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 3

 

When Lior regained consciousness, he found himself in a prison cell.

The dim glow of a lantern cast flickering shadows on the rough, uneven stone walls. It appeared to be a cave, one that had been repurposed into a holding cell.

A heavy iron grate sealed off the entrance, blocking the gaping hole in the rock.

As he attempted to shift his arms, a metallic clank echoed through the space.

Looking down, he saw shackles fastened around his wrists. Thick chains extended from the cuffs, binding him to the wall.

There was no room for escape.

“Oh? Looks like the little lord is finally awake.”

A man stood just outside the cell.

With a smug grin plastered on his face, he looked down at Lior as if amused by his predicament.

His voice was familiar.

Lior had heard it before losing consciousness—it was the same one that had been speaking with the maid.

“…Who are you, and where am I?”

“Huh? That’s not quite the reaction I expected… A spoiled brat like you should be screaming and throwing a fit right about now.”

The man narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

He wasn’t wrong—if Lior had still been the same person he was before regaining his past-life memories, he probably would have done just that.

But now, he was too calm.

To someone expecting panic, his composed demeanor must have seemed unnatural.

Still, Lior wasn’t exactly skilled at deception. If his behavior seemed suspicious, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“…Well, whatever. We kidnapped you, kid. It’s what we do—snatch up children and women, then sell them off to the highest bidder. Hard-working folks, don’t you think?”

“But don’t worry, you’re not up for sale. You’re a ransom job.”

As expected, they had taken him for money.

It made sense—Lior Orion was the eldest son of the Orion Marquisate.

A noble heir of his status was a highly valuable hostage.

If word got out that the son of a marquis had been kidnapped, it would be a devastating blow to his family’s reputation.

It wasn’t just about the money—failing to protect one’s own household was a disgrace among nobility.

His father would have no choice but to pay up, likely even adding hush money to prevent a scandal.

“And this? This is our little hideout in the mountains. No matter how much you scream, no one’s coming to save you. So don’t bother making a fuss—I hate loud noises. Makes me wanna slit some throats.”

If they were truly deep in the mountains, expecting help was pointless.

Lior quickly abandoned any hope of an easy rescue.

(As long as they get their ransom, they’ll release me. No need to resist.)

The kidnappers had no reason to harm him.

He wasn’t a personal enemy—just a means to an end.

While being chained up like this was inconvenient, it wasn’t as bad as being dead.

(This is probably my own fault… The consequences of everything I did as Lior. I guess I should use this time to reflect.)

It wasn’t surprising that he had been kidnapped so easily.

If he had been a decent person—if the people around him had actually cared about him—this wouldn’t have happened.

No one had been willing to step in when the maid betrayed him.

That, in itself, spoke volumes.

And so, Lior resigned himself to his circumstances, slumping against the cold, uneven stone wall.

His posture was far from what one would expect of a kidnapped ten-year-old.

Instead of frightened or desperate, he simply looked… exhausted.

Like a salaryman running on fumes after a long workday.

Like a middle-aged man feeding pigeons in the park, contemplating his wasted life.

Even the kidnapper seemed thrown off by the sight.

“…Hey, why are you so damn calm?”

“Because I understand that this is the natural consequence of my own foolishness.”

“Why the hell does a kid talk like that? It’s creeping me out…”

The man regarded Lior as if he had just discovered some bizarre, unknown species.

Even for a seasoned criminal, this had to be a first—seeing a kidnapped child react with complete apathy.

Still, once he realized that Lior wasn’t about to resist, the man let out a long sigh.

It was the kind of sigh one gives after waiting in line for hours, only to be served a disappointing meal.

“…Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, just… not what I expected.”

“And what exactly were you expecting?”

Lior’s question made the man click his tongue in irritation.

With a clank, he unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.

“Tell me, little lord… Have you ever played with bugs?”

“…Not that I recall. Have you?”

“Oh, I loved it. Plucking off their wings, watching them squirm in my palm… It gave me this feeling of power, y’know? Like I was in control of their lives.”

As he spoke, the man flexed his fingers, as if reliving the sensation.

His grin widened, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.

He was clearly recalling the pleasure of tormenting small creatures.

It was revolting.

Lior felt nausea creep up his throat but kept his expression carefully neutral.

“…That’s quite the unusual hobby. I assume you’ve outgrown it?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve moved on. Found something even better.”

The man crouched in front of Lior, grabbing his hand.

His fingers traced over Lior’s pale, delicate fingertips, lightly stroking his nails.

His touch was slow, deliberate.

Like a pervert’s lingering fingers on a crowded train.

It was disgusting. (Again.)

A shiver crawled down Lior’s spine, as if insects were skittering over his skin.

“These days, I prefer playing with kids. If you pry off their fingernails one by one, they let out the most beautiful screams…”

“…So, you intend to do the same to me?”

“That was the plan. I was really looking forward to it… but you? You just seem… boring.”

It seemed that sigh from earlier had been one of disappointment.

The kidnapper had likely been hoping to torment Lior for his own amusement, only to find him utterly unresponsive—boring, even.

