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chapter 14
To be honest, my first impression of him was scary. But now, his image feels… different. He’s like a villain obsessed with housework, but secretly patient and kind. As long as you don’t press his anger button, everything is fine.
I shook my head vigorously.
“As long as you don’t take it out on me. If you hit me once, I’d die instantly.”
“Yes, I’m already careful. You look like you’d break if I so much as touched you.”
“If you ever find someone you want to kill, just promise me you’ll try to solve it legally instead. Promise.”
Sure, people say one murder is worth three moments of patience, but I really hoped he’d be patient three times over. Because if he killed someone, another person would come for revenge, the police would show up, and it would just be such a hassle.
He ignored the little pinky finger I held out for a promise and simply replied:
“Alright. I don’t really want to anyway. I don’t want to get numb to death.”
The way he had handled that corpse earlier, treating it like an object—that must’ve been the effect of the war.
The wars in this world are on a whole other level compared to the ones in mine. Supernatural powers mixed with modern civilization.
He must have watched countless comrades die in a single day, and seen corpses pile up like mountains. I squeezed Dante’s hand tightly and gave him the gentle smile of a healing counselor.
“I’ve never been to a battlefield, so I don’t know, but… I can imagine how hard it must’ve been. Always forced into that terrible choice—kill or be killed.”
The law bans murder, yet the state orders soldiers to commit legal murder in war. What a contradiction.
In the original story, he had gone to war on the emperor’s orders. At just twelve years old. A child soldier.
“Yes. Now I plan to do the things I like.”
His calm gaze lingered on my hand, wrapped around his. Well, “wrapped around” was an exaggeration—the size difference was so huge it was more like my hand was swallowed up by his.
I raised my voice firmly.
“Focus on housework and forget about all the bad thoughts. I’ll make sure to mess things up even more so you’ll have plenty to do.”
Dante, no more rebellions—just live happily ever after with your master, okay~!
I whispered the words like a cheesy line from a nature documentary and smiled with my eyes.
The lips that had been pressed in a straight line loosened just a little.
“…It was me.”
The culprit behind the locked-room murder case was right under my nose.
None other than Matthias, sitting on my sofa.
He confessed calmly and then, with an arrogant expression, added:
“So what?”
“You made me suspect Dante! When I was about to be beaten to a pulp you didn’t help, and then you just swooped in at the end like a coward—”
Matthias raised a finger and elegantly drew a line in the air. My mouth sealed shut, like a zipper closing.
“Mmff, mmff! (What the—open it!)”
“To keep you from being suspected, I let the redhead live and put jewels in the hands of the dead men. I’d say that was considerate enough.”
“Mmrrff?! (Are you insane?)”
“Because of the redhead, word will spread that I’m still alive. That’ll scare off some of the small fry. The fact you didn’t realize my blueprint… disappointing.”
Wait—so you’re saying more of them are going to show up?! You incompetent bastard!
Matthias, catching the curses in my eyes, smirked faintly.
“But from now on, there will be people targeting you—the manager of this mansion.”
What am I now, some final boss that martial artists need to defeat? Why do I have to be a subjugation target?!
“Why me, you lunatic?!”
The seal must’ve come undone, because the curse slipped out. A wave of dread hit me, like the feeling of sending the wrong message in the company group chat—only this was worse, like badmouthing your boss.
Matthias raised one disapproving eyebrow. I flinched and took a step back.
“That was… practice. For insulting future challengers.”
“Shall I silence you forever?”
“No, sir. I just want to know why my life is suddenly in danger.”
Matthias sipped his tea slowly, eyes half-lidded.
“Because you signed a contract with me. I can only exist here through a contract. Which means people will try to kill you to break it, or use you instead.”
“So basically, I get harassed because of your overwhelming power. If I die, it’s 200% your fault.”
He ignored me and continued.
“Before coming here, you visited other mansions, didn’t you?”
He must mean the underground prison and that crooked house. I nodded.
“Yes. Miserable dumps, the both of them.”
“They too had masters. Inferior to me, of course, but once… comrades.”
Oh, so you knew them? Why didn’t you just say so? I quickly backpedaled.
