Baron's Son with -9,999,999 Reputation Point-Chapter 130: The Weight of Stepping Down

Lucas let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. His wounds still felt stiff, but the clean clothes helped. He checked his reflection—raising an arm, lowering it.

"...Still alive. Good enough."

[Ding! ☆]

[ KINGGGGG (≧▽≦)ﾉ ]

[ POINT OF NO RETURN — CLEARED ☆ ]

Lucas snorted, moving to sit on the bed. "Hold on. I’m not exchanging PP yet."

[ I just wanted to appreciate you (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠) ]

[ YOU DID IT AGAIN! You really do deserve to be called King!! (⁠✷⁠‿⁠✷⁠) ]

"You’re starting to sound like one of those AIs that glaze users just to keep retention rates up."

The panel froze.

[ ...EH!? Σ(°△°|||) ]

[ NOT glazing! THIS IS DATA-BASED APPRECIATION (￣^￣) ]

"Yeah, yeah." Lucas laid back, staring at the ceiling. His tone dropped, cutting through the banter. "Oi."

[ YES KING (☆▽☆) ]

"If that family is that strong... why do they look like they’re constantly holding something back?"

[ GOOD QUESTION ☆ ]

[ OR... YOU CAN ASK THEM (￣▽￣) ]

[ SOCIAL FILTER = LOW ♪ ]

[ THEY ALREADY KNOW YOU ARE NOT THE ORIGINAL SON ☆ ]

Lucas blinked. "Huh. Direct approach, then?"

[ DIRECT QUESTION = FASTEST ANSWER (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و ]

Before Lucas could respond, a knock echoed from the door. It opened a second later to reveal the Baron.

Lucas straightened instinctively.

The Baron stepped in, closing the door behind him. His gaze was calm, steady, but heavy with fatigue. "Lucas. I would like to speak with you. Alone."

A brief flash crossed Lucas’s mind—the crimson arrow, the Baroness’s armor.

"...Sure."

"Follow me to my study."

The study was utilitarian—large, filled with books, and devoid of luxury. The Baron didn’t sit immediately. He stood by his desk for a long moment, fingers tracing the wood, before finally taking his seat.

"Sit."

Lucas sat. In the corner of his vision, the System cheered.

[ OOOH SERIOUS TALK MODE ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ ]

"I will not go in circles," the Baron started, placing both hands on the desk. "You must have realized that the reality of this family does not match your image of it."

Lucas leaned back, his gaze sharp. "Yeah. I have questions."

"You may start anywhere."

"If you’re that strong," Lucas asked bluntly, "why is this family living on the fringes, ruling over a destitute territory?"

The Baron didn’t flinch. He looked like he had been waiting for this exact question.

"Because my wife and I chose to step down from the Empire’s expansion duties."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Step down?"

"We were the Empire’s spearhead. Conquests, new territories, external penetration. When we requested to stop, the Emperor approved it." The Baron tapped the desk. "In return, he granted us this frontier territory. A soft punishment, but also... protection."

"Wait." Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Were you even a noble before?"

"No. I was a military product."

The Baron’s voice was flat, reciting facts rather than memories.

"I was born in a southern orphanage. No name, no status. I was simply lucky that a Crownblade visited and saw my mana capacity. It was far too large for a civilian, so my life was decided for me."

Lucas absorbed the information, then asked, "And the Baroness?"

For the first time, the Baron’s expression softened. "She is the opposite. She comes from an elite family—royalty of a small kingdom that voluntarily surrendered to the Empire. Her territory is the only one allowed to retain a King. The other rulers... became Grand Dukes."

Lucas let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Royalty and a Living Weapon.

"Okay, back to the main point," Lucas said, refocusing. "If your backgrounds are that stacked... why is the Voss territory dirt poor?"

"Because many nobles despise us." The Baron met Lucas’s eyes. "They accuse us of planning a coup. The situation worsened after the Lucian incident."

"When Lucian caused a talented commoner to go blind," Lucas recalled.

"That woman is now an Archmage," the Baron said heavily. "Since then, the pressure increased. Trade routes were cut off. Our agricultural output is left to rot. There is no money circulation because we are being slowly strangled."

Lucas let out a slow breath. It wasn’t incompetence. It was a siege.

"So you’re not poor because you’re incapable. You’re being starved out."

The Baron didn’t answer, but the silence confirmed it.

Neither of them rushed to fill the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it was the kind built from shared understanding. Two men measuring weight, consequence, and cost. In rooms like this, words weren’t weapons, but contracts. Once spoken, they reshaped futures, alliances, and sometimes entire territories without needing witnesses or signatures.

