The Villain’s Gambit: A Debtor’s Welcome

The carriage glided smoothly over the cobblestone streets of the royal capital’s upper district.

Allen de Laval leaned idly by the window, his gaze sweeping over the elegant, yet somewhat somber, noble residences outside.

The faint tremor of the wheels rolling over the road was barely perceptible, almost nonexistent.

Allen, ever perceptive, noted this minute detail.

He recalled countless past lives, countless journeys in dilapidated carriages, where the bone-jarring, ‘authentic’ experience had been the norm.

‘Shock absorbers?’ Allen muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing.

Was such technology available in this era?

His mind raced, replaying neglected details from his past lives, various clues converging to gradually piece together a clear picture:

This world was not a true game world; its economic and cultural development more closely resembled Renaissance Europe, yet its social structure and military might remained stubbornly stuck in the late Middle Ages.

It was as if an unseen hand had forcibly halted the wheel of history, trapping it in a specific stage.

What role did the Church play in this?

Considering the periodic destructions and slumbering gods described in the ‘Sacred Text,’ Allen’s mood, much like the sky outside the window, steadily darkened.

Seeing her silent young master, Marianne felt a pang of unease.

She had grown accustomed to Allen’s recent ‘villain-possessed’ fervor, but now, he exuded a familiar sense of oppression and sorrow.

It was as if ghosts from his past had once again caught up to him.

A knot tightened in Marianne’s heart.

All of Allen’s excitement, all his nervous displays, seemed more like a performance designed to mask his despair.

The more one feigned bravery, the more fragile their heart truly was.

Marianne had now learned to put herself in his shoes.

She was gradually comprehending many things she had never considered before.

The Allen of the past had seemingly only been ‘playing’ the part of a scoundrel young master; he bullied the weak to conceal his timid inner self beneath a veneer of brutality.

He would drink himself into a stupor daily, and Marianne would sometimes hear him secretly weeping when she passed his room.

Marianne now understood why Allen had worn a look of relief when he drowned.

Only in the face of death did he no longer need to hide his true self.

And the current Allen, it seemed, was repeating the same tragedy.

He had begun to play the ‘villain,’ packaging his kindness as calculation, desperately trying to convince himself that he was a bad person.

Because he was a villain, even if he suffered unfair treatment, even if he encountered countless sorrows, it was all well-deserved.

Having never held hope, he would therefore feel no sorrow.

‘So that’s how it is?’

‘He wanted me to stay away from him because he was despairing.’

‘He believed that with Livia, I could find happiness.’

‘But he excluded himself from that happiness.’

‘Perhaps I could find happiness.’

‘Yet, if Young Master could not find happiness, my own happiness would transform into pain.’

Determined to ensure Allen also found happiness, Marianne asked with immense tenderness:

“Young Master, what are you thinking about?”

Allen did not turn his head, merely lifting a finger to point at the thick clouds outside the carriage window, which seemed poised to crush the entire city.

“It’s going to rain soon, Marianne. We are in trouble.”

He spoke in his usual villainous, enigmatic tone.

‘Oh, yes! That line has excellent villainous flair!’

Marianne’s heart clenched.

‘He… has already foreseen what is about to happen?’

‘Is Young Master planning to face all this darkness alone again?’

‘No!’

‘Whatever dangers lie ahead, I will face them with Young Master!’

“Young Master, we are almost home.”

Old Butler Jean Leclerc’s steady voice chimed in just then, like a stabilizing anchor.

Allen’s taut nerves relaxed slightly, and he forced a smile onto his face.

“Indeed. Though not much time has passed, I find myself longing for home. I truly wish to lie on my grand bed; that wretched cot at the Heretical Inquisition has left my bones aching.”

“You have truly endured much, Young Master. Master has specifically purchased a new bed for you, and your room has been thoroughly cleaned. However…” The butler paused, then continued, “Young Master, would you perhaps consider changing rooms? After all… that incident occurred.”

The butler was referring to Allen’s recent thrilling struggle.

Allen immediately adopted a perfectly cold-blooded villain’s demeanor, letting out a sneer.

“It was merely the deaths of two individuals. What is there to fear? Rather, I sleep soundly precisely because I hear the wails of those cultist ghosts every day!”

‘Oh, oh, oh! That line has excellent villainous flair too!’

