064 Like Military Boots 2 p.5

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But he smiled vaguely, as he was used to it.

"Don't worry. It's part of my regimen. When I touch your young skin, I feel as if a single stroke would remove these wrinkles......?"

"Oh no, I'm already—"

In the continent of Ithuselah, where early marriages tended to be the norm, it was safe to say that those who have reached their thirties have missed the prime age for marriage. However, the right age for marriage did not necessarily coincide with the age when one's body and mind have matured to the point where one can enjoy oneself to the fullest with one's partner. It was also strange that a nun, who was supposed to be unmarried all her life, would use her age as a yardstick to measure her youth.

(No, it would be strange for a nun to indulge in this kind of mischief at all, wouldn't it?)

Too late to consider all that, as he moved his fingers further. With one hand, he was still bringing the glass to his mouth, while with the other, he was toying with her. He felt mildly satisfied that his skills had not become rusty.

The woman shouted in protest at being completely played by the hand.

"Oh, today's Marquis is being so mean!"

"Haha, now you mention it. I've always been called a mean old man."

"No, I didn’t mean that......!"

It could be said that he had become more ambitious than ever? Perhaps so, the old man thought. After all, he was one step closer to fulfilling the long-cherished wish he held for fifty years.

The outbreak of monsters in the neighbouring country and the fire in the royal capital that hit this country. He took advantage of the two incidents to manipulate the logistics between the Kingdom and the Federation, forcing the abominable enemy to start a war.

The battlefield chosen was the Count Oubeniels’ Volden. If he could utilise this to get rid of the Kingdom’s cancer, the slave killer, it would be perfect.

The forces that will be sent to retake Volden and defend Allemande were steadily being prepared. With the private fortune of the Marquis, and the supplies and funds collected for the reconstruction of the royal capital, everything was progressing smoothly.

Because of his achievements, he had already regained his seat as the head of the centralist faction. When he was kicked out by the young brat, Langogne, who had been unable to do anything but pace left and right recently, he felt a sense of relief.

All that was left to do was to annihilate the St. Gallen army and get rid of Tullius Oubeniel at the same time — he guessed it was not likely that the little bastard would let the enemy army take his head. The Omnian Empire was more reluctant than he thought, but the least they could do was send reinforcements after the war ended. Combined, they could destroy Tullius and his faction. Finally, the decentralist faction would be no threat at all and they can just get rid of them however he pleased.

Everything was going so well. The sense of versatility and accomplishment was giving his old body a surge of energy.

"Or is it just the atmosphere of war? It's been fifty years since I've been in a war, and it's brought me back to that time."

Perhaps it was the case. However there was a definite difference between now and fifty years ago.

He was no longer the hopeless third son, George Henry. It had become common knowledge that when people speak of the name Marquis Lavallee, they were referring to him.

He was no longer a brute that fought on the frontlines without any preparation. He was now the one who drew the entire war plan from start to finish.

And it was no longer based on pure optimism that he was confident of victory before the fight. He had been fighting for this day for fifty years, and now he was about to achieve victory. His heart seemed to leap with anticipation and hope. It would not be surprising if the outburst from his body were connected to the woman in front of him as an outlet.

"Here, touch my chest, will you? It’s like it’s jumping around like I’m young again."

With a sudden flirtation, he let the woman's hand rest on the left of his chest. He innocently thought that she would be able to feel his elation.

But...

"M-Marquis ......!"

She paled from her flushed complexion in a flash. Lavallee wondered at the sudden change in the other's expression.

"? What's the matter? What are you surprised about?"

"No, please rest right now! Your body, your body!"

"W-what is it—"

The moment when he tried to repeat the question.

—Clang......

His heart raced louder than it ever had in his entire life.

His body became hot to the touch, and his cold sweat would not subside.

"What......?"

His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe. It became dark in front of...... his eyes.

The strength drained from his limbs, and the glass he had been holding slipped from his fingers.

Disappearing vision. Spilled wine. A red stain that spread on the sheets...... and complete darkness.

(What…is happening to me—)

"Lord Marquis! Stay strong! Marquis George!"

In the darkness, only the woman's scream and his own irregular heartbeat rang in his ears.

Gradually, however, it became more distant and vague, and soon there was an eerie silence.

And Marquis George Henry Lavallee's consciousness soon———.

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