Tyrant? No, I am the Villain
Chapter 32: Not a monster

Chapter 32: Not a monster

Morning arrived gently over the city of Rammstein, sunlight draping the Palace grounds with golden light. Birds chirped in the distance and a faint wind brushed the dew-covered grass. The estate stirred slowly to life.

Inside the northern servant quarters which were large buildings built to house the workforce and their families.

Since it was dawn the doors creaked open as maids, cleaners and gardeners exited with groggy eyes and polished shoes. They moved in unison, the Palace staff trained to operate with mechanical and excellent discipline.

Their first duty, as always, was to clean the estate lawns. The Palace’s garden spanned vast land which was beautiful yet monotonous for those tasked to maintain it.

Weeds had to be pulled. Dead leaves swept. The fountains scrubbed, and the grass trimmed but today was different.

One servant paused mid-step, narrowing her eyes at a dark shape lying in the distance across the trimmed greenery. She blinked, was it a rock? A mound of cloth?

No, but it was something else. Something rotten due to the smell. The closer they got, the more they noticed the blood. Dried, crusted crimson on blades of grass. The stench was rancid like a curse in the air until they saw the corpse.

A body, shrouded in black, missing both legs and its head. Blood pooled and crusted under it.

The cloth stuck to the flesh, bloated and discolored. The air filled with a wave of shrieks as one of the maids screamed. Others joined her in a terrified chorus. Hearing the screams other servants came running as word began to spread.

Inside the Palace, Galliard stormed down the hallway, his boots clapping angrily against the marble floor.

"What do you mean there’s a corpse?!" He barked, glaring at the trembling servants who had brought him the news.

"M-my lord." One of them stammered, "It was... a man, we think. Dressed in black... no head. No legs. There’s blood all over the lawn..."

Galliard’s nostrils flared. He turned and walked faster, pushing past the doors into the open courtyard. The scent hit him before he even reached the scene.

"Disgusting..." He muttered, pulling a perfumed handkerchief from his coat and covering his nose.

The corpse lay under the warming sun, flies beginning to gather. A grotesque relic of last night’s violence. The dried trail of blood painted a line through the grass like some grotesque map.

Galliard leaned down to inspect it, his expression cold as he couldn’t believe that something like this could have happened here as no one had touched the Palace till now.

"Remove it." He ordered firmly. "Take out the grass as well. Replace every blade that has even a drop of blood. This is the last thing the lord should wake up to." The servants nodded rapidly and scrambled to obey.

As he watched them work, Galliard turned to glance up at Estefan’s window. His brows furrowed. "This man... likely an assassin. Foolish enough to target him."

He considered the idea of the Duke sending protection. But that was already disproven since Estefan had no such luxury. So how did this assassin die? No signs of a fight outside and there were no witnesses but just pure carnage.

What killed him? He let the question hang, then snapped his fingers at the servants who were slacking. "I want this place cleaned before sunrise ends... Move faster... Replace it all."

Once the cleaning finished, Galliard led a small procession of servants carrying silver trays filled with warm towels, coffee and light morning snacks through the palace corridors toward Estefan’s quarters.

Galliard, holding the master key, entered first as he confirmed that Estefan was still sleeping and it was his job to wake him up every morning. The other servants followed in quiet formation after Galliard entered, confirming that the Baron hadn’t woken up yet.

Inside, Estefan was sprawled shirtless on his bed, the blanket half-kicked off as usual. But today, something else stood out because of a cracked marble on the ceiling. A deep dent and scratches across the stone floor.

Galliard sighed, brushing a hand down his face. "So it was the lord..."

He motioned the servants to lay the items on the ornate side table and gave them instructions to tidy the room quickly but silently to not disturb Estefan since he hasn’t woken up yet.

Then he began approaching the bed, he paused beside Estefan’s line of sight, standing slightly aside. No servant was allowed to be the first thing a noble saw upon waking.

He spoke gently, "Wake up, my lord."

No response from Estefan.

He repeated himself five times, each with increasing clarity but restrained volume.

Estefan groaned and rolled over. "Let me sleep more..." He mumbled while hesitating to wake up.

Then, finally after some minutes he stretched both arms and blinked awake, yawning loudly. "Seems like something happened." He muttered, his tone lazy.

Galliard remained bowed as he replied, "Yes, my lord. We found a corpse on the lawn."

Estefan swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawning again. He rubbed his neck as he stood up and began walking toward the washroom. "Look into that. An assassin bold enough to try and kill a noble in Angeras Duchy deserves... A bold group who doesn’t fear Nobility."

Inside the marble washroom, Estefan splashed cold water on his face, staring into the silver-framed mirror. He said nothing at first but his reflection stared back looking tired, sunken eyes beneath strands of tousled hair. The weariness wasn’t from lack of sleep.

It was life, his life was harsh and lonely while he thought about his mother. The only person who loved him and back when things were simple, when laughter wasn’t forced. When warm food made with love filled his belly, he didn’t have to sleep with a blade under the pillow. He missed those days.

But that world died with her, he now hadn’t got that luxury to enjoy his life. Each moment, each second of his life must be used to sharpen himself since he has to slice open his enemies with perfect sharpness.

A Blood soaked path, that was his life as his entire childhood after the age of 10 was gone due to this.

He splashed more water, muttering to himself, "Accept it and move on... For the sake of my revenge..."

He leaned closer to the mirror as he could see the flicker of sorrow in his eyes which betrayed the monster others believed him to be. He was not heartless, only determined for the goal he had set in his mind.

"At least I’ll get to see him die, not just him.. all of them." He chuckled darkly before turning toward the wardrobe.

The chamber held clothes once owned by Duke Simon. Estefan, lacking support from the current Duke Gerin, had claimed his grandfather’s wardrobe. They were still fine. In fact, better than what he could afford without much of a funding.

He picked a black, flexible shirt, soft to the skin, along with tailored pants. He left the top three buttons undone, revealing his collarbone and his chest.

Finally dressed, he exited the room. "Shall we prepare for our guests today?" He asked, his tone calm but sharp.

The servants bowed instantly as Galliard trailed behind him.

[To be Continued]