I Became the Master of the Villain

Kian did not respond to the viscount’s petty provocation. Instead, he stared at the viscount with cold eyes and said,

“I won’t speak at length. I’ll pay the price—so hand her over to me.”
“Oh dear, that won’t be possible. During harvest season, even with many slaves, there’s never enough labor…”
Viscount Gelt yanked the nanny’s collar roughly and wore a sadistic grin on his lips.

“Even a useless slave like this is better than having none at all, wouldn’t you agree?”
That was the moment when Kian’s patience snapped.
A flash of blue light sliced through the air.

Clang!
The chain around the nanny’s neck was severed. The invisible blade also cut off the viscount’s fingers that had been gripping the collar.
“Aaaaagh!”

The viscount screamed in agony and clutched his right hand, blood pouring out. The places where his index and middle fingers had been were empty. The severed fingers rolled across the dirt-covered inn floor. Blood spouted endlessly from the open wounds, soaking the floor red.
Kian stepped into the pool of blood. Looking down at the viscount writhing in pain, he said coldly,
“Not only did you lay hands on someone important to me, but you also spoke carelessly about my origins and insulted me.”

An overwhelming killing intent poured from Kian. The viscount now looked up at him with eyes filled with terror.
“So you should be grateful I let you off with just two fingers instead of your life.”
That was a bloodlust he hadn’t sensed earlier. Only now did Viscount Gelt realize he had provoked someone he should never have touched. He had been enraged that a mage of slave origin had borrowed his property without permission. And so, unable to restrain his temper, he had come charging in himself…

But that foolish decision had now placed him on the verge of becoming a cripple.
Viscount Gelt grabbed the hem of Kian’s robe and begged,
“I apologize for my earlier rudeness. So please… please restore my hand!”

He bowed his head pathetically and pleaded. Kian looked down at him with indifferent eyes. Whether the viscount lived as a cripple for the rest of his life was of no concern to him.
But he didn’t want to startle the nanny too much.
After a moment of silence, he looked at the nanny and said,
“Fine. But I’ll be taking her with me.”

A one-sided declaration. But the viscount wasn’t in any position to object.
He nodded frantically.
“Y-yes, of course!”

Kian wrapped the severed fingers—now looking like a broken toy—in blue light. They floated into the air and reattached to the stumps.
After finishing the treatment, he said coldly,
“Now get out of my sight.”

“Y-yes!”
Viscount Gelt clutched his restored right hand tightly and fled the inn in a panic. Kian cast a single contemptuous glance at his retreating figure. Viscount Gelt was not the first to look down on him, steeped as he was in noble superiority. And people like that—foolish as they were—never acknowledged who stood above them unless they were crushed by force.
After Gelt disappeared, Kian restored the wrecked interior of the inn. Once he finished cleaning up, he turned back to the nanny. He severed the chains binding her hands and feet and extended his hand.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing left to do here.”
“Young master…”
Kian noticed her eyes growing red once again. Tears swelled, ready to overflow. The sorrow she couldn’t hide was evident in her gaze.

Kian recalled how Gelt had ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) spoken of him being a night servant.
‘Trash who flaps his mouth for no reason.’
The nanny parted her lips, trying to speak, but Kian gently cut her off.

“We’ll talk later. That would be better.”
He said it as if nothing had happened and even smiled. A young master who should have been treated with the utmost care had endured such terrible things.
A hot lump welled up in the nanny’s throat. She had so much she wanted to say, but the words caught in her mouth. Suppressing the wave of emotion rising within her, she took Kian’s hand.

***
Kian brought the nanny back to the mansion. She seemed a bit exhausted, so he let her rest first.
Once she had recovered some strength, Kian went to see her.

“Ah, young master.”
As Kian entered, the nanny sat up from the bed. Kian raised a hand to stop her, gesturing for her to stay lying down.
“Are you feeling better?”

“Thank you for your concern. I’m fine now.”
The nanny sat up with a gaunt expression. She was eager to continue the story from earlier.
For many long years, she had carried the truth alone and longed to finally share it. What had happened twenty years ago to the young master and the count and countess.

Kian understood how she felt. He opened his mouth first.
“You said my parents were falsely accused and killed… What exactly were they accused of?”
Her face darkened, as if recalling those memories. She spoke in a voice lowered by grief.

