Chapter 89
As they entered the edge of the village, the sudden darkness that clouded the lord’s face worried Handsome.
“My lord, are you all right?”
Even at Handsome’s question, Donghui kept his gaze fixed on the scenery outside the carriage. His mind was too tangled to know where to even begin speaking.
It felt like looking at North Korea.
He had never actually been there, but the desolate scenery overlapped with what he had seen in news clips or movies. Children on the street, skin and bones, looked at the passing carriage with eyes full of suspicion, while parents held their children close as if shielding them, glaring at the carriage with hostility. It was like they were staring at a lifelong enemy of their family.
He thought he was used to wary stares, but the villagers’ reaction here felt different.
Sharper. Rougher. Almost like raw, unprocessed killing intent.
What on earth had Chloe Grace done to these people? He worried, even felt fear. His hands clenched into tight fists on his knees, knuckles turning white.
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The villagers’ favorability has decreased by 10.
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The villagers’ favorability has decreased by 10.
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The villagers’ favorability has decreased by 10.
The closer the carriage drew to the village, the more frequently the messages appeared, until the screen before his eyes was almost filled with nothing but lines declaring their decreasing favorability.
The first time he had seen such a message, he’d felt indifferent, as though glancing at a newspaper article that had nothing to do with him—annoyed, maybe, but not hurt. These weren’t even real people, so their hostility meant nothing.
But now those simple words on the screen pierced his heart.
‘Turn off the system window.’
Watching it wouldn’t stop the decrease, so Donghui shut the system window down. Yet the words lingered like afterimages before his eyes. He closed them altogether instead.
Handsome, too, felt his body tense at the murderous air that hung over the village. If even he felt this stiff, how much heavier must it weigh on the lord? He wanted to say something comforting, but lacking the right words, only opened and closed his mouth in vain.
At last, the carriage reached the village entrance. Red Bear, who had been on guard, nervously opened the carriage door. The atmosphere was so hostile that no one would have been surprised if stones had started flying. The other knights also stood on high alert. But though tension blanketed the village like a drawn bowstring, no one actually moved.
Even with a noble carriage arriving—no, the lord’s own carriage—not a single villager came out to greet them.
“Fetch the village chief.”
When Donghui gave the order upon stepping down, one knight hurried off into the village.
A moment later, the chief appeared, and Donghui’s face immediately darkened.
Unlike the villagers, who looked like wooden puppets, emaciated and dull, the chief’s face glistened with health. His clothes were neat. Unlike Hof or Kind, who looked even worse than their people, this man was the opposite.
As he dismounted from his horse, a servant supporting him stumbled for some reason, nearly making the chief fall. Furious, the chief kicked the servant to the ground.
“Useless fool!”
The servant fell with a splash of muddy water. A few stains dotted the chief’s clothes, and his eyes blazed. He stomped hard on the servant’s back before he could rise.
“You bastard!”
“Ugh!”
The servant, who had barely started to get up, collapsed again under the chief’s kick.
“Do you know how much this is worth? Tch!”
Clicking his tongue, the chief composed himself and approached Donghui, bowing deeply with courtesy.
The man seemed completely different from the one who had been violently abusing a servant just seconds earlier.
He looked no older than his early thirties, with fair skin, a thick mane of golden hair, smiling eyes, and a tall frame. Not as handsome as Handsome, perhaps, but attractive enough. Yet the slimy gleam in his eyes ruined any favorable impression.
As Donghui looked at him with displeasure, the man placed a hand on his chest and introduced himself.
“I am the chief of Idor Village…”
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Surprise quest: Please name the chief of Idor Village. Depending on how well the name fits, hidden points will be awarded.
For the first time in a while, a naming quest appeared.
Without hesitation, Donghui chose a name.
Pig Dog.
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Do you want to register the chief of Idor Village as Pig Dog?
Yes. Pig Dog. And if this petty noble needs a surname, make it Phagayaro. Pig Dog Phagayaro.
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The chief of Idor Village has been registered as Pig Dog Phagayaro. As a reward, you receive 100 points.
Oh, that’s more generous than I expected.
Donghui had thrown together the most insulting words he could think of, so he hadn’t expected much. The unexpected 100 points lifted his mood.
“I am Idor’s chief, Pig Dog Phagayaro. It is an infinite honor to welcome my lord.”
Hearing the man proudly introduce himself with such a ridiculous name made Donghui stifle a laugh.
Seeing the faint smile on the lord’s lips, Pig Dog mistook it for approval and smiled confidently.
“Lead the way.”
“Eh?”
“Do you mean to leave me standing here?”
“Oh! Forgive me. Please, allow me to escort you to my house. It is a humble place, I fear.”
Pig Dog bowed again, baring his neat white teeth in a wide grin, looking self-assured.
The road through the village was paved well enough for carriages, unlike the crumbling houses along its sides. It seemed recently maintained, far better than the dusty early days of Mortana Enol Village.
Despite claiming his home was humble, Pig Dog’s house was large—three stories tall, with over ten rooms.
What’s this?
Donghui frowned, and not just him. Handsome, Red Bear, and all the knights also looked displeased.
When the carriage stopped before Pig Dog’s residence, more than a dozen servants rushed to line up neatly at the entrance. At the lord’s approach, they bent their backs at perfect right angles, moving in eerie unison like soldiers under strict drill.
Pig Dog’s lips curved in satisfaction at their display.
Donghui, meanwhile, recalled the Grace estate servants, who had always greeted him with bright smiles and warmth. Compared to them, these lifeless, puppet-like servants seemed utterly soulless.
Donghui had named this man with nothing but disdain at first sight, but the more he saw, the more certain he became: the more he learned of Pig Dog, the more he would hate him.
When he entered the house, he was once again taken aback. The drawing room, prepared to receive guests, was overflowing with expensive ornaments and treasures.
“Is it true? Did the Grace lord really come here?”
A woman in a bright red dress asked in disbelief as Pig Dog entered the bedroom.
“I told you, yes.”
“But why all of a sudden? She’s never shown any interest in Idor before. I heard she was some foolish girl who couldn’t even collect proper taxes?”
The woman repeated back the things Pig Dog himself had once told her. With pale skin and a ruby earring that matched her dress, she was as striking as a rose.
“I did hear rumors that the lord has been acting strange lately. But you know how rumors are, always exaggerated. Looking at her, I can tell—if I play it right, she’ll be easy to handle.”
“She’s not going to cause trouble, is she?”
Worry creased the woman’s face as she turned toward him. Pig Dog brushed a finger across her lips—lips still plump and swollen from his attentions the night before—and smiled.
“What trouble could she possibly cause? She looked like a naive little child to me.”
“Naive child? She’s twenty, isn’t she? That’s the age when a girl is most beautiful. Don’t tell me you—!”
The woman grabbed his clothes with wide eyes.
She had abandoned even her nursing son to come live in this mansion. Though merely a mistress, her life here was far more comfortable than the hunger and worry of before. Pig Dog asked little of her, and she was content.
All he wanted was for her to please him in bed. To undress when told, to dress when told, to kneel when told.
A few hours of submission each day bought her beautiful clothes, jewelry, and warm food.
To Pig Dog, Rose was the cheapest, prettiest, softest toy he could buy for the greatest pleasure.
Lifting her chin, he kissed her lightly, then whispered sweetly:
“Rose, don’t be jealous. Think about it. If I make that silly little lord my woman, I’ll become the lord of Grace. And you—you’ll be the lord’s mistress. That’s a whole different level.”
He could still see the marks he had left on her body the night before, and it filled him with satisfaction. But Pig Dog was a greedy man. His problem was that he had no sense of his own limits.
