Today was the final day of the week, Sunday in the modern world, but Merken here, named after the first King of Arkilia. I’m not particularly fond of the name as I detest the nobility of the kingdom thanks to the redheaded bastard. If you remember, he had slapped me just a few days ago, and I am a petty undead. It shouldn’t be puzzling that the date-keeping system of this world is as advanced as the modern world.

On such a bright Merken, I mean Sunday, I had locked myself in the shed again by punching some holes in my hands. I didn’t dare to stab my arms and biceps again. Believe me when I say it hurt, and don’t disregard my pain just because I am udead. The bleeding had stopped, but my wounds had started festering. A [Heal] would do the job, so until then, I had to bear with this mind-splitting pain.

I got summoned early in the morning, and different guards took me to see the Marquis, reveling in my pitiful state. I wasn’t called to the dining room this time; instead, I was forced to wait outside the Marquis’s room. I craved bread more than anything else right now.

The door opened, and two familiar faces from last night greeted me, their eyes filled to the brim with fear at my appearance. I stumbled to the room deliberately and fell on the exquisite carpet that lined the entire room. Bookshelves flanked the space on both sides, with thick volumes of scrap filing them up over the entire length. The table of the Marquis was adorned with papers, insignia of the royal family stamped on each of them, or so I thought, which fluttered in the breeze of the open window.

Marquis was sitting on his chair, his evaluating gaze pausing in my direction and then at the guards behind me, who appeared more like elite soldiers of the kingdom. They closed the door and walked out, leaving me sprawled on the floor.

“This humble servant greets the Marquis,” I groveled on the floor before raising myself up and sat on my knees. When you humble yourself, there’s no point if you don’t do it to the extreme.

“Where were you when the deed happened, Rudolf?” The Marquis asked, his eyes back on the royal papers on his table.

“Answering the Marquis, this humble servant was touring the city with his lady and returned home when the sun was past overhead.”

“I heard some interesting news from the maid who singled you out yesterday. Care to hear it?”

I didn’t see any apparent traps in his words, so I just bowed respectfully. “This servant dares if it can prove this humble one’s innocence.”

“I heard the lady of the house commissioned the maid to pin the blame on you and orchestrated the murder using my guard.” He got off the chair and approached me, his gaze following my every action. “I understand if such was the case since you and your lady are growing conceited each passing day, and someone had to put you back to your places. What I don’t understand is why the maid is admitting everything.”

He stopped right before me, his eyes pausing briefly at the wounds on my hand before moving over to my face. These officials of the court were not to be underestimated, indeed. Never once had I thought that it would be possible to escape his scrutiny, so everything was still passable as far as my scheme was concerned. Though, the Marquis proved to be a formidable opponent.

Baylar opened his mouth to say something but collapsed on the ground before his voice could reach us. That was [Quagmire] acting up, and the man had just tried to sell me. The thud attracted the attention of the Marquis, and he turned around, watching the man convulsing on the ground until the violet shuddering stopped and foam, mixed with blood, flowed out of his mouth, staining the carpet.

“What happened to him?” he asked, his voice modulated as if he was leisurely taking a stroll on the lawn.

The Marquis conceals all his intentions behind his serene expression, and it is almost impossible to guess his thoughts. Even for me, despite having watched all kinds of humans.

The maid didn’t stare in my direction, rather kowtowed until her forehead started bleeding. I knew it was directed at me, but I decided not to the point that out.

“My lord, he had consumed poison last night, unable to bear his guilt,” she lied through her teeth. “It was the reason this maid had decided to confess everything.” She started crying, and I saw the Marquis furrow his eyebrows.

“I’ll let you go this time in the name of the lady, but I don’t want to see you in the manor again. You sold out your own master, but I am letting you live for the sake of the child. Leave now.”

She got up and ran out of the room, and I showed her my tongue when she glanced in my direction. That’s the fate of insulting my lady. The maid should be grateful that I am only asking for her tongue.

The Marquis, who had returned to his worktable, looked at my sorry state and said, “You are a free person, Rudolf. Why are you serving the eldest miss of the house?”

Not daughter, but eldest miss. “This servant is not free, my lord. This servant is forever bound to his lady by the wishes of his lady’s mother. This servant was sold to the late lady, so he would earnestly live out his life by being worthy of every shin.”

The Marquis clicked his tongue at the mention of his late wife. “Do as you see fit. Don’t bring up that traitor’s name is this house!”

He wasn’t angry, just irate. I bowed respectfully and stood up. “This servant understands.”

To be honest, this is so much more intriguing than just flashing my powers and terrorizing him. For now, I succeeded in averting the suspicion, so I have avoided the first death flag.

“You can leave,” The Marquis said without looking at me. “And get treated by a mage for your wounds. I will send more allowance next time.”

More allowance meant more bread for me. I stopped my irresistible smile and bowed respectfully, “This servant is grateful.”

