I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!-Chapter 95: A Drunkard always a Drunkard

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its collective breath. The Duke, the Head Butler, and Cassius simply stared at Ashok, their expressions caught between disbelief and reluctant acknowledgment.

It wasn't that Ashok's identity as a student of the Academy was a secret. His uniform had been a silent declaration of the fact from the moment he stepped into the mansion, something none of them had missed.

But reconciling that knowledge with the feats he had accomplished was another matter entirely.

The memories of Ashok's recent deeds loomed large in their minds. He had dispatched a cultist in a way none of them could comprehend, his methods both mysterious and efficient.

Then came the haunting image of the witch—sacrificed without hesitation after destroying her eyes. And, as if those were not feats enough, Ashok had offered a solution to save the Duke's daughter—a cure even Ascended beings had been incapable of providing.

To call him merely a "student" seemed almost absurd now, a label that felt woefully insufficient for the enigma standing before them. And yet, here he was, calmly stating what should have been a simple truth.

It was truly unbelievable at this point that he could be considered a student but Duke decided not to comment on that.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.

"Which Year?" asked the Duke had a premonition of the answer before he even asked, though some part of him resisted the absurdity of what he was about to hear.

"First Year" replied Ashok.

The Duke leaned forward slightly, his keen eyes locking onto Ashok as he asked the next question, one that had piqued not just his curiosity but also that of Cassius and the Head Butler. "Which class?"

Even Cassius and the Head Butler, despite their previously subdued dispositions, leaned in slightly, their attention sharp. They understood the significance of the question.

"Aether," replied Ashok, his voice steady and indifferent, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Haha" The Duke let out a short, bemused laugh, shaking his head slightly and said "It is no longer even surprising at this point."

The Duke asked "What do you truly want me to arrange?"

Ashok glanced at the Duke, his expression calm and his answer ready. "Nothing much! Just get the Gates of the Academy opened for me. Since I am here, the Portal to the Academy has been closed for quite some time."

For a brief moment, the Duke's brows furrowed as he processed Ashok's request. Then, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, the realization dawned on him. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but in understanding.

"So," the Duke said slowly, his voice tinged with something between admiration and exasperation, "this was your true goal for coming here. The reason you cured my daughter... was to ensure your entry into the Academy since you were late."

Ashok simply met the Duke's gaze with unwavering calm, neither confirming nor denying the conclusion.

Cassius and the Head Butler, both seasoned in the ways of the world, stood momentarily frozen. Their gazes flickered between Ashok and the Duke, disbelief etched plainly onto their faces.

Today was, indeed, the day the Academy welcomed its new students, a fact that now clicked into place with chilling clarity.

The realization struck like a bolt of lightning—this boy, no older than a first-year student, had killed two people and coerced the Duke of all people, all for the simple reason to open the gates of the Academy.

A singular thought reverberated in the minds of Cassius and the Head Butler, 'Just what kind of absurdity is this?'

The Duke, however, maintained his composure. Letting out a resigned sigh, he spoke with measured resolve, "Since I've already given my promise, I will see it through." His eyes shifted toward Cassius, his tone firm yet calm. "Drop him at the Portal and take my carriage."

Cassius gave a nod of agreement after hearing Duke's order.

The Duke then turned his attention back to Ashok, his tone steady but probing. "By the time you reach the Portal, I will ensure the gates are open for you. Is there anything else you want?"

Ashok's smirk widening with a devilish glint in his eye. The richest man in the world had asked him if there was "anything else," and Ashok saw no reason to hold back. Why stop at simple requests when ambition could go unchecked?

"What is the best alcohol you have?" he asked.

The Duke blinked, momentarily taken aback, his composure faltering for the briefest moment. "Yes?" he echoed, as if he hadn't heard correctly, disbelief creeping into his otherwise calm tone.

"Do you have Dragon's Offering?" Ashok continued smoothly.

The Duke's brows furrowed, his silence stretching as the implications of the question sank in. He had thought opening the Gates of the Academy was a bold request, but this? This was on an entirely different level.

Ashok had shifted from asking for simple arrangements to requesting a legendary beverage, one spoken of more in myths than in tangible reality.

