Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 185
Chapter Title: The Inevitable Tragedy
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As an apprentice witch who had received the vessel from Duke Tiphereth—and was slated to inherit the stigma as well—Lapi was a child who deserved all the love in the world.
Everyone, regardless of age or gender, adored her.
Birds, livestock, even wild beasts flocked to her side with joy. When she walked through the fields, wild dogs and birds would swarm around, nuzzling up to her affectionately.
Lapi was always bright and cheerful, a lovable girl who brought happy smiles to everyone's faces.
With her overflowing charm, she could even coax a sudden smile from the typically stoic Eloa.
One day, she said,
"Master! I want to go to the present world!"
It was a request Eloa had half-expected from her curious and energetic apprentice witch.
Wearing a wry smile, Eloa asked,
"What sudden whim is this?"
"I just thought that an apprentice witch destined to inherit the great Duke Tiphereth's name should broaden her horizons and learn about the wider world!"
"You always did have a way with words."
Lapi answered boldly, and Eloa burst into a wide grin.
With their small age gap, anyone unfamiliar with them might mistake the pair for cheerful sisters chatting away.
"The present world is dangerous. Especially for an apprentice witch like you—there are plenty of vicious predators out there targeting girls just like you."
"I can handle that! You taught me magic, Master—I can wield it with ease!"
True to her bold claim, Lapi was an exceptional apprentice witch.
Though she'd received only a single stroke of the vessel from Eloa, she now possessed combat prowess that could hold its own against most full-fledged witches.
The 'Contract of the King of All Weapons'—a technique that allowed her to intuitively grasp and execute the optimal move with any weapon.
Her innate battle sense had fully assimilated the contract within the vessel. In terms of pure martial attainment, few witches could match her.
Of course, witchcraft inevitably involved magic in combat, making it a moot point.
"Maaaster... Please?"
As Eloa seemed lost in thought, Lapi seized the moment with a barrage of cuteness.
Hopping over, she planted a kiss on Eloa's cheek, then swung their clasped hands back and forth in a playful tantrum.
Stop it.
Eloa's mournful murmur, watching the scene, never quite formed into words.
It bubbled up as noise, dissolving into foam and scattering harmlessly.
I have to stop it.
I can't allow it.
Eloa truly believed that.
But no matter how she screamed, begged, or pleaded, the script of this scripted film never changed.
Because this dream was a memory from the unchangeable past, its ending already set.
"Hmm... I happen to have business in the present world myself. Want to come along?"
"Really? For real?"
"Of course. When have I ever lied to you?"
And so, Eloa was forced to select the path to tragedy—hundreds, thousands of times over.
"Yaaay!!!"
Eloa smiled warmly at Lapi's joyous expression—a sight she could no longer witness.
No matter how perilous the present world, Lapi could buy time and respond adeptly.
With Eloa by her side, no faction would dare target her.
That was the reasoning behind her fateful decision.
"But."
"Yes! I'll keep it in mind, Master!"
"No slacking on your magic training out of excitement before we go. Promise?"
"Of course! I'll do twice as much as usual!"
"Even skipping sleep?"
"Ehehehe, you know I don't mean that literally."
Lapi's joyful bouncing warped and distorted.
Like film torn and damaged, flickering through a projector.
Eloa's affectionate gaze and Lapi's beaming smile twisted together.
The crushed, scattered happiness of the past stung her nostrils with the metallic tang of blood, blurring her vision red.
Eloa looked down.
There lay Lapi.
A bit lighter now.
Much colder.
No longer moving.
Lapi.
Eloa clutched the blood-soaked body—her womb crudely excised—in futile embrace.
The foolish, arrogant, reckless, prideful Eloa, who had lost what was most precious in a moment's lapse.
Foolish Tiphereth Eloa.
Did you think what you cherished would last forever?
Did you truly never foresee that your arrogance and negligence would summon such tragedy?
A mocking cackle echoed in her ears like tinnitus—her own voice.
Icy rain pelted her skin as rivulets of blood pooled into crimson puddles on the concrete.
A beastly wail reverberated through the abandoned factory.
The witch of Aquarius, Ea Sadalmelek.
I swear on my name.
I will kill you.
I'll tear you to a thousand, ten thousand shreds—neither living nor dying, just agony and despair.
When your screams grow tiresome, I'll incinerate that vile carcass.
As your limbs burn and you writhe in torment, begging for mercy, I'll douse you in oil and finally laugh.
Remember me.
I won't forget you either.
With deafening screams and roars filling her ears, Duke Tiphereth's eyes snapped open.
Drenched in cold sweat, as if crushed by scissors, her breath came in ragged gasps.
Suppressing the surge of nausea, Eloa fumbled for the liquor bottle.
Only after gulping down the lukewarm spirits could she exhale the breath caught in her throat.
"Haa... haa..."
Eloa's magic imposed tremendous strain on her body.
Condensing mountain-cleaving, sea-splitting power into such a small frame demanded rest and recovery, ethereal though she was.
Thus, even as a spirit body, Eloa required about four hours of sleep daily.
And it was a curse.
As sleep deepened, the interminable nightmare always returned—reeking of blood no storm could wash away.
For a century, without fail, she confronted and relived her grave error, day after day.
"........."
Eloa steadied her pounding head, slid out of bed, and slipped on her slippers.
One dim window in the dark room framed a glittering cityscape.
A hotel suite generously provided by Professor Sua, given Eloa's modest means.
A sight captivating enough to hold anyone's gaze, yet Eloa spared it not even a sidelong glance, heading straight for the bathroom.
Peeling off the sweat-clinging nightgown, she caught her reflection in the mirror.
