Chapter 192
Chapter 192
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 191
Chapter Title: Faded Love
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After dropping off Pindenai and Erika and leaving them in Owen's care, I returned to Ophelia.
She was already grinning from ear to ear, a fairly expensive bag slung over her shoulder.
Her expression made it clear that my tardiness didn't bother her in the least, which only annoyed me more.
We spent the rest of the time together after that. Most of the places were lavish spots where money flowed freely, and with each one, Ophelia's smile grew brighter.
Before I knew it, it was late at night.
The sky over Rovern was blanketed with dense stars, and the chilly January night air soothed the mind.
"How was today?"
"It was amazing!"
There was no lie in her radiant smile. She clutched her purchases tightly, so of course it had been great.
"For the finale, if there's anywhere you want to go, we'll head there."
I'd spent the whole day escorting her around, so I offered to take her to a place of her choosing at the end. Greed flickered in her eyes once more.
She licked her lips like a snake and twisted her body naturally.
"Actually, I took the day off today, but I need to tell a coworker at my job something."
"......"
"Would you come with me?"
She subtly emphasized her cleavage, leaning forward.
Without a word, I nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.
'Shallow woman.'
Ophelia worked at a bar.
She'd lure customers into private rooms, coax them into ordering expensive drinks for commissions or performance bonuses.
From what I'd seen today, she figured I liked her and had deep pockets, so she planned to drag me to her workplace and bleed me dry while she was at it.
I followed Ophelia into Glass Street. I'd only been here during the day, but late evening transformed it into a completely different world.
The sparse daytime crowds were now wide awake, milling about in every direction, touts hustling without regard to gender.
Being with Ophelia kept them from approaching, but whispers rippled through those who recognized me, the necromancer.
"Isn't that Deus Verdi?"
"Shh. You pretend not to see the big shots."
"True, and he's a guy anyway."
The grating voices reached me, but rumors like that were already rampant in Northsweden. A few more murmurs in Rovern wouldn't make a difference.
[Ooh.]
[Ooh.]
Then came matching reactions from two women walking behind me.
The Black Necromancer and Stella, hands over their mouths as they glanced around wildly.
[Th-this is my first time in a place like this.]
[Mine too, Senior. Is it okay that lady's only in her underwear?]
[Eek! Why is that man just in triangle panties?! Is he homeless?]
[May the Lord watch over him.]
"......"
The Black Necromancer, who'd spent her life holed up studying necromancy, and Stella, who'd lived purely in prayer for others.
This blatant, chaotic night district was a first for them, drawing quite the fuss.
[Eeeek! Those two over there are kissing!]
[Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!]
"......"
They covered their eyes with both hands but peered through their fingers at the kissing couple.
The sudden duo killed any urge I had to say anything.
[In-incredible.]
[To think it could be this obscene.]
The Black Necromancer gasped in disbelief, while Stella clasped her hands in prayer.
I understood their reactions.
But the reality here was uglier than they imagined.
I'd never even set foot in bar streets or brothel districts in my past life either.
[Wah! Wah! Wah!]
[Mama, what're you doing?]
[Waaah!]
Deeper into the street, cries echoed from everywhere.
Mostly from young children, really just babbling infants.
The Black Necromancer and Stella looked shocked, scanning the surroundings.
Children's souls dotted the area, unrested—clutching at parents' clothes or wandering in tears, searching for them.
[This is...]
[Oh, merciful Goddess Hertia.]
I slowed my pace, putting distance between Ophelia and me, then spoke.
"These are souls of children who were never born or were abandoned after birth."
Pitiful kids.
Bar streets, motel rows, brothels—they all bred scenes like this.
That's why I'd always avoided them.
[Can't you comfort them?]
The Black Necromancer's question caught me off guard. She'd always treated souls like objects.
It hinted at how much time with me had changed her.
But I shook my head.
"Most souls find repose after death."
They sleep, as it's called.
But those with intense emotions, wills, or grudges too strong to rest awaken.
Usually negative feelings, escalating to evil spirits.
These kids, though, weren't fueled by negativity. Older children might grasp abandonment or death, but fetuses and babbling infants don't.
"Their desire strong enough to overcome even repose is simple."
[To be with their parents.]
Stella's bitter answer.
I nodded, averting my eyes from the souls.
"It's regrettable, but I can't give them anything."
Even if I wanted to comfort them, they only craved their parents.
No effort of mine could fill that void.
[Can I stay with them a bit?]
Stella stopped walking.
A wry smile lingered as her hands remained prayerfully clasped.
[I can't comfort them, but I want to be with them, even briefly.]
