The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate
Chapter 232. Speak Kindly, and You Will Be Spoken To Kindly (2)

Chapter 232. Speak Kindly, and You Will Be Spoken To Kindly (2)

Octa stared at the mad dog before him, his expression trembling with fear.

This was Caron Leston. The young man who had so suddenly barged into the president's office was now helping himself to Octa's prized liquor collection, bottles that had been carefully displayed in a cabinet.

And yet, Octa couldn't utter a single word of protest. One wrong move, and he had the terrible feeling he would be bitten by this mad dog.

This was a lunatic who had stormed in during broad daylight and openly threatened his family. And the fact that the youngest grandson of a great ducal house was acting this way was something Octa could hardly comprehend.

"Is it because you're a noble?" Caron wondered, examining a bottle with an appreciative look. "You do have good taste in alcohol. I like it."

Perhaps it was guilt that gnawed at him. Octa could only gulp down his rising fear as he watched Caron shamelessly loot his collection.

After all, the Imperial Times had recently been leading the charge in spreading conspiracy theories that the Ducal Family of Leston was plotting rebellion. Even with the support of Marquis Diaz and the royal family behind them, nothing was more terrifying than immediate violence.

Thus, Octa could do nothing but lower his gaze and watch Caron cautiously.

"I have to say," Caron went on, twirling the bottle in his hand, "I was truly impressed reading the Imperial Times. What was that headline again? 'Does the Ducal Family of Leston Dream of Fifty Years Ago?' Hah! Your editor has real talent. Could've made a fortune as a novelist."

Caron placed the empty bottle on the table with a casual thud and smiled. Normally, even high-born youths would show some respect to their elders, but this young man displayed not a shred of courtesy. He carried himself more like a back-alley thug than a noble.

Yet Octa didn't have the courage to call him out. He could only stay silent and listen.

"For two straight weeks, you people kept publishing articles insulting and slandering my family. Every other paper just followed your lead. Looks like you were determined to tear us down," Caron said.

"...We only... We were merely responding to the requests... of those who support our newspaper..." Octa stuttered, his voice cracking.

"Oh, sure, I get it," Caron said, nodding as if he understood. "The Imperial Times was founded as a government mouthpiece, wasn't it? His Majesty the emperor himself set it up to deliver his will to the people. So it makes sense you'd follow the royal family's orders."

It was true that the Imperial Times had been created with the noble goal of reviving the crumbling prestige of the royal family and bringing it closer to its people.

"But the ones you're taking orders from now... They're not His Majesty, are they?" Caron said, his voice turning cold.

Caron had touched on the real issue, and Octa knew it. Caron had already traced the money that had been flowing into the Imperial Times. It all came from Marquis Diaz.

"Looks to me like you're backing the Crown Prince now, not the Emperor," Caron pointed out.

At that moment, Octa realized that this young man standing before him already knew everything. He knew who was behind them, what they were planning.

The Ducal Family of Leston had already grasped the entire situation.

Coming to that grim conclusion, Octa stiffened. Gathering what little courage he had left, he spoke in a voice full of forced determination. "This is... blatant suppression of the press."

Caron's eyes gleamed dangerously as he looked at Octa, seemingly amused.

"Oh? Resistance?" Caron asked, tilting his head mockingly. "Is that the spirit of a true newspaper president?"

"If you kill me here," Octa said, gritting his teeth, "It will only confirm the rumors about your family—"

The words had barely left Octa's mouth when Caron burst into laughter. "Hahaha!

"So you figured you might as well scream before you die? You're not bad, President. Maybe it's because you've got some powerful people backing you. You've got guts. But tell me something, President," Caron said as he stepped closer, his voice dropping. "If I really meant to silence you... What do you think I would've done?"

At that moment, Octa had a terrifying vision. He saw Caron's dark blue sword—the one resting casually against the table—slicing cleanly through his own throat.

His entire body froze. The murderous aura that Caron released, even for that brief second, was enough to paralyze Octa's mind.

"I'm showing mercy to the man who dared disgrace the honor of the great Ducal Family of Leston," Caron said, his voice low and calm. "I like your spirit, but maybe you should start by understanding your own situation."

The young man standing before Octa wasn't the kind of noble he was used to dealing with in the capital. There was a murderous aura about Caron, the kind that only those who had taken lives could emit. Octa could hardly breathe under the weight of it.

"True suppression of the press," Caron continued casually, "would mean hunting down every bastard who insulted our house and killing them all. Then everyone else would shut their mouths out of fear. Don't you think so?"

