The Grand Exposure
Berick, who had barged into my room, made no effort to hide how thoroughly foul his mood was.
Even beneath those perpetually squinted eyes that made him look as if he were always smiling, the rage and deep-seated inferiority radiating off him were unmistakable.
"...So, what brings my dear older brother to my door?"
Deep down, I was itching to mock him—to ask if the Third Imperial Princess had just chewed him out—but since my position required me to be completely ignorant of the ties between Greenjack and the princess, I kept my mouth shut and simply asked for his business.
Honestly, playing dumb like this was stifling as hell, but what choice did I have? I had to endure it.
"……"
Clearly displeased, Berick glared at me in silence for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh.
Like an office drone forced into a task he despised, he sighed, massaged his temples, and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists to get his temper under control before finally managing to part his lips.
"Stanashila Aljen. This is your final warning. Join Greenjack."
"That again? Weren't you swaggering in here last time, telling me to write my will? What could've possibly happened to make you flip your stance like a pancake?"
Smirking, I let the sarcasm drip from every word, and only then did a sliver of relief settle in my chest.
"Grit...! Stanashila Aljen. Listen to me carefully. I am extending this final offer purely out of family affection."
"Family affection? Pfft, you actually saying that with a straight face?"
Gulp!
I threw back a generous swig of alcohol, then leisurely opened my mouth with a broad grin.
"You don't have a shred of family affection in you. Not a single drop."
"...Ridiculous. Do you think obtaining some unidentified ability makes you a god? Babbling as if you know a single thing about me—it's sickening."
"Khehehe. You're still delusional, Stanashila Berick. I know you. I know parts of you that you don't even realize, and I know everything you've kept buried in the dark."
Toward this bastard, who not only pestered and annoyed me to no end but looked down his nose at me, a thick, viscous malice began to boil within my chest.
My mind spun like a wheel set ablaze, ruthlessly scouring the setting lore that detailed his life, his psyche, and his deepest insecurities, cherry-picking the exact words guaranteed to tear his composure to shreds.
Restraint? Gone out the window. Was I just drunk off my ass from drinking too much?
Or maybe I was just seizing upon a rare, golden opportunity to vent my stress.
I wanted to crush the bewildered Berick before me into dust, to laugh in the face of the man who believed with absolute certainty that I was beneath him, who looked down on me and had never treated me as a human being.
I wanted to break him so thoroughly that he would never dare crawl back here again.
Boil, boil, boil!
The psyche twisted inside me ever since my transmigration seemed to flush crimson under the banner of sadism and madness.
"...What? What kind of bullshit are you...!"
"I know the terror and dread you harbored as a child—the dread you could never escape. And I know the very origin of that fear inside and out."
Lowering my voice to a sinister cadence, I stared at him with mocking intent, the corners of my mouth curling into a smirk. Berick's face stiffened instantly.
He parted his lips to shoot back, but I raised my voice before he could utter a syllable, cutting him clean off.
"Ah! Once upon a time, there was a boy with a rotten heart. A boy whose mischievousness rotted into sheer malice, whose inferiority complex curdled into selfishness and violence—a boy whose greatest joy in life was tormenting his weak, pathetic little brother!"
Fwoosh.
Exhaling a thick cloud of cigarette smoke, I flung my arms wide like an actor on a grand stage and projected my voice.
"How thrilling it was to stoke his little brother's inferiority, prodding him to slave away at training and studies that would inevitably amount to nothing! What ecstasy it brought to utterly invalidate all that sweat and blood in a spar, and what deep fulfillment he felt spreading rumors and slander to drown that boy in bitter isolation!"
"You..."
"And yet! One fateful day, fear took root in his heart! He began to tremble in terror, shuddering at what the future held!"
Gulp!
Taking another merry gulp of liquor, I thrust my face right up to his. His squinted eyes had popped wide open, exposing his bare pupils.
Like a jester tilting his head to command the crowd's rapt attention, painting a grotesque smirk to pull them into the madness, I deliberately arranged my facial muscles into a theater of mockery.
"Oh! It struck him like a sudden revelation! Like a thunderbolt of absolute truth crashing down from the heavens!"
Looking down into his trembling red eyes as his shoulders twitched, my grin widened further.
"Without power, without talent, without experience, without knowledge or wisdom—or even with all of those, if one lacks the grand stage to wield and flaunt them, what good is noble birth? The boy looked down at the little brother sprawled at his feet like a worm, and cold dread gripped his spine! Ah! Even the third son of the glorious, magnificent House Stanasila could be reduced to such a wretched sight. Where was the guarantee that he wouldn't end up in that very same dirt? Who could swear that he wouldn't be trampled like a maggot, tossed aside like garbage?"
"...Shut up."
Ignoring his gritted mutter, I pushed myself up from the seat. With the exaggerated flourish of a clown, I flung my arms toward the ceiling.
"Pale with dread, shivering in fright, the panicked boy finally took a good, long look at himself—and the truth he found was utterly horrific, completely unbearable! Ah! How wretched I truly am! I am a nobody! Meanwhile, look upon Stanashila Berga, shining like a brilliant star! Behold the dazzling talent of the eldest son! That mind-shattering, razor-sharp comprehension! That stoic, austere discipline demanding reverence from all! A man born to be the head of the house!"
"Shut up...!"
"And what of Stanashila Weller, vast as the open sea? That genius piercing through the bag, impossible to hide despite her tender years! Memorizing and mastering every tome in the Duke's Castle library, blessed by mana itself to wield it with effortless grace! To him, she was like some inhuman anomaly from another realm, laughing at his mediocrity as she held his throat in her grasp!"
"I told you to shut your mouth! Stanashila Aljen!"
