The Silver Chain and the Soviet Witch
I had my secretary summon the MI6 file, and as I read it I finally understood that the man’s true mission—on the surface, at least—was real.
“The North Korean Intelligence Agency. Dealing with those puppet friends of yours again, huh?”
The job was supposed to be watching the key executives of South Korea’s economy and eliminating them when necessary… right?
I had turned the Hong Kong Governor’s residence sitting room into a makeshift interrogation chamber. It had been a while since I showed off my specialty.
If my only surviving blood relative from a hundred and seventy years ago in London were still around, I would have made him endure a dream-world torture without leaving a scar.
In a world painted entirely in shades of gray, the only one with color was Elze. The prey would simply die like bugs caught on a spiderweb.
Combining it with the confession technique, it would be the fastest way to break someone’s mind.
Of course I was nowhere near that level of refinement.
The Nibelung system—Elze’s unique magic that summoned silver and black chains to manipulate space, souls, and dream worlds—was, even to me, barely enough to copy the outer form.
If refinement was impossible, then rough and ready it was. I decided to use the classical method.
Nothing special—just a few electrodes and a DC power supply. I hadn’t prepared them ahead of time, but with the Governor’s authority it took less than ten minutes.
I turned the knob of the DC power supply all the way clockwise and smiled.
“If you don’t answer quickly, your soul might evaporate. You don’t want to die, do you? Got it?”
Even though I said that, letting him die on his own would not be something I would allow.
I had no idea why this parasitic worm had attached itself to my mark this time, but it seemed like a good opportunity to squash it now.
For that to happen, this subjectivist communist had to survive long enough to be useful. And I would hold his soul tight enough that he would not die.
Humans who watched the classical torture without magic all wore the same stunned expressions.
Just looking at them made it colorful.
The Hong Kong Governor, who ruled the East in place of the Empire’s Queen, and the CEO of a major conglomerate that still had some standing in Korea.
How much political and economic power could two such men wield in the world?
Watching them stand like a handful of ants behind me now, staring at the North Korean communist roasting, felt strangely satisfying.
“…Enough!”
I had been watching the soul’s condition through the mage’s eyes, so when I reached the threshold I turned the knob back to its original setting.
The voltmeter needle swung back to zero from the rightmost mark.
With the North Korean communist already unconscious, I applied the kill immediately.
I dug the electrodes into the festering wound and tore it open, then cast regeneration magic on the spot.
The North Korean communist tied to the chair had not even managed a scream.
Anyone would have heard it, so cutting his vocal cords beforehand had been the right choice.
I had made the correct decision.
If the vocal cords had still been intact, the pain of electricity pulsing through his body while he thrashed on the chair would have been unbearable.
What? If the vocal cords are cut, he can’t answer questions?
Good question. Of course he couldn’t. At the same time it was meaningless.
When I wanted, I could always restore the vocal cords with regeneration magic and make him speak again. What difference did it make if the muscle inside his throat twitched for a few seconds and then stopped?
Of course the ancestors who gave me regeneration magic didn’t hand out extra power.
Considering the average nutritional state of North Korea’s limin… no, the people, he would almost certainly fall into malnutrition soon.
But I didn’t take any special measures like intravenous nutrition. Why pour that much into a disposable human?
The highest authority in Hong Kong was now effectively beneath me, so there was no worry about a corpse being found.
I lifted a bucket of water with telekinesis and poured it straight onto the North Korean assassin still unconscious.
The crisp sound of water hitting the expensive carpet echoed through the sitting room. Anyone else would have noticed it was soaked, but I didn’t care.
At the same time the effect of the fading regeneration magic.
The body’s nutrients were suddenly pulled inward, and the assassin’s vocal cords grew back at a speed that ordinary regeneration could not dream of.
The moment he regained consciousness and started taking in his situation, the stream of water continued to pour down.
The damaged surface of the vocal cords, constantly stimulated by the burning water flooding his nose and throat.
While the wound surface was being mercilessly scraped, the regenerating vocal cords were devoured at the same rate as the rest of his body.
It was inevitable that the assassin in front of me would writhe and scream again.
His voice echoed deafeningly through the sitting room like it was trying to tear his throat out.
I briefly considered cutting it off again, but decided against it. Regenerating it would take some time anyway.
I waited until the North Korean communist’s screams finally died down, then asked again.
“Now you feel like talking? The North Korean Intelligence Agency? 35th office? No more surface-level stories—how about we have a deeper conversation?”
The assassin answered in a voice that sounded like it was crawling out of his throat.
“—I see.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Yeah… The person who came from the Soviet Union said we had to be careful of a witch… Called me a lackey of British imperialism… So you’re that witch…”
“A person who came from the Soviet Union? Who? When and where did you meet them?”
He was finally giving me something meaningful.
I didn’t know if it was intentional on his part, but I had to extract clues from passing words.
“I’ll tell you everything—! Stop— Please stop—!”
I could hear the surrender declaration, which was inevitable given the time pressure.
The North Korean communist’s broken voice was still ringing in my ears long after the echoes had faded.
I had finally cracked him open.
His soul was shredded in places I couldn’t even measure, and the scars on his body would heal—eventually—but the damage to his mind would take far longer.
Still, for now, he was talking.
And that was enough.