1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

10. The Landlady (2)

The hardcore difficulty is also quite an enjoyable content.

After all, if you get a game over, you just restart from the save point.

But this is reality.

If one chooses a perilous path where life hangs in the balance, they’re simply insane.

He quickly placed his hand on the orb again.

With ‘1-second invincibility’ on cooldown, a proper assessment should be possible.

“Shall we check once more?”

Fortunately, the orb now showed the lowest grade, a brown hue.

“No, it’s like this now, but just a moment ago—”

“It’s easy to get the colors mixed up. Black and brown are somewhat similar.”

“…”

He cut off Eruzel’s retort with shameless logic.

Doubt lingered on his face, but it quickly faded.

It was far more plausible than the ridiculous claim that Hersel, who was always drowning in alcohol, was actually an immeasurable powerhouse.

Daysel seemed to agree, nodding slightly as if the recent mishap was nothing significant.

“Sometimes, the angle or intensity of the light can make colors appear different. Or maybe you saw it wrong because of your condition that day.”

He added some extra explanation to the excuses I had spun.

It would have been better if he had stopped there.

“But such a coincidence is quite surprising. In fact, like Eruzel, I too saw black for a brief moment, you know?”

He was looking at the situation quite critically.

A slight tension arose.

It was a moment of headache, wondering if I was about to be hit with a balance patch.

Daisel placed the bead on the cushion held by the butler.

“It seems the bead malfunctioned for a moment.”

A sense of relief washed over me.

But complacency was dangerous.

If I die, the man before me stands to gain the most.

I always needed to maintain a sense of tension.

Daisel Ben Tenest, second in line for succession.

From what I’ve heard from Selly, he’s well-regarded within the mansion, and rumors say he’s shown exceptional talent in combat, having received heir training surreptitiously.

Since childhood, he’s been trained and educated in image management.

Despite all his efforts, my death was essential for him to reap the position of family head.

I must resist to prevent such an event from happening.

Click-clack—

Just then, the sound of shoes made me flinch.

It came from outside the door.

It was undoubtedly the lady of the house making her entrance.

Daisel and Eruzel, as if trained, rose from their seats and watched the door open.

She was a superior in the hierarchy. I, too, stood up.

A woman appeared, dressed neither flamboyantly nor plainly.

As my gaze shifted to her face, I doubted my eyes.

The lady, whom I expected to have a few wrinkles, retained the visage of her portrait.

Even in a world where having children early is common, she only has two grown sons.

Her appearance was not that of a middle-aged woman who had given birth to four children.

“It’s been a while, Hersel. Have you been well?”

The lady greeted me.

But I couldn’t think of a proper title to address her.

According to Selly, even the rascal Hersel wouldn’t dare call her an ‘old lady’ or a ‘thieving cat’ to her face…

“I’ve been well, without any issues.”

That was all I could respond with.

“I’m truly glad you came to visit. Family should see each other often, and you look well, which is a relief.”

Her voice and demeanor were as kind as if she were hosting an esteemed guest.

If others had seen her, they would never have thought she was a woman trying to kill me.

I felt a slight chill from her pretense that didn’t seem pretentious at all.

If asked who is good and who is evil,

It seemed as though the world would take her side.

The woman before me was a noble lady known for her kindness and grace, yet I was called a rascal, Hershel.

Thud-

In the meantime, dishes were being stacked on the table one after another. But a dish that was particularly made with care was placed in front of me alone.

The meat was of an exceptional color.

The hostess smiled and gestured for me to eat quickly.

“I asked the chef to take extra care when I heard Hershel was coming.”

“Hmm…”

I wondered if it was poisoned, but no system window popped up.

A slight sense of emptiness was filled only with the high-quality ingredients’ natural flavors and the tanginess of the tomato in the sauce.

The hostess seemed so pleased to see me chewing the meat, she even smiled with her eyes.

“Does it suit your taste? It’s quite difficult to get fresh here since we can’t breed this variety.”

I felt a thorn in the words she spat out.

