Baron's Son with -9,999,999 Reputation Point-Chapter 145: A Necessary Performance

[DING!]

A glowing panel popped up the moment the door shut tight.

The chime was way too cheerful for this hour.

[+100 EXP]

[+200 Progression Points]

Reason: Host successfully formed a Guild without convincing anyone—

and without further damaging Lucian Voss’s already-ruined reputation into something... worse.

System Note: This is a rare achievement. Please do not attempt to replicate. (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

---

Lucas stared at the panel for a long moment. His eyebrows lifted, then fell.

"...This is ridiculous," he muttered.

A short laugh escaped him. "No, seriously. This is hilarious."

Another panel followed—bigger, flashier, with an absurdly over-the-top animation.

[Ding! (☆ω☆)]

[STATUS UPDATE (≧◡≦)]

Level: 8

Strength: 11

Agility: 12

Stamina: 10

Mana: 13

Total EXP: 90 / 800

Total PP: 200

Lucas dragged a hand down his face.

"I leveled up just by standing there and listening to people hesitate."

He shook his head, still smiling.

The panel slid aside. A new menu opened—neat and orderly, like a freshly stocked shop shelf.

[EXCHANGE MENU – UPDATED]

For a smoother life, King.

— Agriculture

— Creative

— Food

Lucas glanced at it briefly.

"I’ll deal with this later," he said flatly. His head was already pounding.

The panel obediently shrank. Then vanished.

Time passed without him noticing. He cleaned himself up as best he could, changed clothes, then sat down on the edge of the bed. His shoulders ached. A faint itch lingered around wounds that hadn’t fully healed yet.

"Damn it, I really want a bath," he muttered to himself.

"But these injuries are being a pain."

A soft knock came from the door.

Dinner.

---

The manor’s dining room felt quieter than usual. The chandelier glowed softly. Tableware was laid out with precision. The servants moved quickly, almost soundlessly.

Lucas took his seat. The Baron and Baroness were already there.

The Baron looked... brighter.

Not happy—more like relieved. Like a head of household who’d just secured a new source of income.

Lucas observed him for a moment.

Weird, he thought. When I first met him, he looked like a dad who’d just lost big at a slot machine.

The Baroness sat gracefully, as always. Her faint smile hadn’t changed.

Dinner was served. Warm soup, bread, roasted meat. The aroma filled the room.

No one spoke right away.

Spoons met bowls. Forks touched plates. Small, steady sounds.

Lucas ate slowly, his focus drifting in and out. His thoughts wandered back to the square—to the stack of papers, to the hesitant faces.

The Baron let out a short breath. Not heavy. More like an old habit he’d forgotten to turn off.

"The square was... lively," he said.

Lucas nodded. "You could say that."

The Baroness took a sip of her drink.

"Has anyone decided to join the farmers’ guild you set up?"

Lucas held back a smile.

"Uh... yeah. Sort of."

The servants were still there, standing at a respectful distance. Waiting.

Lucas finished his meal faster than usual. He wiped his mouth, then neatly set down his utensils.

He looked forward, straightening his posture.

"Mother," he said.

"Father."

Both of them looked up.

"May I have a moment?"

The Baron glanced at the servants. The Baroness gave a small nod.

The servants bowed and withdrew. The door closed softly behind them.

Lucas drew in a breath. Lucian’s mask was still firmly in place, in both expression and posture. He didn’t rush to peel it away.

"There’s something," he said, "I need to tell you."

The Baron leaned back, his expression serious.

"Go on."

Lucas looked down at the table. Then raised his gaze.

"I," he said quietly, "won’t be staying in Lucian’s body forever."

The words landed without drama.

The Baron froze.

His brows lifted. Then lowered. His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in a disappointment that arrived too fast.

"...What do you mean?" His voice was lower.

The Baroness remained calm, hands folded on the table.

"I already know."

Lucas blinked. Once.

"You do?"

He turned toward her. "How?"

The Baroness smiled faintly.

"Ferri’el."

The name lingered in the air for a moment.

Lucas exhaled. "Oh."

The Baron rubbed his temple.

"How long have you known?"

"For a while," the Baroness replied. "Not long after she told me about him."

Lucas nodded. A small sense of relief mixed with awkwardness.

"I never planned to hide it forever."

The Baron let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Of course you didn’t."

He looked at Lucas. His gaze was heavy, but not sharp.

"So... you’re leaving."

"Yeah," Lucas said. "But I don’t know when yet."

