Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Dungeon Cleanup and Torment Setup
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The basement of the Black Wheat Tavern.
Fred descended the stairs alongside two men cloaked in robes. As they passed through the shattered door, the stench of blood hit them full force.
Fred pinched his nose reflexively and pressed on, frowning. Not far ahead lay two sprawled corpses.
‘…Their heads are cleanly blown apart.’
No other damage marred the bodies. The heads had been shattered from a distance—and not by external pressure, but by an internal explosion.
It was as if someone had toyed with their bodies like puppets.
‘Magic… black magic, specifically.’
He’d heard rumors that black mages from the demon realm used attack spells that overloaded the victim’s body, sometimes fatally.
But nothing about exploding heads entirely. He couldn’t even fathom the level of mastery required for such a feat.
‘An assassin Theo hired to solve the case?’
No. Hiring a mage of this caliber just to take out common thugs? Absurd.
It’d cost more than it was worth. A mage at this level would demand an exorbitant fee. Fred doubted Theo would shell out that much just to win his father’s favor.
‘Then what…?’
Why would this mage help Theo? After layers of deduction, Fred let out a hollow chuckle at the realization.
‘They must have a contract.’
Some deal had the mage utterly loyal to Theo.
Theo was exploiting that, treating the mage like a limb.
‘A soul pledge, maybe?’
In the underworld, like the demon realm, deals sometimes used post-death elements as collateral. If Theo had bound the mage that way, this scene made sense.
But that naive fool scheming in the shadows? Shocking, whatever his goal.
‘I thought he was just an innocent kid.’
Peel back the layers, and he was a bigger underworld titan than Fred. Still, no need to spread it around.
Fred had his own dirty deeds; no sense drawing attention to the county.
Besides, from what he’d seen, Theo’s affection for Esili seemed genuine. As long as whatever he was plotting didn’t harm her, Fred didn’t care.
Decision made, Fred jerked his chin at the bodies.
“Brothers. No good if these get found. Let’s clean them up.”
“Understood.”
The two men nodded, rolling up their robe sleeves as they approached. Black scorpion tattoos marked their wrists.
“I’ll head out. Blood’s still not my thing.”
Fred flashed a bitter smile and climbed back up the stairs, suspicions about Theo lingering.
‘Whatever his goal, I hope our paths don’t cross professionally.’
A guy neck-deep in shadows yet playing the saint up front. If he ever turned enemy… Fred didn’t like his odds.
The empire of old—before now—had waged countless wars under grand pretexts.
Torture tools and techniques naturally flourished. Prisoners abounded, willing confessions scarce, so the unethical practice thrived unsurprisingly.
But now, with magic tools and spellcraft advanced, physical agony was obsolete for extracting truth.
Even the Pelgaroin count family, who’d fought many wars for His Majesty, deemed torture tools undignified and ceased handling them. Fortunately, relics lingered in the basement.
“This is the room. It’s been abandoned for ages, but the items should be intact.”
Marhan gripped the rusty doorknob and shoved. The iron door resisted with a grinding screech before slowly scraping open.
“Hup!”
Marhan braced and heaved; with a nauseating creak, it swung wide. He dusted his hands lightly and led the way. I followed.
Pitch black down here, no light at all. I snapped my fingers, conjuring a small flame in midair. No prodigy, but daily spells like this were easy.
“Not exactly welcoming.”
I squinted at the revealed space. Cobwebs clung to ceiling corners, wax drippings hardened messily on the floor—instinctively repulsive.
Compared to the immaculate mansion, the castle’s torture chamber was downright filthy, evoking disgust.
‘Abandoned for years… makes sense.’
Sighing, I lit the wall sconces one by one. The gloom brightened enough to spotlight the central device.
The triangle horse.
A literal triangular wooden horse with a bladed ridge. Strap the victim atop it, and their own weight crushes their genitals in agony.
I’d only read about it; first time seeing one. Using this was downright evil, but I had no better option.