‘I truly am impressive!’

Allen feared no ghosts or ghouls; having died hundreds of times, he was the most terrifying revenant himself.

“Young Master, do you usually sleep poorly?” Marianne interjected suddenly, her voice soft, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Would it be better if someone… kept you company while you slept?”

“Pfft—cough, cough, cough!”

Marianne’s words, typically reserved for high affection levels, instantly shattered Allen’s villainous facade, bringing him back to his original state.

‘Marianne, what is wrong with you, girl?’

‘I spared your life so you could go and capture Livia’s heart, thus ensuring my survival!’

‘Saying things like that will make people mistakenly believe I’ve captured *your* heart!’

‘I wouldn’t try to capture *your* heart.’

‘We are bound by fate, comrades in the same trench!’

‘I will not allow anyone to develop an unhealthy relationship with me!’

‘I am a villain!’

‘Can a villain entangled with women ever come to a good end?’

‘Villains are hardcore ruthless individuals who kill their sisters to prove their resolve! Don’t misunderstand!’

Allen was furious!

“What are you talking about, Marianne! Before you forge a strong bond with Livia, you absolutely must not get too deeply involved with a grand villain like me! How can there be a bug like me in a garden of lilies!”

“I’m warning you! This is a proper, all-ages plot! You need to control the boundaries properly! Do you understand?”

For the first time, Marianne was scolded so fiercely by her young master. She instinctively shrank her neck, yet a warmth, a dizzying, ineffable sense of happiness, bloomed in her heart as if she had been immersed in a hot spring.

‘Young Master… he cares about me! He’s afraid I might ‘go astray’! (Allen: ???)

Marianne, on her path of self-conquest, had completely floored the accelerator and was speeding ahead!

When the unpretentious, yet undeniably venerable, gates of the Laval estate finally came into view, the anticipated tranquility was nowhere to be found.

The mansion gates were tightly shut, but twenty to thirty people were blocking the entrance.

This motley crew, dressed in oil-stained coarse linen shirts haphazardly mixed with worn leather armor scraps, bore scars from knives or burns on their faces, their eyes fierce yet shrewd with worldly cunning.

They held crooked wooden signs crudely scrawled with “Give us back our hard-earned money!” and cursed loudly:

“Bastard nobles! Hiding in your shells like turtles?”

“You’ve sucked our marrow dry, and now you want to cheat us out of even a mouthful of soup money!”

“Bah! What ‘decency’?! Refusing to pay your debts is the greatest indecency!”

Several of the most agitated individuals, carrying wooden buckets, fiercely splashed thick, dark red paint, reeking of pungent pine resin, onto the tightly shut oak doors and the stone walls on either side, leaving behind a chaotic, glaring mess.

Watching this highly ‘era-specific’ debt collection scene, a ridiculous sense of ‘dreaming of home’ familiarity actually welled up in Allen.

It seemed that, ancient or modern, East or West, debt collection tactics were largely the same.

‘Tsk, I casually spouted that we were in trouble, and trouble actually came? What a jinx I am!’

Allen narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing through his dark pupils.

Just out of the Inquisition, and he was met with a blocked entrance upon returning home?

They truly wouldn’t even grant him a moment’s respite!

“Marianne, what do you make of this?” Allen asked casually.

Marianne showed no surprise, certain that Young Master had indeed foreseen everything!

She calmly analyzed: “Master usually owes money to great nobles, and they wouldn’t stoop to such indecent acts. This kind of blocking the entrance and splashing paint, I’ve never seen before.”

Old Butler Jean’s face, however, was unusually calm, as if this scene was already within his expectations, though his straightened back seemed a touch stiffer.

He gently reined in the horses, and the carriage halted a little distance from the crowd.

“Young Master, please do not worry. This matter, allow your old servant to handle it,” Butler Jean’s voice remained steady.

Allen nodded. “Be careful.”

“Thank you for your good wishes, Young Master.”

Butler Jean straightened his starched collar, calmly pushed open the carriage door, and with steady steps, walked towards the center of the clamor. His demeanor was as elegant as if he were going to a banquet.

“Gentlemen,” Jean’s voice was not loud, yet it clearly cut through the din, “such a noisy disturbance, gathering before the mansion of a Kingdom Viscount, is truly undignified. The affairs of the Laval family have their own rules and means of resolution. I kindly request that you appoint a representative, and we can discuss this calmly, shall we?”

