"Young Master Julian? The steam is escaping. It's best when hot," the voice behind the door insisted. It was Elara, the maid who—according to the floating gold box—was currently trying to fast-track Julian's funeral.
Julian stared at his right hand. It was twisted at an angle that would make a pretzel jealous, and the throbbing pain was a rhythmic reminder that his "Divine" body was currently held together by spit and prayer.
Okay, think. I have a 'Divine Sword Master' skill and 'Heavenly Mana Sensing,' but if I try to swing a sword, my arm will probably explode like a confetti cannon, Julian thought, his brow slick with cold sweat.
The system says she was paid by the 'Hero.' If I just kick her out, they'll send an assassin next. I need to keep her close, but neutralized, he calculated, his Intelligence: finally kicking into gear.
"Come in, Elara," Julian called out, his voice cracking slightly. "And watch the rug. I... dropped something."
The door creaked open. Elara entered, looking every bit the picture of a loyal servant, save for the slight tremor in her hands as she set the silver tray down.
"You look pale, Young Master," she murmured, pouring the dark, aromatic liquid into a china cup.
"It's the lighting. Or the fact that I just realized my skeletal system is a structural disaster," Julian muttered. He reached for the cup with his left hand, his movements slow and deliberate.
He used [Heavenly Mana Sensing].
To his vision, the tea didn't look like tea; it glowed with a sickly, jagged green aura—the unmistakable signature of 'Black Root' poison.
Bingo. One sip and I'm a corpse, Julian thought, a grim smirk hidden behind his hand.
"Elara," Julian said suddenly, stopping the cup an inch from his lips. "You've been with the Blackwood family for years, haven't you?"
"Five years, sir," she replied, her eyes darting to the cup.
"Then you know I hate drinking alone." Julian smiled, a cold, predatory expression that didn't match his trembling frame. "There's a second cup on the tray. Pour yourself some. Let's toast to... the 'True Ending'."
Elara froze. "I... I couldn't, sir. It's against protocol."
"Protocol? Elara, I'm a man who is currently dying of everything at once," Julian barked, punctuated by a sharp cough that tasted like copper. "Fuck protocol. Drink. The. Tea."
To Elara, Julian didn't look like a confused Idiot; he looked like a dying noble who had finally snapped and become truly dangerous. The air in the room grew heavy as Julian's [Divine Sword Master] passive—even without a blade—began to leak a faint, oppressive killing intent that made the maid's knees shake.
"Who paid you?" Julian asked, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Was it the 'Holy Knight' Silas? Or that golden-haired prick who calls himself the Chosen One?"
Elara dropped the tray. The teapot shattered, splashing the poisoned liquid across the floor. "I—I had no choice! They have my brother!"
Julian sighed, leaning back into his pillows. "They always have a brother. Or a sick mother. It's so cliché it actually hurts." * He tried to point a finger at her dramatically to look cool, but his knuckle made a loud POP.
"OW! DAMN IT!" Julian hissed, clutching his hand.
[Side Quest: Survive the Night — COMPLETED!] [Reward: Minor Bone Reinforcement (Your bones are now as strong as... slightly damp wood) & 100 System Points]
"Get up, Elara," Julian groaned, ignoring the system pings. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to do something much worse. I'm going to make you my first 'Manager'."
He needed a spy. He needed someone who knew the Hero's movements. And most importantly, he needed someone to hold his tea so he didn't break any more fingers.
"Now," Julian said, his eyes glowing with a faint, violet light from his Mana Sensing. "Tell me everything about the Hero's plan to 'purify' the Fallen Saintess tomorrow. Because we're going to get there first."