Chapter 640
Chapter 640
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 640
Chapter Title: City of the Night (3)
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1.
"Haa~ If only every day could be like today..."
After sending off her troublesome son-in-law to the surface world, Al bireo savored her meal with particular relish.
How much grief had that mischief-making son-in-law caused her, both inside the estate and out?
Understanding something intellectually was one thing; accepting it emotionally was entirely another.
Even the twins sneaking out of the manor had made her blood boil. Now immature Deneb was tangled up in it too.
And if that weren't enough, watching Amelia, Sharon, and even the Tiferet Duke form their cozy little love lines had her temper flaring uncontrollably.
Of course, his being away in the surface world didn't solve the root problems.
But just having that source of endless worries and headaches out of sight felt like a sweet vacation.
At that moment.
Head maid Galina entered and handed her a letter.
"Urgent news?"
"Yes, Big Host. It's from Witchpoint."
"Thank you for your trouble. You may go."
It was a rare leisurely afternoon tea time, interrupted like this.
Al bireo grumbled but casually broke the envelope's seal and unfolded the letter.
"Why does everyone have to make my life miserable?"
The surface world was in chaos lately, and all sorts of documents came flying to the Gemernai Count Family, indiscriminately labeled as urgent.
Checking them one by one was a chore, so she planned to hire a witch to sort the mail soon.
Al bireo skimmed the letter indifferently.
-Crash!
The teacup shattered.
The cup slipped from Al bireo's hand, soaking her skirt and clattering to the floor, but she had no attention for such trivialities.
The urgent letter was addressed to the Tiferet Duke.
The first line stated plainly: "Shin Si-woo has been kidnapped by enemies."
"Again?!"
The rest summed up as follows.
The suspected culprits: the Witch of Silence, the Witch of the Sword, and the Witch of Corpses.
Of them, the Witch of Corpses had already been personally exterminated by the Tiferet Duke.
She herself had immediately begun pursuit, apologizing for her failure and requesting cooperation in brief.
"...Ah."
Al bireo felt the world go dark before her eyes.
She couldn't fathom how, despite being with the duke, he'd been so deftly snatched away.
But the reason Si-woo had gone to the surface was clear.
In truth, the Nukelabi had more than enough wealth to donate those funds themselves.
Yet Al bireo had used the donation as an excuse to kick him out.
Her anger had boiled over at her son-in-law—who was already basking in a happy harem life—bringing home the Witch of the Deep Sea and then demanding citizenship.
It was nominally a test for taking him as a son-in-law, but really just her venting spleen.
And now her pointless outburst had boomeranged back as this horrific kidnapping of Shin Si-woo.
Her fingertips trembled.
Just a few months ago, he'd gone missing with Deneb.
Al bireo had fretted then too, but this situation was far graver.
The Witch of the Sword who'd taken him was Clifford's enemy.
Unlike the somewhat dim-witted young Witch of the Deep Sea, this one was an undoubted menace.
How many lives had vanished beneath that fresh blade of hers?
And the fact that Al bireo herself had provided the opening for all this...
"If anything goes wrong..."
She had no face to show to so many people.
Al bireo rose immediately.
2.
"We don't have much time. I have to take you straight there, so listen carefully."
"Yes? Okay."
Honestly, he was still dazed.
His last memory was a hazy, ink-wash landscape dissolving as a merciless sword hurtled toward his neck.
Why was he still alive? What was this luxurious ryokan-like room? And why was Yebin—whose whereabouts had been unknown—right in front of him? He had no answers.
Yebin, who'd taken his first time with a mix of joy and deep worry clouding her face, continued quickly.
Her explanation boiled down to this.
This was Hexennacht, the newly built city of enemies.
And Si-woo had been kidnapped and brought here by the Witch of the Sword, just like Yebin.
This time, it wasn't some fish tank or submarine—stagnant little spots.
This was an enemy city.
A demonic stronghold packed with Clifford's most notorious elites.
For someone already treated like a legendary Pokémon, unsure when or how he'd be handled next, nothing could be more precarious.
"Even if that's the case for you, Yebin... why kidnap me?"
At least if they were keeping him alive—with thorough first aid and attentive care—their goal wasn't to take his life.
"I don't know."
Shaking her head, Yebin added one thing.
"But remember this: the Witch of the Sword is extremely dangerous. Have you heard of her?"
"No."
"She's the witch who swings her blade at any witch who gets stronger. Don't defy her words. If you cooperate, she won't harm you."
"Got it."
"I have more to say, but she'll escort you to the training hall right away. She ordered you brought the moment you woke."
The talk was brief.
Even giving him this much explanation was risky for Yebin, not knowing what surveillance might be in place.
Si-woo followed her into the corridor.
The Kyoto-esque scenery drew an admiring gasp, incongruous with the situation.
