"And Count," Vorila droned on, his green eyes shimmering with a heady mix of greed and a veneer of feigned sincerity, "I am a reliable man. Should you require anything further, do not hesitate to reach out. I am your steadfast ally in times of hardship—"
"Is there any way you could possibly increase the amount, just a little?" Count Vinlig interjected, his voice tinged with desperation.
His fists were clenched tightly, a manifestation of the turmoil roiling within him.
Though he possessed immense strength, he felt utterly powerless to alleviate the hunger that ravaged his people.
Without aid, they wouldn't survive another month, especially given that the treasury had run dry.
He had already depleted his own savings to provide bread for the people of his territory after the birth of Lucian.
He should have questioned Kassidy when she claimed she wouldn't allocate any funds for bread—she had already emptied the vault.
While there were emergency funds available, they were earmarked for employee salaries, a necessity he couldn't ignore.
After Kassidy's departure, it became painfully evident: she had absconded with all the valuable assets, seemingly intent on leaving him and his people to their doom.
He understood that she had used him solely to bolster her own power, enabling her to claim the title of Duchess.
"Oh, you see, that would spell disaster for me!" Vorila replied, his voice dripping with mock sorrow.
His eyes sparkled with delight, as if he had rehearsed this response countless times.
At that moment, his gaze shifted to an infant playing on the desk, clutching a handful of coins.
With great effort, the tiny child struggled to grab a fork that lay nearby and skillfully, albeit clumsily, placed it atop the stack of silver coins.
The task proved quite a challenge for his tiny fingers, fumbling as he attempted to balance the fork atop the coins.
"Ah, how adorable," Vorila chuckled, momentarily distracted.
He gazed into the child's golden eyes and noticed the boy's dark hair, instantly reminded of a woman he had once known.
A wicked satisfaction bubbled within him as he realized how easily the Count was falling into his trap, having secured a deal worth only a fraction of its true value.
"Already playing with money, are we?" he added with a sly grin, turning his attention to Lucian.
Lucian looked up, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.
He lifted his hand, revealing an unmistakable middle finger before mimicking a random noise.
"Fff...kkk...U..."
"Hahahaha, can you believe it? He can even speak at this age!" Vorila laughed heartily, reveling in the success of his schemes.
He envisioned a future where he could turn the Count into his very own profit machine: sending him off to slay monsters, purchasing their spoils for a pittance, and then reselling them for six or seven gold coins each.
'Die, you motherfucker!'
Thud!
In an unexpected twist, Lucian suddenly slammed the fork down onto the coins with all his might capable for his tiny fist.
Though his body lacked any real strength, he understood the principle of leverage.
With minimal effort, he managed to apply enough force to send a silver coin soaring through the air.
Swish!
The silver coin rocketed forth, propelled by the makeshift mechanism, and headed straight for Vorila's open mouth just as he leaned in, still chuckling.
"KHWAAACKKK!!!" Vorila's face turned beet red as his hands flew to his throat, where the coin had lodged firmly.
"Gah!..Gah!"
He made a series of strangled sounds, his eyes bulging in panic, before slumping back into the chair, desperately struggling to breathe.
His hands gripped his neck as the silver coin, wedged in his throat, prevented him from getting any air.
'!?'
"Young master!"
The head maid and the other servants, rather than focusing on the merchant, hurried to lift the little child.
The merchant, flailing his legs and hitting the desk in a panic, was feeling the constriction in his throat, and the maids swiftly carried the child away to safety.
"H...ell..p!?"
Vorila could scarcely make a sound as his eyes began to roll back, feeling as though he were teetering on the edge of consciousness.
The coin had lodged itself firmly in his throat, and just then, Count Vinlig rose from his seat and moved to stand behind Vorila.
"I trust you can reconsider the offer," Count Vinlig said, towering over the merchant, who, with tear-filled eyes, gazed up at the Count, sensing his life ebbing away.
Vorila, instinctively nodding in desperation, shook his head vigorously, a silent plea for help.
"Y..egh.!"
Vorila rasped, attempting to dislodge the offending coin with one hand, the feeling of suffocation intensifying with each passing second.
At that critical moment, the head maid swiftly passed the newborn to another servant before producing a blank piece of paper bearing the royal family's seal—an empty contract that could be filled at a moment's notice.
She had prepared for emergencies like this, recognizing that it was now or never; she understood that the Count did not intend to save the merchant without using this opportunity.
Count Vinlig, for all his kindness and naivety, was no fool; if he had been, he would not have triumphed in battles nor earned his title as Count.
The previous tactics of Duchess Kassidy Liander had used his benevolence against him, making him wary.
But if someone other than her dared to exploit that kindness so brazenly, it would surely be a grave mistake.
He was trying to accept the deal solely to save his people, clearly caught in a desperate situation where he felt cornered into making a decision.
However, the merchant before him was equally desperate now—desperate to save his own life.
If he played on that desperation, it could turn the tides in his favor. Though he was not as cunning as the merchant, he was at least skilled in speech. He decided to use the merchant's tactic against him.
With that in mind, he added, "I want you to always purchase the monsters from me at 5 gold coins each."
'!?!'
"N...o."
Even at the brink of death, it was clear that Vorila had no intention of accepting the deal.
He realized that if the Count witnessed him begging and crying for mercy, he would undoubtedly be saved.
Thus, he decided to bide his time, patiently appealing for his life.
Once he was back on his feet, he would reassess the situation; he was not about to sign a contract that would ensnare him in such an unfavorable deal.
"I see... Let's leave," the Count decided.
He looked at Vorila's tear-streaked face, a flicker of pity welling up within him, but he quickly shut his eyes.
If he didn't see the merchant's plight, perhaps he wouldn't feel the weight of that pity.
Moving not a muscle, and guided by his sharply honed senses as well as his awakened ability, he effortlessly maneuvered through the room before turning toward Lucian, remarking, "Oh, my dear monster seems to have claimed his first kill."
*Congrats, Young Master*
*Yes, congrats*
'Huh? What are these people going on about?'
Meanwhile, Lucian glanced at the merchant, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his face as he savored Vorila's just desserts.
Suddenly aware of the Count approaching him with his eyes closed and without getting struck by the table, he clearly showcased his mastery over his senses.
The servants gathered around him started to greet the Young master with smiles, bowing as if they were celebrating something monumental.
This peculiar display sparked a singular thought in Lucian's mind.
'....Are they worshiping me?'