The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 69

“Well, I guess everything works out for the best.”

Bark! Meow!

While the distant sounds of dogs and cats echoed, not a single rat could be seen as Si-on leisurely strolled through the streets of the Pamel Count’s territory.

Without any trouble, he scaled the walls of the Count’s castle.

“Let’s see.”

It had been almost half a century since Si-on last visited the Pamel Count’s castle, so it was a little confusing.

However, since not only his body but also his brain remained in a lively state, much like someone in their mid-twenties, he quickly recalled his old memories and located the Count’s bedroom.

“Hmm. Something feels off.”

Si-on found it odd that there were no guards patrolling, even outside the Count’s bedroom, let alone within the castle itself.

That said, there wasn’t anything particularly alarming to his senses.

Indeed, no one was on guard, and everyone in the castle seemed to be comfortably asleep, as if under the effects of a mass sleep spell.

Nevertheless, Si-on didn’t completely let his guard down.

When he dealt with Gede and Hozat, he had roughly gauged the number and composition of their forces and had been prepared to kill everyone if necessary.

But now was different.

He wasn’t sure exactly who was inside the lord’s castle, and he couldn’t kill everyone, so staying unnoticed was crucial.

‘Well, killing everyone and leaving no witnesses would still count as assassination.’

Si-on quietly smiled in the darkness at such a ruthless thought and slowly opened the door to the Count’s bedroom.

As soon as the door creaked open, two distinct, faint breathing sounds greeted his ears.

Even though the bedroom was spacious, with a distance of nearly 10 meters between the door and the bed, Si-on could hear them clearly.

From one of the breathing patterns, low and steady, it seemed like the Count was sleeping with a woman.

However.

‘Oh?’

The moment Si-on stepped into the bedroom, the once-low and regular breathing abruptly stopped.

While it was improper to think this, Si-on couldn’t help but grin in the dark, intrigued by this sudden “variable” that had emerged.

Without making a sound, Si-on quietly moved toward the place where the breathing had ceased.

The room was enveloped in darkness, with not even a sliver of moonlight filtering in, but Si-on could see the entire scene perfectly.

His body grew faint.

Without moving his upper body even slightly, he slid his feet forward, closing the 10-meter distance in an instant and standing at a specific spot.

Snore… Snore…

Next to the head of the Count’s bed, someone was sitting in a chair, sleeping lightly.

It was so dark, and Si-on had approached so silently and quickly that the man didn’t seem to notice that Si-on was standing right in front of him, holding a dagger aimed at him.

But that wasn’t the case.

“To be honest, I had my doubts.”

From the darkness, the man lifted his gaze to meet Si-on’s.

“My father once mentioned it, and His Majesty the King also told me before I came here, but it was hard to believe. A human living over a hundred years without aging? Sigh…”

With a light sigh, the man continued, wearing a bitter expression.

“I suppose I owe His Majesty 100 Diens. I lost our bet.”

“That old king hasn’t changed, despite his age. And you’re someone sent by Marco?”

“Yes. Officially, I’ve been tasked with mediating the dispute between the Pamel Count family and the Si-on Ducal family, but unofficially, I was ordered to meet you, Lord Si-on.

Ah, may I address you as Lord Si-on? After all, you’ve already retired and are no longer the Duke.”

“Sure.”

Si-on chuckled and put away his dagger.

Now that the killing intent that had almost grazed the man’s forehead was gone, the man slowly stood and bowed politely.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time. My name is Joan Tever. You can call me Joan. I serve His Majesty as one of the Court Visounts and hold the position of Second Secretary.”

“Tever? Are you by chance related to Kilro Tever?”

“He’s my father.”

“So, that’s how you noticed me coming in.”

Si-on’s instincts were correct.

He had recognized the man’s face, which resembled that of one of the king’s secret guards, disguised as a secretary, whom he had last seen about 30 years ago.

“How’s your father doing?”

“He retired and passed away three years later.”

“I see. So, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be guarding Marco?”

“My younger brother is better suited for the role of bodyguard to His Majesty. My primary duty is as a secretary, though my father did teach me a few tricks.”

Given that he had stopped breathing the moment the door opened, it was clear he had learned well from his father, who was more of an assassin than a bodyguard.

“Alright. In any case, why did Marco send you to me?”

The current king was aware of Si-on’s existence.

Also, given that their relationship was still like that of an uncle and nephew, Si-on didn’t think the king had sent his closest aide to hinder or annoy him.

“His Majesty instructed me to cooperate fully with you, Lord Si-on.”

“Cooperate? With me?”

“Yes. Specifically, regarding anything related to you and the Pamel Count family. No matter what action you take, we are to offer you unconditional support.”

“Oh.”

The current king, Marco Obla, and Si-on had an excellent relationship.

Although it had been quite some time since they last saw each other, theirs was the kind of bond that remained unchanged even without frequent contact.

However, both the king and Si-on had lived too long and held too high and heavy positions to offer such favors without any conditions.

“Marco must have a favor to ask of me.”

“…You really are remarkable.”

“Well, this much is easy. After all, I’ve known your king for a long time.”

“I was actually referring to His Majesty the King.”

“What?”

As Si-on looked at him in confusion, Joan Tever subtly lifted the corners of his lips and spoke.

