I Became the Narrow-Eyed Villain in a Dropped Novel

Chartra’s coup.

Johann Geller mulled over the word coup in his mind.

He had suspected something.

There was no way that Werner Chartra, an extreme loyalist, would become discouraged simply because he was pushed out of the Council of Dukes.

But a military coup?

Surely, he understood that it could lead to civil war.

“If it’s a coup orchestrated by Lord Chartra, I doubt the motive would be something absurd like ‘becoming Emperor’.”

“Aren’t you trusting Lord Chartra a little too much?”

Valheit laughed quietly.

It was a tone that made it hard to believe they were discussing something as grave as a coup.

Back when he was younger, Johann had rebuked him for such attitudes.

But he had held the position of Duke for forty years now.

He’d grown accustomed to Valheit’s ways.

“Well, you're not wrong. If Chartra drew his sword claiming he wanted to be Emperor, the world would laugh at him.”

“Then what’s his objective?”

“Probably to purge snakes like Your Grace and myself and to protect His Majesty.”

As expected.

It was exactly the kind of thought Werner Chartra—straightforward to the point of stupidity—would have.

To him, all the other Dukes must seem like bandits.

Still, there was no way Chartra’s sincerity would reach the Emperor.

The Emperor trusted no one.

Be it noble or commoner, Duke or Baron, loyalist or sycophant.

Even if, by some miracle, he subdued the other six Dukes and avoided civil war, the Emperor would eliminate Chartra himself.

“The contract the three Dukes and I had originally signed was meant as a precaution. But circumstances have changed.”

“What was once hypothetical… is now reality.”

The current Emperor was greedy and power-hungry—but aside from his bloodline, he had no ability to obtain it.

If he had simply indulged in pleasure and lusted after wealth, it would’ve been manageable.

The Dukes could’ve simply handled matters among themselves.

But a thirst for power was a different matter.

The thought of this man trying to steal the Council of Dukes’ authority like a street thug was intolerable.

“Where is the illegitimate son?”

“I’m keeping him safe for now. I plan to make good use of him when the time comes.”

So that’s why the Count made his move now.

The answer to that question was becoming clear.

The illegitimate son, who was supposed to be nothing more than a spare part, was now in Valheit’s hands—giving him control over the reins.

Not exactly a welcome development, considering the Count’s past conduct.

“Seems you’re not pleased.”

“It’s hard to trust Count Valheit.”

“In that case, how about this.”

Valheit slid a blank contract form toward Johann.

Johann stared silently at the paper Valheit pushed across the table.

“You don’t plan to sign a new contract?”

“There’s no need for Your Grace to shoulder any risk. If things go wrong, I’ll take the fall. You need only enjoy the fruits once everything is done.”

A tempting offer indeed.

One day, the Emperor’s blunders would pile up, and then they could replace him with minimal risk.

There was no doubt about that.

But at present, there still wasn’t enough justification to depose the Emperor.

Especially in the eyes of the people—who regarded him as neither good nor bad, just an ordinary ruler.

If they tried to overthrow him now, the ever-patriotic masses would undoubtedly side with the Emperor.

Perhaps the safest option was to let Valheit handle the dangerous work and step back.

Johann placed the contract back at the center of the table.

Valheit’s brow twitched slightly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I imagine it would be difficult for you to handle everything alone.”

No risk, no gain.

And if there was one thing he could trust about Valheit—

This old snake would never do anything that would leave him at a loss.

There had to be a reason behind that confidence.

“Well, if that’s how Your Grace feels.”

Valheit replied cheerfully and pulled out a fountain pen.

“Then let’s iron out the details.”

***

It was only after leaving the exhibition and settling into the carriage that the tension began to ease.

Slumping into the seat, I let out a long sigh.

“I’m dead tired…”

I had said we should go over the details, but I hadn’t expected to wrestle over individual words for over an hour.

I’d yielded on plenty of small matters, but I’d held firm on the key points.

And the other party, aware of that, had tried to nitpick the minutiae relentlessly.

