broke his silence and unleashed his presence. The game's lore claiming he had nearly crossed into the realm of Sword Master despite his young age was no exaggeration; a heavy, suffocating pressure slammed down onto my shoulders, draining the color from my face as primal terror gripped my instincts.
Gulp!
Yet, taking it as my cue, I washed down another mouthful of liquor and met his glare.
"Pwah! Well, well, look who decided to chime in! If it isn't the proud eldest son of House Stanasila! The brilliant top graduate of the Academy! Vice-Commander of the Stanasila Knights, Lord Berga himself! Blessed with cold intellect and peerless talent, piercing every peril and crisis with god-given intuition—oh, what boundless fortune he brings upon our house!"
I gestured wildly with my hands, theatrically pitching my voice in dramatic cadence like a street actor. Berga's expression twisted into an even uglier grimace, the tension in the hand gripping his knife coiling tight. The sheer murderous aura radiating from him suggested he was half a second away from hurling that silver blade straight through my chest.
By the way, from a purely generic perspective, Origin World was an academy-centered story. But that had nothing to do with me. Stanashila Aljen, the miserable scoundrel whose body I now possessed, had already been expelled from the Academy ages ago. Truly, this scumbag brought zero benefits to the table.
"Yet even the glorious Berga won't be able to avert the fall of our house! A High Demon's curse has already shrouded your senses, confounding the warnings of your intuition and masking every encroaching danger! Reduced to a blind fool until the very moment of our destruction, you will weep tears of blood, cursing your own arrogance and lamenting your sheer incompetence!"
Before my words could fully settle, the second daughter, Weller, kicked her chair back and rose, clearly pushed past her limit. Possessing fiery red hair and crimson eyes, her beast-like glare carried an overwhelming pressure that was anything but light.
"Just what are you playing at? Have you finally lost your mind completely? Because if you have, I'll gladly put you out of your misery right here. It'd be far better than letting the honor and dignity of our family sink any lower. Don't you agree?"
As turbulent surges of mana coalesced around Weller's fingertips, a soft, graceful wave of magic descended from the head seat, dispersing the gathered energy into harmless mist.
"Weller. Calm yourself."
"Mother! But this insane, good-for-nothing delinquent is...!"
"Weller. That is no way to speak to your brother. Refrain from such vulgar language."
Riding the intervention of Stanashila Pitra—the only one in this household who could be considered on my side, or at least neutral—I pulled my lips into an insolent, ear-to-ear grin.
"Hahahahaha! Another pride of our ducal house! The hysteria and frayed nerves of the great sorceress Stanashila Weller have finally peaked! And why is that, I wonder? Is it because she has passed prime marriageable age without finding a single man who meets her impossible standards?! Is it because the cobwebs between her legs grow thicker by the day as she rots away alone in her bed?!"
"You..."
Unlike before, a prickle of genuine bloodlust pricked my skin, warning my instincts of real danger.
"Yet the truth lies elsewhere! For the grand and mighty mage Weller never noticed until the bitter end! That the foul, perilous black mana permeating the entire estate was stoking her foul mood and wearing her patience razor-thin! Never realizing her tantrums were not in vain, she meets a gruesome end at the jaws of monsters! Oh, the tragedy! What an unspeakable tragedy!"
"...Stanashila Aljen. That is enough of your drunken babble."
A staggering weight of presence descended over the entire dining hall, suffocating the air in an instant. It was an overwhelming, tsunami-like aura that rendered even lifting a single finger an ordeal, drying my tongue to leather and making my heart hammer erratically in my chest.
Stanasila Urtega, one of the empire's precious few Sword Masters and patriarch of the Stanasila Ducal Family, was staring directly at me.
Gulp!
Having downed far too much alcohol, my vision swam and my senses wavered, but I couldn't afford to stop now. I forced another burning mouthful down my throat.
"Phew... Father."
"Aljen. Continue this disgraceful scene, and house arrest will be the least of your punishments. Return to your quarters at once."
"Tell me, was last night's temptation sweet?"
"...!"
For the first time, the iron mask of his face cracked, a muscle twitching beneath his cheek.
"Hahahahaha! Our noble father, concealing an insatiable lust for power beneath a stoic facade! Unsatisfied even with reaching the peerless pinnacle of Sword Master, turning traitor against his own family and all of humanity! And he, too, never realized until it was too late! That his inability to resist the whispers stemmed not from an unquenched thirst for martial might, but from the insidious mental interference of an artifact!"
"......"
"And thus, House Stanasila shall fall! Pierced through the heart by the most covert and fatal dagger! Shattered into dust to become an abyssal den teeming with demons and foul beasts—the empire's greatest dungeon! And in its deepest recesses, Stanasila Urtega, traitor to mankind, stripped of his sanity, mercilessly slaughtering humanity! Oh, the tragedy! What a tragedy!"
"...Drag him out."
At the patriarch's curt command, knights rushed forward, roughly seizing my arms and hauling me away. I offered no resistance, keeping my gaze locked with his until the very end.
Heh.
As my sneer caused his stony composure to waver once more, a petty sense of accomplishment flared warmly in my chest.