“The count and countess were accused of treason and killed.”
“Treason…”
“But they never plotted any rebellion. They were simply trying to reveal the truth about the sleep disease.”

Sleep disease?
Kian was taken aback by the unexpected term. He hadn’t imagined there could be any connection between the sleep disease and his parents’ deaths.
The sleep disease that had ravaged towns and cities throughout the Empire twenty years ago. Its cause and contagiousness were unknown—everything was a mystery.

While he briefly fell into thought, the nanny continued her story.
“The count and countess, who were mages affiliated with the Imperial Research Institute at the time, investigated the origins of the sleep disease. And they discovered that it was caused by forbidden magic.”
Forbidden magic. Wasn’t that the same magic Obelice had used recently to ‘awaken’ sleep disease patients?

Kian recalled what he knew. Forbidden magic referred to black magic that was taboo for ethical reasons. Six hundred years ago, due to the many social problems caused by black magic, the Emperor of the Rasione Empire eradicated it completely. All texts were destroyed, black mages were relentlessly persecuted, and their very existence erased.
Over time, forbidden magic faded from people’s memory.
‘So that’s why the connection between sleep disease and black magic was never known.’

Kian recalled what he had seen at Obelice’s mansion.
The patients who never woke. Their surviving families.
“If the sleep disease didn’t occur naturally… then innocent people were sacrificed because of someone’s malice.”

Kian said in a low, sunken voice. The nanny nodded.
“The count and countess tried to reveal the truth to prevent such tragedy from repeating… But the perpetrators already knew what they were planning.”
If the truth came to light, the Empire would be shaken, and the true culprit would never escape unscathed. So that someone framed his parents as traitors and killed them.

Kian slowly closed and opened his eyes. He ground out his words.
“The one who caused the sleep disease… is the one who killed my parents?”
The nanny nodded with a sorrowful look.

The one who killed his parents—who had only tried to do the right thing—and buried the truth.
Kian opened his mouth and asked,
“Who is the one responsible for my parents’ deaths?”

The nanny swallowed once, then said the name.
“Emperor Sigmund III of the Rasione Empire.”
***

In the northern region of the Empire, within Count Kestil’s territory. Laborers spent the entire morning sweating as they repaired the walls of the domain.
When the noon sun rose high, they paused their work and sat down for a snack. Rye bread, cheese, smoked herring, and other foods were taken out.
One laborer took a big bite of bread and said,

“Do you remember how monsters used to swarm beyond those walls?”
“Who could forget? I thought we were all gonna die back then.”
“But we survived thanks to His Highness Alexis.”

“That’s right. We all owe him our lives. He wiped out every last monster!”
One of the laborers guzzled his beer with satisfaction as he spoke. The others joined in, recalling that time together.
“Life has gotten so much better these past ten years, all thanks to His Highness protecting the North.”

“Before that, we could hardly live with all those monsters around.”
“Honestly, I wish he’d become Emperor. When danger strikes, he’s always the first to rush to help us. And he treats common folks like us kindly too…”
Just then, unfamiliar travelers passed by. Both wore hoods pulled low, their faces hidden.

One laborer glanced toward them and scolded his companion,
“Hey, watch your mouth. What if someone hears you?”
“We’re just talking among ourselves. Besides, who else among the nobles cares about the North besides His Highness Alexis? Even the lord here supports him.”

After the travelers moved on, another laborer chewed on his smoked herring and said,
“Well, I think we all feel the same. But the Crown Prince’s faction is so powerful…”
“Sigh, His Highness Alexis is the one who really deserves the throne.”

Hearing that conversation, the taller of the two travelers muttered,
“Lowborn trash…”
As he reached toward his sword, the shorter one stopped him with a gesture.

“There’s no need for that.”
They were saying Alexis was more fit to be Emperor than him?
Crown Prince Harrison scoffed at the notion.

Wasn’t it worth personally setting foot in this trash heap of a place?
Now he knew clearly: neither the lord nor his people were worth keeping alive.
After restraining his vassal, Harrison said,

“They’ll regret choosing the wrong master.”
No—regret wouldn’t even be possible. Because that required staying alive.
Once the magic circle activates, all the garbage can be dealt with at once. Originally, the plan had been to punish just part of the North…

But he had changed his mind.
Thinking of wiping the entire northern region off the map, Harrison found himself unable to hold back a smile.