“I mean, compared to this wonderful place, those houses looked shabby as a beggar’s hovel!”
“Your choosing this mansion and signing with me was most likely fate.”
It wasn’t fate—it was just the least terrible option, and you were offering money.
Still, saying that out loud wouldn’t do me any good, so I quietly shifted the topic.
“Ah… well, I couldn’t go inside the tilted house. The slope was too steep. But I did see the skeleton in the underground prison. Only for a moment, but I felt attached already.”
Matthias didn’t respond. Stroking his chin, he gazed off into the distance, like someone lost in old memories.
“The last time I saw them was at the steam locomotive trial run, wasn’t it? We used to make wagers from time to time…”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Please don’t tell me I’m caught in some godly drinking game between ancient mansion lords.
“What kind of bets—like fighting each other’s tenants, loser’s house gets wrecked?”
“Anyway. You only need to manage this mansion well, as my contractor.”
Classic aristocratic dodging. Such noble evasiveness. I covered my face with both hands.
“I can’t fight! I’d lose to a squirrel throwing acorns!”
“The strong attract the strong. Allies will come. Depending on how you handle them, they could be benefactors… or demons.”
What was this, summer camp counselor wisdom?
After dropping his cryptic lines, he disappeared.
Ah—right, I was supposed to ask him about the Philosopher’s Stone. Whatever. Next time.
It was past midnight, a late spring rain pattering outside.
Just before bed, Dante came to my room, saying he’d check things for me. This man came to clean multiple times a day—it was exhausting.
Maybe it was his military background, but it felt like nightly roll call. Tonight would be no different: cleanliness inspection, followed by nagging.
His sharp eyes scanned the room, then landed on my face.
“…Did you eat snacks in bed again?”
“H-how do you know that?”
I could’ve sworn I cleaned up! Did he spot some microscopic crumb I missed?
Dante narrowed his eyes and stepped toward me. He bent down to my eye level, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“I know everything.”
In a low whisper, his long fingers brushed my cheek. His thumb pressed at the corner of my mouth, rubbing lightly. His hands were beautiful, but the hardened calluses gave them a rough edge.
“Your face gives it away.”
“Uh…”
Wait. Did he mean “gives it away,” or did he just find a crumb on my mouth? I thought I’d erased all the evidence, but apparently not.
In his lake-blue eyes, I saw my own flustered expression reflected back. Feeling oddly uneasy, I shuffled backward.
“But why… why do you focus only on my room?”
I rubbed my suddenly burning cheek, annoyed. Dante tilted his head slightly, still expressionless.
“Your room is the most fun.”
The most fun? Did he mean the mess gave him joy, or that my reactions were amusing? I couldn’t tell.
He handed me freshly laundered pajamas.
“You should throw away clothes you don’t wear.”
“I don’t have unworn clothes. If I throw them out, what am I supposed to wear?”
“Your pajamas are too old. Why not throw those out at least? Or… are they sentimental?”
Sentimental pajamas? That term usually meant a ratty, threadbare rag you couldn’t let go of out of twisted attachment. Was mine really that bad?
“I only have this one pair. They were regular clothes once, but they wore out, so now they’re pajamas.”
I put on a tragic expression. Dante’s blue eyes widened a little. His voice softened.
“…Is it that hard for you?”
“Nope. I’ve got savings, and I earn 4 million gibs a month.”
“With that income, you should be comfortable. Why scrimp?”
“I’m saving up for another house. I plan to rent this one out for passive income.”
Also, once assassins come for me, I’ll need a hideout. If I keep the deed in my name, I can just move around and collect rent.
Dante, unaware of my grim circumstances, looked genuinely surprised.
“I wondered, since you don’t seem to work much… turns out you’ve been earning money.”
“Well, I do manage the mansion… but honestly, it’s basically unemployment.”
“So you’re a real estate investor.”
I didn’t bother correcting his impressive deduction. I didn’t really have another explanation anyway.
“It’s late. You should sleep now.”
He walked to the window and drew the blackout curtains. At that moment—
Rrrumble—
The floor and walls shook violently.
No way… Matthias’s ominous warning flashed through my mind.
