Pouring Fuel on the Fire
My declaration that I was not Stanasila Alzen, but Kang Han-gil, did not immediately trigger an earth-shattering uproar.
Part of it was that such an absurd claim was neither easily grasped nor readily accepted, but more than that, prominent figures like Weller, Vivian, Cecilia, and Arpe maintained an impassive calm. To the servants and subordinates looking on, that quiet composure must have made it seem as though there were some deep, plausible explanation behind it all.
Of course, the handful of people who truly understood the weight of my words would take them with utter gravity. But for the moment, there was a pressing matter—no, two far greater crises—that violently commandeered everyone's attention.
Namely, the sudden arrival of Stanasila Lindel—the barbarian chieftain Tsarkhella, the traitor of the ducal house—and the horrific death of the second son, Stanasila Berick.
And between those two, Berick's demise took absolute precedence.
"......"
Stanasila Urtega stood in profound silence, staring down at Berick's mangled corpse with hollow, sunken eyes.
"......"
True to his status as the eldest son, Stanasila Berga held his tongue with the exact same stony countenance as his father. The only difference was the occasional, inscrutable glare he shot in my direction—a look thick with emotions I could scarcely parse.
And finally, Stanasila Pitra.
"Ah, aah, aaaaah...!"
"......"
"......"
Just as expected, she had collapsed to the floor in a state of near madness, endlessly weeping as she stroked Berick's pulped, sodden face. In her expression, her voice, and her posture, not a shred of aristocratic dignity or noble poise remained. All that existed was a fathomless, insurmountable grief and loss.
"Aaaah...! Hwaaaah...!!"
With every passing second, her wailing grew more piercing and desperate. The agony in her cries was so heartbreaking that not a single soul dared step forward to comfort or tend to her.
"......"
I, too, merely watched her in silence. In a moment like this, the urge to reach for liquor or light a cigarette didn't even cross my mind.
"Ah..."
Then, amidst the depths of that gut-wrenching grief, her eyes snapped abruptly toward me. It was a gaze sharp, piercing, and blazing with fury, like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
"...!!"
The hostility radiating from her was so naked and visceral that my shoulders flinched involuntarily.
"Because of you...! Because of you, my child... my children...!"
Her bloodshot eyes bulged as frothing spittle flecked her lips, but the frantic accusations tearing from her throat were cut short. Unable to endure the sheer psychological trauma, her consciousness snapped, and she crumpled limply into a dead faint.
"Mother!?"
"Mom!!"
Only after Weller and Vivian rushed forward to catch her did the butler and maids finally snap out of their stupor and swarm in panic.
"...Phew."
Staring up at the ceiling, I let out a low, weary breath. I wiped my clammy palms against my trousers and swiftly brushed away the cold sweat drenching my forehead.
A suffocating silence hung heavy over the Duke's study.
Urtega and I sat facing one another in wordless confrontation. My only companion was Muriel, who stood behind me as utterly still as a carved wooden statue.
"......"
Unable to endure the silence any longer, I was the first to speak.
"...Say something, Father."
At my words, Urtega studied me with inscrutable eyes before exhaling a quiet sigh.
"Do you still call me Father?"
"Judging by that reaction, you must have noticed long ago... What should I call you, then?"
"I was told you introduced yourself as Kang Han-gil."
"......"
So the news was spreading—slowly, quietly, but inevitably. Though it hadn't blown up yet, it was a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate. Or perhaps the fuse had already burnt down to the end. Right now, the urgent matters of Tsarkhella and Berick pushed it into the background, but once the dust settled, an avalanche of tedious complications would surely follow.
"I did say that, yes. But the fact that this physical vessel belongs to Stanasila Alzen remains unchanged."
"...Even looking as you do now?"
"Yes. My appearance has changed, but the foundation anchoring it is unmistakably Stanasila Alzen. Well... at least half of it, anyway."
"Haaah..."
