I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 404

Although he noticed that the Count had avoided referring to the Crown Prince as the former, Ian chose not to comment.

"You've already reported this to the higher-ups, I take it," said Ian.

"It's my duty, after all." The Count replied matter-of-factly and continued, "Due to space constraints, I couldn't include every detail in the report, but I conveyed the most critical points, including you, Agent of the Saint."

Ian nodded casually and took a swig from his bottle, adding, "And what did you write about me?"

"I reported what I heard. That you are the Dragon Slayer, the Great Warrior of the North, the Agent of the Great Platinum Dragon. I also included that your identity was confirmed through the demon Carmiel and the Mantra circuit engraved in the city. The only parts I omitted were those covered in the previous report."

"You've gone into great detail, wasting precious space."

Precisely up to the story Lucy had shared.

As Ian added this to himself, the Count gave a faint smile. "Thanks to that, the report likely reached His Highness immediately. The Wolves dispatched to the city will soon escort you, the Agent of the Saint, to meet him."

At the same time, a quest window appeared before Ian's eyes.

[The Former's Summon.]

The objective was to meet Crown Prince Hyked.

So, even the quest calls him the Crown Prince.

"Well, understood. I'll do as you say," Ian replied as he closed the window, shrugging his shoulders. "A chance to meet the man I've only heard about."

Although the summon had come much sooner than expected—and without his consent—it didn't particularly bother him. After all, this was someone he was bound to meet sooner or later. In this place, the Crown Prince was effectively the emperor. Still, meeting him didn't mean Ian intended to follow his orders without question.

"His Highness intends to credit you for your achievements. Of course, I doubt it'll stop at mere words." The Count's relieved smile made it clear he'd been worried Ian might refuse.

"Some sort of reward, then," Ian nodded.

"Of course. Even though this is a small region, you've eliminated a demon who had already established a foothold. His Highness will undoubtedly want a detailed report of the battle. And I suspect he'll grant you an appropriate title as well."

Ah, titles again, Ian muttered under his breath, a faint scoff escaping his lips. "I'd rather not boast about my accomplishments."

"Of course, we wouldn't ask you to handle something so tedious and awkward. Nor the Apostle, for that matter." A subtle, meaningful smile accompanied the Count's immediate response.

"I'll prepare the official report, and those who accompany the Agent of the Saint will handle any additional testimony. So—" The Count's gaze naturally shifted to the side. "Take good care of this matter."

Standing near the wall with a somewhat blank expression, Diana blinked belatedly, finally realizing she was being addressed. "Pardon?"

The Count offered no further explanation, only smiling pleasantly.

Meanwhile, beneath her mask, Diana's expression twisted into a grimace. "Are you telling me to go to headquarters? With Ian—no, the Agent of the Saint?"

"There's something important you missed. You'll also be taking my report," the Count corrected her.

Of course, this only drew a sigh from Diana. "But why? That's not my responsibility. Besides, I've never even been to Lu Sion—"

"They requested someone who took part in the battle. It wouldn't do to have the Agent of the Saint or the Apostle to lengthy reports and investigations, would it?" The Count interrupted her with a composed tone, leaving Diana momentarily stunned.

She muttered, "But, I am a noble as well—"

"That's precisely why you're suited to providing detailed insights on what happened. Besides, there's no one better at finding their way or covering long distances than you, the Owl. Not to mention, you're already close with both of them."

The Count's smile widened, soft but unyielding. "Honestly, I can't think of anyone more suitable. Do you disagree?"

Diana couldn't muster a response. Though her face was hidden, the slight twitch of her chin suggested her mouth was opening and closing uselessly.

"A-Agent of the Saint," she finally said. "Shouldn't we also ask for your opinion?"

"Of course," the Count replied, turning to Ian. "What do you think, Agent of the Saint?"

So this is getting dumped on me now, huh?

A faint smirk crossed Ian's lips. He noticed Diana frantically shaking her head, her desperate gaze practically screaming that she wanted no part.

After taking another sip of his drink, Ian finally responded. "I'd rather go with a familiar face. Lucy will be happy."

"Damn it." Diana closed her eyes tightly and tilted her head against the wall.

Meanwhile, a satisfied smile spread across the gaunt face of Count Graham, who had clearly expected this outcome. "Thank you, Agent of the Saint."

A sigh escaped Diana's lips. The weight of her sigh seemed to threaten the very earth, but the Count remained oblivious, continuing, "I'm not sure if you've heard, but all the spoils of war are yours, Agent of the Saint. The dwarves have set them aside. They'll bring them to your residence upon your request."

"Understood. Whatever I don't need, I’ll donate it to the city. Use it as you see fit."

"Thank you for your generosity, Agent of the Saint." The Count bowed his head in satisfaction.

Sipping his drink again, Ian asked, "So, are we done here?"

"There's one personal matter I'd like to ask about, if I may—" The Count hesitated momentarily.

Feigning reluctance, are we? Ian thought wryly, gesturing for him to go on.

Carefully, the Count posed his question. "Would you consider returning to Drag Velga?"

Ian tilted his head slightly. "You mean after I've met His Highness?"

"Yes. If you wish it, His Highness would have no objection to granting you the authority to rule Drag Velga. You possess the rightful qualifications."

