Chapter 15

Chapter 15
Why do all these gazes fixate upon me?

I had been pondering the stares directed my way until the realization belatedly struck that my previous demeanor had been entirely unnatural. A man had just perished right before my eyes, yet I had remained far too composed.

What now?

Meursault had mentioned that I could act on impulse should I choose to, but that did not grant me license to behave like a complete sociopath.

Should I feign shock, even belatedly?

My confidence in my own acting abilities was low.

“Ah, the fright was simply overwhelming. That incident was genuinely horrifying.”

Judging by the way the officers’ expressions darkened further, my performance had fallen completely flat. In their perception, we must have resembled nothing less than a duo of unhinged father and son. Their countenances made it clear that if they survived the assembly of officers, they would brand the commander’s offspring as a raging madman.

Under those circumstances, fully embracing the role seemed wisest. My histrionic skills were far too weak to salvage my reputation now. Better to establish an intense initial impression so these officer uncles would understand precisely how to behave around me henceforth.

“Mother spoke extensively regarding each of you,” I remarked with a beaming smile.

Several of the more timid officers flinched in their seats, likely because my face remained stained with blood.

“Beginning on this side… Uncle Yosef, correct? Word reached me that you provided considerable care for Mother. And directly beside you, Uncle Luigi.”

I moved steadily down the line of pro-Haydam officers, locking eyes with each individual as the greetings continued.

“They mentioned you were an exceptional marksman. Has Uncle Franz finally taken a spouse? Mother constantly expressed deep appreciation to Uncle Orland for acting as such a reliable sounding board whenever counsel was needed. Furthermore…”

When I pivoted toward the pro-Danhne faction, my gaze intercepted the leader of that group, who observed me intently.

“Uncle Anton might project a cold exterior, but Mother insisted he genuinely cherishes this zone above all others. Rumor has it Uncle Max maintains wonderful relations with the ordinary troops. And Uncle Batom, reputed to be the most upright soul among them… ah, he has departed. Mother also wondered whether Uncle Radu’s offspring had grown significantly. Meeting all of you at last after merely hearing your tales brings me immense joy.”

I pressed my hands together, speaking as though I were genuinely ecstatic.

“Every detail concerning you gentlemen is known to me—your households, your kin, even the household hounds and the neighboring residents! Therefore, I ask that you look after me kindly moving forward, understood?”

My words concluded with a courteous smile aimed directly at them. The fingertips of the pro-Daphne officers began twitching slightly, while the pale complexions of the pro-Haydam faction remained somewhat perplexing.

Within the quarters designated for regular soldiers:

“Have you heard the news?”

“Heard what?”

“During yesterday’s officers’ assembly, Major General Meursault executed Lieutenant General Batom with a firearm.”

“What?”

Private Talula, who had been lounging lazily across his bunk looking entirely disinterested, propped himself up and inquired:

“What consequences did Major General Meursault face? Insubordination constitutes a severe offense.”

“They placed him under house arrest.”

“He eliminated his superior officer and received merely house arrest?”

“Well… Lieutenant General Batom arguably brought it upon himself.”

“Just what actions must someone commit to get shot by a subordinate and still be deemed in the wrong? Especially during an official meeting, with His Excellency presumably present.”

Judging this topic no longer suitable for shouting, the soldier who initiated the discussion lowered his tone.

“According to what reached my ears, they pardoned him for haina muda, yet he failed to utter even a single expression of gratitude, prompting Major General Meursault to open fire.”

“What? He killed a man simply because his superior omitted a thank-you? Is he mentally unstable?”

“Ah, the failure to express gratitude was not directed at Meursault. He neglected to thank His Excellency’s son.”

“Ah, in that case, a bullet was entirely justified.”

The moment the commander’s child became the focal point, Private Talula’s attitude shifted completely.

“Batom could never distinguish between sheer honesty and being a complete jerk. The urge to shoot him a few times crossed my own mind. Wait, His Excellency fathered a son?”

