Chapter 383: Observation
Chapter 383: Observation
Around the time Yandel’s party was finishing their dungeon raid—harmoniously, despite their various issues—a living hell was unfolding for someone else.
“Aaaaaagh!!!”
On the crude, rough floor of a basement, a middle-aged man of portly build rolled in agony.
One of his feet had been jaggedly severed, as if torn off by brute force. Large holes were bored through both his hands, leaving his fingers dangling by mere threads of flesh.
He tried to stand with his one remaining leg, but a human being is not a creature that can move quickly after losing three of their four limbs.
In the end, all the man—the former Marquis Cyprus—could do was crawl across the ground, his knees scraping painfully against the stone.
He knew it was futile. Yet, he had no choice; it was the only thing he could still do.
Though he had been stripped of his title and banished from the country, his hidden slush funds had remained untouched. He had bought a mansion on the outskirts of Crassius and hired guards, living a life that was decent enough, even if it paled in comparison to his former glory.
Then Carla had suddenly stormed in. She slaughtered every guard and tracked him down to a basement even his own wife didn't know about, casting him into this abyss.
Squelch.
“Gyaaaaaagh!!!”
As a tentacle gouged into his open wound, Cyprus writhed and shrieked. Looking down at him, Carla wore a distorted smile.
“It’s quite strange. To think I could find such joy in something I’ve already done once before.”
Her voice was a study in contradictions—seductive enough to bewitch even a renowned saint, yet carrying a note of childlike innocence.
Perhaps he sensed the sheer pleasure laced in her tone, or perhaps he realized there was no longer any corner left to hide in, no way left to survive.
Cyprus pressed his head into the mire of dust and his own blood. The veins in his neck bulged as he screamed.
“W-Why are you doing this to me?! What did I do wrong?! There was never any bad blood between us to begin with!”
“You’re not wrong. In this world, you didn't get to buy me, did you?”
“What does that…?”
Cyprus faltered at her phrasing, which sounded as if she had come from another world entirely.
However, his confusion would never be cleared. This beautiful yet cruel monster saw no need to explain herself.
Marquis Cyprus would suffer and then die a miserable death.
Like most people, his fate had been decided in a place far beyond his reach.
Realizing this, Cyprus’s face turned deathly pale. Carla, of course, didn't care in the slightest.
She simply stepped on his back, pressing down firmly as she flashed a sultry smile.
“Hehe. Looking at you now, you really do look like the vermin you love so much. Subhuman livestock, a toy to be played with and discarded. A bug that can be crushed at any moment… So this is what it felt like.”
“W-What?”
He had known for a while that the Carla before him was not the same Carla he had once tried—and failed—to bid for.
The official imperial documents hadn't arrived yet, but the Carla Cyprus knew couldn't sprout tentacles from her back.
Besides, if she had fallen this far, Yandel, who was always by her side, would never have stood for it.
Cyprus couldn't bring himself to think well of Yandel, the man who had snatched his prize away. In fact, he had once entertained thoughts of using force to suppress him…
But regardless of that, he had never doubted that Yandel was a hero.
However, he couldn't just let her previous words slide.
After all… those were the exact words he always used in his basement while breaking slaves for sport.
“Now I see! You bitch! You’re one of the slaves I used and threw away! Escape should have been impossible, so I assumed you were dead when I tossed you out, but one of you wretches was still breathing!”
“Hmm.”
His voice was full of conviction, as if he had already forgotten her mention of another world.
“Your body must have been a wreck, so I suppose they gave you this face while they were fixing you up! It’s common knowledge that Duke Lindelheit is weak for his woman! Did you think he’d let his guard down if you shared her appearance?”
“…Duke Lindelheit?”
Carla’s eyebrows twitched at the title she thought she’d never hear again. Cyprus, however, seemed to take her reaction in an entirely different way.
“Yes! Duke Yandel Lindelheit! He will kill you, you witch! Do you think wearing another’s skin makes you a different person?! The past does not change! You are still the filthy thing I defiled—”
Crunch!
Before Cyprus could finish his sentence, a tentacle pierced through his head, making it explode.
“Ah.”
Carla sighed, having killed him in a fit of pique.
“I should have tormented him a bit longer… What a shame.”
She looked down at the twitching, headless corpse with cold eyes and lashed out with her tentacles.
Rip!
As if refusing to leave even the remaining torso intact, she shredded the body into pieces and muttered quietly.
“The past does not change… I know that better than anyone.”
Carla’s current body had been newly reconstructed using the tissue of this world’s Carla.
