The dust of the wreckage still billowed across the grand hall, casting a hazy veil over the remnants of the throne, which was now reduced to nothing more than a heap of worthless masonry. Raga stood before Duke Vallen, who lay buried beneath the rubble. The man looked utterly pitiful; one of his arms was pinned beneath a marble pillar, and his face was smeared with blood mixed with construction debris.

Yet beneath his ragged, shallow breathing, Vallen suddenly let out a laugh—a raspy, bitterly twisted sound.

"You think... you're the hero?" Vallen spat, fresh blood oozing from the corner of his lips.

Raga, who had been preparing to call Grom to drag Vallen off to the dungeons, froze in his tracks. "Save it, Vallen. Your coup is over. Princess Naria has returned, and the people now know who you truly are."

Vallen tried to laugh again, but only a painful, dry cough escaped his throat. "Princess? The people? You truly are a naive laborer. Do you honestly think Eudor needs a savior? This kingdom was rotting from its core long before I was born!"

Raga furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

Vallen gazed toward the balcony where Naria was currently addressing her people. Vallen's eyes burned with a deep, consuming hatred. "Naria's father... the king you regard as a saint... he was the root cause of our economic collapse. Taxes on the common folk were hiked simply to fund endless, decadent banquets in the palace basement. We nobles are greedy, yes, but at least we face reality! Eudor is bankrupt, Raga! This kingdom is nothing more than an empty shell waiting to cave in!"

Vallen stared up at Raga, his eyes growing heavy and dim. "I tried to change it. Perhaps through the wrong means, perhaps with bloody hands, but I tried to salvage this system from the rotting decay of the royal family. And you... you are merely a tool utilized by that cursed system to preserve a corrupt status quo."

Raga fell silent. Dead quiet settled over the hall. Grom and Naria were too far away to hear the exchange. Raga stared down at Vallen's trembling hand—a hand that had once ruled with an iron fist, now lying utterly helpless.

"If everything you're saying is true..." Raga whispered softly, "...why didn't you tell the people? Why did you choose murder instead of speaking out?"

"Because this world doesn't listen to the voice of truth!" Vallen roared hoarsely. "The world only listens to the swing of a sword! And now, you arrive with your counterfeit 'righteousness,' believing you've fixed everything. When in reality, all you've done is slap a coat of paint over a rotting, hollow wall!"

Vallen took a long, shaky breath, his eyes staring blankly at the ruined hall ceiling. "I didn't lose because I was wrong. I lost because I didn't have a 'System' guiding me to cheat the way you do."

Vallen closed his eyes. He offered no further resistance. He surrendered.

Raga stood frozen like a statue. His mind raced in turmoil. He recalled how brutal life was back in his home world—how the wealthy often grew rich by stepping on the necks of the poor, and how convoluted bureaucratic systems routinely oppressed the weak. If Eudor truly was that rotten, had he just made a catastrophic mistake? Had he just restored power to those who didn't deserve it?

[System: Warning! Subject doubt detected. Motivation reduced to 50%. Warning: If you fail to complete the mission immediately, the gold chest reward will be forfeited.]

Seeing the notification pop up, Raga let out a long, heavy breath. He looked down at the chest of gold resting not far away. The gold gleamed brightly from beneath its wooden lid. That gold was his ticket out. That gold was the cure for his hacking cough, the solution to his rent, the ultimate escape from a site foreman who screamed curses at him every single day.

"Maybe this kingdom is rotten," Raga muttered under his breath, barely audible even to himself. "Maybe Naria isn't as pure as I thought. But... I'm no politician. I'm not the guy equipped to fix this broken world."

Raga looked down at Vallen one last time. There was no anger left in his gaze, only a profound, crushing exhaustion.

"I'm just a laborer, Vallen," Raga said quietly. "I've got a promise to keep. I need my paycheck. And honestly... I don't give a damn about Eudor's politics. I only care about myself."

Vallen gave no answer. He had already slipped into unconsciousness.

Raga turned on his heel and walked away from the rubble. His heart felt heavy, as though he had just hoisted a ton of wet cement all by himself. Yet he had made his choice. He had come this far, and he wasn't about to let a crisis of conscience ruin his dream of becoming a newly minted rich guy.

Grom trotted over with a radiant, grinning face. "Foreman! Vallen is completely out of commission! What's our next move?"

Raga looked at Grom, then glanced at Naria, who was smiling warmly in his direction. He forced a smile onto his face, though it felt stiff and unnatural.

"We're going home, Grom," Raga replied briefly. "I mean... we finish what needs to be done. After that, I just want to sleep."

[System: Subject Decision: Stick to Main Quest. Motivation: Restored to 100%. You certainly are a pragmatic man, Raga. Very typical of a contract worker.]

Raga ignored the system's mockery. He walked over to his chest of gold. He knew he might have won the battle, but deep inside, he felt as though something fundamental had shattered right alongside the castle pillar he had brought down moments before.

Yet, that was simply how the world worked. Sometimes, to build something new, you had to tear down the old—regardless of whether the old was worth destroying. Raga could only hope that one day, he wouldn't live to regret the choice he had made today.

"Come on," Raga motioned to Grom and Naria. "We've got a coronation ceremony to attend."

Naria welcomed him with open arms, entirely unaware that the man standing before her had just traded away his moral doubts in exchange for a chest of glittering gold.