Lucas stared at the desk, but his mind drifted to his own recent actions.

Wave left hand.

Exile.

"O Mother. O Father. Perfect your plan."

...Shit.

Lucas swallowed hard. Did I really say that back then?

That was edgy as hell. Like some teenager pretending to be an anime villain.

He forced himself to breathe, shoving the embarrassment down, and focused back on the Baron as if his soul hadn’t just died a little inside.

The Baron leaned forward slightly, interlacing his fingers.

"I have laid my cards on the table, Lucas. It is only fair I ask... what about you?"

Lucas blinked, pulled from his thoughts. "Me?"

"Your life. Before you came here."

Lucas shrugged, his expression neutral. "Nothing grand. No wars, no magic. I was just a worker. Wake up, work, sleep. Just an ordinary guy."

The Baron nodded slowly. "And your parents?"

The air around Lucas frozen.

For a split second, the casual indifference cracked. His jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted to the side. A heavy, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

The Baron saw it instantly. The micro-expression of a closed wound.

He didn’t pry. He didn’t ask further.

Instead, the Baron leaned back, smoothly shifting the atmosphere.

"Speaking of work," the Baron said, his tone lighter. "That contract with the Merchant Guild."

Lucas exhaled, shoulders relaxing. "Yeah?"

"I saw the terms when you signed it in front of me," the Baron continued. "But if you plan to make more dangerous deals like that, coming to my office for every single permit will be inefficient." He smiled.

Power between men rarely needed to be stated. It showed in posture, eye contact, and who was comfortable with silence. Respect wasn’t about manners; it was about understanding boundaries. When two capable men spoke calmly, it often meant they understood each other without needing to test it.

He opened a drawer and placed a heavy, ornate object on the desk.

[ Official Seal of the Heir ]

"Use Lucian’s seal," the Baron said calmly. "For any future contracts or land usage. You do not need to ask for my permission every time."

Lucas stared at the seal, then up at the Baron.

That was... a lot of power to hand over.

"You trust me that much?" Lucas asked, frowning slightly. "You’re not suspicious at all? I’m basically a stranger in your son’s body."

The Baron rested his chin on his hand, looking at Lucas calmly.

"Why should I be suspicious? You have lived here for a week. You have managed the land, dealt with the moneylenders for us."

He paused.

"If you held malice, or if you were an enemy spy... you would have acted by now."

Lucas thought about it. "...True."

"Besides," the Baron added, a faint, amused smile touching his lips.

He chuckled softly. A low, fatherly sound.

"If you were truly evil... it would be quite easy for me to hunt you down."

The Baron laughed good-naturedly.

"Hahaha."

Lucas didn’t laugh.

Lucas sat frozen in his chair.

His mind flashed back to the Crownblade backstory. The Military Product. The Spearhead of the Empire.

Lucas swallowed hard, forcing a stiff smile while sweat formed on his back.

"...Right. Good point."

The Baron noticed Lucas’s frozen posture and the sweat forming on his brow. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Relax, Lucas."

The Baron leaned back into his chair, his demeanor softening completely.

"You do not need to be so stiff with me. We both know the truth. You are not my son, and therefore... you have no obligation to show us the respect of one."

Lucas stared at him for a moment, processing the blunt honesty. Then, the tension in his shoulders finally snapped.

He let out a genuine, breathless laugh.

"Hah... You know, for a scary ex-military warlord, you’re actually pretty chill."

The Baron blinked.

"Chill?"

He glanced around the room, then back at Lucas with genuine confusion.

"Is the room temperature uncomfortable?"

Lucas shook his head, grinning.

"No, no. It’s just a term from my world. It means... relaxed. Easygoing. Someone who doesn’t make things complicated."

"Ah." The Baron nodded slowly, tasting the strange word. "Chill. I see."

Lucas watched him, the lingering fear replaced by a sudden spark.

He looked at the official seal on the desk. Then at the Baron—a man who had just given him unlimited freedom, political protection, and was surprisingly open-minded.

A powerful, "chill" backer.

The gears in Lucas’s mind spun faster.

"Hey," Lucas said, leaning forward. The shift in his tone was immediate—sharp, eager. "Since you’re offering that kind of support... I actually have an idea." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He looked the Baron in the eye.

"Do you want to hear it?"

The Baron didn’t hesitate.

"Of course. I am listening."

Lucas smiled.

"Alright, so..."