I walked out in chains, and the guards at the entrance helped me out of them. How I ended up in chains after I broke them is a bit laborious to explain, so I’ll keep it at that. Just know that a blacksmith in this world needs to have both fire and water attributes.

When I reached the stairs, my lady was standing close to the entrance of the western courtyard. I had thought about using [Heal] before meeting her, but I walked to her after noticing her glare. I smiled at her, the same one as last night, but she wasn’t scared like the maid.

“Who did this to you, mongrel?!” She asked, pulling my hands to her own.

“Not here, my lady,” I said and nudged her to the corridor.

“You answer me, mongrel! Who did this to you?!” she stayed rooted on the spot, raw hatred in her eyes. I paused spellbound, partly glad that she could feel hatred now, but more by the ferocity in her eyes that rightfully belonged to her. I cannot deliver such strong emotions, for they have been chipped away over the dry storms of the millennium, leaving an empty shell behind. This fact alone lets me use transmigration magic.

“The guard I whipped a year ago, my lady,” I said, and she stormed towards the guard’s quarters, ignoring my plea to wait.

I followed her, excited to see the villainous side of my lady, and I desperately hoped she wouldn’t disappoint me. We undead love manipulations, but this wasn’t one, as I honestly wanted to get rid of this hellish pain. But, this turn of things was interesting in its own way, and I was looking forward to seeing my assaulter punished, which ultimately gave me enough strength to bear the agony.

We reached the guard quarters, and most of them respected, obviously out of spite, my lady, so everyone greeted her as she walked past them. The corridors linking the edifice were like a maze, spreading in every other direction and opening into different rooms, similar in size to mine. They resembled modern dormitories if warranted a comparison.

The lady stopped outside a door, and I saw Vule tag on the door, something I had avoided last night. Now that I take a careful look around, all the rooms have name tags instead of numbers.

A couple of knocks was all it took for the door to open, and a weird stench assuaged us, so I immediately covered my lady’s nose with my hands. A kick was what I earned in response, for my palms had a hole in them. And it was festering.

“What brings you to here, lady Letitia?” The guard was surprised to see my lady, but his face turned ugly when he saw me.

My lady entered the room, and the guard naturally stepped back, trying his best to maintain an amicable face. The room was filthy, probably the most I have ever seen after coming to this world. His dirty underpants lay sprawled all around the room, containing half-eaten meals in them and some yellowish filth, which I didn’t want my lady to see. The table had grime covering it, the chair lay broken against it, and the open closet was filled with swords and bows instead of clothes. The cot wasn’t occupied, but the sheets had a nasty stench, probably more than the underpants.

Letitia pulled my hands that were festering now, the smell of blood hard to ignore. I wanted to tell her that I had made these holes myself, and they were smaller than the ones he had drilled, but I stayed put. What wouldn’t I do to see the man stabbed to death! I wish I had made a few more holes all over my body.

“You did this?” she asked in her usual cold tone. Nothing new but something different because she was holding a knife in her hand. She had picked it up from a maid on our way.

“This…” he stared at my arm, probably wondering why the holes weren’t circular. It hurt too much to twist the knife on my own, so I didn’t bother churning, and sadly the wounds on my were less severe than they had been.

“Place your palms on the table,” my lady said, and I cast [Ward], my most used spell in this world.

“Lady Letitia?” the guard thought he had heard her wrong.

“Place your filthy hands on the table!” she shouted, almost, and I saw the man obeying without a second word.

“Wait, my lady,” I said and watched relief flash across the eyes of the man. Ah! He was too hopeful.

“What, mongrel?” she asked in annoyance.

I removed my coat, thought dirty; it entailed my blood alone. I shook it thoroughly before tying the arms around her neck, letting her use it as an apron.

The man stared at me wide-eyed, his mouth half-open when the knife descended on his left hand. Blood splashed on my suit and on my lady’s palms but nothing beyond that. I gently covered my lady’s ears with my arms as shrieks resounded in the room. They were monstrous, worse than the maid’s shrills when I had stabbed her eye.

My lady removed the knife, and a second stab soon followed, now on the right hand, accompanied by piercing wails of a grown-up man.

He collapsed on the floor, and foam trickled down his mouth as he succumbed to the excruciating pain. It embarrassed me to know that I let such a weak man stab me.

“Did you wail like this man?” My lady turned to me, and I wiped the drop of blood on her cheek with my clean sleeve that wasn’t stabbed.

“No, my lady. I endured the pain and did not beg for mercy.”

“That’s what you will do, mongrel. You belong to me, and you will only beg to me. I’ll break your legs if you whimper in front of outsiders. That includes your portly friend,” she stood on her tiptoes and pulled my face closer to her. “From now on, if I see you touch another person fondly, I’ll stab them. Worse than the vermin here.”

“Yes, my lady,” I said, catching the subtle uncertainty in her voice. She was young, so it was acceptable that she had doubts about her convictions. I would change them and hone her ruthlessness. Next time, she would kill the person instead of just stabbing them.

So this time, I will clean up.