“Apparently so. He has been wedded to Lady Daphne for over a decade—the absence of an heir would be far stranger.”

“Rumors circulated that he was concealing and raising the child because the youth was still too young and vulnerable. Those whispers appear to have been accurate.”

“Indeed, though the boy is an even greater monster.”

“For what reason?”

“He is roughly ten years old, yet when someone was gunned down directly in front of him, his primary concern was merely the blood that splattered across his cheek.”

“What nonsense. He was likely simply too paralyzed by shock to react.”

“There is more, you idiot. Following that incident, he flashed a brilliant smile while his face remained covered in blood and proceeded to recite every single one of their names individually. It was essentially a message stating, ‘Every detail about you is known to me, so do not attempt any foolishness.'”

“Good grief, that is terrifying… Where did such information even reach you?”

“Lieutenant General Max blurted out the entire account the moment he returned from the meeting.”

“That man possesses the loosest tongue imaginable. Meursault will likely put a bullet through him eventually.”

“Oh, additionally, beginning next month, the younger soldiers are being summoned once monthly to share a meal together.”

“All of a sudden?”

“Word is that the young master expressed a desire to dine alongside peers of his own age.”

” Already establishing his own faction? If true, this child is no ordinary monster.”

The veteran soldier glanced toward the rear of the hammock area and called out teasingly to his junior comrade:

“What are your plans? Starting next month, dining with the unhinged young master is mandatory.”

At those remarks, Assa—who was occupied cleaning his firearm near the back of the barracks and is likewise known as Darling Outsider or CornerDwelling Wife—merely offered a smirk.

So that individual made a strategic move solely to arrange a meeting with me.

Having successfully navigated the illegitimate-son pathway exactly as devised, the sole remaining objective for him was escaping this miserable barracks and ascending further.

Yet will Tibalom genuinely honor his commitment to me?

Corner Dwelling Wife, remaining entirely unaware that Tibalom functioned as Dopamine Addict, felt a genuine undercurrent of unease. The original agreement stipulated that provided he was not entirely useless, he would be transferred to the estate and appointed as a close confidant…

“Look at this fool failing to state his rank and name when addressed by a superior—he simply sits there grinning?”

“Seriously, what a useless piece of garbage. Come receive some discipline.”

“Ack, my apologies, sir!!”

Darling Outsider.

Because, precisely as Dopamine Addict had forecasted, he was indeed thoroughly useless.

“—Such constitutes the current status of the rumors spreading concerning Lord Haydam throughout this zone.”

Upon listening to Meursault’s briefing regarding the gossip about me, a profound sense of shock washed over me.

“Framed in that manner, the impression given is truly that of a psychopath.”

“The assessment is not entirely inaccurate.”

Meursault, who would speak absolute truth even upon his deathbed, responded without hesitation.

“Smiling while enumerating personal secrets as a human being perishes before your eyes is not, by any conventional standard, considered normal.”

“Listen closely, by any rational standard, the individual who unholstered a weapon and executed someone is considerably less normal.”

Despite my retort, Meursault merely emitted a subdued chuckle.

“Even so, what inspired such a reaction in that exact moment?”

Evidently, Meursault had deduced that my conduct during the officers’ assembly had been carefully calculated.

“Truthfully, expectations pointed toward you being frightened out of your senses, young master. A portion of me even harbored a desire to witness that.”

This rascal?

“Meursault, you were the one who explicitly advised against allowing myself to be underestimated.”

That reply brought a profound smile to Meursault’s lips. For a fleeting instant, a look resembling paternal pride crossed his features.

“Your assessment is correct. You handled the situation admirably. Even though rumors branding Lord Haydam as a psychopath are proliferating across the zone, His Excellency was exceedingly gratified, so put your mind at ease.”

“Can I genuinely dismiss any anxiety regarding that reputation?”

