Chapter 670
“Hidden secret?”
Simon tilted his head in puzzlement.
Count Voldemont leaned forward, eyes glinting.
“Exactly. So, why don’t you join hands with me?”
A sudden proposal for an alliance.
“I’ve been receiving reports of your every move. Your impressive achievements in Keyzen, how you became Grand Duke Jin’s disciple without forging any personal ties. You even blocked an arrow shot by Grand Duke Jin herself! The same arrow that killed the eldest of the Three Brothers in a single strike!”
The count spread his palm.
“Your strength would be useful. Work with me!”
He was only flattering this side, without revealing his own cards yet.
Simon’s lukewarm reaction made the count chuckle.
“Fine, good. I’ll share something highly confidential.”
The count laced his fingers together, his face turning serious.
“Resources! In the North, precisely near Frost Field, lies an enormous deposit of underground resources! From what I’ve already confirmed, there are eleven mana-stone mines and even two sapphire mines!”
He spread his arms wide.
“Can you imagine? You and I, our entire houses, living in abundance for generations without lifting a finger to earn coin! Those barbaric northerners don’t even realize its worth! Even if you explain it, they don’t care! They claim it has no meaning to their way of life filled with strife. Fools who only know how to fight! Just picking up a few of the gems lying around could build them a grand mansion in the warm, peaceful South where they’d never have to see a monster again.”
He clapped his palms together.
“Let’s do it! Ten percent!”
Then he pointed straight at Simon’s chest.
“I’ll give you ten percent of all profits! Let’s flip the world upside down! Let’s kick those pompous high nobles right in the backside…!”
“Wait.”
Simon raised his palm, and the excited count blinked.
“Not satisfied with the terms? Then fifteen percent?”
“No, no. The premise itself doesn’t make sense.”
Simon sighed inwardly before speaking.
“The North belongs to the Grand Duke. How do you plan to take the mines?”
“To be precise, all of the North except for Frost Field belongs to the Grand Duke. So there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already drawn up a watertight plan! Since the northerners don’t know the value of underground resources, just tweaking a contract a little is enough to take ownership of the mines.”
He’s already thought as far as contracts, Simon thought bitterly.
“We’ve only just eliminated the Three Brothers. Isn’t it too hasty?”
“Is it, really?”
Count Voldemont smiled meaningfully.
“Losing the Three Brothers leaves the North Star with nothing. The North Star is terrifying only because he commands countless undead, but the body itself has no combat ability! He’ll never be able to stop the Grand Duke. This war is already as good as over.”
Once more, his fingertip pointed at Simon.
“What matters is that while everyone else is focused solely on defeating the North Star, we must look further and plan for what comes after!”
“……”
Simon closed his eyes.
He still wasn’t revealing the important card, only circling around. Young as he was, Count Voldemont was no ordinary man.
With opponents like this—
“When the war ends, you’re asking me to betray the Grand Duke?”
It was better to strip away pretense and strike at the core.
For a fleeting instant, Simon noticed the count’s finger tremble slightly. But his smiling face remained unchanged.
“Not betrayal. Just efficient handling of matters for everyone’s sake. All of it for the North.”
The count proudly tapped his chest.
“I never said I’d hog the profits for myself, did I? After the war with the North Star, the North will inevitably change. No more need for pride in guardianship, courage, or fighting skills. I’ll free them from the struggle for food and shelter, and let northerners live like proper human beings, enjoying what should be enjoyed.”
He tapped his chin.
“Of course, in the new North after the war, freaks like Grand Duke Jin—monsters beyond reason—won’t be needed. Well, if she’d volunteer for the Holy Federation’s frontlines, that’d be just perfect.”
From their conversation, Simon felt many things.
The resentment and attachment toward the North, where he had lived for over ten years. The inferiority complex toward the Grand Duke, who possessed absolute strength and charisma.
And above all—
“You.”
Simon quietly fixed his gaze on Count Voldemont.
“You deny the culture of the North.”
Resentful of the North, yet denying its culture—such duality.
“That’s right.”
The count raised his hand, admitting it without hesitation.
“Have you ever tried earning the northerners’ recognition?”
“I don’t see the need for barbaric approval.”
For the first time, the count’s relaxed expression turned sharp.
“I built railways connecting North and South! I struck deals with merchant groups to secure food flawlessly! I supplied all necessary goods without shortage, and brought in diverse cultures. I did my part for the North! Yet all they did was mock me as a money-grubbing miser, sneering at me!”
His face flushed red.
“Ten years! I came here at nine years old, and I’ve lived in the North for ten years! And they still call me an ‘outsider’ or a ‘southerner’! I’ve lived here longer than I lived in the South! Without me, they would’ve frozen and starved to death during winter!”
Bang!
He slammed the armrest.
“Why! Why is anyone who doesn’t fight treated like trash here? People have different strengths! I am…!”