The Baroness tilted her head.

"But you’ll still carry out your plans, won’t you?"

"Of course," Lucas replied.

"I’ll do what needs to be done. Properly."

Silence again. Softer this time.

The Baron stared at his plate. His finger tapped once against the table.

"I was hoping... at the very least," he said quietly, "you’d stay longer."

Lucas didn’t answer right away. He looked at his hands. Then up.

"Don’t worry," he said honestly.

"I’ll do my best for this family. At the very least, I want the Voss family’s debt fully paid before I leave."

The Baroness’s smile widened just a little.

"I hope your wish comes true, my child."

The Baron nodded, though something was clearly still weighing on his chest.

Lucas stood. He bowed politely.

"Thank you for the meal."

He turned and left, his steps calm.

The dining room lights stayed on as usual. Nothing broke. Nothing collapsed.

---

Back in his room, the door closed once more.

Lucas leaned against it for a moment, then let out a long breath.

[DING!]

A small panel appeared, as if deliberately interrupting the moment.

System Note:

Honest communication achieved. No bonus granted. But good job.

You’ve stopped treating them like background NPCs.

(´• ω •`)

Lucas snorted.

"Hey. You’re making me sound heartless."

He sat down on the bed. His shoulders felt lighter.

Outside, the manor remained quiet.

The night moved on, unhurried.

---

A small oil lamp burned dimly in the corner of the wooden house.

Edric sat on a low stool beside the bed. His leg still could not function properly.

He stared into nothingness.

On the simple bed, his wife sat half-reclined, gently rocking their newborn child. The earlier crying had faded. Now there was only soft breathing and the faint sound of cloth brushing against skin.

Edric opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Several seconds passed.

"Do you think..." his voice came out hoarse, "I should join that Farmers’ Guild?"

His wife did not answer immediately. Her hands continued their slow movement, calming the child. She looked tired, yet her eyes remained alert.

"Are you certain that guild is not meant for enslavement?" she asked quietly.

Edric let out a breath.

He lowered his head. "I do not know. I am only... thinking."

Silence settled. The oil lamp flickered.

His wife drew in a deep breath. "I do not wish to force you," she said at last. "You know his reputation well." Her hand paused briefly on the swaddling cloth. "I am afraid."

"So am I," Edric said, clenching his fingers.

"He is cruel," his wife continued honestly. "And now your leg—" Her words broke off. She could not finish them.

Edric swallowed. His gaze fell to his own leg.

After a moment, he spoke again, more quietly.

"There is something... I have never told you."

His wife turned to him.

"When you gave birth," Edric said, "the cost... it was covered by a loan."

Her expression tightened. "Yes, you already told me. Have the moneylenders begun to demand payment?"

Edric shook his head slowly. "The loan was from Young Master Voss, not from the moneylenders."

The room felt smaller.

"And the twenty silver we have been using for our daily needs," he continued quickly, as though afraid to be interrupted, "came from him as well."

His wife froze.

"What...?" Her voice trembled.

Edric lifted his head, his eyes red. "I am sorry."

She held the baby closer to her chest. Her breathing grew uneven.

"Are you lost your mind?" she whispered. "You know how dangerous he is. And we could never repay such a debt quickly!"

"I know," Edric said, cutting in.

After a pause, he spoke again, hesitantly. "But... I have seen Geralt."

His wife looked at him.

"He is unharmed," Edric said. "More than that. He seems constantly at ease."

He scratched the back of his neck. "And Anya... she often goes to the fields now."

"Yes," his wife replied softly. "I have heard."

"I saw it myself," Edric continued.

"The sworn guard who always accompanies the Young Master was teaching her how to read. And the Young Master did not hesitate to share his midday meal with Geralt and the child."

His wife recalled the small stories whispered among the neighbors—about the fields, the guards, and the different harvests.

Several seconds passed.

At last, she let out a long breath.

"If that is so," she said quietly, "then join the guild."

Edric looked at her in shock. "Are you certain?"

She gave a small nod. "I am still afraid," she admitted honestly. "But perhaps by joining, you may ease our debt, even if only a little."

Edric lowered his head deeply. "I am sorry," he said again. "I should have spoken of this from the beginning."

She drew the baby closer to her chest and reached out, placing her hand upon Edric’s shoulder.

Edric closed his eyes. His shoulders trembled slightly.

The commoner family drama unknowingly cast Lucian Voss as a central antagonist—

while the fears they struggled against existed only within their own minds.