Terror-stricken eyes bloodshot, wandering carmine irises within.
Peach-tinted hair as tangled as her thoughts.
"Ha..."
A hollow laugh escaped at the utterly empty visage—for reasons unknown.
An aimless, inexplicable chuckle echoed dryly in the bathroom.
If only she could have torn Ea Sadalmelek apart with her own hands.
Would this nightly curse have ended?
The futile question, now unanswerable, drifted through her mind and vanished just as pointlessly.
Eloa rinsed away the sticky sweat with cold water.
As icy streams cascaded over her, a thought surfaced.
This world overflows with literary works preaching the vanity of revenge.
She always scoffed at tales of emptiness and despair upon vengeance fulfilled.
Who doesn't know such obvious truths?
Anyone with a shred of imagination could conceive it.
Your foe is dead, so emptiness follows.
But now it's time to stop.
Don't cling to ghosts of the past—for the world's sake, others', to spare them your pain—make the effort, her self whispered.
Eloa shook her head sharply, dismissing it.
Yet revenge wasn't an emotion to be rationally dissected.
Revenge was fire.
A mad sprint toward ruin, consuming not just the enemy, but oneself.
So what of her now—the fuel gone, incomplete combustion leaving her alone amid ashes?
A chill unrelated to the water made her sink slowly to the floor, murmuring obsessively.
"She's alive... No way she died that easily. She must've escaped somehow—some method I missed, maybe an artifact."
It had to be true.
She wanted it to be.
Better to burn together in hellish torment than drift in this weaponless void of apathy.
She yearned for it desperately.
"Master! I have a favor to ask!"
"Master! We have a favor to ask!"
Albireo blinked at the sudden commotion interrupting her paperwork.
Odile and Odette—deep in fervent magical studies, declaring they'd inherit the stigma soon and eager to meet their assistant—burst through the door.
Their eyes wide with determination, as if they'd psyched themselves up beforehand.
"That's no way to enter. Go out and come back properly. Knock first."
The twins, who'd charged in with gusto, quietly shut the door and retreated at her rebuke.
-knock knock
"Master, may we come in?"
"You may."
They knocked, received permission, and reentered.
The routine from moments ago.
"Master! We have a favor to ask!"
Albireo stifled a laugh at the obedient puppies finally voicing their plea.
She scratched her forehead with the quill tip, then set it back in the inkwell.
"Alright, my wild twin whirlwinds. What brings you here today? Kicking down the door like that."
"We didn't kick it, Master..."
"Right! We just put a little force into opening it."
United for once, Odile and Odette earnestly protested their manners.
"Yes, yes, mind your manners next time. So, what's this favor?"
Their cuteness provided rare healing, so she decided to grant most requests and asked.
But the twins, unlike their initial boldness, now fidgeted, none daring to speak.
Odile poked Odette's side—they stood side by side.
Odile had likely won rock-paper-scissors.
"M-Master... Do you know what tomorrow is?"
"Of course, my cuties—your birthday! I've commissioned a splendid cake from the Kipusi bakery."
Normally, mention of Kipusi's special cake would send them squealing, but their reaction was subdued.
Albireo sensed it.
The real reason for their late-night visit: their request.
"Yes! Exactly! B-But... for our birthday present, there's something we really want..."
"Oh? Let's hear it."
"Um... well..."
Odette's excessive hesitation frustrated Odile, who stepped up boldly.
"Master! For our birthday, we want to visit the present world!"
As Albireo had predicted.
Their timing—avoiding the stricter Deneb, who sequestered in her lab past midnight—was strategic, targeting the more lenient Albireo alone.
Clever maneuvering.
Albireo crossed her arms calmly.
"You want to go to the present world? Or meet Assistant Shin Siwoo?"
"...The assistant."
"Sorry I asked, but either way—no."
The firm refusal was expected.
The present world was perilous.
Even witches fell to factions and homunculi routinely—what chance for mere apprentices?
Hadn't Duke Tiphereth herself lost her apprentice to a moment's carelessness?
"Please, Master... We promise not to do anything reckless! You can watch us the whole time!"
"Yeah! Five years without seeing the assistant is too cruel... It's only been 141 days, and it's already this hard."
"He's our friend! Friend!"
Not expecting easy approval, the twins persisted.
They'd prepared thoroughly, unleashing a torrent of persuasions.
Better to resolve their fixation face-to-face than let it fester.
Seeing him might motivate them.
They'd always been curious about the present world; new knowledge would fuel their studies.
Not on the birthday itself, but next time she visited Korea.
Poor assistant, so lonely there alone.
And some fifty more 'reasons we must see the assistant.'
"Please, Master... We've been so good lately."
"Right! Grant this one, and we'll work twice—no, three times harder!"
"Hmm..."
Albireo stroked her slender chin.
"Go back for now. I need to think it over."
"Really?"
"Yes, it's not my call alone. I'll consult Deneb too."
Odette and Odile's eyes widened, as if shocked she'd even consider it.
"It's late—off to bed. I'll let you know before your birthday ends."
"Yes! Thank you!"
"Thank you so much, Master!"
Beaming with partial success, the twins bowed politely like job applicants post-interview and left.
"Hmm..."
Truth be told, briefly allowing the twins a present-world trip had crossed her mind too.
She'd noticed their growing gloom, and felt a twinge of guilt for half-forcing Shin Siwoo—the savior of Count Gemernai's house—into lonely exile.
But the danger prevented easy assent.
"Well, if I supervise closely...?"
With their personalities, they might sneak off anyway.
Better to grant supervised downtime.
Albireo's deliberations deepened.