Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C113

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Chapter 113: Was It Really Luck? Or Perhaps, A Different Kind of Luck?

It was true. The Lion family’s dynasty would crumble completely within two months, tops.

After hearing the Princess's assessment, the Minister of Defense couldn’t help but shake his head in quiet resignation, a strange and bitter sadness creeping into his chest.

Whoever took over as the next Duke of Lionheart would only be able to watch as the once-mighty Lions fell apart. And how much better off were they—the Princess and himself—really? They were just barely holding their own fragile house of cards together, after all.

The old nobility had dug their roots deep into the kingdom like ancient trees that refused to die. Nearly a third of the major ministries were now under their control, each one leeching wealth from the nation like bloated ticks feasting on its lifeblood.

At first, the merchants and parliamentarians who rose up to counterbalance the House of Lords' stranglehold had served some purpose. For decades, they acted as a check against the unchecked power of the aristocracy. But now, over a century later, these new factions had grown too large, too unwieldy. Through the legislative powers of the House of Commons, they clawed for every scrap of profit they could get, enriching themselves at the expense of the crown.

With both chambers of parliament complicit, recent years had seen the kingdom loosen its grip on commerce entirely. Trade flourished, yes—but so did inequality. Tax revenues plummeted despite the booming economy, while wealth concentrated ever more tightly in the hands of fat-cat merchants and entrenched nobles. Meanwhile, ordinary citizens grew poorer, weaker, and angrier by the day.

These issues might have been manageable once. But six years ago, the Patriotic War ripped open the veil hiding the rot beneath the surface. Now, the royal treasury bled red ink year after year. Military readiness had collapsed. Rebels roamed unchecked, sowing chaos wherever they went. Every problem seemed poised to explode all at once.

Even with the combined efforts of two generations of monarchs, even with financial authority wrested back under royal control—and even with him, loyal to the "Princess faction," installed as Minister of Defense with influence over the military—the situation remained grim.

If the Princess's reforms failed, if she couldn’t cut out the festering wounds infecting the kingdom… then this whole realm would simply become a cabbage left to rot slightly slower than before.

...

"Your Highness."

Interrupting his thoughts, the silver-haired old man drew in a long breath, straightened his stooped back as best he could, and spoke with solemn resolve:

"After the Blood Night massacre in the Lion family, there are many vacant positions of real power in the military. I intend to seize as many as possible. If there is nothing else you need to discuss, I will take my leave."

"There is nothing."

The Princess shook her head, watching the streaks of white in the minister’s hair multiply since their last meeting. A soft warmth flickered in her eyes as she added gently:

"You look unwell lately. Please take care of yourself. I understand time is short, but if you collapse from exhaustion, all our efforts these past years will have been for nothing."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

The old man gave a vague acknowledgment, refusing her offer to see him out. With brisk steps, flanked by two young officers, he strode from the room. Only when his footsteps faded entirely did a light knock echo through the chamber.

"Come in."

As the door creaked open, a young man entered. His dark wool coat hung loosely on his slouched frame, his face etched with an air of perpetual disinterest. He flopped down onto the chair opposite the Princess without ceremony.

"You handled this matter quite well."

Unperturbed by his lack of decorum, the Princess lifted a dossier belonging to the newly appointed Duke of Lionheart and smiled faintly.

"A man who was only recently added to the Lion family records, whose hair isn’t even golden—who wouldn’t expect such a person to become the next Duke of Lionheart? How exactly did you manage it?"

"It’s simple."

The disheveled youth raised his eyelids lazily, pulling two dice from his pocket and placing them on the table. In a tone devoid of energy, he began to explain:

"If we do nothing, the old duke selecting him has a mere three percent chance. By eliminating five to seven heirs and moving him into the top five contenders, that probability jumps to fifteen percent. Then, by sneaking into the hospital, tampering with the old duke’s medication to increase his heart rate, kidnapping the granddaughter of his most trusted butler to provoke emotional turmoil, the odds climb to thirty-six percent."

As he spoke, though untouched by human hands, the dice on the table danced and shifted. First, one stood on edge showing three; then another showed one and five; finally, they landed on three and six—exactly matching the numbers he described.

"Lastly," he continued, "order a cartload of fruit from the banana grove, secretly loosen the wheel locks, and tip the cart over at a busy intersection to block the main road leading to the hospital. This delays Leon’s arrival until the moment when the old duke is most emotionally volatile. At that point, the probability of him being chosen rises to sixty-six percent..."

As the explanation concluded, the dice spun one final time, settling with sixes facing upward.

"The rest comes down to luck."

He gestured toward the dice, summarizing:

"As long as events unfold within that sixty-six percent range, he’ll be chosen. Outside of that range, someone else becomes the new duke."

"So that’s how it works."

After listening intently, the Princess clapped her hands lightly and murmured appreciatively:

"What an extraordinary ability. Even after working with you several times, I still find it astonishing. Unrelated actions, carried out step by step, can raise the likelihood of success to nearly seventy percent…”

“Not nearly seventy,” he corrected earnestly. “Sixty-six percent.”

He pointed to the dice. “The left die represents tens, the right one units. Since the highest number on a die is six, the maximum success rate is sixty-six percent.”

“So have you considered using two ten-sided dice instead?”

“No. Only these two dice produce that effect.”

“Ah...” She blinked regretfully, then slid an unsigned check across the table.

“This is your agreed payment. Pleasure doing business.”

“I’m afraid additional fees are required this time.”

Tucking the check away, the weary-looking youth leaned forward earnestly.

“You didn’t inform me earlier that Leon Lion is also employed by our Sixth Cleansing Bureau—or that he’s highly valued by Chief. My actions carried significant risk, so the price must increase by ten percent.”

“I can accept the increased fee.”

The Princess furrowed her brow briefly but didn’t argue. After a pause, she countered:

“That extra charge wasn’t part of our initial agreement. As compensation, you’ll use those dice to answer one more question for me.”

“Agreed.”

He nodded, picking up the dice. “What do you want to know?”

“The same as always.”

Taking a deep breath, the Princess closed her eyes and whispered softly:

“What must I do to save this country?”

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