To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 143

Would someone who has lived in a capitalist society ever have the chance to meet a “king”? This thought weighed heavily on Irel as she faced the upcoming royal audience.

However, when she finally met the king, he seemed more ordinary than she had imagined. The feeling was similar to…

‘A university president?’

He certainly looked scholarly and experienced, possessing an aura of authority one couldn’t easily challenge. Yet, at the same time, he still felt like just another human being. What stood out most about King Phenosos, though, was his peculiar way of speaking—something Irel had never encountered before.

“I heard you just returned from Al Los Condes? To enter the palace without resting first…”

…Was that a compliment for being diligent? Or was he sarcastically saying Irel should have taken some time to recover from her journey?

“Mirrdal’s crimes were truly shocking. In that sense, Varkan, your actions were impressive. It’s rare for someone to accuse a fellow Masaka.”

Was this praise? Or was he subtly reprimanding Varkan for betraying his comrade?

Do all politicians speak like this? Irel couldn’t shake the feeling that the king’s words were left deliberately vague, allowing multiple interpretations to avoid leaning too far in any direction. The way he spoke, as if not fully committing to any statement, was disorienting.

‘So… what exactly is he trying to say?’

Unfortunately, the king’s roundabout manner of speaking left Irel utterly confused about his true intentions. After a few minutes of this vague conversation, Irel began to feel like she was losing her mind.

Then, finally…

“At any rate, it’s fortunate you were able to stop Masaka Mirrdal’s crimes before it was too late. It’s a shame about the lives lost, but what can be done? In the end, we owe it all to you.”

As soon as the awkwardly long preamble came to a close, the king gestured, and a servant rushed forward, carrying an ornate golden box. Seeing this, Irel suddenly remembered.

‘Oh right, we came here to receive a reward, didn’t we?’

After all the scolding they’d endured upon entering the palace, she had completely forgotten. It wasn’t as if she felt particularly happy about receiving the reward, though.

The king’s attitude didn’t exactly exude sincerity either. He handed out the reward with the mechanical indifference of a quest-giving NPC, and Varkan, in turn, responded with only the bare minimum of enthusiasm.

“We are eternally grateful, Your Majesty. This reward will be treasured for generations.”

Varkan bowed his head, offering an empty, rehearsed expression of gratitude. Irel could tell immediately that he would toss the reward aside the moment they left the palace.

“No, you truly deserve it. More importantly, dealing with the aftermath of Masaka Mirrdal’s misdeeds is proving quite troublesome. Let me explain.”

Clearly, even the king considered this whole ceremony pointless, as he dove straight into the real issue right after handing out the medals.

“Mirrdal was a promising young noble from a prestigious family, someone I had intended to employ for the future of the kingdom. But because of his crimes, public sentiment has shifted sharply against him.”

“What a tragic situation indeed,” Varkan replied with mock sympathy.

“Yes. The people, poor and foolish as they are, now question even my judgment for once favoring Mirrdal. It’s truly an annoying situation.”

Finally, the conversation turned to something Irel could understand. The king was openly revealing the vulnerabilities of the monarchy, and Irel’s ears perked up.

It was no surprise that the higher-ups had little interest in the struggles of the common people. If this sort of situation worsened, it could lead to poverty, social unrest, and class conflict.

However, this world had a unique factor—Kitan. Because of it, the people were more concerned with immediate survival than with poverty or discrimination. The constant threat to their lives created the perfect conditions for rebellion.

Varkan had cleverly exploited this gap. He started by taking control of the neglected, darkest corners of the kingdom—places the nobles ignored. By personally protecting the vulnerable commoners from Kitan in exchange for their loyalty, he gained the support of the masses.

This growing influence had reached the point where it now posed a threat to the monarchy itself. Though the kingdom had a king and a royal palace, there was also a shadow ruler lurking behind the throne—Varkan Ha Mash.

Any talk of treason or challenges to royal authority was always sensitive. People said that speaking of such matters often meant putting your life on the line. That’s why most discussed it only in whispers, trusting only a select few with such dangerous topics.

Had the Elorance family lived just a little closer to the capital, or if they had deeper connections in high society, perhaps someone would have warned them about how dangerous Varkan Ha Mash truly was.

However, the real problem was their status as the “Border Dukes” of Elorance. Living far from the capital, near the kingdom’s borders, they rarely entered the royal court. With such limited access to information, they ultimately accepted Irel’s engagement to Varkan without knowing the full picture.

‘It’s because of me. That’s why I have to take responsibility and resolve this situation.’

