Chapter 514 How can humans be so evil?
In Roland City, at the entrance of the only fire service company in the entire city, a staggering drunk man, after leaning against several kerosene lamps, finally found the door to his company.
This now-hot fire tycoon in Roland City felt as if his brain was stuffed with a water-soaked sponge.
A hangover was like a rusty little knife, tirelessly pulling and ripping at his scalp.
The Royal Guard lads can really drink.
It wasn't until dawn that the group of guys took the girls from the tavern to the second floor, and Newcastle was finally able to doze off for a while on the table covered in wine stains.
However, he did not complain.
Thanks to those capable young men, his business has been so successful.
A while ago, someone else wanted to get into the fire pump business, stealing the market he had spent a fortune of 10,000 gold coins to open up. Thanks to the brave batons of those young men, they shattered his unrealistic fantasies and sent him packing with his cheap "fake goods."
Saint Sis, though a devout believer who opposed the profane profession of prostitution, felt that it was understandable for these young men to indulge themselves occasionally.
Stress always needs to be released.
Upon seeing the respected Mr. Newcastle, the security guard standing at the door quickly helped his boss inside and handed him a cup of hot water.
After taking a sip of hot water, Newcastle finally sobered up a bit, and then shoved the meddlesome security guard away.
"I don't need your help, I'm not drunk, I can walk by myself!"
"Yes, boss." The security guard saluted the drunken boss and watched with concern as the boss went upstairs alone, holding onto the handrail.
The Campbells truly live up to their reputation as a race capable of fighting the Demon King; this good-for-nothing actually made it upstairs without falling down the stairs.
Newcastle pushed open the office door, and before he could even hang his heavy overcoat on the hanger, his usually slow-moving young secretary rushed over excitedly.
"Master! You've finally arrived! Here's an urgent letter for you, delivered personally by a court attendant!"
His secretary held the letter with both hands, as if holding the Book of the Holy Word with utmost reverence.
Newcastle rubbed his throbbing temples, originally intending to tell this loudmouth to get out and sober up.
But the moment his gaze fell upon the letter, the rebuke that was on the tip of his tongue was swallowed back, and he even sobered up.
It was an exquisitely crafted envelope, sealed with a scarlet wax seal bearing the supreme lion emblem of the Ryan royal family.
At that very moment, Newcastle finally understood why his usually slow-moving secretary was looking at him with such respect today.
"...Alright, put it on my desk. Also, no one is allowed to come in without my permission."
"Yes, boss!" The secretary bowed, just like the security guard downstairs, and then respectfully withdrew outside.
Newcastle strode forward and locked the door from the inside. He then hurried to his desk and carefully used a box cutter to pry open the sealing wax that represented both glory and trouble.
He pulled out the letter, and as he had expected, the courtly script did not contain any award, but rather a formal imperial edict—
[Mr. Newcastle, General Manager of the Roland Fire Service, is hereby appointed as the representative of the Third Estate citizens of Roland City, and is to proceed immediately to the Royal Palace to attend the Third Estates meeting.]
Newcastle clutched his forehead and slumped into an oak chair, his face, still reeking of alcohol, gradually turning serious.
……parliament?
As a citizen of Thunder City, he was no stranger to this term.
Thunder City has had a council for a long time, mainly for raising funds for the Duke. How come Roland City has one of these things?
Newcastle couldn't understand how he, a Campbellian, had become a councilor of Roland City in the Kingdom of Ryan, and what right he had to represent the citizens of Roland City at the King's meetings.
Could it be—
Is His Majesty short of money?!
The moment the thought crossed Newcastle's mind, he broke out in a cold sweat.
Heaven help him, everyone thought he was rolling in money because he monopolized the city's fire protection business, but only he knew the bitterness behind it all.
How could he be the only one making money that anyone could earn with their eyes closed?
His initial huge investment has only just begun to yield returns, and he still hasn't paid off his commercial loan from Leiming City Bank.
He's practically penniless now, otherwise he wouldn't have personally taken the young men of the Royal Guard out to play.
If this so-called meeting is actually a raid on property in the name of glory...
Newcastle shivered, his hangover headache vanishing instantly. He sprang up from his chair, grabbed his coat that had just been hung up, and draped it over his shoulders.
no!
We can't just sit here and wait to die!
There is only one person who can help him now, and that is the esteemed Baron Wickerton.
In Roland City, a place shrouded in mystery and traps, only the backer who single-handedly helped him rise to power can unravel the complexities of the situation for him!
This is not only about his wallet, but also about whether he can return to Campbell alive.
