Seated on the Duke’s opulent sofa, Ashok exuded an air of authority, his posture regal, as if he were a king on a throne rather than a guest in the Duke’s grand chamber. But beneath the veneer of control, Ashok’s mind raced with anxiety.
’Did I push too far? ’Ashok wondered, his eyes drifting to Cassius. The man stood motionless in the center of the room, his posture rigid. His head was bowed low, the wide brim of his bamboo hat casting a shadow over his face, obscuring any sign of emotion.
The sword in Cassius’ grip was steady, but Ashok noticed the faintest tremor in the blade.
Ashok’s gaze shifted from Cassius to the Duke. The Duke’s attention remained entirely absorbed in the note in his hand, his eyes never lifting from the parchment. His eyes drifted to the Head Butler, standing silently by the door, a towering figure of stoic indifference.
What in the world is this guy reading? Ashok thought, his patience beginning to fray. I barely wrote three lines, three! And the meaning is as clear as day. But he’s been staring at it for five minutes. I did not write with some invisible ink did I or Is he truly illiterate? Was the game setting of the Duke as knowledgeable as great scholars a lie?’
Another minute ticked by and the Duke finally acted.
The Duke carefully set the crumpled note aside on the sofa and started rubbing his eyes "So, as per the words written in the note, you claim that you know a way to cure my daughter’s condition?" he said while rubbing his eyes.
"Impressive! You have finally managed to decipher three simple lines after five minutes of tedious contemplation. Should I grace you with a round of applause?" Ashok declared, the trait manipulating his words.
"It seems you have no fear of death," the Duke threatened as he stopped rubbing his eyes. His gaze slowly lifted, and his piercing golden eyes locked with Ashok’s deep red ones behind the spectacles.
"You…" The Duke’s voice faltered for just a moment. His gaze lingered on Ashok’s face. Then, a flicker of recognition crossed his expression, he proclaimed "The Self-Exiled"
’Self-Exiled?’ The two words echoed in Ashok’s mind, unraveling a web of questions, each more tangled than the last.
"It seems you know me, Duke. Though I don’t quite recall ever crossing paths with you before." He let the words hang in the air, carefully designed to provoke, to lure the Duke into revealing something about Adlet—the previous owner of his body.
"I haven’t met you but I do know you. The First Noble in empire’s history, who in full conscience surrendered the title of nobility. A Child of Cindergarde who abandoned his title and the heir seat at the age of ten, and left the Eastern Duchy.
To think I would get the chance to meet such a noble... Ah, a non-noble," the Duke added, the last word dripping with subtle mockery, as if the term itself were a sharp, biting insult.
’This guy is calling me a fool.’ Ashok could easily grasp the underlying meaning behind the mockery. But Ashok couldn’t respond, not the way he wanted to.
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This was the first time Ashok was hearing something entirely different from what he had been told by the System or Adlet’s soul.
’That bastard lied to me’ Ashok seethed internally. ’The System told me that this body belongs to the exiled her of the Cindergarde family, but now, if the Duke is speaking truth, then he chose self-exile. And now the Duke is making a mockery of me, of his own foolishness, by calling the ’First Noble in empire’s history, who in full conscience surrendered the title of nobility.
After all only a fool would willingly abandon a family with a legacy of centuries.’
’I know that there are problems with the old Patriarch’s mind but who in the right mind leaves the family for that when you can just get rid of him by the third year? Adlet truly was a coward, I did a right job sacrificing him.’ thought Ashok.
"So, being a noble proves my competence and credibility, does it? Hmm!" Ashok paused, his gaze never leaving the Duke, and then, with a smile that was as sharp as it was calculated, he added, "Aren’t you the richest noble? Then why, pray tell, is your daughter bedridden for months?"
"The RICH…EST NO…BLE" said Ashok tone drawn out with deliberate grandeur, each syllable laced with regal disdain. "Does not even have a cure for his daughter’s state? And the reason I speak of the condition is because nobody in this room knows what truly ails your daughter, do they? Am I right?"
Hearing Ashok the Duke’s glare was sharp and unforgiving, the Head Butler had his his jaw clenched and teeth silently grinding, silently ground his teeth. Cassius remained eerily still and silent.
Ashok knew that not a single soul in the entire Duchy had the slightest clue about what had truly befallen the Duke’s daughter. One day, without any warning, she had simply collapsed while playing, falling into a deep, unshakable slumber that resembled a comatose state.
It was as if something invisible had struck her down, something neither seen nor understood. There were no signs of illness, no injuries—nothing to explain her condition. No curse could be detected, nor was it a disease that could be cured by the finest healers.
’Well, the reason behind her condition will be revealed one year from now on. By that time, that girl will no longer be the daughter of the Southern Duke but the First Hidden Boss for the players.’
Ashok had expected the Duke to be on his knees by now, pleading for help or answers. But to his surprise, the Duke suddenly let out a small, mocking laugh, a sound that shattered the moment of silence. "Haha! Why should I believe you when not long ago someone came here claiming the same thing as you."
Ashok’s mind went into shock as a single possibility shot through his thoughts. ’Another Transmigrator?’