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Chapter – 03
“Master.”
Maranello’s tone carried a hint of disappointment.
“Such an attitude is most unwise.”
“What’s wrong with my attitude?”
“Right now, you’re not showing any remorse for your crime. Instead, you seem intent on avoiding responsibility. I can assure you, if you continue like this, His Grace the Archduke will show you neither mercy nor leniency.”
Apparently, Maranello had completely misunderstood what Carlisle meant.
‘Can’t really blame him.’
Carlisle could understand Maranello’s reaction.
Based on the official report, it was an undeniable fact that Carlisle had killed Alberto.
He had drawn a blade and caused a scene at a tavern — dozens of witnesses had seen it happen.
With that kind of evidence, Maranello’s response was perfectly reasonable.
“I get what you’re saying, but that’s not it. Don’t worry. Do you think I’m stupid enough to try some cheap excuse to get out of this?”
“……That is usually how you behave, sir.”
“…….”
Oh, for crying out loud.
“Not this time.”
Carlisle said simply, turning back to the case file and reading carefully.
“So you really believe that?”
“Yeah.”
“You must have some basis for that.”
“It’s too early to say.”
Carlisle replied briefly, eyes scanning the report again.
Looking closer, there were oddities beyond just the witness statements.
‘Alberto… highly respected among the townsfolk. A decorated war veteran. Fought bravely in the barbarian wars in his youth. Two medals of honor, even.’
The man Carlisle was said to have killed was no pushover.
Sure, if he’d been sober and the circumstances right, maybe it was possible.
Carlisle had trained with a sword since childhood — he could handle back-alley thugs if he had to.
But Alberto wasn’t some drunk with a rusty blade.
He was a seasoned hunter who took mercenary work during monster surges — a strong, middle-aged man still in his prime.
On top of that, he was a war veteran — a man who’d faced real combat.
The idea that such a battle-hardened soldier had been killed by a drunken wastrel?
‘That’s laughable.’
Even the investigator had noted as much in the report — but the issue was, there were witnesses.
‘Like hell I’m going to trust a spy from House Loren.’
The Kingdom of Nürburgrk was a kind of confederation — thirteen noble houses, each ruling their own domain, constantly shifting between cooperation, rivalry, and hostility.
Carlisle knew that this “Jeffrey” who testified was one of Loren’s spies — a plant sent to infiltrate House Sigmund.
That was something revealed only if you played as Frey in the game Overlord — and not until more than ten years later.
Which meant, right now, Carlisle was the only person alive who knew it.
‘This might be part of a Loren scheme.’
There were too many suspicious details for the thought to be dismissed.
The problem was, no one was going to believe him.
Infamy: 311
Fame: –99
Reputation: –99
‘With a rep of –99, even if I said beans could ferment into soy paste, no one would believe me.’
Already hated as he was, if he spouted off in court about conspiracies, he’d only earn more scorn.
It was suspicious, yes — but not yet something he could prove.
‘There’s got to be a way to investigate this properly. There has to be.’
As he pondered, an idea suddenly flashed through his mind.
“Ah, right. That.”
“What is it, sir?” asked Maranello.
“I just thought of a way to find out exactly what happened that night.”
“What way?”
“Can you help me with something first?”
“What can this old man do to help, my lord?”
“Get me out of here. Tonight.”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that, young master.”
Maranello shook his head firmly.
“You are under house arrest. If anyone discovers you’ve left—”
“I know. But I still have to go.”
“And why is that?”
“I want to see the crime scene for myself. And… there’s someone I need to meet.”
“Still, I cannot allow it.”
“You don’t know that. What if I’m not the culprit? You’d have me sit here and wait to die?”
“That’s…”
“You know what’ll happen. If I stay quiet, Father will have me executed. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll just be exiled beyond the border — rot away out there for the rest of my life like a prisoner.”
“……”
“Please. Just this once. Help me.”
Maranello fell silent, torn.
He wanted to help, but the risk was enormous.
Disobeying the Archduke’s direct order was no small thing.
But after a long moment, he finally spoke.
“Just this once, then. I will never again defy His Grace’s command — not even for you.”
“I understand.”
Maranello’s loyalty was beyond question.