She referred to me as a breed, and the current time before the festival ends as the fresh period – a thorn of metaphor.

I decided to play along.

I, too, looked at her face instead of the meat and replied.

“It does taste different from other meats.”

“Is that so? I’m glad. It would have been better if the Duke were here too…”

A lie.

When Aol returns, the festival ends.

Unlike that liar, I spoke the truth.

“I also wish my father would come soon. So we can enjoy a cozy meal as a family.”

It seemed like a nerve-wracking exchange with just that.

There was no point in provoking them, but I couldn’t just sit still either. It was right to act like the boorish Hershel they knew.

So I had to behave like a bratty young master.

“But I wonder if that day will ever come. Lately, I’ve seen flocks of crows trying to feast on corpses. It’s an unpleasant omen, so if my father comes, I’ll suggest he bring hunters.”

Those people, the servants. = The flock of crows.

“Was it so? I haven’t seen a single bird lately,” she remarked.

The hostess’s friendly manner of speaking was so shameless and cunning that it almost concealed her slyness.

Standing over a sprawled corpse, holding a knife, covered in blood, she could say ‘I didn’t do it’ with such calmness that you’d believe her for three seconds.

A flame flickered gently in my chest for a moment.

Ah, this boiling sensation of blood.

This insolent jawline, trying to suppress everything, trying to rise on its own.

The trait ‘Noble Ember of Blood’ seemed to recognize the hostess’s mockery as fuel.

I let go of the reins I had been holding tightly with willpower to appear more composed.

Then, a haughty yet dignified rascal burst forth.

“Why not speak freely when only those unconcerned are present?”

My condescension was explosive enough to end the warm family play in an instant.

Erusel, as if recalling an ingrained fear, broke out in a cold sweat, but soon contorted his face fiercely.

Daisel, who had been quietly dining beside us, shot me a murderous look that he had never shown before.

With a single gesture, the hostess calmed her two sons, who seemed ready to pounce at any moment.

After a few seconds, the hostess’s lips quivered.

“You seem to want to open up, would you like an answer like this?”

Her following words were quite shocking.

“No one would mourn if you died. No one loves you, so please give up your seat and die. How about that for an answer?”

There was no sign of excitement. Her expression was unreadable, and her tone was exceedingly graceful.

This woman, she’s not ordinary, is she?

“What else does Hersel want to hear? I can’t think of anything more, would you care to tell me directly?”

“……”

“Mother is asking, Hersel. What else do you want to hear?”

As the hostess looked into my eyes, the atmosphere seemed to change.

The source of this dreadful fear was the hostess’s eyes, which seemed to look deep within.

Yet, I had to keep looking into the eyes of a hawk eyeing a rabbit.

Because my instinct had picked up on a signal.

This woman.

She looks like nothing much, but she seems like she could tear my throat out right this instant.

And she looks like she could do it anytime she wants.

“Have there always been opportunities to kill me?”

Upon reflection, it seems so. Opportunities must have been plentiful, not just now but far back in the past.

Yet the fact that they didn’t twist the neck of a young Hershel, vulnerable during his childhood years.

Supported the notion that it was this woman’s amusement.

The hostess smiled gently at my question. My guess was right, as always.

“Since I married the Archduke. And even now.”

A chill ran down my spine.

To not die here, my senses screamed that I must keep this woman’s interest in me alive.

Of course, that interest is not something easily maintained.

“Did you say you wanted to hear something…? I can’t let you hear it now.”

I smiled slyly to survive.

And then I stood up.

“The plea for forgiveness from those lips will come later.”

My heart was pounding to death.

It’s time to make a run for it.

* * *

The hostess let Hershel go.

He must have had the confidence to leave on his own, having come this far by himself.

And she didn’t particularly want to do otherwise.

‘Interesting.’

She sat in her office chair, enjoying her lemon tea.

‘He wasn’t cowed even in front of Daysel.’

The hostess felt a strangeness in this.

How could Hershel, who had been stripped to the soul by Daysel since childhood under the guise of swordsmanship practice, manage this?