“His Majesty said, ‘If Uncle Si-on doesn’t bring up the fact that I have a favor to ask first, don’t mention it.’ But he laughed, saying you probably would.”

“Damn.”

Si-on grinned.

His nephew was just as adorable as ever, even in his old age.

But regardless of whether his nephew was over 80 years old, there was no way an uncle could stay quiet after being outwitted by him.

“The favor he wants to ask, it’s about the throne, isn’t it?”

“…Yes, it is.”

“Why didn’t you call me remarkable? I saw that twitch in your eyebrow just now.”

“Well, you’re amazing. His Majesty and you are remarkably similar.”

Joan Tever bowed his head, leaving unsaid the obvious: that both of them were surprisingly childish for their age.

“Right. You may have a sharp tongue for a weakling, but you’re just as cocky as your father was.”

“….”

“In any case, from what I can tell, you already have a good idea of what I’m planning, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been waiting here.”

“Yes. I’ve been here every night since I arrived at the castle.”

“Good.”

Si-on rather liked Joan.

Despite hearing directly from the king, Joan had remained doubtful of Si-on’s existence, which indicated that he was rational and calm rather than blindly obedient.

And the fact that he wasn’t shaken after confirming the existence of an immortal being meant he was mentally tough as well.

A person like this would handle tasks efficiently.

Si-on moved without making a sound and climbed onto the bed.

Like a parent tucking in a child, he pulled the blanket up to the Pamel Count’s neck, which had slipped down to his abdomen.

Then, kneeling on top of the Count’s body, he grabbed the large pillow lying on the bed and placed it over the Count’s face.

Shhhh—

Si-on pressed down hard with the pillow as he straddled the Count’s body.

The slight Pamel Count, crushed beneath the superhuman strength that could take down mountain lions and bears, couldn’t move an inch.

So strong was Si-on’s grip that the Count couldn’t even manage a muffled cry.

About three minutes passed before Si-on stood up again.

Perhaps because he had suffocated on the soft pillow, the Count’s face was surprisingly intact, aside from his wide, bulging eyes and the drool around his mouth.

“Take care of the cleanup. It looks like he only pissed himself, no feces, so it shouldn’t smell too bad.”

“…Understood.”

“I’ll be back in two days with my people. You’ll have everything sorted out by then, right?”

“I’ll take care of the potential heirs. You’ll choose among them yourself, I assume?”

“Yeah. I’ll be going now.”

Si-on waved his hand and silently opened the bedroom door, leaving as quietly as he had entered.

After a moment, Joan wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“That man is a monster. I’m so glad I didn’t inherit the family business.”

The moment Si-on entered, Joan had instinctively held his breath.

From the way he had moved toward Joan, it was clear that Si-on could have driven the dagger into his forehead as soon as he’d opened the door, had he wished.

“If Duke Si-on ever targeted His Majesty’s life…”

Even if his late father had been resurrected and joined forces with both him and his brother, Joan felt they still wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“No, I have to think of it differently.”

Could it really be that there hadn’t been a single instance of rebellion or assassination attempts during the 60-year reign of the current king?

Surprisingly, there hadn’t.

At least, none had been made public.

Everyone attributed it to luck, and Joan had been one of those people. But today, he had uncovered a piece of the truth.

“It’s truly terrifying.”

How many similar “favors” and “deals” had the king and Duke Si-on exchanged over the past 60 years?

Joan unintentionally let out a bitter laugh before frowning slightly.

The smell of the urine that the Count had expelled in his final moments was quite strong.

Looking over the Count’s corpse and the bed, Joan thought for a moment before moving his body.

“The Count woke up in the middle of the night, feeling hungry. He tried to call for a servant but noticed the tray of fruit nearby.”

Joan reached out, picked up a few pieces of fruit from the tray, and dropped them onto the bed.

“His throat was a bit dry, so the Count decided to eat some grapes. He plucked the largest, most appetizing grape and ate it, but…”

Joan plucked a large grape and shoved it into the dead Count’s throat.

“Unfortunately… still half asleep, the grape got stuck in his throat.”

Joan began the “cleanup” that he had promised Si-on.

***

The next morning.

The body of the Pamel Count was discovered in his bedroom, having suffocated on a large grape.

The Pamel Count’s household was thrown into chaos, as expected, just as they were about to march to war.

The vassals and administrators, who thought the stress was over, found themselves facing a situation ten times worse, plunging into collective panic.

For a lord to die on the day of the expedition—an unprecedented disaster.

Had it not been for the myriad crises they’d faced in the past month, perhaps the Count’s vassals could have recovered quickly from the shock and calmly discussed the next steps to respond.

But after enduring a month of hardship to complete a project, only to be told:

– Hey, sorry, but the client canceled. You need to redo everything from scratch, so come back immediately.

How would that feel?

And then, five minutes later, while they’re on their way back (still in a state of panic):

– This is Chief Joo from the client. We’ll handle it ourselves, so you can go ahead and take your vacation.

How would that feel?

That’s right.

Even though the sky had collapsed (since their “heaven,” the great lord, had died) and the Pamel Count’s vassals were wailing in shock and horror, while they didn’t have a Chief Joo from the client, they did have Joan, the Secretary of the Kingdom of Obla.