Chapter 116: In Truth, They Knew (10)
Chapter 116: In Truth, They Knew (10)
He now understood that Deon had unknowingly suffered emotionally within the Hart family, a house that was inherently taciturn, showed little emotion on their faces, and was poor at expressing themselves.
When a clerical error had sent him to the battlefield, Deon hadn't entertained thoughts that something might be amiss—he had immediately resented his family. That alone made it plain how little trust his family had given him.
But Cruel did not lay all the blame squarely on himself and his family, even as he partially acknowledged the Hart family's responsibility for the clan's annihilation. There had been a more direct culprit, making it impossible to shoulder the full responsibility alone.
The Duke.
He was the one who had sent Deon Hart to the battlefield.
Why on earth, for what reason, by what method—none of that was known. But the list that should have carried Cruel Hart's name had been switched, and people who refused all dialogue had been dispatched to drag Deon Hart from the estate.
Even the measured persuasion of his father, the family head, had failed. When a reasonable alternative—sending Cruel in his stead—was offered, the men still sought only Deon Hart, as if brainwashed.
It had been incomprehensible.
'What had that child done wrong?'
Cruel, belatedly learning of the Duke's connection to the incident, had quietly kept the Duke under watch from that moment on.
The inexplicable malice directed at Deon Hart showed no sign of fading even after the war ended. No—it grew stronger.
That was why he had deliberately placed himself under the Duke, but...
'That's for later.'
Now was not the time to dwell on it.
At Cruel's rare question, the Duke's head lifted. A faint suspicion lingered in his eyes.
He usually never spoke first, only ever answering questions. Could it be that he truly wanted Deon Hart to live?
The Duke's eyes narrowed. Realizing his question had been a misstep, Cruel belatedly added,
"I have more than sufficient reason to kill him. However, Your Grace, it seems that reason has not been sufficient for you."
"Is it not enough that, as the head of the Noble Faction, I must kill the Emperor's dog?"
"......."
"It seems it is not."
He had sharp instincts.
Indeed, removing him wasn't motivated solely by that reason. Deon Hart posed a threat to the Empire.
From the perspective of the man who would one day rule the Empire, the Duke simply could not leave such a threat unchecked.
Why was Deon Hart a threat to the Empire?
"As for the reason, you need only recall the order I once issued to you, when Deon Hart moved under the Emperor's orders."
[If you follow the Revolutionary Army's trail, you will find someone acting under the Emperor's orders, covering Deon Hart's back. Kill that person. And should circumstances permit you to pursue Deon Hart, confirm where he goes, then return.]
"......."
"Ah, perhaps you are unaware."
By the time Cruel had handled the matter, Deon Hart had reportedly already departed.
Whether he truly didn't know or was feigning ignorance was unclear. But had he followed Deon Hart and confirmed his destination, he would have deduced, to some extent, the connection to the Demon Realm.
The Duke brushed a hand near his heart and smiled.
"If you don't know, it can't be helped. That is the entirety of my answer."
He had known.
He knew that Deon Hart was a Legion Commander of the Demon King's army.
If anyone were to discover this fact, they would be curious.
Anyone with a working brain would prioritize asking 'Since when?' before getting into 'How, why?'.
The answer to that was simple.
'From the beginning.'
Refusing Cruel's offer to see him out, the Duke returned to his office. He sat down and leaned his upper body against the backrest.
A faint, derisive smirk surfaced at the corner of his lips.
'I knew from the very beginning. After all, the reason Deon Hart caught the Demon King's eye in the first place, the reason he ended up in the Demon Castle—it was all because of me.'
Why had he sent Deon Hart to the battlefield during the Eight-Year War?
Why had he blocked the Count Hart family's petitions to the Imperial Household demanding his return? Why had he proposed that Deon Hart be sent to the Demon Castle as a companion of the Hero?
What caused a noble son like Deon Hart to start as a common soldier, and who was responsible for making him the commander of the vanguard?
Ultimately, the root of all of it boiled down to one thing.
"The contract with the Demon King."
Deon Hart had been the Duke's bait, dangled to pique the interest of a Demon King weary of boredom.
Could he have held any personal grudge against a target who had no contact with him, confined entirely to his estate? Deon Hart being dragged out to the battlefield was simply a stroke of bad luck.
Not malice—merely bait born of necessity. Casually contemplating thoughts that would have made Cruel clench his fists until they bled, the Duke placed a hand over his heart. He felt a foreign, alien power, as if he could defy the laws of the world if he so wished.
Within the Duke's heart resided the Demon King's contract seal, along with the demonic power he had gained from it.
Contrary to expectations that a contract would be possible simply by summoning him, the Demon King had refused, citing a lack of interest. How flustered he had been then.
[I propose a wager.]
[A wager?]
[Yes. You'll find it quite intriguing.]
In that moment, the Duke had fortunately recalled a certain boy he had once encountered by chance during an official visit to the Hart Count's residence long ago.
* * *
"Red eyes, white hair, pale skin."
"I was under the impression that red eyes did not exist among humans."
"To my knowledge, he is human. What's more, he's young."
"It's a little intriguing, but what does that have to do with a wager? If you're just tossing out anything that might catch my interest..."
"Absolutely not. Hear me out to the end. The child was born frail and, reportedly, has never once set foot outside his home."
Meeting the Inverse Eyes—where the colors of the sclera and iris had swapped—the Duke curved his own eyes, as if to say, watch this.
"If such a sheltered young noble were sent to the battlefield... how long do you think he would last?"
"......Hoh?"
"That is the condition of the wager."
A unique exterior, yet a child known to be human.
The peculiar detail of having never left his home due to frailty, combined with a cruel wager proposal devoid of any conscience.
