The Villainess Returns with a System-Chapter 103: Pandemic

It would take less than a month for the new disease to be noticed, just because a nobleman was infected. A few days afterward, the Temple of Saint Nightingale the Healer would declare a state of emergency all across western Albion as the new plague started to spread widely.

After investigating its nature, the doctors called it the Devil’s Blood. The clergy officially named it Blackthorn Touch, which they shortened to Blackthorn. Commonly, it was also referred to as the Unholy Plague.

Like how the Gossipirium magazine in Elgard’s reported about it in its second issue, the Blackthorn disease was a parasite that would develop as a strange, jagged, black, line-shaped skin spotting on the body with varying lengths; the shortest recorded length was that of a knucklebone. The area around the skin spotting would be paler than the rest of the body, indicating that whatever it was, it was feeding off its host.

This spotting would grow, causing symptoms like general exhaustion and coughing to increase. The reason behind its sudden growth could be related to a large number of factors, but it mostly hoarded all the nutrients in the infected body for itself. This sort of behavior was described as devilish, and an analogy was established between the behavior of the parasite and the devil, relating it to how the Devil broke the earth into long fissures for his army of evil to emerge from.

How the disease spread remained a mystery that could never be solved. Neither air nor water was the transmitter of the disease, despite the origin of the disease appearing in the seaside districts. Usually, seawater is too salty for a disease to survive, but the main suspicion was focused on those who came as sea voyagers. News of the Blackthorn plague started to arrive from other parts of Albion, such as Buren and Vellen, but it was Vigonza that took the greatest hit and was designated as the ground zero for the Unholy Plague, despite the existence of the holiest of holies, the city of St. Athena.

As for the cure, the efforts never stopped since it was discovered on the body of a nobleman in Elgard. However, a couple of months later, a snake oil peddler came out and claimed that he had found a cure. Like a hundred other quacks, he would have been dismissed for his fake remedies that give hope to the hopeless, but that man had a big claim and a new cure that shook the public, quite literally at that.

It was called Electrotherapy.

Since electricity was being introduced by the Moore Conglomerate and ViTech as a means of refined lifestyle, a wave of frenzy started to associate electricity with all manner of the occult.

Luckily, the Moores had issued a judicial notice to clear their name from any electricity-related deaths, serving as a warning that coming into direct contact with electricity by touching the conducting parts of any machine was extremely lethal. Sadly, it did not stop the curious minds who wanted to awaken their innate magical abilities or talk to the spirits from coming into direct contact with electricity.

The victims of the plague increased as time passed, and yet not a single clue on the origins of the disease surfaced. The transmission was quite random, even; it infected nobles and commoners alike with no discrimination, but the death rate among the commoners was greater, and it was due to one single thing the world had realised about the disease.

The parasite grows when the body requires healing. This means that if an infected person were to get injured or overexert themselves a great deal, the Blackthorn parasite would start to grow exponentially, depriving the body of healing and keeping it in the bad condition it was in. This was noticed very early with the thug Vivian apprehended and Lord Julian Moore’s situation; the thug’s wounds were barely healing, and he died soon after, whereas the overexerted lord could not find rest and had to be bedridden until a cure was found.

The Unholy Plague primarily affected Albion and rarely spread to other continents. The Draconians seemed immune, and the Adnan Empire, with minimal contact with Albion due to their hostile relationship, had few, if any, cases. Albion was left to fend for itself, and everyone looked for a cure; whether it was surgery, amputation, or electrotherapy, the desperate tried everything, whereas those who could afford to rest and avoid deterioration remained in their homes. The healthy lived in constant anxiety, not knowing when it would come and how things would turn out for them in the dark, grim future.

A couple of months before the world would be ravaged by the Unholy Plague, Vivian found herself facing a different kind of plague—the plague of family gatherings. The air in the Moore Conglomerate’s council chambers was thick with tension, heavy with the weight of expectation and the unspoken threat of disapproval. Vivian stood alone before the assembled family council, a solitary figure facing her chaotic kin.

"Aunts and uncles, honored partners, and members of my dear family, I know the situation we are in is everyone’s worst fear coming to the surface overnight. It is my father we are speaking of here, the head of this great house, and your liege lord, long may he live to serve you and receive your oaths of duty and loyalty.

We, the greatest machine in the empire, are faced with a test like no other. There is no captain at the helm, the oarsmen are breaking with worry, and losing morale will be our death sentence. But as I have been entrusted by the council to view the family records, this is the farthest situation from the worst-case scenario in the history of our great house. I am sure that some of you have even seen worse during your lifetimes, and through wisdom, skill, and good old Moore resilience, you have sailed through horrendous storms. And worry not, if the captain is resting, the first mate is always here to help. And so by my father’s orders, I came here to announce that man’s name."

Seeing as everyone was sitting on the edge of their seats, not limited to the directors, but even the family members and the knights, Vivian spoke the name.

"My father’s closest friend, the honorable Tristian Moore."