It was then that Octa realized his pants were wet. He had pissed himself without even noticing.

Yet just as quickly as the deadly aura had appeared, it vanished. Caron smiled brightly, as if nothing had happened.

"Just speaking hypothetically," Caron said lightly. "Relax. I don't actually plan to go that far."

He popped open another bottle and nodded, seeming perfectly at ease. He asked, "You've realized by now why I went out of my way to come find you and have a talk with you, right?"

Octa summoned every ounce of strength he had and nodded. He replied hoarsely, "...You're giving me a chance."

"Quick on the uptake," Caron said with a grin. "I'm guessing you wouldn't want me making a trip to the Academy to find your son, would you? Let's keep this easy, shall we?"

Caron pushed a glass toward Octa and poured him a drink before declaring, "I'm here to buy out this newspaper company."

Despite the shocking nature of his words, Caron spoke as if he were discussing the weather—utterly unashamed.

Extortion, and now bribery. Caron's actions were far beyond anything Octa could have anticipated.

Octa swallowed hard, then carefully asked, "Do you want us to issue a public apology?"

"That's a given," Caron said, waving it off. "But that's not why I'm buying you out. Now, come on. Drink."

Octa did as he was told, downing the glass in one gulp. The liquor burned all the way down, searing his throat, but he endured the pain willingly. It was better than dying.

"Your editor's got a real knack for writing fiction, doesn't he?" Caron said, refilling the glass. "So this time, I want him to write a story for me. I'll even give you the material myself. How about it?"

Caron had said it was a buyout, meaning if Octa agreed, there would be compensation.

Octa swallowed again and asked, his voice trembling, "Are... Are you offering me a chance to switch sides?"

"The Imperial Times has a lot of influence," Caron said. "It'd be a shame to just shut it down."

Octa's mind whirled. He thought, If I play this right...

Not only could he save his life, but he could gain a new, far more powerful patron, the Ducal Family of Leston.

It was no secret that the Ducal Family of Leston had been growing in strength lately. Octa had heard countless rumors through the reporters spread across the empire. If he could align himself with them now, and if he could support them and earn their favor...

Wouldn't I be rewarded with something even greater than what the royal family promised? Octa thought.

The Imperial Times could become an invaluable asset to the Ducal Family of Leston. That much was clear.

Realizing that, Octa's demeanor subtly shifted. The calculating gleam of a merchant crept onto his face. He began carefully, "If, if we were to make sincere efforts to repent for the wrongs we've committed against the Ducal Family of Leston..."

"You're asking if there'll be a reward? Of course there will," Caron said with a sly smile, his hand casually resting on his sword. "I'll let you live."

"...Excuse me?" Octa asked.

"I said I'll let you live," Caron repeated. "There's nothing in this world more valuable than life, is there, President?"

Caron declared the price of loyalty without hesitation: Survival itself. The only problem was, the payment was Octa's own life.

"Oh, and one more thing," Caron added. "I want you to run an article about me."

Octa blinked, confused, then asked, "An... An article? About you?"

"Yes. Write that the youngest of the Ducal Family of Leston isn't a hero, he's just a troublemaker," Caron answered.

"Why would you want—" Octa began, but was cut off.

"Don't ask," Caron interrupted. "Just write it. Will you or won't you?"

"I will!" Octa cried immediately. "I'll summon the editor right away!"

"Good man," Caron said, settling back with another drink. "Guess I'll hang around for a bit. Keep me company, President. If you don't have anything to do, sing a song or something."

"Y-Yes, of course," Octa replied.

And just like that, a sword-wielding thug had seized control of the empire's most powerful newspaper company.

***

The Imperial Times' correction articles were soon published as an extra edition. The headlines that filled its pages were as follows:

"The Ducal Family of Leston Never Plotted Rebellion!"

"The Empire's Northwest Reborn, Thanks to the Ducal Family of Leston!"

"Great Leston! Working Miracles for the Forgotten and Oppressed!"

"How the Ducal Family of Leston Rose to Become the Continent's Greatest Nobility!"

"The True Noblesse Oblige: All Those Who Ever Doubted Them Should Reflect on Themselves."

"Exclusive Report: The Malevolent Emperor Is Returning!"

The sheer volume of articles was staggering, especially considering how quickly the edition had been assembled. It was clear how much blood, sweat, and tears Octa, president of the Imperial Times, had poured into this task.

He had mobilized every resource the newspaper had, issuing the extra edition in a blink, and its contents spread across the capital with terrifying speed.