I really did it.
I blew the lid right off the damn place.
"Well then... I wonder how this turns out."
There hadn't been an ounce of calculation behind it. Having critical knowledge at my disposal, I had merely hurled it all out indiscriminately. If they took my words seriously and acted, they might avoid total destruction; if they brushed it off, ruin would claim them regardless.
Gulp!
Naturally, I knew better than anyone that nobody was going to lend a thoughtful ear to the ramblings of a drunken, good-for-nothing scoundrel.
"Hehehe..."
Which meant I would just have to keep repeating it until they listened. No matter how much you despise someone's voice, hear it enough times and the words will inevitably sear themselves into your skull.
Gulp!
"Phaaah..."
Sitting alone in my room, which the maids had scrubbed spotlessly clean, I tipped the bottle once more. At first, the liquor had been harsh and scalding, almost impossible to choke down, but after several drinks, a rich depth and savory warmth began to coat my palate. It was undoubtedly top-shelf alcohol that a commoner couldn't hope to taste in a lifetime.
"Hmm... Huh?"
Just then, a neatly arranged box of cigars on the table caught my eye.
"Oh..."
Having been a smoker back in my original life, I felt no hesitation opening the box and pulling out a thick cigar. It had an exquisite weight in hand and a heavy, refined aroma. Even unlit, its quality was obvious.
Snip!
After clipping the cap with a cutter, I channeled a spark of mana to the tip of my finger and lit the end.
"Inhale... Huh. Look at that, I used magic."
Puffing lightly on the end, I stared at my fingertips in mild amazement. I had never cast a spell in my life, yet the motion had felt completely natural. Was this some kind of transmigration perk? The ability to effortlessly replicate whatever this body used to know without practicing? If so, did that mean I had two perks now?
...Though if they were going to give me perks, they could have given me something far more useful.
Still, to think that even a talentless hack could produce a flame. Then again, he was the third son of a ducal house; he must have undergone extensive tutoring and consumed all manner of expensive elixirs since childhood.
"Exhale~"
It was a potent smoke, so rather than drawing it deep into my lungs, I took a gentle mouth draw and blew it out. Unlike its mild, smooth scent, a heavy punch of nicotine settled over my body, relaxing my muscles all at once.
Gulp!
"Inhale... Exhale~"
Pairing fine liquor with a luxury cigar washed a pleasant numbness over my head, a hazy sense of euphoria welling up within me.
"Now this is the life..."
As every ounce of tension and stress evaporated, a goofy grin spread across my face.
"O-Orabeoni..."
Just then, the door swung open without a knock, and a tiny figure stepped inside.
"Cough, cough!"
"...What is it, Vivian?"
The girl violently coughing from the haze of smoke was Stanasila Vivian. Having just turned thirteen, she was the youngest child of House Stanasila and, if the house were to fall according to the original plot, the sole survivor alongside Aljen. At the same time, she was one of the default heroines of Origin World. While she was currently quite petite since her growth spurt had yet to hit, she would blossom radiantly in just a few short years.
"Th-That is..."
She shifted uncomfortably, rolling her reddish eyes as if finding me intimidating and awkward to approach. Her dark red hair, falling gently to her shoulders, swayed with every hesitant shift of her feet. I waited patiently; thanks to the alcohol and the cigar, I was in a remarkably generous mood.
"I couldn't stop thinking about what you said earlier... Is our family really going to be destroyed?"
"That's right. If nobody does anything, our house will be ruined, our territory reduced to ash, and every last citizen butchered."
"Ah...!"
My flat, nonchalant delivery made her gasp and cover her mouth, her frightened eyes darting up at me as she scurried closer.
"......"
It seemed she didn't harbor any particular hatred toward Aljen. In the memories I inherited, there were no notable conflicts between them. To be precise, he had simply paid her no mind whatsoever... but having even one family member who didn't despise me was an encouraging sign.
Could I put her position as a heroine to good use, perhaps?
"Th-Then what should we do, Orabeoni? How can our family stay safe?"
Her pure, innocent expression and earnest question drew an unintended chuckle from my lips.
"Well... Brother and Sister won't listen to a word I say, so you should run over right now and throw a massive tantrum. Demand that they inspect the territory and check on the condition of the people."
"Yes! I'll do that!"
Watching her turn on her heel to rush out in a frantic hurry, I tossed an extra piece of advice toward her retreating back.
"Take Mother with you if you can. That's the only way those two will even pretend to listen."
"With Mother! You're right! I will! Thank you, Orabeoni!"
Watching her short legs carry her away in a flash, I took another deep drag from my cigar.
"You're supposed to close the door on your way out."
My belated voice never reached her. Feeling too drained to care about anything, I let the remaining buzz of the liquor pull me into a deep, uninterrupted slumber.
And later that night, when I finally regained consciousness, I found myself sitting inside the office of Urtega, face-to-face with the duke himself.
"...?"
"What is it that you know?"
Even faced with his deep, ponderous question, I could only sit there with my mouth hanging open, entirely unable to grasp what was happening.