The next day, early morning, in the capital.
Inside a dilapidated wooden house deep within a narrow alley, Zana stretched several times after a simple breakfast, preparing to leave and begin his day's work.
But the moment he opened the door, he felt something fall through the crack above onto the back of his hand—wet like water droplets. He initially assumed it was rainwater and paid no attention, having clearly heard torrential downpour late the previous night.
However, when he moved to wipe his hand, he saw the liquid was red and slightly viscous, causing Zana's body to tremble immediately.
Blood?
Did someone die nearby last night?
Someone took advantage of the heavy rain's noise to commit murder!
His mind automatically conjured the most probable explanation.
In this dark alley, besides ordinary commoners, several groups of low-level gangs also operated.
Those criminals might lack real capability, but they were certainly vicious!
It wasn't impossible for them to go on killing sprees for a few gold coins, using torrential rainy nights to battle over territory.
After a moment's hesitation, Zana slowly opened the door wider and cautiously poked his head out, wanting to assess the situation outside.
What met his eyes was a floor covered entirely in crimson. The uneven road surface had accumulated pools of blood like puddles.
Thin streams of red extended from the alley's entrance all the way to its end. Even the houses were stained extensively, as if someone had painted them all with fresh blood, creating an exceptionally eerie sight.
???
What in blazes was this?
Smelling the faint metallic scent in the air, Zana felt utterly bewildered.
He couldn't comprehend where such vast quantities of fresh blood could have originated!
Logically, even if every person in the alley were slaughtered, they couldn't possibly have shed this much blood.
His gaze shifted toward his neighbors' houses. The people who would usually be outside gossiping and chatting were nowhere to be seen. Only shadows moving behind door cracks indicated anyone remained inside.
This sent chills down his spine, and he felt an overwhelming urge to slam his door shut immediately!
After some hesitation, his eyes widened as a wild thought occurred to him: Could it be that the Marton Duchy has already fallen? Was the capital breached overnight during the heavy rain, leading to immediate collapse, and now there's a massacre occurring outside, which explains why so much blood has flowed?
With this terrifying possibility in mind, his expression sharpened, and he pressed his body against the wall, quietly moving toward the alley's exit. If his fears proved accurate, he needed to escape before anyone noticed this secluded location!
"Gulp..."
As he continuously approached the alley's exit, Zana involuntarily swallowed, feeling his heart racing under mounting tension. From the cracks in doors and windows throughout the alley, watchful gazes constantly tracked his movement.
Everyone is watching me! he suddenly realized.
Zana even glimpsed a large group of gang members perched atop a certain house's roof, secretly observing him.
Kid, you've got potential. Very brave!
Zana felt as though he could read this meaning in one bald strongman's stare.
When his head was about to emerge from the alley, he faintly heard soft footsteps outside—completely different from the usual bustling activity!
He instinctively wanted to retreat.
But driven by desperate courage, he didn't. Instead, he extended his head further and looked around.
The empty street contained no pedestrians, nor the piles of corpses Zana had anticipated.
Only an elderly man was sweeping the ground, the crimson liquid rippling with his continuous sweeping motions.
Combined with the unnaturally silent surroundings, this sent chills through Zana's entire being...
After an internal struggle, Zana slowly shuffled forward and, in the gentlest tone he had ever used in his life, timidly asked the old man: "Elder, what happened in the capital yesterday? Why are there no pedestrians anywhere?"
Hearing the sound, the old man, who had his back turned while sweeping, suddenly paused. Like a rusty machine, he slowly rotated his face toward Zana and replied in a dead, hoarse voice: "Nothing significant happened. It's simply that this rain's color is somewhat... unusual..."
Each syllable emerged drawn out extremely long, as if slowly materializing, and combined with the surrounding crimson and the old man's withered features, it created an intensely terrifying atmosphere that made Zana's hair stand on end instantly.
"Th-that's how it is... So all this blood is merely rain..."
Licking his lips nervously, Zana forced a smile. The old man before him emanated deeply unsettling sensations.
Just as he prepared to retreat, the old man's eyelids lifted slightly, as if remembering something, and he added: "Oh, indeed! This blood rain is said to be connected to... hmm... a tragic and beautiful love story. I heard people claiming it's even a gift from the heavens. Perhaps you should visit the street's end to learn more. They say it's very moving—a large group of young women are weeping inconsolably there..."