For the record, my tone toward Meursault had shifted to a casual one. Lacking an official rank required maintaining polite speech around others, but he had explicitly stated that comfort was permissible when the two of us were alone—or rather, my father had issued that instruction.

“However… that action was executed deliberately, correct?”

“Executed regarding what matter, sir?”

“The execution of Batom right then and there. Due to your act of insubordination, the abrupt public revelation of the commander’s offspring was completely overshadowed.”

Precisely. Under ordinary conditions, considerable time would have been spent serving as the focal point of gossip regarding the “illegitimate son.” Yet the exact second my existence was announced, a major general summarily executed a lieutenant general. Compared to some obscured child of the commander whom no one had any legitimate reason to mind, a lethal confrontation between superiors witnessed daily until yesterday was bound to claim the spotlight as the far more sensational topic.

Neither the commander nor Meursault offered verbal confirmation, yet a tacit understanding must have existed between them. That agreement dictated that should any individual display disrespect toward me in that setting, Meursault possessed full authorization to eliminate them.

Meursault’s personal reputation would suffer as a consequence, but reputation held little value to him compared to establishing me as the commander’s successor so Daphne might attain freedom.

Meursault regarded me with a renewed sense of admiration.

“The thought crossed my mind even within the assembly hall… your political instincts are exceptional.”

Naturally. Serving as commander of this zone was an experience I had undergone more than once or twice.

“There is no need for concern on that front either. The matter has already been addressed directly with His Excellency.”

“Negative, Meursault.”

He seemed to assume my statement stemmed from worry for his well-being, but that constituted overthinking. A single motivation drove my instruction for Meursault never to repeat such an action.

“Those individuals are destined to become my soldiers eventually. Losing even a single one of them is unacceptable.”

“…That was your underlying consideration?”

Judging strictly by the words, the sentiment must have sounded deeply touching, as Meursault gazed at me with unprecedented emotional intensity. In truth, my internal monologue simply revolved around the high value of labor.

“Thinking of which, dining with children matching your own age has been arranged?”

“That is correct.”

“What assistance can be provided to support you?”

Unprompted by any request from me and uncommanded by the commander, he was already offering aid. His treatment of me had grown noticeably more favorable than before. Then again, for a non-player character whose ultimate existential objective centered on establishing a family, my appreciation for human life must have been a welcome trait.

Regardless, Meursault’s assistance would streamline operations significantly. Taejeong was aiding me within the mansion, but currently managing household responsibilities appeared overwhelming for him, making this timing ideal.

“The preparation of the dinner dishes will be handled personally by me.”

“Culinary preparation… A classic strategy for capturing people’s affections.”

Meursault’s analysis identifying cooking as a classic method to win hearts was entirely accurate. Most individuals interpret the provision of food as a sign of benevolent intent, subsequently cultivating reciprocal goodwill.

Furthermore, when that nourishment is not merely supplied but personally cooked and prepared by someone holding a vastly superior rank? That inspires a profound sense of respect. Just as experiencing goodwill fosters affection, feeling respected prompts individuals to return that respect.

My most pressing requirement at the moment was not blind “obedience” but rather “respect.” This would ensure that when those youths matured and confronted the Second Apocalypse, my directives would not face doubt or accusations of unreasonableness. Meursault remained ignorant of the Second Apocalypse, yet he grasped at least that my immediate necessity involved securing “people,” prompting his approval of the culinary approach.

“How should the initial steps be directed? Menu selection? Assistance with the actual cooking process?”

My smile met Meursault’s eager inquiries with a clear response:

My gaze drifted toward the perimeter wall beyond which alien monsters swarmed, followed by a cheerful declaration:

“Hunting will mark our starting point.”

“…So procurement of raw ingredients takes priority. Understood.”

Meursault’s reply appeared strained through clenched teeth, though the reaction was disregarded. Venturing out toward the outer perimeter for a hunt on this occasion served a distinct purpose.