As time passed, the baron's condition fluctuated between improving and deteriorating, but the venom from the snakebite was steadily being eradicated. Richard occasionally made notes on scrolls, keeping track of his progress in the early stages of his "simple world model construction." The time to leave was drawing nearer.
Then, more than half a month later.
Richard entered the baron's chamber, carrying a vial of the processed potion. Inside, Baron Leo was fast asleep, snoring softly.
The baron's health had notably improved; he could now perform simple physical activities, though his sleep had grown longer and deeper. Richard wasn't particularly concerned, understanding that this was simply a sign of the body's recovery.
At this moment, Richard had already made a decision: once the baron fully recovered, he would leave the territory and begin his journey of world exploration. It would serve as a way of repaying the debt owed to the baron from the past ten years—neither of them would owe anything more to the other.
With this thought in mind, Richard approached the bed, preparing to wake the baron. His footsteps echoed softly in the room.
Suddenly...
The sound of his footsteps changed.
In the midst of the rhythmic "thud-thud" of his steps, there came a faint "click," a sound so subtle that only Richard's enhanced senses, honed by years of meditation, could detect it.
Richard's brow furrowed slightly. He paused mid-step, then retreated a step.
"Click." The same sound echoed again.
Richard narrowed his eyes and looked down. He tapped the floor, confirming that there was a cavity beneath it, roughly the size of a book. The hollow space caused the odd echoing sound.
"What's this?" Richard's eyes narrowed as he carefully placed the vial of potion down. With two fingers, he lifted a stone slab that had protruded slightly from the ground, revealing a hidden compartment beneath.
Inside the compartment were a seal and a stack of letters.
"What is this?" Richard's eyes became slits as he picked up the letters, his mind already sensing something suspicious. For Richard, the concept of "invasion of privacy" didn't exist. If the baron were to wake up and question his actions, Richard couldn't be bothered to explain himself.
With a swift motion, Richard opened the first letter, scanning it quickly. Within half a minute, he had read through it, and a subtle shift occurred in his expression. His muscles tensed, his eyes glinted, and his mouth parted in silent surprise.
The next moment, Richard began to tear through the rest of the letters, scanning them at an incredible speed.
Moments later, he finished reading them all. He couldn't help but shake his head, his face displaying an expression of fascination, and muttered to himself with a hint of amusement, "Interesting, very interesting... Too interesting, really. It's true what they say... life is more exciting than fiction."
The letters, a collection of correspondence, told an incredibly captivating story.
Indeed, it was a fascinating tale.
It was the story of a kind nobleman who had spent his life building up a large estate. He had married twice, each time fathering a son. Eventually, both wives passed away, and the kind nobleman was left to raise his two sons alone. His life's goal was to prepare them to inherit his legacy. However, as time went on, the nobleman grew increasingly concerned. While his eldest son was honest and kind, much like the father, his younger son—five years younger—was increasingly rebellious and eccentric.
Though the eldest son was older, he was often bullied by the younger one. On one occasion, the eldest son, simply trying to play with the younger one, came close to being burned by a stone that could suddenly emit fire.
In an effort to protect the elder son, the nobleman made the difficult decision to send him away to live with a maternal relative from a different noble family, with plans to bring him back when he was older and could protect himself.
Years passed, and while the elder son grew into adulthood, the younger son's behavior became more erratic and violent. He began hiring soldiers to do his bidding, often resorting to cruelty. Unable to control him, the nobleman thought that perhaps removing the younger son was the only solution.
Strangely, this idea was not his alone. The elder son, too, had come to the same conclusion. Through secret correspondence, they agreed that the only way forward was to have the younger son killed.
However, they could not carry out the deed within the nobleman's territory, as the younger son was too suspicious. Instead, the elder son's maternal family offered support, and they began planning the assassination from that side.
The nobleman's job was to arrange for the assassin to be smuggled into the estate, provide information about the younger son's movements, and handle the aftermath of the failed attempts.
Despite many efforts, the assassination attempts all failed, and after each failure, the nobleman grew more worried. Eventually, he and his son argued over the matter. The elder son, frustrated, wrote one final letter to his father, explaining that he had devised a new, foolproof method of eliminating the younger son. He assured the nobleman that success was guaranteed, but cautioned him that sometimes, in order to succeed, sacrifices had to be made—something the nobleman might not want to hear.
Reflecting on the contents of the letters, Richard slowly closed his eyes, as if savoring the story. After a long pause, he opened them again, his expression eerily calm.
He took slow, deliberate steps to a nearby chair and sat down, muttering as if to himself, "What a story... A tale of paternal love, harmony, and the perfect family... except for that one troublesome child causing all the chaos. How perfect it would have been, if only not for him."
He chuckled softly. "Honestly, I've thought of many things, but I never expected that even if one tries to 'lay low' and avoid actions that defy common sense, others might still view you as an anomaly. It's clear that the difference in worlds is truly difficult to overcome."
He smiled faintly. "This works out for me, though. It gives me a reason to leave, an excuse to abandon this place without feeling guilty. After all, none of them truly welcome me here, and I have no reason to stay any longer. My leaving is for the best—for everyone."
Richard paused and then, almost as an afterthought, turned his gaze toward the still-sleeping baron and spoke quietly, " What sayest thou, my dear father—Baron Leo?"