Half-blind with rage, Berick drew a dagger and lunged forward, but Wendy intervened in a heartbeat, a soft golden dawn-light radiating from her form as she barred his path.
"Out of my way! How dare a mere paladin...!"
"...Sheathe your blade."
"Ah! What was he to do? What could he possibly do? The poor boy wallowed in agony and anxiety, quivering in dread! Terrified of a pitch-black future, he prayed to the Goddess night after night, tossing and turning in sleepless torment!"
"Aljeeeen!"
"And just then, as if by fate, the turning point arrived! The eldest daughter, shining even brighter than Berga—Stanashila Lindel—betrayed the family to become the chieftain of the northern barbarians! Ahhh! The boy screamed in bitter envy and jealousy! How could she?! How could she abandon the family?! How could she discard her blood, her status, her honor and pride, just to mingle with those savage, uncivilized beasts?!"
"You, you...!"
"Yet, watching her, the boy had an epiphany! No, truth be told, he had known all along! One can throw it all away. Everything I possess can simply be discarded! Though he had denied it for so long, deep down he already knew: his future in the Duke's Castle was already decided, nothing more than an afterthought! Like a cut gemstone, his ceiling had been permanently carved in stone! That was why he could picture his future so vividly—a predictable, worthless existence crawling at the bottom! My, oh my! The self-loathing he felt! The spine-chilling horror and terror!"
"……"
"Ahhh! Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable! My limits, my potential, cannot be contained within the walls of this castle! So the boy thought, so he vowed, so he proclaimed! I will become greater! I will become stronger! And so, the boy chose to abandon his house! He chose to abandon his family! He discarded everything he owned to start anew! For greater might! For absolute, unbridled power! Like a ladybug crawling endlessly toward the pinnacle, he swore never to look down again!"
Clamping my mouth shut, I sank back into the sofa, taking a deep drag of my cigarette before peering up at Berick with a smirk.
"Pfft-haaaah..."
Plumes of acrid smoke billowed outward, momentarily veiling Berick before parting to reveal his wide, bloodshot eyes and bared, savage fangs.
Treating his grotesque expression as the finest drinking snack, I moistened my throat with another sip and opened my mouth once more.
My tone was calm now, as though recounting an epilogue—or perhaps reciting the grim, unsettling conclusion of a ghost story.
"After casting aside, casting aside, and casting aside everything, the boy finally managed to seize a lifeline lowered from the heavens. Ah, sweet power! That martial might, the very fuel of his existence... But in truth, the boy already knew."
As I stared piercingly into his eyes, cold sweat broke across his forehead, and he trembled violently, snapping his head away.
"He knew that no matter how high he climbed, beneath his feet still lingered that weak, pathetic brother. That wretched, sordid specter who had terrified him to the bone, looking up at him like a water ghost brimming with grudge and spite..."
Tilting my head, I took another mouthful of liquor.
"So, just how high have you climbed? Where do you stand right now, Stanashila Berick? How much longer do you plan to struggle and crawl?"
"Y-You... who are you? What are you? Who the hell are you?! You... you're not Stanashila Aljen!"
"Haha! If I'm not Stanashila Aljen, then who else could I be?"
He couldn't muster a coherent reply to my question.
All he could do was gasp like a landed fish, drenched in cold sweat, shuddering from time to time as he swallowed a dry knot of saliva.
What was running through his head right now?
His eyes looked as if he had encountered an alien entity, as if he were staring at something unnamable, something that existed entirely beyond the bounds of human comprehension.
"...I-I... will take my leave for today."
"Leaving already? Why, we haven't even finished our little chat."
"...No. I am leaving."
"Khehehe. Did I ever say I'd let you go?"
"Kh...?! W-What do you intend to do to me?! You monster!"
"Monster, you say...?"
When I peered back at him with an amused, curious gaze, he stared into my eyes as well.
"Gasp, pant...!"
The longer the silence dragged on, the deeper the shadows fell across his eyes, draining every last drop of color from his face.
"...Just kidding. You can go."
"Wh-What...?"
"Go on, brother. Before I change my mind, spread your wings and fly. Up, up, and away."
I waved my hand with theatrical indifference. Gritting his teeth while casting terrified backward glances, he bolted from the room as if fleeing for his life.
"……"
"……"
Left alone with me, Wendy watched Berick's retreating back before stealing a glance in my direction, an odd expression on her face.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Well, no... How should I put it? It feels strange and unfamiliar."
"What does?"
"...I have never seen you act like that before."
"Is that so? How did I look?"
"...Frightening."
"Frightening? Why?"
"The fact that you do not even realize it makes it all the more terrifying."
Letting out a soft sigh, she sheathed her sword and walked over.
"Still, is it truly wise to handle him like this? The Third Imperial Princess was almost certainly the one who sent him."
"...Who knows. I just got irritated and blew up on impulse... But hey, shouldn't it be fine? I didn't breathe a single word about the connection between Greenjack and the princess, did I?"
"Mmm... I certainly hope so."
"Well, it cleared my head, so let's call it a win. Finally feels like the knot in my chest is gone. Whew... Just come sit down next to me."
I gestured toward her as she fidgeted uneasily with the hilt of her sword, and she slipped quietly onto the sofa beside me.
I laid my head down right onto her lap.
"Haaah... Playing a clown when it's not even in my nature made my muscles ache all over. Maybe I went a bit overboard... Give me a massage, would you?"
"You truly are impossible... Very well."
As her soothing, skillful hands went to work relieving my tension, my thoughts drifted back to Berick.
What in the world would he report to the Third Imperial Princess?
How would he describe me? What sort of raw emotion would spill from his lips?
I was dying of curiosity, but regrettably, there was no way for me to find out.