Chapter 30: The Outbreak

The next morning, the eastern Arkwright territory—Holz Village—was wrapped in an eerie stillness.

The only road leading into the village was completely sealed off by a makeshift but sturdy barricade of logs. Armed soldiers bearing the Arkwright family crest stood guard before it, their spears ready, faces grim, allowing no one through.

From behind shuttered windows, villagers peered out anxiously.
No one had been told what was really happening.
All they knew was the cold decree, delivered by a herald:
No one is to leave the village. Under any circumstance.

“How cruel…”

From atop her horse on a nearby hill, Liliana gazed down at the scene below, her voice trembling.

“It’s as if they’re imprisoning sinners. These people are suffering from illness—how can we just abandon them like this?”

Her knight-captain stood beside her, arms crossed, expression hard.
Such a merciless measure went against every tenet of chivalry.

But the man responsible for that very order, Zenon, sat on horseback behind them, a map spread across his lap. His tone was calm, almost detached, as he issued his next commands.

“Gray. Maintain the quarantine perimeter. No one enters or leaves without my authorization. If anyone resists after warning, remove them by force.”

“Yes, my lord…” 

Gray hesitated briefly, but then nodded firmly to his master.

“Marc. Send riders to the neighboring villages. Inform them that what’s spreading in Holz is a simple fever, nothing serious. Control the narrative—keep panic contained. By withholding the truth, we control fear.”

“B-but… that would be a lie…”

“A rational lie,” 

Zenon replied flatly. 

“One that will save far more lives in the end. Don’t let sentiment disrupt the plan.”

Marc swallowed his protest under Zenon’s cold, unwavering gaze.

Liliana could bear it no longer.

“Zenon-sama!”

She urged her horse forward, glaring at him with tearful blue eyes.

“What you’re doing is wrong! Isolating the people, deceiving them with lies—that tramples on their hearts, their dignity! There must be another way!”

Her voice trembled with conviction, but Zenon’s face remained unmoved.

“Another way? You mean entering the village yourself to pray? Tell me—what scientific basis do you have that prayer eradicates viruses?”

“It’s not science—it’s faith! It’s the will of God!”

“I see,” 

Zenon said quietly. 

“In other words, no basis at all.”

Deciding that further debate was a waste of time, Zenon turned his horse toward the barricade.

“I have no time for idealistic sermons. I’ll save as many lives as possible—my way. Results are all that matter.”

With that, he rode ahead, taking command.

Behind him were not only armed soldiers but also wagons loaded with lime, barrels of clean water, and glass bottles of boiled herbal mixtures.

Among the group were several men and women covered head to toe in simple masks and gloves—people Zenon had hastily gathered from across the territory, those with herbal knowledge or nursing experience.

“Commence first-stage intervention.”

At his command, the soldiers opened part of the barricade.

Zenon donned his mask and gloves and stepped through—straight into the quarantined village, without hesitation.

“Zenon-sama! It’s too dangerous!” Gray shouted, hurrying after him.

Zenon raised a hand to stop him. 

“A commander who leads from safety moves no one. Risk management is accounted for.”

Liliana watched, stunned.

He wasn’t abandoning them—he was entering the infected zone himself.

Why? Why risk his life if he was so cold and heartless?
Her mind reeled in confusion.

Inside the village, Zenon began issuing orders to the villagers and the village chief with calm authority.

“Separate the sick from the healthy. Our medical team will tend to the infected. Even family members are forbidden from contact.”

“All wells are off-limits. Use only the clean water we’ve brought—for drinking, for cooking, for everything. Disease spreads through water.”

“Spread this lime around every house and along the roads. The pathogen weakens in alkaline conditions—cut off its route of transmission.”

“And this is most important: everyone must wash their hands with soap three times a day—before eating, after using the latrine, without fail. It may seem trivial, but it is the single most effective measure.”

Isolation.
Information control.
Strict hygiene enforcement.

Zenon’s plan was unprecedented in this world—a pragmatic epidemic response built entirely on the principles of public health from another life.

No prayers.
No miracles.
Only science, discipline, and cold, calculated precision.

At first, the villagers hesitated.

But faced with Zenon’s unwavering confidence and his willingness to lead from the front, they began to follow his orders.

From the hill, Liliana watched everything unfold, her heart in turmoil.

Zenon’s methods were ruthless. They ignored emotion and faith.

And yet—each of his instructions was undeniably the most rational, effective path to save lives.

(My way… his way… Which one is truly right…?)

At her feet, the foundation of everything she’d believed in began to tremble.

Down in the village, under Zenon’s direction, people worked silently but steadily.

It was no longer chaos without hope,
but the beginning of an organized battle with a clear goal— a battle of human intellect against an unseen enemy.

The war against the plague had just quietly begun.