He'd guessed from the tatami in the room where he'd lain, but it was truly a Japanese-style mansion.
On one side, shoji screens of wooden lattices papered over served as walls and windows in a row.
Opposite, a gravel garden gleamed beneath quietly burning stone lanterns.
Come to think of it, the Witch of the Sword he'd crossed blades with was East Asian.
This taste in decor suddenly made sense.
Crossing the courtyard revealed a firmly shut wooden door topped with an engraved sedge hat emblem.
Once in the corridor, Yebin—who'd kept silent just in case—murmured advice softly.
"Be careful."
Si-woo nodded and opened the training hall door.
The style was archaic, but the building was newly constructed.
Thus, the wooden door slid open silently and smoothly, revealing the scene beyond.
The Witch of the Sword.
She gripped her sword, drawing it downward at a yawn-inducingly slow pace.
It was the same clear sword path Si-woo had diligently practiced to build basics.
Seemingly simple repetition of the exact same motion at the exact same timing and speed—but its difficulty was higher than it looked.
Perfectly repeating motions demanded total control down to the body's extremities.
Si-woo tracked her movements with his eyes.
A sword path different from his master's feel.
From her small frame, snake-like elongated strikes.
Viscous sword paths coiling from all directions.
And nimble motions piercing blind spots amid it all.
Even as a martial arts expert in his own right, Si-woo understood his utter defeat in close quarters.
Just this sword dance showed it.
Linne was a grandmaster of martial arts, in no way inferior to his master purely in technique.
Finishing her languid sword dance, she sheathed her blade and finally cast a chilling gaze.
"Out."
The gaze pierced straight at Yebin, not Si-woo.
Under that knife-like stare, Yebin flinched.
She'd planned to stick around if possible.
In case something happened to him, she could help—and a bit of stubbornness seemed warranted.
But the indifferent eyes she'd seen while staying together were gone.
The moment she looked at Shin Si-woo, a vortex of hot passion surged, exuding murderous intimidation to fill the void.
"It's fine. Go on. See you later."
Si-woo stepped in front of Yebin to block the gaze.
"......"
"......"
The two faced each other again after mere hours.
No red branches bound him now; Si-woo had no restrictions.
He had ample energy to resume the fight.
His depleted mana could be recharged through repeated amplification.
Could he take her down here?
Si-woo inwardly shook his head.
The red branches were a major asset.
Recalling their final clash, beating her in this state was near impossible.
Even if luck let him kill her, this was 'Hexennacht'—deep in enemy territory.
Better to gauge her reactions and purposes, biding time for later.
But how to start the conversation...
"For strength, I hesitate at nothing."
Linne suddenly muttered to herself.
Her flawless, gapless gaze remained fixed on Si-woo.
"I fight and struggle to gain power. All else is meaningless sediment, pruned for higher realms."
The conversation began with abstract musings unclear whom they were for.
"Ruthlessness within, soaring ambition, the drive to subjugate the stronger. Nothing else holds value... Yes, you resemble me."
"...?"
He watched, thinking she was grandly introducing herself, but the conclusion was odd.
Me?
He held back from saying it.
Si-woo preferred lying in bed over fighting, and his magic research was for personal safety and scholarly curiosity—not obsession with strength itself.
Yet 'you resemble me'...
He couldn't relate at all.
"Good posture. A sloppy facade could even deliver a surprise blow to underestimating foes."
Linne spouted ever more inscrutable words.
"But no need to hide from me."
Mana flowed around her.
Outlines blurred, colors seeping from the gaps.
The self-affecting magic she'd used for her final strike.
A black-and-white world.
Si-woo tensed for battle, but unlike before, the effect stayed around Linne's periphery.
Within glowed Linne's eyes, seeming to pierce all.
He couldn't budge, as if stabbed through the heart.
"This clairvoyance sees your true nature beneath the mask. A pure, fearsome obsession for strength."
As she withdrew her mana, the colorless surroundings regained hue.
"Ah..."
Si-woo's mind raced.
At first dismissing it as nonsense, he finally grasped what she meant.
Linne was peering at his true nature with some unique clairvoyance ability.
But she'd looked too deeply—seeing not Si-woo, but some bizarre entity's essence.
If she saw the black knight's nature—obsessed with magic to any end, honing it even in the unconscious—it made sense.
Lightning insight flashed.
She was mistaken.
Thinking Si-woo was her kind, or their interests aligned.
Saying 'Huh? That's not me' would be the worst move.
If he could exploit this misunderstanding advantageously, it might open an escape from this desperate bind.
The key: pure acting skill.
"Hahaha."
A dry laugh erupted, mismatched to the situation.
Trying to amp up the villain vibe, he'd overdone the concept...
But the water was spilled.
"Not bad, Witch of the Sword."
By now, a cheap-villain smirk curled Si-woo's lips.