Episode 84: Pride

“Ugh… ugh…”

Shock, humiliation, and terror—.

A powerful surge of nausea rose from the pit of Bertram’s stomach.

The aftertaste of the fine wine he’d savored just moments ago now seemed as unpleasant as muddy water.

“W-wait…!”

Bertram instinctively thrust out his hand. Forcing back the nausea, he desperately squeezed out his words.

“Wh-what… what do you plan to do with me!? You’re not saying you’d kill me as revenge for trying to deceive you, are you!?”

With a strained smile on his face, he desperately strung together his words.

“I am the commander of the Eastern Front Army and one of the Five Great Nobles! If you kill me… you’ll definitely get the death penalty! A-are you perhaps planning to expose my ties to the Serodonia Kingdom and justify my murder!? If that’s the case, you’d better not! Such a thing won’t hold—”

Bertram rattled on in rapid speech. As if to cut him off, Siegfried snapped his fingers.

Immediately after, the door opened. The one who appeared was a tall young man—Leon. He must have been waiting outside the door.

“Here you go.”

With that, Leon tossed something into the room. Then he promptly left and closed the door.

“Wh-what…?”

Bertram directed his gaze toward what had been thrown into the room. It was an object about the size of a human.

No, rather than saying it was about the size of a human—.

“Eek…!”

A scream escaped Bertram’s lips. What had been thrown into the room was—a human itself.

It was the corpse of Suneiras, a commander belonging to the Serodonia Kingdom army.

“—The plot goes like this.”

Siegfried spoke leisurely. As if he were simply reciting the summary of a play.

“Amid the confusion of the fire, this man from the Serodonia Kingdom army… Suneiras sneaks into the Eastern Front headquarters. Then, he attacks Commander Bertram in his bedroom. Suneiras is skilled, but since Commander Bertram’s life is on the line, he fights back desperately. In the end, after a fierce brawl… they take each other out, both dying. Two corpses are left in the room.”

“Wh-what!?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s staged to look exactly like that. The only concern is that Suneiras’s actual time of death is a bit too early…”

Siegfried directed his gaze toward Suneiras’s corpse.

The blood that had flowed from his body was already dry. This world didn’t have advanced autopsy techniques. However, if left like this, it might become obvious that he died before entering the room.

“Well… if I knock over that wine rack in the room and douse Suneiras’s corpse in wine, that should cover it up. During the fight, the shelf fell, and both the bed and the body got soaked in wine—if we make it look like that, no one will notice the dried blood. It’s just for peace of mind, but being wet will also slow the onset of rigor mortis.”

Siegfried smiled brightly. Telling his victim about the post-death staging in such detail—that was his way of showing courtesy to a villain.

“Now, shall we get started? —Well, for your life, it’s the ‘end.’”

With that, Siegfried drew the sword from the sheath at the waist of Suneiras’s corpse.

“Eek… w-wait! Wait, Captain Siegfried!”

Bertram’s voice cracked as he desperately attempted to beg for his life.

“Since you saw through my actions—that means you’ve also figured out that I’ve amassed a vast fortune through secret trade, right!? A-actually… most of that fortune has been converted to magic ore gold coins and hidden in a certain place. H-how about I give you 10% of it… no, 20%! N-no! Half! I’ll give you half! It’s my way of making amends for deceiving you! S-so… please forgive me…!”

“Oh, about that—I’ve already taken it.”

Siegfried said it casually.

“Eh…!?”

Bertram reflexively glanced toward the painting displayed in the corner of the room.

—No way. That’s ridiculous. He’d only confirmed just a few hours ago that the magic ore gold coins were in the safe behind that painting.

“—I see, so it’s there.”

Siegfried walked over to the painting… and tore it away.

What appeared from behind it was a seam in the wall and a magic circle drawn in its center.

“Hmm, it seems like a magic circle that activates with a specific person’s mana. —Excuse me.”

With that, he forcefully grabbed Bertram’s arm and dragged him in front of the wall.

“S-stop!”

Ignoring such a anguished cry, he pressed Bertram’s hand against the magic circle.

With a click, part of the wall opened. And what appeared was… the safe packed tightly with magic ore gold coins.

“Ah… aaaaah.”

Bertram leaned against the wall, letting out a wail-like scream.

Once again—he’d been manipulated by Siegfried. Lured by the words ‘I’ve already taken it,’ he’d unwittingly glanced at the safe.

In that instant, his own gaze had revealed the hiding place.

“Now the location of your hidden wealth is clear. By killing you, I get not just half, but all of it. —So, is there anything else?”

“Eh…?”

“I’m asking if you have any other means to beg for your life.”

“U… ugh…”

Bertram bit his trembling lips, desperately racking his brain. And—he reached a conclusion.

—It’s impossible.

There’s no plea that could make this man change his mind… none exists.

“It seems there isn’t. Then—farewell.”

