When I Cleared the Death Game World, I Reincarnated as a Villainous Noble Even if They Talk About Doom Flags, I'm Actually Immortal. - Chapter 27

While Lior was sitting at the dinner table with Ren and the others…

Three adventurers had gathered in a tavern in town.

They were the ones Lior had saved—a swordsman, a scout, and a mage.

“Are you sure about ordering all this? You were pretty fired up about treating us, but…”

“Don’t come crying to us later if you can’t pay.”

Their table was piled high with food and drink.

An adventurer’s income varied greatly.

A-ranked adventurers could earn enough to buy a house, but for D-ranked adventurers like them, just scraping together enough for daily expenses was a struggle.

A meal this extravagant was a rare luxury.

“Relax, I got it. Here, take a look.”

“Is that… your wallet?”

The scout pulled out a small pouch with a jingling sound.

When he loosened the drawstring, silver coins spilled out—an amount equivalent to a week’s worth of their living expenses.

“You’re using your savings just to treat us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is the wallet I swiped from that brat.”

“Wait… you stole it from the kid who saved us!?”

The “brat” in question was Lior.

The scout had discreetly lifted his wallet as Lior was leaving.

The swordsman stared at the stolen purse, his eyes widening in surprise before breaking into a pleased grin.

“Not bad! As expected of our scout. You pulled it off without a hitch!”

“Growing up in the slums sure gave you some useful skills.”

“Heh, this was nothing. Now, just sit back and drink up in gratitude for my skills.”

“Of course, we’re grateful. Shall we toast to that?”

“Sounds good. But first, we should also appreciate the mage’s cunning mind.”

“Indeed. Who else would come up with the idea of stealing the kid’s accomplishments?”

“Naturally, with my intellect, it was an obvious move.”

It was the mage who had suggested taking credit for Lior’s achievement.

With a smug expression, he lifted his chin proudly.

“Still, we have to give some credit to our leader, the swordsman, for pulling it off so smoothly.”

“That guild receptionist was an idiot! She even told the actual kid who took down the Land Wolf that ‘false reports will be punished.’ Ha! She was the one getting deceived!”

“Haha, just goes to show how many fools exist in this world. A little charm is all it takes to get people to trust you completely.”

“With that attitude, it won’t be long before you win over the famous ‘Fairy Blade Princess,’ Ren.”

“Well… we’ll see about that.”

The swordsman thought about Ren.

She was an exceptionally attractive woman—beautiful features, a well-toned body, and, above all, an ample chest that far surpassed others her age.

Just imagining having her to himself made his bl00d rush south.

“Once we hit C-rank, we’ll be in a better position.”

“And if we make it to C-rank, we might even get sponsors who’ll pay us, right?”

“That usually starts at B-rank. But at C-rank, there’s still the chance of getting recruited as private soldiers somewhere.”

An adventurer’s rank was a measure of both their skill and social standing.

A C-rank adventurer was considered equivalent to a well-trained soldier.

With some luck, they could be hired by noble families or wealthy merchants as private guards.

If they reached B-rank, sponsorship deals from nobility or businesses might come their way.

They could act as symbols of prestige or even be used for product endorsements—similar to streamers in modern Japan.

“So we need to reach B-rank… think we can make it?”

“We’ll manage. We work well together, after all.”

“Then let’s toast—to the future success of our trio!”

“Now that’s a fine idea!”

The three raised their tankards, which resembled small barrels.

“To our glory—cheers!”

“Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

With a clink, they brought their cups together and downed their drinks in one go—

“Bwah!?”

All three of them simultaneously spat out their drinks.

The alcohol they had eagerly gulped down sprayed back onto their own faces.

“Wh-what the hell is this!? It’s gone bad!”

“Alcohol doesn’t spoil… or at least, it shouldn’t. Ugh… but this is beyond awful…”

“What the hell is this sludge? It tastes like… rusted iron…”

The liquid in their mugs had turned thick and rancid, reeking of oxidized metal.

Gagging, they tossed their drinks onto the table, faces contorted in disgust.

“Hey… does this steak seem… slimy to you?”

“Huh? W-wait… are those… maggots!?”

“What the hell is going on!? All the food on our table is spoiled!”

“Hey! Waiter! You trying to serve us rotten food!?”

The scout angrily yelled at a nearby waiter, who stammered, “I-I’ll check right away!” before hurrying back to the kitchen.

Hearing the words “rotten food,” the tavern grew noisy.

What had been a lively drinking hall was now filled with murmurs and unrest.

“Wait, hold on. How are there live maggots in a cooked steak?”

“And the alcohol was fine when it was brought to us. It only turned bad after we got it. The waiter wouldn’t have done something like that.”

“So what are you saying!?”

“In this situation, we’re the most suspicious ones—”

“You bastards think this is some kind of joke!?”

A thunderous voice roared from the kitchen.

A burly man stormed out, each step shaking the floor.

His muscles, bulging like mountain ridges, twitched with barely contained fury.

One of his eyes was covered by an eyepatch, and his wild beard and mane-like hair gave him the appearance of a lion.

His left leg was a metal prosthetic, and his scar-covered body was squeezed into a tight shirt and a navy apron—an odd combination, but one that didn’t diminish his intimidating presence.

One look at his physique made it clear—this man was no ordinary tavern owner.

“Do you punks even realize whose place this is!? This is the tavern of ‘The Pulverizing Lion,’ Belguard, former A-rank adventurer!”

The swordsman tried to defuse the situation with a forced smile.

“W-wait! This is just a misunderstanding—”

“Shut your damn mouth! That fake-ass grin pisses me off!”

“Guh!?”

A devastating punch landed squarely on the swordsman’s face, sending him flying.

Like a cannonball, he crashed through the tavern doors and landed outside.

And then, without hesitation, the enraged tavern owner proceeded to completely demolish the three.

As they lay battered outside, drenched in vomit, the last thing they heard was—

“Get lost, you scumbags! And don’t ever show your faces here again!”

A Final Sprinkle of the Tavern Owner’s Wrath

“Ugh… my bad…”

“…Let’s just call it a night.”

“I just want to wash this off…”

Still aching from the beating and drenched in vomit, the three adventurers trudged silently toward their inn, eager to soak away their misery in a bath.

The excitement from earlier had completely vanished.

While the trio was enduring their worst night yet…

At the Orion family’s estate, Mason was grinning wickedly.

“Heh heh heh… By now, Lior must be suffering from the ‘Cursed Ring’…”

Unbeknownst to Lior, the wallet Mason had given him held a secret.

A hidden pocket had been sewn into the bottom, concealing a small ring.

This ring had been obtained along with the “Possessed Sword” that was used during training.

Just like the sword, the ring harbored an undead spirit.

While Lior was accompanied by the escort knights, incense had kept the spirit sealed.

But once he was alone, the undead would awaken.

“That ring’s spirit is said to ruin its owner’s food… Right about now, Lior must be watching his meal rot before his eyes, screaming in frustration! Heh! If he starves to death, even better!”

Mason burst into triumphant laughter.

Unaware that the wallet had been stolen and that the ring was tormenting the very thieves who took it, he basked in his own self-satisfaction.

In an ironic twist, his scheme had inadvertently found the perfect targets.