He faced a particularly burly bald man with a grotesque knife scar across his face, clearly the leader of the group.

The strongman folded his arms, eyeing the neatly dressed, well-mannered old butler with a disdainful scoff. “Rules? Dignity? Old man, you’re talking to me about that?”

He pointed at the still-wet red stains on the door.

“Look! That’s your Laval family’s ‘rules’! You owe us poor wretches our life’s earnings, hide behind your doors like cowards, and then talk to me about dignity? Bah! You bloodsucking noble lords, do you even deserve to utter the word ‘decency’? Today, I’m here to rip off your veneer of decency!”

The old butler’s brow furrowed slightly, but his tone remained restrained. “Matters of debt may have their reasons, but violence and slander are certainly not the solution. Viscount…”

“Cut the damn crap!” The bald strongman coarsely interrupted him, his spittle nearly spraying onto Jean’s face. “Reasons? All I know is, if we work, we get paid! Today, either we see the money, or I’ll smash your rotten door down and go in to get it myself!”

The ‘thugs’ behind him clamored in agreement.

“That’s right! Debts must be paid, it’s only natural!”

“Boss, stop wasting words with him! Let’s just smash it open!”

Inside the carriage, Allen’s frown deepened.

Marianne squinted, her sharp gaze revealing a murderous intent.

“Young Master, this isn’t right.”

Marianne’s right hand unconsciously slid to her outer thigh, her fingertips habitually seeking that cold, hard sensation, but only pressing against the warm skin beneath her maid’s dress.

It was empty.

The leg holster that once concealed a poisoned dagger was now just a soft band.

“Indeed, something isn’t right,” Allen’s gaze was as sharp as a hawk’s, sweeping over the seemingly casual ‘thugs.’ “Marianne, do you remember I taught you to pay attention to details?”

“Yes. What have you noticed?”

“Look at them; they’re laughing and cursing, but their stances are deliberate, their footwork steady, and they cover each other. These are absolutely not laborers demanding pay; they are mercenaries who have long lived by the sword and are accustomed to teamwork! Someone is backing them, and their goal is not simply money!”

Allen’s mind raced: “The Laval family is indeed in a tight spot, but Father is an old fox; robbing Peter to pay Paul is basic practice. They’re blocking the door, causing a ruckus, splashing paint, and shouting slogans to make the entire upper district—all potential creditors and allies—see that the Laval family is finished! They can’t even pay the debts of ‘lowly people’ like these; their credit is utterly bankrupt! This is a move to pull the rug out from under us! The one backing them… must be a high-ranking great noble, hostile to us!”

In a flash of lightning, Allen had seen through the situation.

‘Heh heh.’

‘Troubling my family?’

‘Troubling me, the villain?’

‘It seems someone truly wishes to die!’

“Butler!”

Allen abruptly raised his voice, his face instantly switching to the frivolous and arrogant smile characteristic of a dissolute young master. He pushed open the carriage door, strode out, his voice so resonant that everyone turned to look.

“So many ‘distinguished guests’ have arrived; why are you all standing outside in the wind? How rude! Invite them into our home, let them experience our hospitality!”

As he spoke of ‘hospitality,’ Allen’s smile turned utterly chilling.

The cultists had just been sent away, and now others were actively delivering themselves to his doorstep.

His garden, it seemed, would not lack for nourishment.

“Young Master!”

The old butler and Marianne, who had just stepped out of the carriage, exclaimed simultaneously.

“Why are you following me?” Allen frowned at Marianne.

“Are you trying to do something dangerous alone again?” Marianne glared at him, her eyes stubborn.

“Yes, what else?” Allen retorted impatiently. “Have you killed anyone? Your mission is to capture Livia’s heart, not to hinder me.”

“I have,” Marianne replied calmly.

“Eh?” Allen was momentarily stunned.

Seeing Allen’s surprise, Marianne added:

“That noble who violated a commoner girl and then murdered her, he and his guards were killed by me. That was my promotion mission.”

Allen desperately racked his memory, finally recalling that scoundrel who was a hundred times worse than the original owner of his body.

‘Oh, that guy! Good riddance!’

‘Wait… killed by Marianne? And his guards too?’