“Eek… eeeeeek!”

Siegfried’s sword swung down mercilessly, slashing Bertram diagonally from shoulder to abdomen.

“Agh…! Ah… aaaah…!”

Dark red blood spurted out.

Had he deliberately avoided the heart? It wasn’t instant death—but with this amount of blood loss.

His life would end in a few minutes. Bertram understood that clearly.

“Ha… hahii.”

Crawling his hands along the wall, desperately supporting his body—Bertram reached out toward the safe. Not for the magic ore gold coins. Hidden even further inside… was a single painting.

Bertram dragged it out with stumbling hands.

The title of that painting was ‘Eternal Wealth and Glory.’

It depicted a theme from ancient mythology, showing a man chosen by the gods, surrounded by treasures and smiling.

Painted by the genius artist Felitza 400 years ago, it was a legendary masterpiece so rare that even a king of a nation would struggle to obtain it.

Among the collection Bertram had gathered over his lifetime, it was the supreme piece.

“Haa… haa…!”

Bertram clutched the painting to his chest. In that instant, all strength left his body, and his knees buckled. He collapsed backward onto his back.

“U… ah…”

His consciousness was fading.

Death was right there, approaching.

He’d lost everything. His schemes were shattered, his life was ebbing away, his wealth was being stolen.

But deep in his chest, there remained just one thing.

It was the pride of someone who loved art.

Bertram passed away, still holding that painting—the symbol of his pride—to his chest.

Being able to die with pride… perhaps that was his only salvation.

 

Episode 84.5: Deception

“Ah, right…”

Siegfried’s voice whispered in his ear.

As if triggered by that, Bertram’s fading consciousness was rapidly pulled back.

“Eh…?”

Before he knew it, the pain in his chest had vanished.

The wound, the bleeding—everything was gone.

(Wh… what…?)

This was none other than the result of Siegfried using his vampire blood to revive him.

But naturally, Bertram had no idea of the truth.

Ignoring his confusion that left him speechless, Siegfried continued speaking.

“There’s one thing—I need to tell you. This painting, Felitza’s ‘Eternal Wealth and Glory,’ right?”

Siegfried pointed to the painting Bertram held to his chest… and declared.

“That—it’s a fake.”

“Wh… what!?”

“Take a good look. The coloring in this blue section… it’s far too vivid. This pigment didn’t exist 400 years ago when Felitza was alive. Also, the canvas this painting is on. The fibers use tragisal grass, but there’s no record of Felitza ever using this material for his canvases. On top of that, the brushstrokes are rough, lacking dynamism…”

After explaining the reasons why this painting was a forgery one by one, Siegfried concluded like this.

“—Well, even as a fake, it’s pretty shoddy. The only ones who’d be fooled by something like this… are amateurs who mistakenly think they’re art connoisseurs.”

“That’s ridiculous… that’s…”

Bertram stared intently at the painting clutched to his chest.

This is real—he wanted to tell himself that.

But Siegfried’s points were spot on. There was no room left to deny the reality that it was a fake.

“Commander Bertram. You… didn’t really love art, did you? You were just intoxicated by the idea of yourself surrounded by expensive artworks. Otherwise, there’s no explaining how you couldn’t see through a fake of this level.”

“Uah…”

Bertram let out a dazed voice.

“Aaaah… aah… uaah…”

His voice turned into sobs, echoing emptily.

He—had even his last remaining love for art taken away.

No, to be precise, it wasn’t taken.

It was mercilessly exposed—that it had been a deception from the start.

“Wh-why… why…”

—Why did you tell me it’s a fake?

If I hadn’t known… I could have died believing it was real.

“Isn’t this the ending that suits you perfectly, Commander Bertram?”

Siegfried spoke gently.

“Your life was filled with deception. Deceiving enemies, betraying allies… and as a result, you built wealth and gained pride. Then, at the curtain call of your life, your wealth is stolen, and even your pride as a lover of art—is revealed to be false. For you, who lived adorned in deception, there’s no better way to end it.”

Siegfried understood. For villains, there are endings where they ‘die holding onto their pride.’

But—for Bertram, such an ending was utterly unfitting.

“If I may be so bold, I used you as a villain to create my own art. A man who lived by deception, dying after his deceptions are exposed—quite an ironic work of art, don’t you think?”

Siegfried raised his sword once more.

“Ah… uah, ah…”

The painting slipped from Bertram’s hands.

“Now, this time for real—farewell.”

The sword thrust out by Siegfried pierced Bertram’s chest without hesitation.

“Gah… hah… ah… aa, ah…”

Knowing that his own pride was false, Bertram—had nothing left to cling to.

He sank into the blood, holding only despair in his chest.

“Ah…”

In his final moment, what entered his eyes—was the fake he’d been embracing until just now.

The man in the painting smiled as if mocking Bertram.