He bit his lip hard, as though the next words must never be spoken. Soon he exhaled slowly, his emotions cooling.
“Sorry, friend. That was disgraceful of me.”
“It’s fine.”
As a fellow outsider, Simon understood his feelings.
From his first day in the North, warriors had picked fights with him. On the second day, they retaliated. Simon could handle it because he had strength, but what about those without power?
And then.
Simon recalled the servants he saw in this mansion.
They could easily be mistaken for common house servants, but chains marks marred their wrists and necks.
Likely criminals who fled to the North.
Yet unable to survive here, they were taken in by Count Voldemont.
The Duke had her own justice.
The Count had his own justice.
Which path to choose?
“Simon.”
Count Voldemont extended two fingers toward him.
“Twenty percent of all mine profits. Honestly, with the North’s reconstruction, finances are already stretched thin, but this is the best I can offer.”
“……”
“Who knows how long you’ll stay in the North before returning to Keyzen? But life as a necromancer is costly, isn’t it?”
A sly grin tugged at his lips.
“By the time you return to Keyzen, you’ll be the greatest capitalist in all of Keyzen! Ah, of course, I’m not asking you to decide right away. Think it over slowly, and—”
“No, I’ll answer right now.”
Simon stood up and grabbed his coat.
* * *
Simon left.
Count Voldemont clasped his hands behind his back and silently gazed out the window.
—Sorry, but I’ll pretend I never heard that proposal.
That was Simon’s reply.
The count’s lips twisted into a bitter smile as he stared outside, watching Simon return alone to the Grand Duke’s castle.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Milord Count.”
“Enter.”
An elderly butler entered.
“The Student Council President Simon…”
“Regrettably, it seems I couldn’t draw him to our side.”
Count Voldemont turned around.
“There is no longer a choice. Maintain the plan as it is.”
The butler bowed deeply.
“Yes, I will obey the Count’s command.”
* * *
The next morning.
Simon reported for duty at the Duke’s castle as usual.
The warriors scattered throughout the streets and the fortress looked perfectly fine, despite the fact they had drowned themselves in alcohol the night before.
The traces of duels had been cleaned up neatly, and the wounded simply tied on a few bandages, cheerfully rising to prepare for the next battle.
The decisive battle against the North Star isn’t far off now.
Simon, as a Legion Commander, had to grow even further. With renewed determination, he knocked firmly on the office door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“It’s Simon.”
Boom!
Crash-bang-bang!
From inside came a loud commotion, the sound of hurried footsteps darting around. Startled, Simon knocked again.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all! Do not come in yet!”
After a short while—
Simon stepped inside. The room was tidy and orderly, as if nothing had happened. Seated with her back turned in the chair was the black-haired woman.
“You’re in uniform today, not training clothes?”
Simon sat down on the guest sofa.
“I can’t train all the time, can I not?”
She replied without turning around. Simon glanced at the training jacket sticking out from the drawer.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Simon carried on casual conversation as usual, but the Duke’s responses felt different.
Sometimes curt, sometimes after a pause.
And most of all—since the moment they met in the office, she hadn’t once turned to face Simon.
Sweat trickled down Simon’s temple.
‘Did… did I do something wrong?’
Maybe when he carried the drunken Duke to her chambers last night, he had acted improperly, said something offensive?
But if it wasn’t that sort of mistake.
“…Um.”
Simon raised his head, fixing his gaze squarely on the Duke.
“I met with Count Voldemont yesterday.”
Many warriors had seen him talking with the count’s servant, and then Simon vanished from the banquet. Surely people guessed he had gone to meet the count.
Since there could be rumors, it might be better to speak plainly here.
“I see.”
Still, she did not turn.
“He knew my name and exact identity, so I wanted to confirm it for myself.”
“Yes.”
The Duke shrugged her shoulders.
“Obvious. He must have proposed some sort of deal with you.”
Spoken as if she had expected it.
Simon nodded.
“Whatever was said in there, whether you accepted or not, I don’t care.”
The Duke rose from her seat.
“You and I, too, are in a transactional relationship. I teach you, and you assist me. That’s all. It’s no problem if you strike another deal elsewhere.”
Simon smiled faintly as she spun around and walked forward.
“Come. The day of reckoning draws near. Today we train in live combat.”
“Yes!”
Yet even as he followed her out, the Duke never once looked back at him.
Simon scratched his head.
Meanwhile—
‘How troublesome.’
The Duke ran her palm down her forehead.
‘I could simply ask, so why am I dragging it out so uncharacteristically?’
She cast a furtive glance at Simon.
But when their eyes nearly met, she quickly turned away.
Ever since yesterday, she hadn’t been able to look him properly in the eye. Because that face… kept overlapping with another.
‘He resembles him. So uncannily, it’s absurd.’
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