The Head Butler, standing off to the side, narrowed his eyes and immediately dismissed the notion with a scoff. "It does not exist," he stated with firm conviction, his voice laced with exasperation.

"Dragon's Offering is nothing more than a myth. As its name suggests, it's supposed to be an alcohol crafted to serve as an offering to dragons. But dragons themselves are nothing more than a legend now. No one has truly seen a dragon, let alone an alcohol meant for them." explained the Head Butler.

Ashok let out a soft sigh, leaning back as the Head Butler finished his dismissive explanation. Internally, Ashok's thoughts churned with quiet disdain. 'This fool doesn't even realize how ignorant he sounds,' he mused.

In the game, the Dragon's Offering wasn't just a myth or legend.

It was widely regarded as the finest alcohol in existence, a drink forged through the arduous process of refining the blood of a hundred different beasts. Its rarity exceeded even that of the fabled elixirs, making it an unparalleled treasure.

'I know of more than five places in the entire world where I could find the Offering,' Ashok thought, his sharp mind already mapping out potential locations. 'But obtaining it would be a monumental hassle. I had hoped the Duke might possess it. Clearly, he doesn't.'

However, Ashok was not one to lose hope 'If First Rank is not available then go for second rank.'

"Spirit Wine" said Ashok looking at the Duke.

But Ashok, unmoved by the pause, pressed on. "Now don't remain silent," he said with a faint edge of amusement, "I know you're the sole manufacturer and supplier of Spirit Wine in this land."

The Duke sighed, his composure unbroken but his tone taking on a firm, almost fatherly note. "It's not that I am rejecting your request," he began, "but someone of your age should not be drinking alcohol—especially something as potent as Spirit Wine. I could arrange for a variety of non-alcoholic drinks if you would prefer."

Ashok, however, met the Duke's concern with his usual calm resolve. "You don't need to worry about my age," he replied, his voice steady and unyielding. "Just give the Spirit Wine."

The Duke let out a measured sigh, acknowledging that no argument would deter Ashok's determined gaze. Without a word, he reached into the shimmering depths of his storage ring, his hand emerging with a bottle cloaked in deep black glass.

The bottle bore the unmistakable emblem of the Southern Duke—a mark of exclusivity and prestige. He handed it over to Ashok, who accepted it with a subtle nod, his smirk lingering ever so faintly.

The weight of the bottle in his hand felt almost surreal to Ashok. The faint glint of the torchlight reflected off its sleek black surface, the insignia standing proud and bold.

'This is it,' he thought, a spark of excitement igniting within him as his fingers tightened ever so slightly like it was something very precious to him.

In his previous life, Ashok had always harbored a deep fascination—no, an obsession—with the most exquisite alcohols the world had to offer.

He had spent countless nights dreaming of tasting the top-ranked alcohols he had read about, each description tantalizing him with their unparalleled quality and craftsmanship. Yet, his reality had been far from such indulgences.

Cheap beers from forgettable brands had been his only companions, leaving him disillusioned and yearning for something more.

But now, standing in this opulent chamber with the bottle in his grasp, Ashok felt a strange sense of fulfillment. The irony of the moment wasn't lost on him. In this life, one of the best, most legendary alcohols was finally within his reach.

The moment Ashok pressed his fingers against the neck of the bottle, the cork slid out with an almost ceremonial ease.

The faint hiss of air escaping was followed by a wave of intoxicating aroma that filled the chamber, rich and heady, carrying with it the promise of unparalleled potency. The magic-imbued glass, designed to respond to the lightest touch, worked exactly as described in the game. Ashok's lips curled into a faint smirk. 'Perfect,' he thought.

As the scent enveloped the room, Ashok felt a familiar pull—his false monarch faltered, giving way to the dormant drunkard. Before the Duke could even reach for a glass, Ashok had already brought the bottle to his lips.

The first sip was a revelation, the liquid fire coursing down his throat with a smoothness that belied its strength. But Ashok didn't stop there. He tilted the bottle higher, chugging the wine with the ease of someone drinking water.

Each gulp seemed to defy logic, the strongest alcohol in the land disappearing into him as though it were nothing more than a casual refreshment.