Amidst the admiring gazes of his employees, Sir Newcastle, draped in his overcoat, turned and plunged back into the chilly early spring wind, much like a determined and ambitious businessman who had amassed his fortune through his own abilities.
Only Sir Newcastle himself could hear the groans in his heart.
"By Saint Sith..."
Making money here is more exciting than being an adventurer in a maze.
He even began to regret being the first to try something new.
...
Newcastle's carriage quickly arrived at Baron Wickton's mansion, where the quaint study was filled with the rich aroma of fine tobacco.
Baron Wickton sat on a large leather sofa, slowly trimming a fine cigar. Cigars were one of his few hobbies; the aroma of tobacco could relieve his stress.
"Lord Wickton! Something terrible has happened!"
Newcastle burst in, ignoring the servants' attempts to stop him.
His face, which exuded an air of indulgence, lust, and wealth, was filled with unease; the invitation he clutched in his hand felt like a hot potato.
"Have the people in the palace made a mistake? They sent me this... an invitation to a three-level meeting? I haven't offended His Majesty, have I? What I want to ask is... have they made a mistake?"
He repeated the same sentence twice.
Seeing Mr. Newcastle's incoherent speech, Baron Wickton remained unusually calm and placed the cigar cutters on the table.
"Calm down, my friend. The court scribe is not mistaken; the name on this invitation was filled in by me personally."
A series of wails were stuck in his throat, and Newcastle's eyes widened like a goose being choked.
"You... filled this out?"
“That’s right, to be honest, I’m now the chief organizer of this three-level meeting.” Wickton picked up a match, calmly struck it, and lit the cigar he had just trimmed. “His Majesty needs the support of the citizens, especially the support of good people, and I think our Newcastle gentlemen are just such good people.”
Who deserves the title of "good person" more than the good man who protects the citizens of Roland at night?
Actually, none of that matters, as long as it's acceptable.
However, while Wickton tried to justify his arrangements, he left Newcastle, standing on the other side, completely dumbfounded.
He spread his hands out, then put them down, and said with an incredulous look on his face.
“But… what does this have to do with me? Sir, you know that although I do business in Roland City, I am a genuine Campbell citizen! What right do I have to represent the citizens of Roland City? To be their councilor?”
"So what if they're Campbells? A thousand years ago, they were also Rhine people. And broadly speaking, we are all subjects of the Os Empire, and we all have an obligation to share the Emperor's burdens."
Baron Wickton chuckled, exhaled a puff of blue smoke, and waved his hand dismissively.
“Bloodline and background are not important at this critical juncture. What matters is that you are the general manager of the Roland City Fire Service. The citizens of Roland City all know you as a respected gentleman, and that is enough... We don’t need you to speak for them.”
At this point, Wickton put down his cigar on the table, stood up, and walked over to Newcastle.
He extended his right hand and placed it on Newcastle's shoulder, looking at the bewildered businessman with a meaningful gaze.
"And most importantly, Newcastle, you're one of my men."
Newcastle felt the weight on his shoulders, and the unease in his heart had not completely dissipated; in fact, it was stronger than ever before.
"But sir, I'm just a businessman..."
In any kingdom, it is extremely dangerous for a commoner to get involved in court affairs. He was not naive enough to think that having a little money in his pocket made him a nobleman.
Wickton interrupted him, his previously relaxed tone turning serious.
“Listen, Newcastle, we can’t have everyone sitting at the conference table. If we let those citizens decide who goes to the castle to see their king, they’ll probably carry the beer hall owner into His Majesty’s palace. What do a bunch of drunkards know about governing? How can we let them decide our future!”
Newcastle said, half-laughing and half-crying, "But I don't understand either!"
"You don't need to understand, it's enough that I do."
Wickton stared into his eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if he had been waiting for those words.
"This meeting actually has little to do with our citizens, nor does it affect their bread. Rather, it's a scheme set up by the royal family to put pressure on those greedy nobles and priests! Our Majesty needs them to spit out the money in their pockets, and you, the members of the Third Citizens' council, your task is to sit there and act as the royal family's 'echo chamber'."
Wickton patted Newcastle on the shoulder, this time with a bit more force, as if he were sharing some of the burden on his shoulders.
“This meeting is crucial for both me and His Majesty. I need an ally who can stand by me through thick and thin. And among these ‘citizens’ of Roland City, the person I trust the most is you.”
Newcastle swallowed hard and asked cautiously.
"Then... what exactly should I do?"
"It's simple. Go to His Majesty's summer palace for a vacation and enjoy some royal tea and snacks. I remember the roast pigeon there is quite good, but not everyone has the chance to taste the royal chef's skills."