Allen belatedly shivered, feeling a chill down his neck.

‘Marianne is a former False Mark Knight!’

‘If she was also involved in that night’s attack…’

Allen touched his neck, feeling a cold sensation.

“Thank you for not killing me!”

Marianne tilted her head, looking puzzled.

“Marianne, can you handle this?” Allen gestured with his eyes.

“No problem,” Marianne instantly understood, a cold glint of murderous intent flashing in her crimson eyes.

“You two, what are you muttering about!” the bald strongman roared impatiently.

Allen turned to the bald strongman, a theatrical, almost roguish smile on his face, and swaggered closer.

“Oh, my good sir, you’ve worked hard! I am Allen de Laval, the scoundrel son of the Laval family, the very bastards you speak of. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

He made a show of cupping his hands in a formal greeting.

The bald strongman paused, sizing up the smiling noble young master before him, whose demeanor, however, carried a whiff of the common streets.

‘This is the legendary prodigal son?’

He looked presentable enough, but that smile… it was a bit unsettling.

“Heh, so you are Young Master Allen?” The bald strongman folded his arms, deliberately mimicking a refined tone, which, coupled with his appearance, looked particularly comical. “We poor folk, we broke our backs repairing your master’s garden, but our wages have been delayed again and again. We simply couldn’t live, so we shamelessly came to ask for them.”

The mercenaries behind him burst into laughter, clearly amused by their leader’s pretentious act.

“Oh, dear, is that so?” Allen immediately adopted an expression of profound sorrow, beating his chest. “To think my father would do such a thing, what a sin! But, about the money, it’s easily settled! Easily settled! Butler!”

Allen waved to the butler.

The old butler immediately understood, hurrying to Allen’s side and bowing slightly. “Young Master.”

Allen wrapped an arm around the butler’s shoulder, leaning intimately close to his ear, his smile vanishing instantly, his voice low, quick, and urgent:

“Butler, they are mercenaries hired by an enemy, and they mean trouble. You must immediately drive the carriage to the nearest guard post! Tell them that unidentified, armed hooligans are gathered before the Laval Viscount’s mansion, with ill intentions, suspected of attempting to storm a noble residence and cause chaos! Tell them to bring reinforcements to suppress them at once!”

Butler Jean’s cloudy but sharp eyes suddenly narrowed, instantly grasping his young master’s intent.

He did not hesitate in the slightest.

If his young master could outwit even the most terrifying cultists, dealing with these brainless mercenaries would naturally be no problem.

As a butler, he simply needed to trust his young master.

“Young Master, please take utmost care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, these good-for-nothings are no match for me,” Allen’s clenched fist lightly tapped the butler’s shoulder. “It’s up to you. Go!”

“Understood!” Butler Jean nodded imperceptibly, his face once again assuming a professional reverence. “Very well, Young Master, I shall go to the storeroom for the money immediately. Please wait a moment.”

He turned and gave a slight bow to the bald strongman.

“Gentlemen, please wait; I shall return shortly.”

With that, he deftly jumped into the carriage and sharply flicked the reins.

“Alright, everyone,” Allen turned around, his face once again bearing that cynical smile, though his eyes were now as cold as ice. “The butler has gone to fetch the money. However, look.”

He pointed to the upper-district residents, startled and now peeking from windows or through door cracks.

“With so many people watching, even though our Laval family is on its last legs, we still need to maintain some face. All this commotion, how unsightly! How about you all disperse for today? Tomorrow, tomorrow I will surely prepare a banquet and eagerly await your distinguished presence?”

“Hahahaha!” The bald strongman burst into laughter. “Young Master, you are truly adorably naive! Thank you for the reminder! Once your butler brings our brothers’ wages, we’ll leave immediately, without delaying your family’s ‘decency’!”

He heavily emphasized the last two words, filled with sarcasm. The surrounding mercenaries also guffawed.

“Alright, I have some money here; let’s see if it’s enough.”

Allen’s smile gradually faded. He pretended to pull money from his pocket, and at that very moment, he suddenly struck!

“Bang!”

Without a shred of warning, Allen raised his leg, kicking with all his might, and with pinpoint accuracy, struck the bald strongman in his vital spot.

“Aooo—!!!”

A piercing, distorted shriek tore through the sky!