This would work. Those dulled by chronic ennui typically sought something stimulating. Even putting aside the child's unusual attributes, among the Demon King's contractors—who were not many to begin with—none had likely proposed a wager like this.
"I'd heard the human world's situation was abnormal... so war really is breaking out."
"Yes. Our new king, upon ascending the throne, named the kingdom 'the Empire' and issued provocations targeting all surrounding kingdoms. Large and small armed clashes have already begun with the kingdoms along our borders."
So, what was the answer to the wager?
The Demon King, who had been lost in thought at the unexpected information, nodded.
"Fine. I'll wager on 'survival.'"
"Pardon?"
Not 'how long he lasts?'—but 'survival'.
"You originally set the terms as 'how long he lasts,' so you'll choose 'death,' yes? The deadline will be the day the war the child enters comes to an end."
"...Ah. Yes."
Strange. The situation was turning in their favor.
He had distinctly stated that the child was physically weak and had never set foot outside.
Seeming to read the Duke's baffled inner thoughts, the Demon King laughed.
"A bet is only fun when you wager on the losing side."
* * *
What followed... well, it was obvious.
He had to kill Deon Hart before the war ended. Since the Demon King was watching, he couldn't act directly. The Duke had striven to indirectly create situations where Deon Hart would die easily.
For instance, making a noble scion like him enter the war as a common soldier, no different from the conscripted peasants.
When he still didn't die, making him the captain of the vanguard outright.
Since the king had recently ascended by force, issues like personnel handovers were still messy, and war had broken out nearly simultaneously with his enthronement—so tampering with documents was easy.
'I thought a hastily assembled vanguard made of commoners and paupers would die quickly...'
Deon Hart had stubbornly survived. No—he had become infamous for his brutality and 'immortality.'
The Vanguard That Would Not Die. Murderers so vicious they killed as gruesomely as possible to make even approaching them repulsive. And their commander, the one who led them: Deon Hart.
He became a hero, and the long, eight-year war came to an end.
It was the Duke's defeat.
'Must I... give up on the contract?'
His guiding principle that more power and authority was always better, and his instinct to climb higher.
Those were what made him covet a contract with the Demon King. But it was fine. Though slightly regrettable, the contract was merely a force he had sought to prepare for unforeseen contingencies.
Even if the contract had been made, he'd had no intention of using it unless the situation became truly desperate.
[Then I'll stake new terms.]
To the Duke, licking his lips in lingering regret, the Demon King extended his hand.
[Send Deon Hart to me. In exchange, I will grant you a portion of my demonic power.]
[.......]
[It isn't a full contract... yes, call it a half-contract.]
Ah. A smile slowly spread across the Duke's normally expressionless face.
The wager had been a loss, but the Duke had not failed. The groundwork he had laid was clearly demonstrating its power.
The sacrificial offering for the bet, the bait dangled to catch the Demon King's interest. Over eight years, the Demon King had received news of Deon Hart through various means, and at times had even used magic to watch him directly. It was hardly strange that he'd grown interested in him throughout the process.
[I believe it is possible for me to arrange delivery to the Demon Castle, but holding him there...]
[That's my role. I know. That will suffice.]
And so.
The Duke insisted that Deon Hart be selected as the Hero's companion and dispatched to the Demon Castle. For whatever reason, the Emperor accepted this and sent him to the Demon Castle.
He might well die en route. But judging by the luck he'd witnessed so far, he'd probably survive. Well, if he did die, it couldn't be helped.
Either way, he would never lay eyes on Deon Hart again. There was no way the Demon King would easily let go of someone who had fallen into his hands, was there?
...Or so he'd thought.
[To recover the Hero's body!]
Deon Hart had returned alive. Carrying the Hero's corpse, no less!
That day, for the first time in his life, the Duke spat out a string of profanity.
'At first I wondered how the hell this had happened...'
As time passed, the questions gradually resolved.
The 0th Legion Commander of the Demon King's army, who had begun to be mentioned at some point. Deon Hart, periodically coming and going under the pretext of the Emperor's secret orders. And the identity of the 0th Legion Commander, kept utterly secret in both the Demon Realm and the Empire.
—So Deon Hart was the 0th Legion Commander. And the Emperor knew this and was turning a blind eye.
A figure who held a place in the Demon Realm counted among the Empire's important figures? That was dangerous. Furthermore, the Emperor was remarkably fond of Deon Hart. What would happen if such a person turned to the Demon King's side?
'He must be killed.'
Setting the Emperor aside, he had to be killed for the good of the Empire.
The conclusion was only natural.
'Though I'm not sure if killing him is possible...'
If they kept chipping away, he would die someday.
This was a man who had been sent to the battlefield at a young age, having never held a sword before, and had become a hero. The Duke felt a slight concern but suppressed his sliver of unease, telling himself that if they kept trying, a day would come when they pierced through the shield called luck.
Knock, knock.
"Your Grace, a Mr. Daniel has come looking for you."
News arrived of an unannounced visitor.
.......
"We acquired a man of skilled penmanship in Ireon. I intend to use him to sway public sentiment."
Daniel, who had abruptly requested a meeting, spoke these words before even taking a seat.
"......Are you planning to scatter writings in the streets?"
"Yes."
"......."
The Duke closed his mouth, at a loss for what to say.
He could be certain of one thing. The man before him right now was not in his right mind.
A pallid, haggard complexion. Eyes trembling with apparent anxiety.
...Come to think of it, he'd heard some time ago that Daniel's mother had begun coughing up blood. He'd heard Daniel was hiding it from the leader, and when time passed without word, the Duke had assumed he was managing the secret well. But it seemed he'd been found out.