Wickton withdrew his hand from Newcastle's shoulder, picked up the cigar on the table again, and took a puff.
"Remember, when we have a meeting, raise your hand when I look at you. When I'm not looking at you, you can do whatever you want, just don't fall asleep... Consider it a favor, and I'll remember it."
Newcastle finally felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders, which seemed much easier than the young men with the Royal Guard indulging in eating, drinking, and having fun.
Most importantly, he doesn't need to spend any money. He'll do anything, not just raise his hand, he'll even lift both legs.
"Thank you for valuing me so highly, Your Excellency Baron... I would be happy to serve you, but it would be even better if you could consult me about such matters in the future. To be honest, this letter scared me so much that I almost bought a ticket home."
Newcastle's face broke into a smile again, relieved.
This profit-driven businessman was like a chameleon; his previous shock and anger, as if his tail had been stepped on, vanished instantly, as if he had never existed.
Baron Wickton, cigar in hand, curled his lip, hiding his disdain behind an elegant smile, and politely saw his ally to the door.
Should I discuss this with you?
You don't deserve it.
"If there's a next time, I'll let you know."
Baron Wickton, who was standing at the study door, paused after saying something like "I'll definitely do it next time," and then added something else.
"Furthermore, I don't want anyone else to hear our conversation today. I've only told you that you are aware of the consequences of leaking it."
Newcastle loyally placed his hand on his chest.
I assure you!
Baron Wickton nodded approvingly.
"I'll be watching you."
...
Although the peasants sitting in the tavern are not qualified to decide the future of Roland City, the "good people" who protect the nights of Roland City clearly deserve this honor.
This includes the "good people" behind him.
The midday sun shone on the streets of Roland, making every inch of the land shine so brightly that it was hard to open one's eyes.
Meanwhile, things were much more shabby in Thunder City, where an illiterate tavern owner was actually carried into the council chamber.
Compared to a bunch of drunkards choosing a big drunkard, it's definitely more like a gentleman to have a few sneaky old men close the door and carefully select one.
The Third Estate is in the midst of intensive preparations, and Baron Wickton's invitation has stirred up a storm throughout Rowland.
Meanwhile, news from Thunder City University was also stirring up trouble in Thunder City.
Ever since the news broke that former Academy professor Keynes had joined the university and become its first president, the entire city has been like a pot of boiling water.
The gentlemen who had previously been hesitant about the university, which remained only on paper, were now convinced of one thing: that the esteemed Archduke Edward and Prince Colin were serious about it.
The "side effect" of this eagerness to recruit talent was also obvious: the manor's mailboxes were completely paralyzed.
Whether they were renowned scholars, talented but unappreciated artists, or even some bards who could only write sonnets to make a living, they all sent in their resumes.
While old Abel was pondering which of his children was more suited to go to college, the Colin Manor on the outskirts of Thunder City was already overflowing with job applications.
Neither the Kingdom of Ryan nor the Duchy of Campbell has a shortage of intelligent people.
Although no one knows exactly how much money Duke Edward intends to allocate to repair the university, a university that can afford to burn money researching magic obviously cannot be short of funding.
Since writing a letter to the prince doesn't cost 10,000 gold coins, why not buy a stamp and give it a try?
The true young master of the Principality of Colin was utterly shocked as he watched the maid with her fox ears sway as she pushed a mountain of letters into the study.
"By Bayeli..."
Vivian's mouth gaped open, as if she could fit a taffy egg inside.
Although she had long been aware of her brother's charm, how could so many vixens be writing him love letters?!
Vivian was furious.
How could humans be so blasphemous? Have they all forgotten the ancient holy light and willingly degenerated into puppets of the Padridge family?
Don't they have their own brothers?
How could humans be so wicked!
"This can't go on any longer, Nanfu! If we don't take action soon, our Demon King will be corrupted by humanity's sugar-coated bullets!"
Vivian, who was having afternoon tea, became increasingly angry. She suddenly stood up from the sofa, startling Nanfu, who was carefully studying the history of the Campbell family.
He glanced around nervously, and only when he saw that the servants here were all his own people did he feel relieved.
Demon God above...
Accompanying my sister on a long trip was more exciting than going on an adventure to a church.
"...What does 'corrupted by humans' refer to?"
If he remembered correctly, his brother, who had not received the Embrace, was human. Why would anyone need to corrupt him?
Silver fangs peeked from her lips, and Vivian crossed her arms, her elegant expression gradually turning sinister.
