"Oh~ someone dares to resist my rule? How troublesome."
Satan sat casually atop a desk, gazing at the large screen on the skyscraper.
W, bound like a puppet, could only sit stiffly beside him.
The authority of the False King could never truly match that of a real Sarkaz King—it couldn't fully dominate her will.
But Satan? He was no warrior. He was a merchant.
Back during the days of the Babel Tower, do you still remember how Satan had 'freely' offered W sweets?
He hadn't asked her anything about Theresa back then.
After all—there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
---
"...It seems your rule has left many people dissatisfied."
Even while restrained in her seat, W's voice carried a mocking edge. She could still speak, still act—but only in ways that were restricted, behaviors that were guaranteed to be harmless to Satan.
"Can't be helped, little W~" Satan replied, picking up a slice of cake smothered in thick cream. "After all, climbing higher… that's terran nature."
He held the dessert up, smiling faintly.
"There are countless people, yet only so much cake to go around."
With that, he devoured it in a single bite.
---
"...I came here for one reason, and one reason only. To ask you a question."
"Go ahead."
"Her Highness's death—was it your doing? I'll offer you a deal for the truth."
W's voice weakened with each word, until the last note carried almost a pleading tone.
She desperately wanted an answer.
Did she truly believe she could stand against Satan? Against the so-called Eternal Duke of Ursus—Kashchey?
No… more likely, she was simply lost.
Even if it was Satan who killed Theresa, what could she possibly do? Kill him? Avenge Theresa?
'...'
No. All she could do was pray—that the answer she heard would not match the fear twisting in her heart.
'Perhaps… when Her Highness died, I'd already gone mad,' she mocked herself bitterly.
---
"Little W, when old acquaintances reunite, I'd rather not talk business~"
Satan gave no reply to her request.
In his eyes, this Sarkaz mercenary no longer even had the qualifications to strike a deal with him.
As for her simmering hatred—what threat could that possibly pose?
To speak plainly, if not for the deal he had made with Theresa, Satan wouldn't have wasted his time or energy on comforting a confused little Sarkaz who still bared her fangs at him.
Her fragile body was nothing compared to the False King Satan embodied.
If Theresa were already gone, he wouldn't hesitate to crush this nuisance underfoot.
As for the tangled emotions burning in her chest…
What concern of his was that?
The Black Snake had already seen straight through her.
All she was doing now was walking the path of her own destruction.
'Still… the more she hates me now, the more guilt she'll feel in the future…'
'Better to leave her alive.'
'After all, at best, she's nothing more than an irritating little cockroach.'
---
"Lord Kashchey, what say you?"
The young earl now stood on stage, staring up at Kashchey himself.
Kashchey's face retained its ever-gentle, benevolent smile.
He said nothing, as though deep in thought.
But down below, the crowd's emotions grew restless—ready to surge forward at any moment and tear the arrogant noble apart for his audacity.
The investigators quickly blocked the angry crowd.
"Please do not disturb Lord Kashchey's thoughts."
Even they couldn't understand why the Duke had given such an order.
They too wanted to see that arrogant clown silenced.
But Kashchey's commands were absolute.
Whether they understood or not, they had to obey.
---
In the VIP seats of the assembly hall
"Lord Kjeragandr…"
"Relax, Enya. Everything is still within his grasp… Hah, I truly detest these endless games of intrigue."
---
Inside a still-open bar
A bartender with Snakescale worked wearily behind the counter.
He had no choice—Lord Kashchey had ordered him to satisfy every whim of that damned penguin.
"Boss, is your friend really going to be alright?"
"What could happen to him? More likely, it's someone else who's about to have bad luck… Keep drinking, keep drinking. He even wanted me to provide some entertainment for his celebration. No way! Quick, we'll drink him dry instead!"
"Well, if you put it that way, I won't worry either."
"Come on. How could the Eternal Will of Ursus possibly lose control of his own hall? It's all according to plan, obviously~"
"Exusiai's right. For someone who's lived for centuries and still holds the title of Duke, how could this be so simple?"
"Looks like I'm the only one who can't make sense of things… What a shame, though. Sora didn't come to this outing. A famous idol really is too busy."
---
"The atmosphere's just about perfect now~"
Satan sipped his tea and produced a detonator.
It was taken from W.
"...What do you think you're doing?"
"Why, giving the earl a bit of extra flair, of course."
His smile was unreadable.
"If, during this little speech of his, Kashchey's territory were suddenly struck by a terrorist attack… what do you think the people of Ursus would believe?"
"..."
"Haha, don't give me that disappointed look. The Satan you once idolized—he never existed!"
He pressed the button.
"Oh, and since your original bomb was too weak, I went ahead and added a little something extra~"
"You lunatic!"
"Please. The pitiful charge you planted couldn't even bring down a building. Far too softhearted… it's touching, really."
"Now tell me—how convincing does this headline sound? 'A young earl hires Sarkaz mercenaries to stage a terrorist attack.'"
---
As the earl carried on with his so-called speech about "the will of the people"…
Boom!
A thunderous explosion shook the city.
One of the grand towers in Kashchey's domain collapsed into rubble.
At that instant, Kashchey's benevolent smile vanished. His gaze turned dark, venomous, and he shot the young earl a glare sharp enough to kill.
The professional cameramen caught the moment perfectly.
Then—
The broadcast was cut.
As for what the audience thought after seeing it…
That was left for them to decide.
---
The next morning, newspapers across Ursus were flooded with headlines about the grand celebration.
"Shocking! A young earl dares such insolence at Duke Kashchey's ceremony!"
"A child raising the blade against his parent! Is this the collapse of morality, or the distortion of terran nature?"
"As the ungrateful earl openly opposed the tireless Duke Kashchey, the Duke's territory was struck by a terrorist attack! Coincidence… or conspiracy?"
"A blessing amid disaster—fortunately, no casualties were reported."
---
Sitting in his study, Kashchey leafed through the newspapers with quiet satisfaction.
Naturally, he had anticipated the force of the explosion and the aftermath it would create.
If lives had been lost, questions would inevitably arise about the safety of the Duke's dominion. That would have been far too costly.
"Smirnov, you've already reported all of this to the Emperor, haven't you?"
A shadowed figure from the Emperor's Blade stiffened at the words.
"Then tell me—does His Majesty understand what is about to happen in Chernobog?"
"...His Majesty received your letter. He states that all matters are to be entrusted entirely to your judgment."
"Hehe… Yet I still wonder—just how many in Ursus are eager to spark a war? These old bones of mine would rather not be dragged into such messes."
"...You are, of course, free to do nothing. No one can force your hand."
"Indeed, that earl's words weren't wrong. Children do grow up, and perhaps it is time for me to let go~"
"That was but the ranting of a fool. Please don't take it to heart, esteemed Duke Kashchey. To the Empire, you remain irreplaceable… These are His Majesty's own sentiments."
"Ah, then I can rest easy."
'Since I've already prepared the path of self-preservation… should I intervene to prevent the coming uprising in Chernobog? Or… should I allow it to unfold, let them suffer the consequences, and then realize just how much they still need me?'