‘Glad the bluff about doing it all by myself worked.’

Johann Geller was far more cautious than I expected.

Like a risk-averse investor who preferred savings accounts over stocks.

Since I still hadn’t confirmed Werner Chartra’s true intent, if I wanted my plan to work, I absolutely needed Johann Geller—head of the Council and the wealthiest Duke—on my side.

But he wasn’t someone who could be swayed with sweet talk.

That had been true in the novel, and meeting him in person confirmed it even more.

Rather than coaxing, it was better to provoke him and break through head-on.

That had proven to be the right choice.

‘Good thing Valheit is known for never taking a loss.’

Valheit was infamous as someone never to be trusted—but there was one thing even his harshest critics acknowledged.

Valheit would never do anything that caused him personal loss.

The idea that he would sacrifice for a greater cause simply did not apply to him.

It was an unsparing criticism—but one that made him all the easier to exploit.

‘Anyway, I’ve secured time.’

My goal in today’s contract negotiation was simple.

There were a few side objectives I wouldn’t have minded achieving, but there was only one real core goal:

When Chartra initiates a coup, the Council of Dukes will stay put.

In the original novel, the moment Chartra launched his coup, the Dukes revolted, and civil war broke out.

That was Valheit’s original goal, too.

But to me, civil war was utterly useless.

It would just draw attention and increase my chance of dying.

‘Now the problem is how to win over the Chartra Family…’

Werner Chartra’s goal, as I’d heard during our last meeting, was the purge of treacherous Dukes.

It was impossible for civil war not to break out.

I’d managed to prevent the Dukes from reacting right away, but if Chartra pointed a sword at their throats, they’d have no choice.

Or rather, they’d claim to have no choice—while scheming behind the scenes.

‘Last time I probed him, he did seem aware that the Emperor was the real problem.’

If he weren’t, there’s no way I could’ve walked out alive after openly suggesting rebellion.

But just because the Emperor was pathetic didn’t mean Chartra would abandon his loyalty.

His family was the kind to die worrying about the Imperial Family—even as they were being wiped out.

Just like the First Duke had needed an alternative, Chartra needed one too.

Though, ironically, one wanted a puppet Emperor while the other wanted a true ruler he could serve.

“Stop for a moment.”

The carriage halted, and I walked over to a road sign standing by the roadside.

It was a main road connecting the Imperial Capital with the outer districts, so the signposts were densely tangled.

In the hollow of a massive tree behind the signpost, there was a letter.

The scrawled handwriting was unmistakably familiar.

[On July 11, I plan to depart with Blaiher to visit Father. Victor Strauss will contact Stetten on the 15th as instructed.]

I shredded the letter into tiny pieces using Mana Grasp and tossed them onto the road.

The pieces scattered with the wind, slipping into the cracks of the path.

“Change of destination.”

“Where shall we head, Count?”

“To the Chartra family’s villa in Kliffen. How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Even if we hurry, it’ll take a full day.”

The coachman, pale as a corpse, muttered while pulling on the reins.

A day, huh…

Since it was already the evening of the 11th, even rushing would get me there by the evening of the 12th. A slight delay, and it’d be the 13th.

‘Blaiher better not run into any trouble in the meantime.’

Just because Werner Chartra had doubts about the current Emperor didn’t mean he would immediately take a liking to Blaiher.

More likely, he’d see him as a threat to the throne and look to cut his head off.

But to prevent civil war, Blaiher—who had a legitimate claim to succession—had to win Werner’s favor.

In short, the ideal outcome would be both Werner Chartra and the Council of Dukes recognizing Blaiher Kruber as the next Emperor.

‘Still, Til went with him. She should be able to persuade him somehow.’

Their relationship might be rocky, but if it’s his daughter asking, Werner might be a bit more receptive.

***

‘I want to die.’

Blaiher forced food into his mouth as he thought that.

He had mentally prepared himself.

The Fourth Duke Chartra’s house was the only one among the Dukes that was still classified as a loyalist faction despite frequent clashes with the Emperor.