"What do you know, you little brat?"
Nanfu: "..."
You said it!
In any case, it's always better if it has nothing to do with you.
Seeing Vivian caught in her own internal struggles, Nanfu breathed a sigh of relief and continued to study the history of the Campbell family, trying to find the connection between the unicorn and the Campbell family.
Humans are so interesting.
Since meeting Princess Lino, Nanfu has become fascinated with the human world, especially the Campbell family, who have been fighting against Hell for thousands of years.
However, just as he turned the page, a gust of wind blew up behind him, lifting him off the chair.
"Follow me!"
Nanfu: "???"
...
Once a platinum-level vampire gets serious, perhaps only a prince of the amethyst level in the entire manor can suppress him.
Vivian, who had grabbed Nanfu by the back of the neck, easily slipped into her brother's study. Dodging the maids who were cleaning the windows was no problem for her.
She's already thoroughly familiar with the terrain here!
As Vivian had expected, the elegantly decorated study was empty, the cashmere carpet stuffed with dusty letters.
The books on the bookshelf were arranged neatly, clearly intended for outsiders, including the magical bonsai displayed on the shelf.
A deep blue butterfly rests on an unknown, mysterious flower, its magnificent wings gently unfurling in the sunlight streaming through the curtains.
At this very moment, Luo Yan should be at a tea party at the Andes Manor, introducing Professor Keynes, who has traveled from afar, to Archduke Edward.
The three of them are probably discussing the preparations for Thunder City University right now, and they're having a very pleasant conversation. They won't be back before dusk.
Vivian wore a smug smile. Her brother had been too reckless, giving her the perfect opportunity to commit the crime!
At that moment, she was like an explorer who had stumbled into a pirate's treasure cave, grinning mischievously as she pulled a letter from the mountain of letters.
Nanfu's knees went slightly weak, and his doe-like eyes were filled with fear. He kept glancing at the door, worried that his older brother might be there.
"Sister, sister...we'd better not read Brother's letters. Even though they might not be that important, what if he gets angry—"
"Nanfu, shut up."
"But--"
"Didn't you hear what your elder brother said? Hesitating about everything means you can't do anything. No wonder Miss Lino rides you all over the yard instead of the other way around!"
Nanfu: "???"
"Alright, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. You can just keep watch at the door for me."
Before the weak and helpless Nanfu could recover from his daze, Vivian left him standing there, swaggered forward, and turned to sit on her elder brother's desk.
With her slender legs dangling over her knees, she looked smug, as if she owned the study, completely forgetting the miserable state she had once endured kneeling on the carpet in repentance.
"Kukuku... I'd like to see which vixen it is!" Vivian smiled slyly, her little finger flicking slightly as her dark purple nail polished fingertip forcefully pried open the envelope.
However, the pink letter sprayed with perfume that I had imagined did not appear; instead, all I saw was a dull and uninteresting drawing.
The white paper was covered with dense lines, and the only line of text was squeezed to the bottom of the page, which read something like "Waterwheel Improvement Structure Diagram".
Vivian wanted to stick her nose into the paper, but she still couldn't understand what was drawn on the drawing.
It's not entirely her fault. In an era without standardized parameters and drawing tools, not everyone could draw clear and easy-to-understand diagrams.
There's a reason why cartography is considered a discipline.
"...What is this? Have vixens evolved to this level when seducing other people's brothers?"
Vivian refused to believe it, stuffed the incomprehensible drawing back into the letter and tossed it aside, then grabbed another letter that looked thicker.
"This must be it! I can smell it, there's sulfur in it, it must be the Padridge family's lust potion... Ugh!!"
Upon opening the envelope, a pungent, foul smell of cheap sulfur wafted out.
What fell out was not a succubus's crystal, but an alchemy recipe called "Philosopher's Stone" and a piece of coke that seemed to be a sample.
To say that this is a succubus's trick is an insult to succubi.
The crooked handwriting and absurd proportions clearly indicate a clumsy trick by some con artist trying to swindle funding.
"...Your Highness, if you would sponsor my research, I swear to dedicate all my knowledge to you! (I'm almost there, just one drop of dragon's blood away. Unfortunately, I can't afford such an expensive material, so I'll have to use sheep's blood instead. But I believe you are a discerning person.)"
"What nonsense is this guy spouting?"
Undeterred, Vivian opened more than a dozen letters, ranging from ideas for improving spinning machines to suggestions for fixing the sewers. One letter even contained a sonnet written in extremely broken Common, praising Prince Colin's deep purple hair, so nauseating that it almost made her slide off the table.