Releasing a sigh laden with deep anguish, he leaned back into the leather of his chair. No, it would be more accurate to say his body slumped in exhaustion. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such vulnerability from the continent's strongest warrior, and it unsettled me inwardly.
"If you still acknowledge half of yourself as Stanasila Alzen, then I cannot refrain from saying this." He murmured quietly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before spitting out each word like gristle. "An unfilial son. The most wretched under heaven."
"......"
Having no retort to offer, I simply clamped my mouth shut.
"...Yet is even this the will of the gods?"
"Do you believe in God?"
"I do not. I am merely a hound whose sole purpose is loyalty to the Imperial Crown."
"Is that so."
On the surface, it sounded almost self-deprecating, but he undoubtedly meant it with absolute sincerity. It wasn't just lip service; he took genuine pride and honor in that identity. Even with the game's lore explaining his motives, it was hard for me to understand why a man of such transcendent might would bow his head to anyone. But that was the answer Urtega had chosen for his life, and I had to respect it. Not that I had any right to judge him in the first place.
"So, what will you do now?"
"...A rather loaded question. Who knows? Ideally, I'd like to return to how things were before my body transformed—living peacefully, squandering wealth, and loafing around like an idle delinquent."
"Do you truly believe that will be possible?"
"No." I shook my head with a wry grin.
Watching me, Urtega adjusted his posture, his eyes narrowing slightly. "If you know it to be impossible, then you must have a plan."
"I don't. Truly. Nothing has been settled in my mind yet."
"...Then did you come here to observe the outcome? To decide your next move based on how this unfolds?"
"That would be the most accurate assessment." I shrugged with a cheeky grin. "If everything blows over without much fuss, I can continue freeloading off the ducal house, can't I? It's far too sweet a deal to give up easily."
"...Ha."
A creeping aura unique to a Demi-God slithered into the room, sending a cold shiver racing down my spine. While it wasn't on the catastrophic scale of a Demon King, now that my own strength had grown, the sheer depth of his realm registered far more terrifyingly.
"......"
Yet his pressure did not breach a certain threshold. Like still water contained within a shallow basin, it lingered placidly, gradually receding with the passing moments. It seemed he had no intention of striking me down right now.
"For now, return to your quarters and rest."
"Hmm? Is that really alright?"
With just a moment's thought, countless critical issues demanded interrogation. How would they quell the suspicions surrounding me? How would they explain this to the world? Would I live as Stanasila Alzen, or as Kang Han-gil? Did I intend to deploy my encyclopedic knowledge for the benefit of the ducal house? Who in the world was this Kang Han-gil, and where had he come from? Why had he possessed the body of Stanasila Alzen of all people? What hidden design lay beneath that possession? Where had I gone under the pretext of 'traveling,' and what had I done? What was the true nature of the alien power dwelling within my flesh?
Et cetera, et cetera.
Not a single one of the interrogations Urtega should have naturally demanded as the head of the house had crossed his lips.
"Yes. What becomes of you... rests upon Pitra's decision."
"...You truly are an absurdly devoted husband, Father." I nodded with a faint, bitter smile. "Then before I take my leave, may I ask for one favor?"
"...Speak."
"Please reassign Lira, a knight of the ducal order, under Sister Weller."
"...You want her assigned as Weller's direct retainer?"
"Yes."
"For what reason?"
"That... Sister Weller will explain."
Having shamelessly dumped the burden of explanation onto Weller, I shut my mouth. Urtega gave a composed nod.
"Very well."
"Thank you. I'll take my leave, then."
"...One more thing."
"Yes?"
As I turned to exit the study, his stoic voice caught me from behind.
"...Can he be revived? Berick."
I caught the underlying meaning behind his inquiry in an instant. Even in this world where a fantasy game had become reality, death was generally an irreversible, permanent phenomenon. Yet, fitting for a fantasy land teeming with miracles and cosmic absurdities, resurrection was not entirely impossible. The most prominent example was that legendary miracle draught—the Elixir.
"It's possible."