That thought snapped Irel back to attention, gathering her focus as she listened carefully to the king’s words. At that moment, King Phenosos began to subtly reveal his true intentions.

“Foolish as they may be, the people are the foundation of the nation. There can only be a shepherd if there are sheep to tend. Therefore, I find it necessary to drive out the wolves causing unrest among the flock.”

“I understand Your Majesty’s meaning.”

Hmm, so he wants us to deal with the Kitans to calm the public’s anger, Irel deduced. Her guess seemed to be on point, as King Phenosos nodded.

“Very well. Varkan, as a Masaka, I trust you’ve heard the rumors surrounding the Ricador Mountains?”

The Ricador Mountains? Where’s that again? As someone originally from Korea, Irel was still not fully familiar with the geography of this world.

“Of course, I am well aware,” Varkan responded smoothly with a knowing smile.

“There have long been rumors that the land around the Ricador Mountains is cursed, with its soggy soil and cold air making it an ideal place for ominous forces to settle. Some say it even contains a passage to the Abyss.”

The Abyss? The word caught Irel’s attention. She still had yet to complete her quests involving the Sacred Sanctuary of Truth and the Forgotten Idol of the Divine.

‘Could the path to the dark god Avihushan… or the goddess Nashiva be found there?’

But before she could ponder further, King Phenosos cut the conversation short.

“I don’t believe in such superstitions. However, it’s been proven that Kitans have indeed made the Ricador Mountains their base. Because of this, the western villages nearby have suffered greatly.”

“The west falls under Duke Varel’s jurisdiction, doesn’t it? I thought he had been handling the defense quite well.”

“That was a long time ago. Duke Varel has grown old.”

King Phenosos leaned back in his chair and sighed deeply.

“And it’s not just the Kitans. In recent months, the barbarian tribes who were driven out of the west over a hundred years ago have been slowly increasing their numbers and crossing the border. It’s been a relentless battle for Duke Varel, managing both the barbarian threat from the outside and the Kitans descending from the Ricador Mountains on the inside.”

“A difficult task indeed,” Varkan remarked.

“Exactly. Imagine the toll it must be taking on him, both inside and out, at his age.”

Irel hadn’t yet fully grasped all the intricacies of the royalist nobles. However, based on how the king spoke so sympathetically, it seemed that Duke Varel was one of the “loyalists” to the crown. Oblivious to her thoughts, King Phenosos continued.

“Even so, Duke Varel has managed to hold out until now… but it seems he’s reached his limit.”

“Has something happened?”

“Recently, his eldest son, Sir Lut, was killed in battle against the barbarians who crossed the border. The loss of his heir has left Duke Varel deeply stricken with grief.”

For the first time, a hint of genuine emotion crossed the king’s otherwise stoic face. As a father himself, he seemed to empathize with Duke Varel’s pain.

What must it be like for a father to bury his own child? Even Irel, who listened from the sidelines, couldn’t help but feel a wave of somber reflection.

“What a terrible tragedy. I can only hope that Duke Varel can find the strength to rise above his sorrow soon.”

A man utterly lacking in empathy responded with a careless tone. There was no doubt that his internal thoughts ran along the lines of, “So what?”

Irel frowned instinctively at his lack of regard. Startled, she quickly glanced at the king to gauge his reaction, only to find that he, too, was regarding Varkan with a similarly raised eyebrow.

“I’ll speak plainly. Varkan Ha Mash, son of the Primordial God.”

It was clear the king considered any further polite exchange a waste of time. It was astonishing, really—Varkan’s character had pushed even a king, famed for his diplomatic, roundabout speech, to the point of directness.

“There are rumors in the capital that your faction harbors impure intentions.”

…Did you really have to be that direct, Your Majesty?

Irel felt her breath catch in her throat, her vision momentarily darkening. She could hardly bring herself to lift her head, terrified that Varkan’s head—or hers—might roll any moment now.

“Oh dear. All nonsense, of course,” Varkan replied immediately, without even the slightest twitch in his expression. His sheer audacity left Irel in shock.

“I, too, believe that not all the rumors are true. People do love to exaggerate.”

The king didn’t outright say he believed the rumors, but neither did he deny them. It was a deliberate choice, designed to keep Varkan on his toes.

“Nevertheless, I cannot tolerate such rumors existing in the first place. They are like rust on the crown, slowly dulling its shine until, in the end, they diminish its worth entirely.”

King Phenosos paused and smiled. It was the kind of benevolent smile one might see on a university president expelling a student in their final semester, full of undeserved kindness.