Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C111

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Chapter 111: Is This Really Such a Coincidence?

The Lion family… was truly finished.

As they gazed at the elderly duke, his neck swathed in bandages, too weak to even sit up without support—propped semi-upright on the hospital bed like a broken relic—the surrounding nobles couldn’t help but share similar thoughts.

In one night, over two hundred members of the clan had been wiped out, their core strength decimated. And now, the only man capable of salvaging what remained lay here, his jugular sliced open, blood loss having triggered heart failure. His labored breathing grew fainter by the moment; it seemed as though he’d soon exhale for the last time.

It was clear that the collapse of House Lion was now merely a countdown. Beyond an empty ducal title and a seat in the Deputy to the Lord Chancellor of the House of Lords, there would be nothing left to inherit—everything else would be devoured by those gathered around him today.

At this thought, the representatives sent by various noble houses to "pay respects" (or more accurately, to feast on the carcass) exchanged glances, each wearing expressions of silent understanding.

Once one of the twin pillars of the kingdom, House Lion's legacy was undeniably vast. Centuries of intermarriage had woven ties of kinship between them and these families—but compared to the sheer wealth and power awaiting division, such familial bonds were worth less than spit.

As soon as the old duke relinquished his title and breathed his final breath, countless ravenous mouths would descend upon House Lion, stripping it bare of every scrap of flesh, gnawing even the bones clean until they gleamed.

Damn vultures, the old duke thought bitterly. I’d sooner feed scraps to stray dogs than let you carrion crows feast.

He knew all too well how these so-called “relatives” operated. As he stared into eyes that feigned respect but brimmed with malice, a deep venom seeped into his clouded gaze. Summoning the last dregs of air from his failing lungs, he let out a rasping snort.

“I’m here,” The steward beside him immediately bent low, pressing his ear close to the duke’s lips. The other nobles instinctively held their breaths, and the room fell deathly silent.

After several gasping breaths, the old duke managed to force out a few halting words:

“First… first in line… why isn’t… why isn’t he… here yet… hah…”

The steward understood immediately. The “first in line” wasn’t Bobby Lion, who had perished in the massacre, but rather the new heir following the Blood Night.

After exchanging quick whispers with someone nearby, the steward adjusted the pillow beneath the duke’s head to ease his breathing before reporting briskly:

“He’s almost here. He’s in the building next door. He’ll arrive shortly.”

“Ne… next door?”

“Yes… next door…”

Hesitating briefly, the steward decided honesty was best:

“The current first in line is actually the former third in line. Eight years ago, he clashed with your brother—Bobby Lion—and suffered a blow to the back of his head. Though he survived, he became paralyzed from the collarbone down. He can’t feel anything below that point, so…”

“Get out.”

Whether it was the condition of the heir or simply hearing the name of the man responsible for his current state, the old duke erupted in rage, barking through clenched teeth:

“Tell him… tell that first… get out! Second… second!”

Second…

The steward gritted his teeth, then leaned closer again, whispering reluctantly:

“The second in line… is in an asylum. During his rivalry with Bobby—him—for control of the arms company, something drove him mad…”

Bobby Lion…

At the mention of that name once more, the old duke’s heart rate, which had been languishing at forty beats per minute, surged past eighty. A flush of color rose to his sallow, aged face.

Damn you, the duke cursed inwardly. Why were you in such a hurry? If only you’d waited just a little longer—just a few more years—and everything would have been yours anyway. You fool…

Thinking of his younger brother—a brilliant tactician who had dismantled rival families piece by piece, paving the way for the elder Lion to ascend to the dukedom—the old duke felt a pang of grief pierce his chest. Despite his injuries as a youth leaving him infertile, he had raised Bobby almost like a son. Their bond had been strong—until betrayal shattered it.

But why did you act so rashly? I knew you wanted my position, but could you not wait even a few short years? Everything would have been yours after my death…

The memory of his brother’s treachery squeezed his frail heart like a vice. With labored effort, he croaked: “Third… fourth… fifth… are any of them normal?”

“These three are physically sound, but none are suitable,” the steward explained wearily. “The third and fourth in line are twins, still not even two years old. As for the fifth…”

Before he could continue, a voice interrupted: “Here! Here comes the fifth in line!”

??? Another cripple?

Seeing the wheelchair roll in through the doorway, its occupant wrapped in bandages, the old duke—who had just begun to rally slightly—felt his eyes bulge. Raising a trembling hand, he pointed accusingly at the steward and barked:

“You… you said… third, fourth, fifth… weren’t…”

“He sustained only superficial wounds, though there’s some infection at the site. But otherwise, he’s functional.”

The old duke’s milky eyes flickered as he studied Leon’s condition. After a moment, he gave a slight nod. Though injured, here was at least an adult who appeared mentally intact—a far cry better than the preceding four candidates.

“Then… then it’s him.”

Sensing the end drawing near, the old duke locked onto his successor and commanded weakly:

“Bring him… bring him here. I must tell him how to deal with those… those jackals… coveting House Lion…”

“This…” The steward hesitated, then suggested cautiously: “Perhaps you should look further down the line?”

“He has black hair, not golden, and there are others still eligible beyond the top five. There’s no need to settle on someone within the first five…”

“What?”

Detecting the steward’s evasiveness, the old duke’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“You’re hiding something… speak.”

“…”

“Speak!”

Though concerned about the old duke’s fragile state, the steward had no choice but to lean in and murmur under his breath:

“It was he who killed your brother.”

Hearing this revelation, a torrent of emotions flooded the old duke’s mind—rage, sorrow, vengeance, and relief colliding in a chaotic storm. Staring at the man who had slain his only sibling, yet simultaneously avenged him, the old duke’s heart rate doubled, then doubled again, skyrocketing to 160 beats per minute. In a sudden burst of energy, he sat bolt upright in bed, pointing furiously at Leon, whose expression was one of utter confusion:

“You… you… you…” His voice trailed off into silence.

And with that, the Duke of Lionheart passed away.

---

[Under the watchful eyes of many, the Duke of Lionheart named you thrice as his successor. You have obtained the Silver-tier Identity Badge: "Duke of Lionheart."]

[Duke of Lionheart: One of the twin pillars of the kingdom, twenty-ninth Duke of the Lion family.]

[Equip Effect: When interacting with individuals who recognize noble status, you naturally gain certain advantages. Conversely, those who oppose nobility will harbor intense enmity toward you.]

[Upgrade Path: None.]

[Hidden Attribute (No Need to Equip): Since you belong to House Lion solely in title—not by blood—if this fact is uncovered, this badge will undergo unknown changes.]

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