Honestly, Lior considered it a stroke of luck.

Getting his nails ripped off would have hurt like hell, so if the man had lost interest on his own, that was fine by him.

Now, if only he would leave.

Preferably far away.

“I see. So you have no further use for me, then?”

“That’s right. You’re pretty dull. But… I’m a little worked up now, so I’ll just have my fun elsewhere.”

“…What?”

Lior tilted his head in confusion as the man stood and stepped away.

His footsteps echoed deliberately, tapping against the rocky floor as he made his way to the far corner of the cell.

There, a filthy blanket lay in a heap.

But now that Lior looked closer, the mound beneath it was moving.

It trembled slightly, as if something—or someone—was curled up inside.

The moment the man approached, the lump under the blanket flinched.

“Well then, time for some fun.”

“No… Please, don’t…”

With a flick of his wrist, the man yanked the blanket away.

A young girl was revealed beneath it.

She had dark hair and feline ears—a beastkin, most likely.

The man grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.

Now that she was fully visible, Lior noticed something horrific.

She had no nails.

Her fingertips were covered in red-black scabs, remnants of wounds that had only just begun to heal.

“I want you to watch, little lord. Maybe seeing this will finally put some fear in your eyes.”

The man pulled the girl against him, holding her in a way that could almost pass for an embrace—if not for the knife glinting in his hand.

He pressed the flat of the blade against her thigh, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

“Since I already took all your nails… how about I start carving up your flesh next?”

“P-Please… I’m begging you…”

Her voice was hoarse.

She must have screamed herself raw.

But the man paid no mind to her pleas, moving the knife against her skin.

The blade’s edge hovered over her trembling thigh.

It glided downward—

THWACK!

The man’s head snapped back violently before he could make the cut.

A small stone rolled across the ground, bouncing a few times before settling.

When he raised a shaky hand to his forehead, it came away slick with blood.

“Should’ve secured my legs too, huh?”

“You little…!”

Lior lowered his foot back to the ground, having just launched the rock with a precise kick.

Fortunately, they were in a cave—there were plenty of stones lying around.

The man turned toward him, realization dawning as his blood dripped onto the dirt floor.

His face contorted with rage.

He charged.

“You think you’re safe just because you’re a hostage?!”

“You can’t kill me. If you do, you won’t get any money. That’s why you haven’t done it already.”

“Shut the hell up! I’ll kill you anyway!!”

“Go ahead.”

The man raised his knife—

—And plunged it into Lior’s chest.

A wet, squelching noise filled the air.

Blood bloomed across his shirt, staining the fabric deep red.

His golden eyes lost their light.

His body slumped forward, limp.

“Hahh… Hahh…”

“What the hell are you doing?! Do you have any idea—”

Another voice rang out.

One of the other kidnappers had rushed over at the commotion—only to stop dead at the sight before him.

He took one look at the blood on his companion’s hands and immediately lost it.

“You idiot! You just killed the ransom target?!”

“Tch… What choice did I have? The brat was pissing me off.”

“Are you insane?! We needed him alive! How the hell are we supposed to get paid now?!”

“Shut up! We’ll just send his body back to his family and—”

“Like hell that’s gonna work!”

“Maybe you should end your little argument here.”

“…Huh?”

Both men turned toward the voice.

Lior.

He was standing.

His restraints had been twisted apart, the metal mangled beyond recognition.

His hands were free.

And with an almost lazy motion, he reached for the knife buried in his chest—

—And yanked it out.

There was no wound.

Not even a scratch.

Only his tattered, bloodied shirt remained as evidence of what had just happened.

“I had a feeling… but I guess this confirms it.”

“What… the hell are you?!”

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just talking to myself.”

Lior smiled.

A pleasant smile.

A smile that said, I have no ill intentions.

But to the men standing before him—

It looked like something inhuman was merely imitating a human expression.

“Earlier, you said you enjoy tormenting insects and children, right?”

“S-So what?”

“I, on the other hand, hate bullying the weak. I don’t care much for overpowered new game plus.”

“…Overpowered what?”

“Ah, bad example. Never mind.”

Lior shook his head.

Of course, people from this world wouldn’t understand a gaming reference.

That was careless of him.

“Regardless, I don’t enjoy picking on the weak, so I’ll let you all go. Kindly disappear, will you?”

“…Are you calling us weak?”

“Of course I am.”

Lior tilted his head as if stating the obvious.

But the men clearly didn’t appreciate being belittled.

Being mocked by a mere boy was a serious blow to their pride.

Their faces flushed red with rage, veins bulging at their temples.

Lior idly thought they resembled octopuses.

“The hell are you smirking at?! You think we’re scared just because you pulled off some magic trick?!”

“We’ll beat you senseless and rip those nails off one by one!!”

The kidnappers grabbed their weapons and lunged—

SHING!

Blood sprayed into the air.

Their heads fell clean from their shoulders.

Their bodies collapsed to the ground, twitching before falling still.

Lior let the knife slip from his fingers.

It hit the floor with a dull clatter.

“You really should value your lives more.”