I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 96: Sucking Duke Dry
The Duke's eyes widened in disbelief, his composed demeanor cracking for the first time. Cassius and the Head Butler were no less stunned, their gazes fixed on Ashok as though they were witnessing an impossibility unfold before them.
The Duke's shock wasn't unwarranted. He had never, in all his years, witnessed a single Ranker—or even the most seasoned nobles—handle Spirit Wine without employing Mana or Aura to mitigate its potent effects.
Spirit Wine wasn't just an alcoholic beverage; it was a symbol of luxury, strength, and status, its price of 1,000 Gold per bottle ensuring it was reserved solely for those of significant wealth and power.
Ashok, on the other hand, was entirely unbothered by their stares. For him, the world had momentarily faded away, replaced by the intoxicating taste of the wine. The rich, full-bodied flavor danced on his tongue, while the burning sensation coursed through his throat and into his body, leaving a trail of fiery ecstasy in its wake.
The sheer satisfaction of experiencing something he had only dreamed of in his previous life was overwhelming. For that fleeting moment, nothing else mattered—no schemes, no calculations, only the unparalleled joy of the Spirit Wine.
But the bliss was short-lived. With the pace at which Ashok had been drinking, the bottle was empty in no time. Lowering it from his lips, he let out a faint, satisfied sigh before slowly opening his eyes.
[Drug Resistance removes the 'Intoxicated' Effect]
Ashok casually ignored the glowing notification that flashed before his eyes.
The Duke, on the other hand, had been watching Ashok closely. After seeing Ashok empty the Spirit Wine bottle with astonishing speed, the Duke retrieved a dispel scroll from his storage ring, fully prepared to negate whatever adverse effects the wine might have had.
But just as he was about to activate it, Ashok's voice rang out, calm and crystal clear. "A short bottle," Ashok said casually, tilting the now-empty container to inspect it, "The quantity should be somewhere around 350 milliliters."
The Duke paused, his fingers hesitating on the scroll. The unfamiliar unit of measurement struck him as incomprehensible, but he didn't linger on Ashok's words. What truly caught his attention was the clarity in Ashok's voice.
It lacked any trace of slurring or disorientation. The Duke's brow furrowed in disbelief as he studied the boy's sharp, steady posture.
"You're not drunk?" the Duke asked, unable to mask the incredulity in his tone.
Ashok raised his head, meeting the Duke's astonished gaze. His expression was calm, almost dismissive, as though the question itself was absurd. "This much is not enough to get me drunk," he replied matter-of-factly, his tone both confident and nonchalant.
The Duke's astonishment deepened as Ashok continued, his tone casual yet commanding. "Give me twenty-five such bottles at the first day of the week, and also hand me twenty-five right now for this week."
The words hung in the air, as though Ashok were asking for nothing more than a glass of water. Yet, the reality of his demand was staggering—Spirit Wine worth 25,000 Gold Coins every week, solely for his indulgence.
The Duke's eyes widened, not at the absurdity of the cost—wealth of that magnitude was hardly a concern for him—but at the sheer scale of Ashok's thirst for alcohol. It was a craving that surpassed even the most decadent nobles he had encountered, a hunger that seemed almost insatiable.
"Anything else?" asked the Duke.
Ashok, however, remained unbothered by the weight of his own audacity. He had many more demands he could make, but he saw no reason to rush.
The Duke's daughter wouldn't be cured for another five months, and Ashok had no intention of exhausting his leverage in a single day. Why drain the Duke dry all at once when he could do so gradually, piece by piece, over the course of their arrangement?
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With the communication orb in his possession, Ashok knew he could make additional requests whenever he pleased.
"Nothing for now," Ashok finally replied, his voice calm but filled with a subtle finality that signaled the end of his demands—at least for the moment.
The Duke gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, reaching into his storage ring with practiced ease and retrieving a transfer orb.
Ashok smoothly placed the now-empty wine bottle on the bedside table and accepted the transfer orb with his free hand. Now he held the communication orb in one hand and the transfer orb in the other.
"I will send you the package of Spirit Wine by night," the Duke said, his tone carrying the weight of both obligation.
Ashok gave a slight nod of acknowledgment before slipping both orbs into the storage ring the Duke had provided earlier during their plan to eliminate the witch.
