Lord of Disease (JP-GL) 172

172: A Terrifying Trust

I was in a meeting with the disinformation unit, in a room in the royal castle.

There were three doppelgangers, including Clarion, and one of their civilian collaborators from the royal castle.

Officially, she was just on ‘loan,’ her affiliation unchanged. But she called me ‘Master.’ Probably because it was easier than ‘Lord of Disease-sama.’

The doppelgangers were all wearing dark brown hoods, and while Clarion was in the form of a dark elf, the other two were beastmen. I was a little disappointed that Clarion was also wearing a hood that covered her ears.

The civilian girl was a dark elf, her silver hair tied back in a cute ponytail.

Since we were in the royal castle, my only guard was Samarkand, who was stationed outside the single door.

I looked at the four of them and began to summarize our discussion.

“—And that is the outline of our plan to counter the Imperial Guard in the Perte Empire.”

This was a kind of presentation. No PowerPoint, but I was focused and clear.

I felt like I could bluff my way through any job if I went back to Earth, but I’d gotten used to the easy method of just forcing my way through with my authority, so it was probably a useless skill.

But I intended to be buried in this country, and while I was alive, I would probably be a supreme commander.

“…Any questions?” I looked at each of them. I sensed a certain hesitation, and a meeting where people were hesitant to speak was usually a failed one.

“If you have something to say, please don’t hesitate.”

They all began to speak at once.

“How do you even come up with something so villainous?”

“I’m a little… taken aback.”

“I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“I feel sorry for the humans.”

“…Is that what you were hesitant about?”

I’d been expected something entirely different. Their trust was like a blade.

“So, is it possible?”

“It is. This is where we in the disinformation unit shine.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“There are risks… but it’s worth it.”

“There will be hazard pay. …I know it’s not about the money.”

“…No, it’s not about the money. —We doppelgangers have received something far more precious from the Lord of Disease.”

I tilted my head at the doppelganger’s words. I decided to just ask.

“…What is that, if I may ask?”

She smiled.

“Trust.”

I felt a sharp pang in my chest.

…I want to make these girls happy.

I felt that way about all of my subordinates. About everyone in the nation of Listrea.

But for these girls, who had perhaps never known even the most basic of things…

For them, my first subordinates, when I had had no achievements to my name…

“…I’m the one who should be grateful.” I smiled.

“It is your strength that has made me the Lord of Disease.”

They all looked at each other. Had my words reached them?

“…Um, did we… overdo it?”

“Did we make our master a heartless monster…?”

“We’re so sorry for being so ruthless…”

What was I supposed to do when my words were so completely misinterpreted?

Then, Clarion, who had been silent, stepped forward.

“—What are you all talking about?”

Oh, a rescue! Just what I’d always wanted!

“The Lord of Disease would have revealed her ruthlessness and risen to prominence even without our help. We merely assisted her.”

That’s not the rescue I was hoping for.

I thought I was being praised.

I thought I was being trusted.

But the direction was… strange.

Well, given my name and my position, it was probably correct.

I sighed inwardly.

I was the Lord of Disease.

Species: Human.

Objective: Human extinction.

Then, I should…

“Then, let’s hear your opinions. Let’s turn my basic plan into something we can actually use.”

With my cute subordinates, I would refine this ruthless, villainous plan.

That was all.

““““Yes!””””

They all nodded, smiling. The meeting proceeded smoothly, in a friendly, cheerful atmosphere.

And for some reason, as the meeting went on, everyone’s faces gradually turned pale.

The civilian girl, in place of the now silent doppelgangers, muttered, her voice trembling,

“…Our master… she’s not… the ‘concept of slaughter’… is she?”

A nostalgic phrase. The dark horse theory about my true identity. An option that only a true gambler would choose, one that required the assumption of a non-existent being, a conceptual life form.

I smiled at my cute subordinates.

“One hundred percent human.”