The citizens' reactions erupted immediately.

"Of course! Did anyone really doubt the Grand Duke Halo?"

"Where else but the Ducal Family of Leston would you find nobles who actually care about commoners?"

"Obviously the royal family was behind it all. It even says so, plain as day, in the article!"

"There are still lunatics out there who worship the Malevolent Emperor? They've clearly lost their minds!"

The Imperial Times, once relentless in its criticism of the Ducal Family of Leston, had changed its tune overnight. And the people were more than ready to rally behind the Ducal Family of Leston.

No matter how much the press had tried to tear them down, the image the Ducal Family of Leston had built was simply too strong to be undone...

Especially the influence of Caron.

It was overwhelming to the point that even when an article was printed at Caron's own request, declaring:

"Caron Leston: Not a Hero, Just a Troublemaker. A Man Who Enjoyed Publicly Humiliating Fellow Nobles and Abused Even His Own Cousins..."

The public reacted not by turning against him, but by turning their fury on the newspaper itself.

"Bastard journalists! Still haven't come to your senses!"

"That's right! There's no way Lord Caron would ever behave like that!"

"Of course not!"

"Goddamn press scum!"

Their faith in Caron was so absolute that they cursed the Imperial Times in unison, refusing to believe a word against him.

In the end, Caron's carefully laid plan to paint himself as a scoundrel had completely backfired.

"Man... People sure don't make life easy," Caron said with a chuckle, picking at his lunch.

He was eating at a small restaurant near the newspaper office, sitting across from Octa. Caron wore a simple disguise, blending in with the common folk who packed the noisy eatery.

Tearing into a piece of pork ribs, Caron shook his head. The food was delicious—seasoned with a slightly spicy sauce that kept his hands reaching for more—but the conversations floating in from the other tables annoyed him.

"Is this not enough?" Caron muttered. "Maybe I really do need to beat someone bloody in a crowded square..."

Across from him, Octa stiffened like a man who had just swallowed ice. He asked cautiously, "Would... Would it be rude to ask why you're so determined to be called a troublemaker...?"

"Because I feel like it," Caron said, flashing a mischievous grin. "Think of it as being a good grandson, trying to give my grandfather a few more wrinkles to worry over."

"I-I see. I'll do my best to help," Octa stuttered.

"Forget it," Caron said, waving a hand dismissively. "If it's not working, it's not working. We'll just have to find another way."

He shrugged, then tore into another rib with relish. After a moment, he glanced sidelong at Octa and said casually, "Now that the extra edition's out... You know there's no going back, right?"

"I understand," Octa said quietly.

Caron was right. There truly was no turning back anymore.

The moment the Imperial Times defended the Ducal Family of Leston and turned its criticisms on the royal family, it had, for all intents and purposes, chosen its side. They had betrayed the master they'd once loyally served.

But Octa felt no pangs of guilt. At the end of the day, survival came first. If he had refused Caron's proposal back then, he would almost certainly be dead by now.

"Looking forward to working with you, President. We're going to make excellent partners," Caron said with a bright smile.

"Y-Yes, of course," Octa stuttered.

"In the spirit of partnership, I'll ask for just one more little favor," Caron added, flashing a grin that made Octa's stomach twist into knots.

"I've got one more stop to make after lunch. Mind sending a few reporters along?" Caron asked.

It sounded like a request—but the unspoken threat behind it was as sharp as a knife.

Octa nodded without hesitation and said, "Of course. May I ask what you're planning?"

"I'm thinking of dropping by the Academy," Caron said casually.

At that, the color drained from Octa's face. On the verge of tears, he pleaded, "B-But you promised to spare my son, didn't you? Please, I beg you...!"

"...Who said I'm going there to pick on your son?" Caron said, letting out a snort of disbelief.

Then, in a voice that brooked no argument, he declared, "Since things have come this far, we might as well go all in."

Bribery and threats had both worked beautifully. Now that he'd pulled the press into his hands, it was time to use them to light the fuse.

"I'm planning a little surprise speech at the Academy," Caron said with a glint in his eye.

He was the type who, once he decided to make a move, made it big. And he always made sure to return what he received with interest.

"The only way to fight propaganda and lies is with more propaganda and lies," Caron said, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

That was who Caron Leston was.

At that point, Octa simply gave up trying to understand him. Caron Leston was a being beyond the grasp of ordinary human reason.

"Let's have ourselves a proper propaganda war," Caron said, a fearless grin tugging at his lips.

And so, the imperial capital began to spiral deeper into chaos.