Among all the retainers of House Sigmund, none were more devoted than he.
Were it not for Carlisle’s life being at stake, he would sooner face a blade than disobey his liege’s orders.
That night.
“I’ll stand guard myself tonight. You men, go and rest.”
“B-but, sir—”
“I have matters to discuss privately with the young master. Go on, and return before dawn. Surely you trust this old man, don’t you?”
“If you insist, Sir Maranello…”
Once the knights had withdrawn, Maranello took Carlisle and slipped quietly out of the estate.
Because Maranello was widely respected, no one thought to question him.
‘He’s impressive. Even the Shadow Corps couldn’t pull this off so smoothly.’
Carlisle marveled at Maranello’s strength as the old man carried him effortlessly through the night.
Maranello, the butler of House Sigmund, was far from an ordinary servant.
He had once been known as The Reaper of the North — a warrior of legendary skill.
Though he had laid down his sword twenty years ago after a certain incident, his strength still ranked among the top three in the entire household.
‘Maybe even number one.’
As Carlisle was thinking this, they arrived at their destination.
“This is the place you mentioned, young master.”
“Let’s see…”
Carlisle studied the decrepit shack, trying to recall his memory.
‘Yeah, this should be it.’
He wasn’t entirely sure, but it looked like the right house — the one belonging to the person he needed to see.
“Wait here.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Leaving Maranello behind, Carlisle knocked on the door.
Knock, knock.
“Who’s there?”
The door creaked open, revealing a sleepy young girl rubbing her eyes.
Her light green hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
“Evangeline, right?”
“Ah, yes. That’s me. But… who are you?”
“Carlisle von Sigmund.”
He pulled back his hood, revealing his face.
“Gasp!”
Evangeline froze, her eyes wide in terror.
She stumbled backward, voice trembling.
“P-please don’t hurt me, m-my lord! I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“……”
A wry smile tugged at Carlisle’s lips.
‘Well, of course she’s terrified. The murderous noble shows up at her door in the middle of the night.’
He raised a hand calmly.
“Relax. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“B-but…”
“Really. I just came to ask for a favor.”
“A… favor?”
“Yeah. There’s something I need you to do.”
He said this, placing a pouch of gold coins on her worn table with a soft thud.
“I-I can’t! No matter how much you pay, I would never—!”
“What kind of nonsense are you thinking?”
Carlisle frowned.
“Did you seriously think I came here to buy you?”
“I—I’m sorry, sir. That was rude of me. Please forgive me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Some men… have made those kinds of offers before…”
“Well, there are scumbags everywhere, but—wait. Are you saying you thought I was one of them?”
“I-I’m sorry! It’s just… I heard rumors that you frequent the red-light district…”
“……”
Carlisle was speechless.
“I—…quit.”
“Pardon?”
“I said I’ve quit that.”
“……”
Evangeline didn’t push the matter.
If the infamous noble lost his temper, she could easily end up dead.
“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Let’s drop that and get to the point.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“You…”
Carlisle began speaking to Evangeline.
‘Good heavens. What on earth is he thinking?’
From a distance, Maranello watched, confused.
The person Carlisle was so desperate to meet turned out to be a poor commoner girl.
‘What help could she possibly offer?’
It wasn’t that he looked down on commoners.
But given the dire circumstances, a young peasant girl didn’t seem like much of an ally.
Even so, Maranello didn’t interfere.
The young master seemed to have a plan, however mysterious it was.
‘Hmm. The young master really has changed.’
Having served Carlisle for years, Maranello knew him well.
And the change in his demeanor was impossible to miss.
‘He’s calm now. Composed. Barely even angry. A little cynical, perhaps… but it’s a far cry from before.’
And that wasn’t all.
He hadn’t touched alcohol, hadn’t cursed at the servants —
Frankly, given his past behavior, it was a miracle he hadn’t exploded already.
‘Maybe it’s the head injury?’
On rare occasions, people who’d nearly died or suffered major head trauma came back… different.
Carlisle fit both categories, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange.
‘If this means the young master’s turning over a new leaf… that would be a blessing.’
Though perhaps, Maranello thought wistfully, it might already be too late for redemption.