??????
Zana was immediately stunned, thoroughly confused by the old man's meaning.
From his limited understanding, what possible connection could a tragic and beautiful love story have with blood raining from the sky??
How could it relate to heavenly gifts? Shouldn't this be classified as a catastrophic omen, divine punishment???
Carrying his confusion, he began walking toward the location the old man mentioned. Along the way, he encountered sparse crowds, but everyone appeared cautious or bewildered, clearly also uncertain about recent events.
It didn't take long to reach the street's end, where a large crowd had indeed gathered. Within the group, just as the old man had predicted, a substantial number of women were weeping. They were genuinely heartbroken, crying while discussing simultaneously, leaving Zana thoroughly perplexed.
In his bewilderment, Zana leaned closer, wanting to listen carefully to their conversation...
The moment he began listening, he became completely captivated!
You see, Duke had assembled dozens of poets, storytellers, and orators, and the narrative they created was not only beautifully and elegantly crafted, but also incorporated numerous melancholic plot elements through collaborative brainstorming, making the story's development even more intricate and compelling.
Marton Duchy: The commoner male protagonist, Mark; the wealthy female lead, Eve, whose family fortunes declined and required noble assistance. Yar Duchy: The noble second male lead, who greatly aided the female lead's family before becoming engaged to her, primarily responsible for being a bystander and suffering betrayal.
Through dozens of creators' efforts, the three formed a complete narrative chain!
It meticulously described the complex emotions arising between the male and female leads due to their chance encounter, while subtly depicting the intricate troubles of their respective families, plus various injustices and conflicts throughout the world.
For example, the second male lead, who was tragically betrayed by fate, still chose 'of course, I forgive her!'
Finally, as dramatic flourish, the male lead died instantly under the sinister attacks of the second male lead, who acted like a villainous interfering matchmaker, combined with the sky raining blood triggered by the female lead's suicide. While not unprecedented, it ranked at least in the industry's top three.
It immediately captivated Zana, who lived in an era lacking entertainment and possessed truly limited experience!
The love story of commoner boy Mark and wealthy young lady Evera?
The love-hate entanglements of several families?
And a fiancé from the Yar Duchy who specifically draws hatred?
More importantly, both male and female leads are dead. Could this be a fantasy version of Titanic plus Romeo and Juliet?
Drinking the vegetable soup before him while watching the maids nearby crying and discussing intensely, Ol'ksa tilted his head, finding the situation somewhat interesting.
From the story's plot, it seemed public tastes remained similar, whether on Earth or in this other world.
The only mystery was what sin the female lead's fiancé had committed in past lives to have his wife stolen, attempt winning her back, and still be cursed and tied to the pillar of shame.
Even Ol'ksa, this consummate villain, couldn't fully grasp the reasoning behind it.
Perhaps this exemplified the truth that simps never achieve good endings.
Then again, he truly hadn't expected that his casual action would inspire Jem to realize propaganda warfare tactics. He presumed that within days, this newly fabricated story would spread throughout the country, stirring anti-Yar Duchy sentiment among the lower classes.
It could be considered a small favor to Jem, though he himself didn't regard it as such.
After finishing his meal, Ol'ksa addressed his female butler, who stood beside him—approximately twenty-five years old, with beautiful features, perfect figure, and serious expression: "Prepare a carriage for me. I want to venture out today."
Hearing that Ol'ksa wished to go out, the female butler paused before responding:
"Yes, my lord."
Since being transferred here, she had never witnessed Ol'ksa leave the manor, and he rarely interacted with others. In her observation, though Ol'ksa's temperament and appearance were both exceptional, he seemed disconnected from the world, never showing concern for external affairs.
Even when Crown Prince Jem personally visited, he displayed no signs of nervousness; instead, it was Jem who appeared somewhat reserved. This puzzled her greatly, but she also understood that many matters weren't her concern, so she never inquired.
It might sound negligent, but during these two or three months, her understanding of Ol'ksa, the master she served, was limited to his name and general habits. Beyond that, nothing else existed.
She didn't even know his origins or full name.
One could say he remained barely better than a complete stranger!
Fortunately, though Ol'ksa's demeanor was cold, his temperament proved quite stable. He had never lost his temper with anyone, even when their actions were clumsy, and never harshly criticized anything.
Otherwise, she would have found service quite troublesome.