The Count's response drew a faint chuckle from Ian. "You really must want to free yourself from all this work."

"I won't deny it, but it's more for everyone's sake. If the Agent of the Saint were to govern, Drag Velga would become the safest city in the Black Lands." The Count smiled as he added, "Even the servants of a great demon wouldn't dare to invade."

Ian's smile deepened slightly. True enough, for those whose livelihoods depended on this place, safety was of utmost importance. Still, he hadn't expected the suggestion to come from the other side first.

At this point, I'm wondering if all the nobles here are like this.

Ian took another sip of his drink before replying. "Regrettably, I have no such intentions. The city remains under your management."

His firm refusal made the Count click his tongue in disappointment. "As I thought. You never intended to return here."

It seemed the Count had already expected Ian's answer to some extent.

Ian shrugged. "Even if I had taken over, I would've kept pushing all the work onto you. I do not know how to manage a city, nor have any intention of learning. Besides," He shifted his gaze to the Count and continued. "I plan to return—by breaking the Wall."

Yet again, the Count didn't look particularly surprised. "I had a feeling. Someone who achieved such magnificent feats beyond the Wall would hardly settle for a quiet life here. I only asked on the off chance you might consider it."

The Count spoke with an almost relieved tone and offered a formal smile. "You'll likely find common ground with His Highness. He's doing everything in his power to bring down this demonic realm."

Ian glanced at the Count, then brought the bottle to his lips and casually remarked, "I figured as much. So, that's His Highness's goal."

"That's one of the reasons His Highness is so remarkable. Even in a situation as dire as this, he has never abandoned or given up on us."

The Count's voice lowered slightly as he added, "Unlike many who have resigned themselves to living out their lives here, surrendering to this reality."

Ian took another sip of his drink, a faint smirk curling on his lips. "Sounds like you're talking about yourself."

"Of course." The Count smiled calmly.

"An unyielding will is a quality reserved for great heroes like His Highness or you, the Agent of the Saint. Ordinary people like me simply adapt to reality and follow in the footsteps of heroes."

Heroes, huh?

Ian scoffed softly and took another sip.

He did not differ from the Count in his ordinariness. His status window granted almost everything he possessed. If he had been dropped into this world in his original state, he would've given up or succumbed to reality long ago, or perhaps he wouldn't have survived at all.

"Don't give up." At last, Ian set the bottle down on the desk with a soft thud, looking directly at the count as he added, "If you endure, the day will come when you can return home."

The Count could have asked how Ian could be so certain, but instead, he simply muttered, "Home... my home..."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke, and absently stroking his beard, he continued. "I am from Borta. A land where grapes ripen well. My family held rightful dominion over that region."

Ian's brow arched slightly, though the Count, seemingly lost in his thoughts, didn't notice and carried on.

"I still long for it at times, but it no longer feels like home. Even if I were to return one day, everything would be entirely different from what I remember."

The Count's gaze wandered to the wall—or perhaps to the memories of his past. "There likely wouldn't even be a place for me in my family. My siblings will have either aged or passed on, and to their children, I'd be nothing more than an alien, uncomfortable presence."

"So, are you saying you don't want to go back?" Ian interjected.

A faint, bitter smile tugged at the Count's lips. "More than that, it's fear. The fear that this imagining might become reality. And I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way."

"What if it becomes reality?" asked Ian. The Count turned to look at him, and Ian met his gaze, his expression calm and composed. "What if your family truly doesn't accept you? What will you do then?"

"I would return here." The Count answered without hesitation, though a bitter smile played at his lips. "I would spend the rest of my life in this beautiful underground city."

Ian watched him briefly before speaking again. "Have you heard of the Ark Caravan?"

"The Ark? Hmm, yes. I recall it—a long-established trading company in the city." Frowning slightly in thought, the Count suddenly glanced back at Ian. "How do you know of them, Agent of the Saint?"

"I have a connection," Ian replied nonchalantly with a shrug. "If your fears come true, seek the head of the Ark Caravan and mention my name. They'll take you in. Surely, it will be better than spending your life buried in this underground city."

The Count's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but soon a peculiar smile spread across his face. "I shall do so. Thank you for your generosity, Agent of the Saint."

Ian simply shrugged and took another sip from his bottle. His mind, however, was already wandering elsewhere.

The Count said he would return to this city if he became an unwelcome guest in his family. Would Hyked do the same?

A baseless certainty formed in Ian's mind: probably not.

He could almost picture how the flow of events in the Fifth Chapter would unfold. As he sighed and took another sip from the bottle, a voice cut through the air.

"Then what about me?" Diana's sudden question made Ian turn his gaze toward her.

"What about you?"

Diana, still leaning back with her eyes closed in resignation, continued, "If I return, can I also mention your name to the elder?"

Even now, that's what she's curious about?

As Ian let out a faint chuckle, about to reply, the sound of mechanical gears turning filled the room as a stone door along the wall opened.

Clank.

All three of them turned their attention toward it simultaneously.

"Apologies for interrupting," came the deep voice of an orc guard as he stepped through the opening, bowing respectfully.

Diana glared at the orc, but the Count merely shook his head and asked, "Not at all. What is it?"

The orc replied immediately. "The Owls have returned—with the Wolves."