Though it had undergone accelerated growth, it was essentially a new body, no different from a newborn only a few days old. Even the mana core that should have been shattered would be perfectly fine once she formed a new one.
But her mind was different.
Carla still remembered the cloyingly sweet scent of aphrodisiacs in that basement. She remembered the texture of the floor that had been so rough it scraped the skin off her back and knees, and she remembered with vivid clarity the moment her heart began to break.
Cyprus had been impotent, but he was a sadistic sexual deviant to make up for it.
So, her revenge was only just beginning.
She hated those who had pushed her into hell. She hated those who had formed happy families. She hated lovers who believed in love. She hated those who possessed what she did not. She hated the world.
She hated it all so much she could hardly bear it.
Whether the world broke or she broke first, she would not stop until one of them reached their limit.
“…Still, there’s no need to break those who are already broken.”
Nodding to herself, Carla walked toward the door where she had been sensing a presence for some time.
Creeeeak—
The heavy iron door opened to reveal a naked, emaciated woman bound by a collar and chains.
The woman, who had been huddling in a corner, reflexively crawled toward Carla on all fours the moment someone entered.
No, she had no choice but to crawl that way, as her limbs had been severed at the elbows and knees.
Ignoring the way her crudely wrapped bandages were soaking through with blood, she approached and forced her stiff waist to wiggle. It was exactly like a puppy wagging its tail.
This was the result of violence, starvation, and drug-induced brainwashing.
The bruises scattered across her body and her glazed eyes—as if she were trying to ignore reality—were proof of that.
Whether the person before her was Cyprus or someone else didn't seem to matter; she licked Carla’s instep exactly as she had been trained to do.
Carla knelt on one knee and stroked the head of the captive woman.
Her expression was so benevolent it was hard to believe she had just brutally murdered Cyprus and his subordinates without batting an eye.
In this moment, even the usual aura of seduction had vanished, leaving Carla looking almost like a saint. She asked in a low tone:
“Your master is dead.”
“Whine! Whimper!”
“What would you like to do? If you want to leave this place, I will get you out. If you want revenge, I will help you as much as I can. Though, I’m sorry to say I’ve already killed Marquis Cyprus.”
“Whimper…”
“So, there’s no need to make dog noises anymore… Ah? Your tongue was cut out, so those are the only sounds you can make?”
Carla nodded after parting the woman’s lips to look inside.
“It will be hard for you to say anything complex, so I’ll ask questions you can answer with a yes or no. Blink once for yes, and twice for no.”
Carla gently cupped the woman’s face and stared deep into her eyes. It was as if she were peering through her, or perhaps trying to reassure her.
Then, with a soft smile, Carla asked in a casual voice:
“Do you want to live?”
“…….”
The woman, who had been fidgeting restlessly out of anxiety, suddenly went still. A faint spark of clarity flickered in her dull eyes.
After a long moment of contemplation, the woman slowly—but with clear intent—blinked twice.
Carla gave a sorrowful smile and whispered as she lightly embraced the woman.
“It won't be painful.”
At that moment, Carla’s tentacles wrapped around her.
Crack.
With the sound of something breaking, the woman’s body went limp.
Carla laid the corpse of the woman, who had died instantly without even time to scream, down gently and moved to the next room.
Like a pilgrim, Carla met with every single slave imprisoned there with a solemn attitude.
And she killed every one of them with her own hands.
Because only a painless death was the greatest kindness she could show to those who were as broken as she was.
Finally, Carla looked toward the room where she herself had once been imprisoned. Naturally, there was no sign of life from within.
Yet, for some reason, Carla found herself opening that last, firmly shut door.
Creeeeak.
“This is…”
The contents of the room were entirely different from what Carla had expected.
There were no tools for torture or perverted pleasure to be found. Instead, a desk and high stacks of documents were all that greeted her.
Wondering if he had actually been doing work here, Carla picked up a random document out of curiosity.
Before long, her lips curved into a languid smile.
“How interesting.”
Stacked in this room were documents detailing the activities of Yandel and the Carla of this world.
It was a record of Cyprus’s lingering obsession—his inability to fully give up on Carla—and his resentment toward Yandel, who had stripped him of his title and driven him out of the country.
Everything was recorded in detail, from the moment Yandel entered the Academy with a slave to his rise as Duke Lindelheit.
“Duke Lindelheit. I was wondering how that happened, so this is perfect.”
With those words, Carla sat down at the desk.
It was a full day later when Marquis Cyprus’s mansion was finally torn apart by a bizarre mass of tentacles.