Not only had he been forced to lay down his sword early, breaking his spirit, but he had also been firmly imprinted as a figure of terror by the second son.

How could he have done that?

There were many other questions.

It was the same when Hershel ate meat.

‘Why didn’t he grimace, not even once?’

The hostess had fed Hershel a special dish at today’s meal, a sauce based on tomatoes.

Yet he ate it as if it were delicious.

Hershel, who despised tomatoes enough to spit them out even in front of the head of the family, saying they didn’t suit his taste.

“Elma.”

The lady of the house called for the steward.

“Are you still keeping records of what he ate?”

“Yes, my lady. Mirei has completed the report. I will bring it to you right away.”

There were no tomatoes listed in the documents the steward handed over.

It was a stretch to think his tastes had changed after so much time had passed.

The proven facts slowly gathered, leading to one thought.

The notion that what was inside the egg was not the chick we knew, but something else entirely, was absurd.

On the outside, everything seemed the same, but the core had completely changed…

‘Has he acquired some sort of mystery? If so, it would make sense that he has survived this long without dying.’

The lady of the house carefully stored this suspicion in her heart.

Then, setting down her teacup, she looked at the steward.

He remained in place as if he had something he wanted to say.

“Do you have something on your mind?”

“Is it really alright for them to take action? They are people with many issues regarding their status. I worry that it might lead to some problem.”

To the steward’s worried voice, the lady responded with a faint smile.

“You know the saying, ‘A long tail gets stepped on’?”

“Yes… I do.”

“But their tails were far too long. If it weren’t for one stroke of bad luck revealing them, who knows how much longer they could have kept it hidden.”

With those comforting words, the steward had no more to add.

Seeing her faint smile, he knew.

The lady herself would not be harmed, even if things went awry.

* * *

Noble families have often seen such events unfold.

A perfectly sane person becomes mad in a short time, falls into severe depression and commits suicide, or disappears.

These were the tragic events that commonly occurred in human affairs.

However, among them were those who made it appear so.

They were now filling the old mansion’s warehouse with their presence.

Inside the abandoned building, which was no different from a ruin, dust rose every time poker cards hit the table.

Dust fluttered about, stirred by the conversation between a woman in a maid’s outfit and a middle-aged man in butler’s attire.

“I was just starting to enjoy this life… Is it really over now?”

“It’s a shame. There were many kind people. Had I grown up in such an environment, perhaps I would have led a righteous life.”

“Maybe so? But what does it matter. Once the job is done, we get paid, and our life on the run ends. Yes! I won this time!”

The maid’s face was filled with ecstasy as she looked at her cards.

But the middle-aged man revealed a straight flush.

A hand higher than the maid’s.

“Looks like I win again.”

His hand swept the money laid out on the table towards him.

The maid, whose entire month’s salary had just crossed over to the other side, fiddled with her fingers and pouted her lips.

“But even after the job is over… How about we blackmail the mistress with this job as leverage to extort more money? If we hint at spilling the beans, she’ll pay whatever we ask.”

“You haven’t been here long enough to know her. She’s not someone to be trifled with. Provoke her even slightly, and you’ll disappear without a trace.”

The maid snorted at his serious words.

To her ears, they sounded like a meaningless joke.

“What? Assassins? That we’d fall victim to our own game? Stop talking nonsense. If we kill, we kill; we don’t get killed.”

“Then try it if you dare. It’s a pity, though, your share of the money will decrease.”

The maid’s confident smile faded slightly at his consistent demeanor.

Because his expression was no joke.

The man standing next to them, shaving in front of a mirror, felt the same.

Why did the man, who had killed countless nobles with his blood-scented dagger, treat the mistress so specially?

There must be a reason.

Having sorted her thoughts, the maid blinked and asked.

“So, who’s going to start? Who’s going to kill that b*stard?”

“I’ll go.”

The one who spoke was the man with the now neatly-trimmed jawline.

“I fancy playing with someone for a change.”