'I can't use my Inventory in front of a Space Magician,' Ashok mused, his gaze briefly flickering toward the Duke. 'Revealing a space-related Soul Trait would only increase his greed. The fewer details anyone knows about me, the better.'
With that thought, Ashok resolved to transfer both orbs into his Inventory later, once he reached the Academy.
"Before I depart," Ashok began, his tone steady but carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel heavier, "I must warn you of certain things. First, avoid hiring any new servants until your daughter is cured.
While I don't believe the witches will interfere with you anytime soon, as the Church will be serving as their distraction for now, it's always better to maintain precautions.
Witches are unpredictable; you can never truly know what they might do next."
The Duke with a curt nod, he acknowledged the advice, the significance of Ashok's warning was immense, he didn't want to ignore his warning just like he did during his wife's death. He won't repeat the same mistake twice.
But Ashok wasn't finished. His piercing eyes didn't waver as he continued, "Second, don't make the mistake of increasing any kind of security that would be openly visible from an outsider's perspective. Keep everything as it is now.
If you feel it necessary, you may erect barriers outside this room—but nothing more than that."
The Duke, who had previously been considering bolstering the mansion's defenses once Ashok's demands were fulfilled, hesitated. The practicality of Ashok's suggestion struck him, though his curiosity compelled him to ask, "Why the security?"
Ashok's gaze narrowed slightly, his expression unwavering as he explained, "Think from the witches' perspective. Your golden mansion is like a shining star in the public eye—anything unusual about it will be noticed immediately.
If you suddenly increase security, it will send a message that you're afraid, especially after a witch disciple was killed here. That kind of reaction could provoke them, drawing their attention back to you.
Maintaining the appearance of normalcy is your best defense. It will not only keep the witches at bay but also deter other prying eyes within the empire."
The Duke's eyes sharpened as the full meaning of Ashok's words became clear. He knew exactly who Ashok was referring to when he mentioned "prying eyes."
There were countless factions, both political and covert, within the empire, any of which would seize the opportunity to exploit a perceived vulnerability in his position.
Cassius's brow furrowed as he tilted his head slightly, the metaphor eluding him. "Wolves?" he asked, his tone tinged with confusion.
Ashok's calm gaze shifted toward Cassius, his posture unyielding as he clarified, "I meant, don't try to act alone. The old man will need to keep his eyes on your daughter twenty-four hours a day since he has to channel mana continuously. As for you, Duke, it's better you take the Sword Saint with you whenever you leave the mansion for your work."
The Duke's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he processed Ashok's recommendation.
Cassius, however, visibly brightened at Ashok's words, his eyes practically shining with newfound energy. Ashok had, for once, spoken something that directly aligned with Cassius's deepest yearning—to be of service to his master, to stand unwaveringly by the Duke's side.
Cassius's personality, after all, was like that of a loyal dog: steadfast, reliable, and driven by his devotion. If the Duke accepted Ashok's advice, it would give Cassius the chance he had longed for, the opportunity to serve his master with everything he had.
"Fine, I will keep everything in mind." The Duke's voice was steady, a reflection of his decision to trust Ashok's advice.
Cassius, standing nearby, felt a surge of excitement at the Duke's affirmation. His instincts screamed at him to let out a jump but he managed to mask his emotions.
Meanwhile, the Head Butler, seated near the bed and channeling mana into his veins for clarity and readiness, was fighting a very different set of emotions. His jaw clenched and his teeth ground together as resentment bubbled under his calm exterior.
Though he deeply cared for the Duke's daughter and her well-being, his role had become suffocating. The responsibility of maintaining the mana channel to stabilize her condition had effectively stripped away his freedom.
It didn't help that his pride was still reeling from his earlier clash with Ashok. To him, Ashok was not a benefactor or savior but a cunning manipulator who had, through mysterious and questionable means, only provided a temporary reprieve for the Young Miss.
The Head Butler's skepticism was as strong as ever, contrasting sharply with the Duke's growing trust in Ashok's every word. In the Head Butler's mind, Ashok represented the root of all current problems.
The Head Butler bitterness extended even to Ashok's handling of the witch. The Head Butler believed firmly that Ashok had intentionally sacrificed her not out of necessity but to prolong the Duke's dependency on him.