"......"
"However, I have no intention of reviving Berick. Absolutely none."
"Why?"
"Because Berick is a traitor to humanity. He became a lackey to the Demon King and attempted to slaughter us."
"......"
"Well, and on a purely personal level, I just don't like the guy."
"I see... Understood."
With that nod, he issued a silent dismissal. I gave a slight dip of my head and stepped out into the corridor.
Whatever thoughts had prompted Urtega to bring up Berick's revival, an idea that crossed one person's mind was bound to occur to another as well.
"...Should I address you as Kang Han-gil?"
"......"
Case in point: Duchess Pitra, who was currently seated inside my bedroom.
"......"
"......"
"......"
"......"
"......"
Across the room, Rebecca, Cacciola, Pashtra, Latifi, and Tsarkhella stood frozen like frightened kittens walking on eggshells. It was almost pitiful to look at them.
"What brings you here, Mother?"
Grrrk!
The sound of grinding teeth echoed chillingly through the chamber. Yet the source of that grating noise—Pitra's face—remained terrifyingly expressionless. In stark contrast to her frozen features, her puffy, reddened eyelids still bore the raw traces of unhealed grief, a sight that naturally tugged at one's sympathy, but I took care not to let it show.
"...I do not believe it is appropriate for you to address me by such a title."
"Haaah... Then what would you prefer? Shall I call you Duchess?"
"That would be suitable."
Giving a slight nod to her cold, rigid response, I pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down.
"So, what business brings you to my room, Duchess?"
"Kang Han-gil. I know you possess extraordinary abilities. And that through those abilities, your knowledge is boundless."
"......"
"I will not pry into why or how you entered that body. Nor will I hold you accountable for reshaping Alzen's physical vessel to your own whim. In exchange, I have one request."
"......"
When I met her gaze in silence, an undercurrent of impatience began to bleed through her composure.
"In the past, I personally saw and heard you speak of the Elixir. Someone like you must know where it can be found, do you not? I want it."
"...I refuse."
"Why? If you desire compensation, I am willing to pay whatever price you name."
"It's not a matter of payment. Put simply, I have zero intention of bringing Berick back to life."
Skrrrrt!
Once again, the sound of gnashing teeth ground through the silence.
"Why... Why...?!"
"...Because Berick betrayed humanity. He aligned himself with the Demon King and sought to kill us all."
"Shut...! Uuuup...!"
All at once, an uncontrollable torrent of sorrow surged from her eyes like boiling volcanic lava. Her stoic facade shattered in a heartbeat. Weeping through bloodshot eyes, she bared her teeth like a cornered beast.
"You killed him. You...!"
"......"
"Alzen, Berick... all of them, because of you...! So take responsibility...! Bring him back! Bring my son, bring my son back to meee...!"
"...Duchess."
"I'll... I'll beg on my knees like this! Please, I beg of you...!"
Thud.
She dropped to her knees, wailing and pleading in absolute torment. It was a spectacle so raw and tragic that looking upon it directly felt almost unbearable.
"...Mother. Stop this. Berick died because he deserved to die. And frankly, Alzen's life wasn't worth much to begin with either. It is far better now that Kang Han-gil inhabits that body. Besides, his soul dwelling in that vessel is the will of God."
Right at that moment, Tsarkhella stepped forward with a dead-serious expression, uttering words that poured fuel straight onto a roaring inferno.
My instincts and mental alarms shrieked in absolute panic. If she were allowed to keep running her mouth, this disaster would spiral completely beyond repair.
"Hey, Tsarkhella, shut up—"
"And furthermore! I fully intend to marry this Kang Han-gil! Mother! Please grant us your blessing!"
"......"
Silence.
A chilling, suffocating, lethal stillness crashed down upon the room like a slab of lead.
"...What?"
In that singular breath, Stanasila Pitra's bloodlust erupted, expanding outward like a detonating supernova.
"Ah..."
You crazy bitch. Learn to read the fucking room.