While the choice was not particularly shocking, some expressions still conveyed discontent. Tristan Moore, Lord Julian’s closest aide within the Conglomerate, is highly regarded by all directors. As a seasoned businessman, he has been entrusted with numerous significant projects throughout the years and has proven himself time and time again. Having him as the deputy director was a logical decision.

However, the reason some people still felt discontent was regarding the two youngest faces in the gathering. First, Vivian was the one who conveyed the Lord’s orders to the major directors, not his male son, not his butler, or even his wife, who were all present in the gathering.

The second reason was related to the first, namely, for those who supported Robert Moore as the successor to the general director’s position. While the position of deputy director was a grand one, Lord Julian was not in a state that would render him infirm; he was just working from home, and whoever the deputy directors may be, he would be no more than a figurehead until a cure was found.

Having Robert assume that position would strengthen his position as heir against James Moore, the eldest son, despite Robert being seventeen years of age. Some even retold the one time Lord Julian assumed control of the Conglomerate for three months when his father, the late lord Roland, was captured in battle, insisting on the fact that Lord Julian was fourteen at the time.

Nevertheless, no matter how loud the dogs bark, the caravan moves on. Some dogs, on the other hand, kept barking at no end.

The scene was of a small party in honor of Tristan Moore assuming the temporary position, the purpose of which was to bring everyone up to speed with the current direction the Conglomerate was heading. While it was of grand importance, drinks were served, and music was played on a gramophone that everyone never stopped complimenting. As for the dog that barked, it was a particular Robert Moore, who seemed to have gobbled his fifth glass of liquor this evening despite how much his mother was trying to hold him back.

"Look at her... acting as if she already runs the place... talking to this and that..."

He said, eyeing his sister Vivian with hate and anger.

"Robert, that’s enough. I forbid you from drinking."

His mother, Saskia, whose face was covered under a sheer veil, took away the glass from him as the pair were sitting away from the gathering.

However, despite the distance, Robert’s tantrum was seen and heard by the attendees, and some of them were eyeing him with discomfort, which contributed more to his irritation.

"What are you looking at? Yes, you! I’m talking to you." Robert got off his seat, walked with drunken vigor, and targeted one of the young attendees who seemed to be accompanying his father to the gathering.

"I... I didn’t look, sir." The young man stepped back from Robert, fully knowing the identity of the son of the general director.

"Robert, this is not how you should..."

Saskia tried to hold Robert by his arm and pull him back before he worsened his image, but he yanked his arm away, almost making her lose balance.

"Leave me!" Robert said with anger before facing the young man again, "You were not looking, huh? You think I am not worth looking at, then? That I do not matter? You think you can get away with disrespecting me?"

He always craved being the center of attention, but as his tantrum escalated and drew the focus of the others, he would soon regret the unwanted attention, but his drunken stupor made him braver and braver.

Just as he scanned the room with his eyes, he saw the face he could not stand the most.

"And Little Miss Perfect over here convinced everyone that she can be the bearer of Father’s words. Who gave her the right, huh?"

Robert spoke with fuming anger; his mother tried to catch up to him, but he soon found another target.

"And Uncle Tristian, he is... greaaaat, is not he? The great savior of the company in its time of need. How does it feel, uncle? Sitting on a seat that was meant for me?"

"Robert, that’s enough. You are embarrassing the family here."

Vivian immediately intervened as his mother struggled to restrain him. Arguing with a drunk at this point would be pointless, and Vivian had to step in to prevent the situation from escalating. But she was wrong, for there was no reason to be found in his seething cauldron of resentment.

Robert, his face contorted with disgust, retorted sharply:

"Shut up! Do not deny it, you are enjoying this. You have always loved seeing me knocked down to a peg." His alcohol-laden breath washed over her as he jabbed a finger accusingly, "What did you tell him? That I was too reckless? Too incompetent? You must have been thrilled watching him strip away what was rightfully mine."

He then turned to the attendees and spoke the loudest.

"You have all seen her speaking, haven’t you? Her words... the hate in them. She is the one who invited trouble, saying what she said." After a round of walking back and forth, he started lashing again, "You always wanted to run things. And now you get to, do not you? Father’s little messenger, his perfect little replacement. Everyone here is your puppet, aren’t they? You control them all with your... weird things... this electricity? It is as if you have had them possessed by it. You are evil, Vivian. Everything you say! Everything you do! They do not know it yet... but I will expose you to the world."

Just as he turned around to leave, Vivian kept tracking him with her eyes.

Those words, those exact actions, she remembered them well.

In the game, once Vivian causes Robert to lose his opportunity for the heir position because of his relationship with a commoner, he says that line in the end.

Calling her evil, calling everything she says and does evil, and that he will expose her.

While she did not even try to associate herself with whatever he says or does, Robert’s route was eventually triggered.

After all this effort to avoid this scenario, she could only let out a tired sigh.

The 𝘮ost uptodat𝑒 novels are pub𝙡ished on fre(e)webno(v)el.𝒸𝑜𝘮