I Was Mistaken for the Reincarnated Evil Overlord-Chapter 46: The Most Inept Assassination Attempt in History [2]

The assassins regrouped quickly after burning the body of their accidental killed brethren.

After Phase One’s disaster, where Darin, through nothing but sheer dumb luck and cosmic favoritism, managed to dodge three assassination attempts, they knew they had to change tactics.

Sniping? Clearly impossible.

Stealth attacks? Super clearly unreliable.

So, it was time for something very simpler.

Something subtle.

Something that is guaranteed to succeed.

Poison, A VERY LETHAL POISON.

The church had invested and spent decades perfecting the deadliest poison. The most lethal concoction, a colorless, odorless poison that dissolved instantly in liquid.

One sip, and Darin’s body would be paralyzed within seconds.

Two sips, and his organs would begin to shut down instantly.

Three sips, and it would be an excruciating yet "natural-looking" death.

Perfect.

And, most importantly undetectable, unless you’ve survived with this kind of poison before.

The disguised assassin moved through the palace effortlessly.

Dressed as a simple servant, she carried a silver tray laden with an assortment of teas, each one brewed to perfection.

The poison was already mixed in perfectly.

Now, all she had to do was serve it.

She approached the private lounge where Darin was resting, and knocked politely.

A voice called out.

"Come in!"

She entered with practiced grace.

Inside, Darin sat slumped in a chair, still exhausted after his recent duel. Steve was curled up on his lap, happily snoring. Grumble sat on the windowsill, staring into the abyss as usual.

And then—

There was Vincent.

Relaxing on the plushest chair in the room like he has no noble duties.

Leg crossed over his knee.

A book in one hand.

And a half-eaten plate of biscuits in the other.

The assassin forced a polite smile. "Tea, my lord?"

Darin groaned, rubbing his face. "Ugh… yes. I need something warm after the day I’ve had."

The assassin’s heart leapt.

Yes! Yes! This was it!

She set the tray down, pouring the tea with practiced precision. The liquid, despite being highly toxic, looked rich, smooth, and inviting.

Darin reached for the cup—

And Vincent beat him to it.

Sip.

The assassin froze.

Wait.

Wait. No.

Vincent smacked his lips thoughtfully. "Huh. That’s not bad."

The assassin’s hands tightened into fists.

No. No, no, no, no. That wasn’t supposed to happen!

Darin blinked. "Vincent, that was mine."

Vincent grinned. "Finders keepers, you’re too slow."

Darin groaned. "I don’t have the energy to fight you over tea."

He reached for another cup.

Vincent beat him again.

Sip.

The assassin stared in horror.

"Wow," Vincent mused, swirling the cup. "This one’s even better."

Darin scowled. "Dude. Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

Vincent reached for another cup.

The assassin started sweating.

That’s THREE FULL CUPS.

THREE TIMES THE LETHAL DOSE.

AND HE WAS STILL ALIVE.

Darin tried again—

Vincent snatched another.

Sip.

The assassin’s eye twitched violently.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS MAN?!

The assassin could not process this.

The poison was supposed to work within seconds.

She had just watched Vincent drink enough to kill a dozen men.

And he looked FINE.

No convulsing.

No paralysis.

Not even a single cough.

Vincent hummed thoughtfully, sipping yet another cup. "I don’t know what it is, but this tea is weirdly good. It’s got this spicy kick to it."

The assassin’s hands were shaking.

Spicy?!

SPICY?!

SHE JUST POISONED HIM WITH A DEATHLY TOXIN AND HE CALLED IT SPICY?!

Darin crossed his arms. "I don’t taste anything spicy."

Vincent gave him a mock-pitying look. "That’s because your taste buds are weak."

Darin scowled. "No, it’s because you stole my tea before I could even try it."

Vincent ignored him, drinking another cup.

The assassin gripped the tray, panicking.

No. NO. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.

Was this man even human?!

What was she supposed to do now?!

Vincent had just drunk ALL the poisoned tea.

Darin hadn’t touched a single cup.

The entire plan was ruined.

The assassin tried to stay composed.

Maybe the effects were delayed.

Yes. That had to be it.

She carefully observed Vincent, waiting for any sign of collapse.

Instead—

Vincent poured himself another cup.

"You know, I was always a tea guy, but this? This is great."

The assassin felt faint.

Darin narrowed his eyes.

"You’re enjoying this way too much."

Vincent gave him a lazy grin. "What can I say? Good tea, good company, and I get to watch you suffer."

Darin scowled. "I’m not suffering. Yet."

Vincent chuckled. "You will be."

Darin gave him a look. "Why does that sound like foreshadowing?"

Vincent just smirked and continued drinking.

The assassin was seconds away from screaming.

She was desperate.

This had to work.

Desperation creeping into her voice, she turned to Darin. "Perhaps I can prepare a fresh cup for you, my lord?"

Darin, already suspicious, raised an eyebrow.

"…Why do you sound like you’re about to cry?"

The assassin choked. "I—what? N-no, I’m fine."

Vincent, still completely unbothered, hummed.

"You know, I think I’ll take another."

The assassin flinched.

Vincent grabbed the last remaining cup.

Sipped.

Paused.

Then casually said, "So, what’s in this, anyway?"

The assassin froze solid.

Darin frowned. "Yeah, what kind of tea is this?"

The assassin tried to answer—

But Vincent beat her to it.

"It kind of reminds me of that poison I drank last year."

Silence.

Darin blinked. "…What."

The assassin’s soul almost left her body.

Vincent tapped his chin. "Yeah. Same burn, same aftertaste… Yep, definitely poison."

Darin snapped his head around.

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Vincent waved him off. "Relax. It’s not that strong."

Follow current novels on ƒreewebηoveℓ.com.

The assassin stopped breathing.

Not… that strong?!

This was the Church’s strongest assassination poison.

How was he completely fine?!

Darin, however, was having a meltdown.

"WHY ARE YOU SO CASUAL ABOUT BEING POISONED?!"

Vincent shrugged. "It happens."

Darin grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "IT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN!"

Vincent just smiled. "Nah, I’ve drunk worse."

The assassin, realizing she had failed spectacularly, turned completely pale.

This was a disaster.

And then—

Vincent turned to her.

And grinned.

"So… what’s next?"

The assassin nearly fainted on the spot.