The Regressed Mercenary’s Machinations - Chapter 93

Chapter 93: Was That Today? (3)

I rescued him, yet he barely expressed any gratitude and instead asked for a drink.

Gillian, unable to bear the brazenness any longer, stepped forward.

“Show some respect. This person is none other than Baron Fenris of the Ritania Kingdom.”

At that, Claude twisted his lips and replied.

“So what? This is just how I live. If you don’t like it, kill me.”

Gillian frowned, but he didn’t say anything further.

Claude’s reckless attitude was oddly familiar to him.

Before meeting Ghislain, Gillian had probably carried the same look in his eyes.

Ghislain, watching the two of them, nodded as if he had expected this.

In his past life, Ghislain had spent a lot of time with Claude.

He knew better than anyone why Claude was acting this way.

“It’s fine for now. No need to stand on ceremony.”

“For now?”

Claude furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion.

Ghislain simply smirked without answering.

Though Ghislain might have thought it was fine, those who followed him couldn’t hide their displeasure.

After all, they’d saved a man from losing his hand, and instead of gratitude, he was acting defiant. It was only natural they felt irritated.

They couldn’t shake the feeling that this had all been a waste of time.

‘Why did the Captain even bother meeting a guy like this? He just seems like a gambling addict.’

‘He doesn’t even know how to be thankful after being saved.’

Reading their expressions, Ghislain defended Claude.

“This guy’s been through a lot recently. Something major happened. He’s hurting.”

Claude’s expression hardened even more at that.

“You know what I’ve been through? Just who the hell are you?”

“Oh, I just heard some rumors. Don’t be so tense.”

Despite Ghislain’s casual tone, Claude’s suspicion didn’t waver.

The only rumors about him were either about his teacher or his gambling addiction.

Yet Ghislain seemed to know something deeper about what had happened to him.

“Come on, I told you not to worry. Do you want a drink? I’ll buy you a good one.”

Ghislain, acting overly familiar, draped his arm over Claude’s shoulder.

Claude grimaced.

He had just barely escaped from the thugs, and now another strange noble had latched onto him.

He tried to break free, but there was no way he could overpower someone who could break a sword with his bare hands.

With a sour look on his face, Claude was forcibly dragged off by Ghislain.

The mercenaries followed them, clicking their tongues.

Since Ghislain had stood up for Claude, they couldn’t criticize him any further.

Only one person, Belinda, narrowed her eyes, staring at the back of Ghislain’s head.

‘This is strange. How does he keep finding such peculiar people?’

Everyone Ghislain recruited seemed to have some sort of flaw or shortcoming.

Even if he was deliberately seeking out defective people, it shouldn’t be to this extent.

‘A gambling addict, of all things?’

Belinda let out a sigh as she recalled the people Ghislain had gathered around him, one by one.

‘As I thought, I’m the only normal person around the Young Lord.’

Shaking her head, she quickly followed Ghislain, ignoring the fact that she herself was far from normal.

* * *

Ghislain led Claude into a lavishly decorated tavern.

“Everyone, feel free to sit and have a drink. I need to have a private chat with this friend.”

The mercenaries happily moved to take their seats, but Gillian didn’t let them off the hook so easily.

He immediately split them into groups to stand guard and even warned them that if they got too drunk, there’d be repercussions.

Though the mercenaries wore disgruntled expressions, none dared to defy Gillian.

Meanwhile, Ghislain dragged Claude over to a corner and sat him down.

As the table filled with fine liquor and appetizers, a spark of life returned to Claude’s eyes.

‘Seeing him up close, he looks even worse.’

Ghislain lifted his glass and carefully observed Claude.

Despite nearly losing his hand, Claude didn’t seem to care about that at all; instead, he was reacting passionately to the sight of alcohol.

This was a sign that his mental state was in complete disarray.

“My hand’s still intact, and now I’m getting free top-shelf booze? Seems like today’s my lucky day. I’ll drink well.”

Claude wasted no time, finishing his sentence and immediately downing his drink.

Ghislain, keeping pace with him, silently emptied his glass as well.

Each time they ran out of alcohol, they ordered more, pouring drink after drink down their throats.

It wasn’t long before Claude, who neither had mana control nor much physical stamina, was the first to hit his limit.

With his face flushed red, Claude muttered under his breath.

“You drink well. But looking at your eyes, you don’t seem like the type who actually enjoys drinking.”

“If it’s there, I drink it. If it’s not, I don’t. Still, I do enjoy expensive wine. Something like Red Dragon.”

“Hah, so you’ve got a taste for something even royalty struggles to get? What a show-off… Anyway, didn’t you have something to say? You went so far as to save me, yet you’ve barely said a word.”

Ghislain just shrugged his shoulders without speaking. Claude grumbled.

“What do you want from me? Want me to teach you how to gamble?”

“If I wanted to learn gambling, I’d find someone who’s actually good at it. I wouldn’t ask you.”

“Dammit, I can’t even argue with that. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out and get lost. Why the hell did you seek me out and save me?”

Ghislain adjusted his posture and looked Claude square in the eye.

“I’ll get straight to the point since I don’t like beating around the bush. I want you to manage an estate for me.”