So he hadn’t expected a warm and friendly meeting.

But this?

‘Why the hell are they ready to kill each other and acting like I’m not even here?’

At opposite ends of the dinner table, Werner Chartra and Til Chartra paid no mind to the Emperor’s illegitimate son sitting between them.

“Seeing your shameless face again at dinner—it’s delightful, daughter.”

“I told you yesterday, I’m here to guard His Highness. So could you drop the ‘daughter’ nonsense?”

“Abandoning your sword and forgetting the meaning of honor… You disgrace me. Acting like a servant to a bastard prince. It’s utterly lamentable.”

“Better than being some pathetic shut-in who got shunned by the other Dukes and holed up for a year.”

Please. If you're going to fight, do it outside or something.

Why even invite someone to dinner just to bicker like this?

Valheit-sensei had told him to win Werner Chartra’s favor at all costs, and Blaiher intended to try.

But that only worked if the other party actually paid attention to him.

Right now, the head of the Chartra house was completely absorbed in his family drama.

“Even if you ran away like a brat, you should know better than to bring shame to His Majesty.”

“Why would I? Unlike you, I’m not the type to sit around waiting for some divine grace from the Emperor.”

“Uh… please, could both of you calm down a bit…”

Glares full of murderous intent shot from both sides.

The unspoken message was clear: Outsiders stay out. Blaiher sighed deeply.

“I should’ve stopped you when you said you were running off to chase after that weirdo woman.”

“What? I don’t care if you insult me or that bastard Valheit—but if you talk trash about our Commander, family or not—”

“Enough!!”

Blaiher’s voice echoed across the dining room.

The two, who looked like they might draw blades and swing axes any second, turned to look at him.

“…Please. Let’s at least act like adults. We’re not here to fight, are we?”

The tension was still there, but at least no weapons were being drawn.

He had to change the topic quickly.

“I heard Sir Valheit left a message. What was it, Lord Chartra?”

After another minute of silent power struggle with his daughter, Werner finally turned his head.

“He said to test whether you’re fit to be Emperor.”

That, at least, Blaiher had been warned about.

Though he hadn’t been told how the test would work.

“The standard the Chartra family uses to serve an Emperor is simple. No need for political tricks or money games. Only pure martial strength.”

Werner drew his sword and stabbed it into the ground.

The impact alone made Blaiher’s body tremble.

“No need for long-winded talk. Just prove it.”

“…Understood. Do you have a specific method in mind?”

“Of course I do.”

Werner Chartra grinned as he pointed at someone.

“You just have to land a valid hit on that rude brat of a daughter of mine.”

Following Werner’s finger, Blaiher’s eyes landed on Til—whose expression looked like she was about to kill someone.

“…Naturally, a fair fight wouldn’t be much of a match, so I’ll put in a condition. If you manage to land one clean hit on my daughter, I’ll acknowledge you. Be at the training grounds tomorrow morning.”

Having said his piece, Werner yanked his sword from the floor and strode out of the dining room.

Til, grinding her teeth, stormed off right behind him.

Left alone, Blaiher groaned up at the ceiling.

‘I want to die.’

“You seem like someone who, for some reason, really wants to die.”

“Huuuaaack!”

He nearly fell out of his chair from the sudden voice behind him.

“V-Valheit?! What are you doing here?!”

“Finished my business and thought I’d drop by for a peek. Coming through the front door would’ve been too boring, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

He gestured toward a window near the ceiling, now wide open.

“…Anyway, did something happen?”

“Well…”

Blaiher sighed and explained what had transpired.

Even as he spoke, Valheit’s face was full of amusement.

“Now that’s a Chartra-style challenge.”

“What should I do…”

“What else? Just win.”

“But even with the handicap, my chances of hitting Sister Til are…”

“Well, you don’t necessarily have to beat her in the conventional sense.”

Blaiher tilted his head, clearly not understanding.

Valheit’s mouth curled upward.

“Trickery is also a form of skill… something like that.”