This was probably the only love letter she'd ever received, but she figured her brother, with his refined taste, wouldn't be moved by something like this.
Just as Vivian was questioning her life amidst the mess on the floor, Nanfu, who had been huddled in a corner trembling, weakly raised a stack of letters in his hand.
"Um... Sister, I just glanced at them, and these things don't seem to be love letters."
Nanfu glanced cautiously at Vivian, who was on the verge of exploding, and pointed to the signature on the letter to continue adding.
“Look at this one. The writer is named Paulette, a fifty-year-old blacksmith. He says he can make the best horseshoes in town and can teach the citizens of Thundertown how to do it. And this one is signed ‘Your Loyal Mr. Smith,’ seeking a job as a butler… He’s best at keeping secrets; the whole neighborhood can vouch for him.”
"What?! They're all men?!"
Vivian stared in shock, then a wave of indescribable embarrassment washed over her, and her fair face flushed crimson.
Just like her pupils, which are experiencing an earthquake.
“A bunch of...shameless bastards, actually wasting my brother’s time with this utterly boring stuff…”
She turned around abruptly and glared fiercely at her younger brother.
"And Nanfu, shut up! Don't say a word!"
"I...I didn't say anything..."
Just as Nanfu was about to argue in a low voice, a sense of impending danger suddenly crept up his neck, causing the weak vampire to freeze in place.
At the same time, an elegant and calm voice came from the doorway beside him, like a breeze that occasionally blew through the curtains.
"It seems that two curious little bats have entered my study."
Luo Yan leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, looking at the mess of letters scattered on the floor and the terrified siblings with a half-smile.
Nanfu's heart was in his throat.
Lord Demon King? !
When did he get back?!
It wasn't just Nanfu whose heart was in his throat; Vivian, who was sitting on someone's desk "swaggering around" at that very moment, was also on edge.
Their arrogant attitude vanished instantly.
She practically vanished from the desk in a blur, transforming from a ferocious little tiger into a cat trying to hide its tail under its paws.
"Brother, elder brother, we just... we just wanted to help you sort through the letters and see if there were any dangerous items..."
As she spoke, she frantically tried to hide the opened letters behind her back, forcing a smile that was even stiffer than Nanfu's.
Luo Yan didn't speak, but slowly walked into the study. The sound of his soft leather heels hitting the cashmere carpet was like the gavel in the judge's hand.
He waved his wand, and the letter about "improving the spinning machine" automatically shook off the dust and flew into his hand.
Looking at the trembling Vivian, Luo Yan spoke slowly and deliberately.
"Since you're so curious about the contents of these letters, then read them all for me."
As he spoke, he turned his gaze to the letters piled on the carpet.
“There are about five hundred letters here. I hope you can sort them out by tomorrow evening before dinner. Which ones are useful advice, which ones are job applications, and which ones are just scams… I need to see a detailed list.”
Vivian, awaiting punishment, instantly fell from her face, her ruby-like eyes filled with deep despair.
"You... watched the whole thing?"
This is not what she wanted to hear!
However, Luo Yan's next words made her even more desperate.
"That's right, I will do spot checks."
"Can, can you change the punishment? I don't mind if it's more severe..." she pleaded softly, her voice barely audible, but all she received in return was the Demon King's ruthlessness.
"no."
Seemingly realizing there was another person in the study, Luo Yan smiled and added a sentence.
"Don't let Nanfu help you. Nanfu, you can go now. Miss Lino wants you to play with her; she should be here soon."
As a demon king who was well-versed in human nature, he finally found a way to deal with Vivian: make her do her homework!
Actually, this isn't necessarily a bad thing for Vivian. If she ultimately decides to study at the Demon King Academy, these letters can give her a comprehensive understanding of human society.
Regardless of whether she ultimately becomes the Demon King.
"Yes, yes!" Nanfu felt as if he had been granted a pardon and hurriedly slipped out of the study. He preferred playing with humans to being tormented by his sister.
As expected of my elder brother, he could tell at a glance that he was innocent.
However, there was one thing Nanfu just couldn't understand: how exactly did his respected elder brother discover that someone had sneaked into his study?
That's way too fast.
Watching Nanfu escape from the study, and then looking at Vivian who was on the verge of tears, Luo Yan, who was in a great mood, couldn't help but fall into thought.
With his talent for drawing inferences from one instance to another, he finally figured out what exactly the second-generation rich kids in Shanghai were lacking.
Can a winter vacation without homework be called a winter vacation?
Councilor Luo Yan should do something for his hometown!
(End of this chapter)
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