“That’s what I wanted. Go fetch my slave.”
Marhan blinked at my casual tone.
“Your slave, sir?”
“Yeah. She doodled all over the knight captain’s breastplate. Time for some discipline to reflect on her mistakes.”
“Hah. Your slave defaced the captain’s armor?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Ah. Yes, sir.”
Marhan scratched his neck, bowed, and left. I sighed, approaching the triangle horse.
Curiosity drew me close, but worry made me grimace.
‘This thing’s too dangerous.’
This wasn’t a sex toy—it was pure torture, designed solely for suffering. Sadistic.
Proof: the ridge was razor-sharp. Sit carelessly, and you’d shred your privates.
Even an elf might get hurt. During our sessions, she never shielded with mana.
‘If she did constantly, a quill wouldn’t pierce her.’
She dropped defenses deliberately for my humiliation play. If she bled unprotected this time…
‘Wouldn’t end with a glare.’
She’d notice the flaw in my setup and unleash hell. Unthinkable.
After a moment’s thought, I draped my cloak over the ridge. Safe enough to tease without injury.
‘Needs more tweaks.’
Amateur hour otherwise. To satisfy her as a pro humiliator, I headed to the corner cabinet, rummaging drawers for essentials.
Plenty of options, but I picked a sharp iron ring, sturdy rope, and lightweight one-handed hammer.
Guaranteed: this added stability and flair.
I dragged the cabinet beside the horse, grabbed hammer and ring, and climbed atop.
‘Where to anchor…’
Ceiling scan revealed weathered seams. I positioned the ring’s tip and hammered away.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Noise echoed; the ring lodged firm. Tugged—it held.
Perfect. I tossed the hammer nearby, knelt for the rope. Length just right—no cuts needed.
Standing, I threaded it through the ring, knotted, and dangled it.
Elf height factored: seated, arms up, wrists bindable perfectly.
‘Done!’
Talent for this? Pride swelled, then crashed into self-loathing.
Ahem.
I cleared my throat, hopped down as clanking footsteps approached.
No need to ask who. Marhan with the slave.
Ahem.
Composing myself, I backed to the wall, slouched cockily. Messed my bangs, dropped gaze 45 degrees, hypnotized into a cold psycho—scariest face I could muster.
“Regent, sir.”
Marhan entered through the open door. Beside him, the elf—wrists gripped—sniffled on the verge of tears.
Briefed on punishment, she wore not her maid outfit but sackcloth rags like before.
“Brought the slave, sir.”
“Hm.”
“Regent, sir?”
Tsk. I tongue-clicked disdainfully, swept bangs back, smirked lopsidedly.
“Ah, sorry. All those screams from the countless fools I tortured here… begging for mercy, so sweetly ringing in my ears. Drowned you out.”
Eek! The elf shuddered in terror—or so it seemed. Marhan eyed me like I’d lost it.
“Sir, to my knowledge, this is your first visit here today—”
“Oh, they’re back! Condemning my sins!”
I cut him off, striding to the elf. Marhan’s baffled stare annoyed, but for the act, unavoidable.
“M-Master….”
Her red eyes welled, trembling up at me. Pointed ears drooped pitifully, tugging sympathy—but all performance.
Short breath, I seized an ear, yanking her into my chest. She yelped in pain.
“Eek—!”
“Filthy wretch. Knight captain told me everything. You vandalized his breastplate with your grubby paws?”
“It h-hurts, it h-hurts…!”
“I’ve warned you how many times, yet you never learn. Even my patience has limits. Today, you’ll taste real punishment.”
I released her ear, stepping aside. Time to outline the service.
“Sniff…”
Tears trickling, she looked up at my prepared tool.
Triangle horse and dangling rope. Dim, eerie vibe—perfect for humiliation.
She agreed; ears perked. Fleeting smile masked fear.
“P-Please forgive me. I won’t do it again…”