Claude blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. Then, as if realizing the absurdity, he burst into laughter.

“Hahahaha! You want to put a gambling addict who lives drunk out of his mind in charge of an estate?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I’ve been called crazy plenty of times, but you’re something else. This is a joke, right? Do you even know who I am?”

“This is my proposal. Whether you accept it or not is entirely up to you.”

Without saying anything further, Ghislain lifted his glass and took another drink.

Still in disbelief, Claude downed a few more glasses before finally speaking again, his tone more serious this time.

“I appreciate you saving me, but… honestly, it was meaningless. I’m someone who has no desire to do anything.”

“…….”

“I have nothing left. No dreams, no hope.”

Claude emptied his glass in one gulp and continued.

“There was a time when I had something I desperately wanted to achieve… But I couldn’t do anything with my own strength. Now, I’ve lost everything—money, health, knowledge. Is there anyone else in the world as useless as me?”

The light in Claude’s eyes began to fade more and more.

It was the look of someone who had lost everything, including the will to live.

“Sure, following you and managing an estate would be a great opportunity. I’d get a job… and it’s a pretty high position, too, right? Someone like me shouldn’t dare refuse.”

“…….”

“But I can’t leave this place. There are shackles around my ankles. I have to live and die here like this. It’s… the only thing I’m capable of.”

“I’ll break those shackles for you.”

Ghislain, who had been quietly listening to Claude’s ramblings, suddenly spoke up.

The absolute certainty in Ghislain’s voice made Claude grit his teeth.

“Is it because you’re still young? That arrogance—the idea that you can solve all the world’s problems—is poison. You don’t even realize how dangerous that mindset is.”

Ghislain put his glass down with a thud and stared intently at Claude.

His eyes, despite his youthful appearance, held a profound depth.

“If I want something, I get it. No matter what I have to do. Even if the result is death. There’s no need to think about anything else.”

Claude’s face twisted in anger.

He couldn’t bear watching someone speak so recklessly, as if seeing a reflection of his own past self.

“I used to be like that, too. But the result was only misery. Fine, let’s say I follow you. What could you possibly do for me?”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Money. I need a lot of it. So much that even the wealthiest nobles would find it burdensome.”

At this, Ghislain chuckled softly.

“Money? That’s the easiest thing to solve. Nothing else? You don’t need someone killed or something?”

“Don’t mess with me.”

Claude bit his lip.

Most problems in the world could be solved with money. And if they couldn’t be, it usually meant there wasn’t enough of it.

It wasn’t wrong, but that saying was usually reserved for issues that required jaw-droppingly large sums.

Claude’s situation was the same. It could be solved with money, but the amount needed was far too much.

It was hard to believe.

He couldn’t believe it.

It must just be the arrogance of a young noble.

That’s what his rational mind kept telling him.

However, despite Claude’s cold rationality, a strange desire began to seep into his gaze.

When someone who’s lost everything and fallen to the depths suddenly sees a glimmer of light, how would they react?

Even if that light was fake, they’d probably try to grasp it at least once.

With a bit of sarcasm, Claude asked,

“Baron of Fenris, was it? You seem pretty confident. Your estate must be wealthy, huh? But how rich could a baron possibly be? You said money’s an easy problem, right? If you’ve got so much, lend me some. Or better yet, buy me out. I’m quite expensive, you know.”

Belinda, who had been eavesdropping from a nearby table, frowned.

Not only did they save him, buy him drinks, and offer him an estate position, but now he was asking for money? And he had the audacity to call himself expensive!

It was obvious what would happen. He’d swindle the money and then blow it all on booze and gambling.

Belinda naturally expected Ghislain to reject him.

Ghislain was no fool. This was the same man who even managed to extract 20,000 gold from his fiancée. There was no way he’d fall for such a transparent scheme.

But Ghislain’s response was entirely unexpected.

“Alright. I happen to have more money than you think. How much do you need?”

Belinda’s eyes widened in shock. The Young Lord, who wouldn’t easily hand over money even to his father or closest retainers, had answered so readily.

‘Is he just planning to treat it as charity? No matter what, this is going too far. Shouldn’t I stop him right now?’

Belinda suppressed her anger and took another swig of her drink.

What came next shocked her even more.

“I need 2,000 gold. Can you give me that much? It’s a hefty sum, even for a barony.”

Belinda quickly turned her head to look at them.

Ghislain wore a strange expression.

It looked as if he was torn between being troubled and finding the situation pitiful.

Claude, noticing his expression, openly mocked him.

“What’s the matter? Thought I’d only ask for around 20 gold? Do you think I haven’t seen nobles like you, full of empty bravado? I can see it in your face—you’re panicking right now, aren’t you?”

Belinda couldn’t take it any longer. She shot to her feet and shouted,

“Hey! Are you kidding right now? I thought you’d ask for a few gold, but… how much? 2,000 gold?!”

Since Ghislain had boasted earlier, it would be hard for him to back down now. It would hurt his pride.

Belinda raised her voice on purpose, hoping to give Ghislain an excuse to reject the absurd request.

But her efforts were in vain, as the response that came from Ghislain’s lips was something she couldn’t believe.

“Not 5,000, but only 2,000 gold? That’s all? That’s not much at all.”