Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C158

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Chapter 158: Either This or That

Bear with it? Bear with my ass. I don’t even want the title of duke—why should I care about your stupid traditions?

With an expression of utter disdain, glanced at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the ghastly white makeup plastered across his face. Even someone as polite as him couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at the elderly steward.

He had thought keeping things simple and compressing the lengthy investiture ceremony into a single day would save plenty of trouble. But who could have guessed that even the most "streamlined" version of the ceremony would still be absurdly intricate? It had already taken over two hours just to handle his attire and makeup.

Not only did he have to wear an elaborate noble outfit, but there was also a specially designed padding stuffed between his legs to make certain areas appear more prominent—a supposed symbol of virility.

On top of that, he had to wear a wig, apply lip color, use eye makeup and facial wax, and slather thick layers of lead powder on his exposed skin like his forehead and neck (which he’d managed to replace with harmless cream powder after much insistence).

And after enduring all of this, he still had to ride in this ostentatious carriage, supposedly rich in symbolism, down . The wheels were meant to leave "lion footprints" on the road, signifying the new arriving at his domain…

By this point, Leon was utterly exasperated, yet the actual investiture hadn’t even begun.

What a load of bull.

Grabbing a damp cloth, he wiped off the ridiculous makeup smeared across his face. Then, without hesitation, he twisted the door handle of the carriage and leapt out.

No way was he going along with their nonsense anymore. If he kept following their plans, who knew what other torturous rituals awaited him.

“Your Grace? Your makeup! You need to fix it!”

“What makeup? I’m done with this charade.”

Having removed the wig and hastily wiped away the remnants of his face paint, Leon glared at the flustered steward who was now rushing toward him. His tone was icy as he issued a blunt ultimatum:

“Either I go like this, or you find someone else to be duke. Your choice.”

Do I really have a choice here?

Seeing the newly appointed duke, who had clearly run out of patience and was now acting defiantly, the old steward knew Leon wasn’t joking. With no other option, he stamped his feet in frustration before clutching his chest and pleading desperately:

“I… I’ll do as you say. But please, at least get back in the carriage…”

“No.”

Leon’s patience had completely evaporated. Glaring at the jewel-encrusted monstrosity of a carriage behind him, he snapped irritably:

“This thing is ridiculous, and it won’t even fit through the road. Either you get me another carriage, or you find yourselves a new duke.”

The old steward shook his head frantically, his face etched with despair.

“Your Grace, we can’t change the carriage! Every duke must leave ‘lion footprints’ on Redwood Avenue during the investiture—it’s tradition. How will we create those prints if we switch the carriage?”

“What kind of nonsense are these so-called lion footprints? It’s just wheel marks! Push the damn thing yourself and stop dragging me into this.”

“But… but… we’ve never done it that way before!”

By now, Leon had scrubbed off the pearl-infused cream from his face and had zero intention of compromising further. He growled menacingly:

“Either we break tradition, or you lose your duke. Pick one.”

I… I wish I were dead.

Watching the new duke stride ahead on foot, having shaken off both attendants and guards, the old steward felt dizzy. If not for the need to maintain decorum, he might have collapsed and sobbed right then and there.

Old Duke, you picked this eccentric successor and died peacefully, leaving us to deal with him. Why didn’t you take me with you when you went?

Just as the old steward leaned against the carriage, lamenting his fate, the new duke called out from up ahead again.

“You, come here.”

Leon hadn’t walked far when he noticed several overturned wagons lining the roadside. Waving the old steward over, he pointed at crates of shattered porcelain scattered nearby, his tone sharp with disapproval.

“Look at the mess your people made. Not only did they force these wagons off the road, but they also broke their cargo. Who pushed them down? Compensate them immediately.”

“Your Grace… this… this wasn’t us,” stammered a dark-skinned guard after stealing a glance at Leon’s stern expression.

“These wagons were already overturned by the time your carriage arrived. It must have been the group ahead of us.”

The group ahead?

“Y-Your Grace,” the old steward began once he caught his breath. After consulting briefly with the servants, he explained hesitantly:

“It was likely ’s entourage—the ornate carriage that passed by while we waited for you at the intersection.”

Ah, so it was that flashy eight-horse carriage that nearly splattered mud all over me.

Recalling the extravagant vehicle, Leon let out a derisive snort.

Nobles, royals… tsk, none of them are any good.

Turning his gaze to the merchants crying by the roadside, and deciding it wouldn’t cost him anything anyway, Leon adopted a generous stance.

“Fine, compensate them. If they hadn’t been delivering goods to your family, they wouldn’t have encountered him. It’s only fair that covers the damages.”

“But…”

“What ‘but’? Are you arguing with me?”

Already in a foul mood from lack of sleep and being subjected to endless fussing, Leon narrowed his eyes at the old steward, his tone domineering.

“Either you pay them, or you find someone else to be…”

“We’ll pay! We’ll pay everything!”

After being threatened multiple times with “either this or that,” the mere mention of the word “either” sent the old steward’s heart racing uncontrollably. Clutching his chest, feeling as though he’d aged ten years in a single day, the steward grabbed Leon’s arm and trembled pathetically.

“Your Grace, I’ll agree to whatever you ask. Just please, don’t say ‘either’ again. House Lion cannot function without you. I… I’m old, and my heart can’t take this…”

Hmm…

Seeing the steward’s face turn slightly purple, gripping his arm tightly, ready to kneel down if necessary, Leon hesitated.

To be fair, while revealed the steward wasn’t exactly virtuous—his sins were mostly schemes and political maneuvering—he hadn’t directly committed any heinous acts. Plus, the man was elderly. Was it too cruel to keep tormenting him?

But… Leon truly had no intention of becoming duke. Once the ceremony started and everyone gathered, he planned to reject the title outright. Would the steward survive the shock?

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you. Please don’t get too worked up…”

After a brief pause, Leon steadied the steward by placing a hand on his back, leaning in conspiratorially. Lowering his voice, he murmured:

“When everyone arrives, I plan to publicly propose to the princess, offering the entire House Lion as dowry. That way, they’ll either have to replace me as duke or lose everything entirely. What do you think?”

“…”

“Oh crap! Somebody! Help! The old steward has passed out!”

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