"Sure. Please do."
She bowed gratefully and approached the child souls.
The woman who hadn't lost her saintly nature even in death was truly beautiful.
Glancing from Ophelia to Stella calmed and warmed my weary heart from the day.
[I'll go too.]
"Got something in mind?"
Stella made sense, but the Black Necromancer surprised me.
She clutched her draped robe, head bowed deep in thought.
[I just want to see what Stella does.]
I didn't respond.
If the Black Necromancer wanted that, fine. I gestured for her to follow, and she quietly trailed Stella.
'She's feeling a lot, huh.'
Her changes weren't bad.
"......"
But after losing everything.
For a soul destined to wander until repose, any enlightenment might just breed deeper regret.
No matter how positively framed.
She was still one of the dead, after all.
Enlightenment leading to change, change influencing others—
That was reserved for the living.
Deus's case had been an extreme outlier.
"Necromancer! Over here!"
Ophelia's voice snapped my reverie. She'd walked ahead and waved me over.
A flashy shop sign loomed, touts out front beaming with 90-degree bows.
"Welcome!"
"Welcome!"
"......"
I didn't even want to reply.
Brushing past them, I entered. Ophelia naturally led me to a private room.
A sudden doubt hit: Had I really won her love?
'Failure?'
Maybe she just saw me as a useful mark.
Perhaps spoiling her too much had made me less attractive.
Like reviewing wrong answers, I replayed the day in my head as I sat on the sofa.
Huge table, plush cushions—like in movies or dramas.
No windows to track time, ambiguous orange lighting bathing the room.
The sofa's stale tobacco stench irked me, but I kept my face neutral.
The door opened to a burly, rough-faced man beaming brightly, slightly bowed, rubbing his hands eagerly.
"Ohhh! Thank you so much for gracing our humble establishment, Necromancer sir!"
Massive platters followed him, the owner apparently.
Sashimi, nuts, fruits, countless snacks piled high, plus a basket of ice cradling bottles of liquor.
They clearly planned to drain me thoroughly.
"So many of our girls are huge fans of yours, Necromancer!"
Waiters cleared out, replaced by scantily clad women.
Heavily made-up, they cast subtle, overt gazes my way.
'Had Deus caroused like this in Northsweden?'
The thought crossed my mind.
"Ophelia's enough. No one enters until I call."
"Y-yes, of course! Poton here will guard it like iron!"
At my word, Poton and the women filed out.
Left alone, Ophelia's lips curved high.
She'd lose out if I drank with others—split commissions.
She moved to approach me.
"Sit there."
I pointed to a distant sofa. She flinched and sat naturally.
Her hands itched toward the bottle and glasses—probably couldn't bill without pouring.
"Do you love me now?"
My blunt question made her lips quiver, then she beamed.
"Of course! You're the first to treat me this well!"
"Yeah. Failure."
My calm pierce hardened her face.
Too compliant—that was the issue. My low posture made me seem like a sucker, plain as the scene before me.
I ignored the food and drinks, crossing my legs.
"I did some thinking while spending the day with you."
"Huh?"
The turn threw her; her expression stiffened.
"At Claire's General Store, you bought 'true love and a life with it.'"
"Uh, y-yeah. Right."
"But the shop granted it harshly. Not making you love—it cleared your past love when it cooled, letting you seek another."
"......"
"Makes sense of that chest tattoo seducing reason too. Easier to find the next love."
Ophelia's hands fidgeted on the sofa. She wanted out, obvious.
No chance.
"Pretty twisted method. Your daughter killing men as payment."
Disgustingly vile.
Demons treating humans like toys topped the suspects.
"I asked Guard Captain Paul to investigate sudden soldier deaths in Rovern over the past year."
"......!"
Ophelia's eyes trembled.
"Narrowed to young men 20s-30s. Seventy-seven total."
"Th-that can't all be me!"
"True. But your share's hefty."
Thud.
I slid out the death list I'd carried all day.
"How many names do you recognize?"
She bit her lip, eyes darting hatefully at the list.
"Your daughter disguised as accidents, so your kills are double the ones you know."
"N-no! I didn't kill them all!"
"Don't lump it. You know."
I stood abruptly, stepping toward her.
Terrified, she bolted up to flee, but—
Crack!
My hand shot to the door first. The knob melted as it turned, solidifying instantly.
"Ah."
Ophelia panicked at the locked door. I shook my head, clicking my tongue.
"Foolish woman. Only you knew the冤屈 of the innocents slain."
"N-no! It's not my fault!"
"They died unknowing why, unrested without grudge, denied even that chance."
Backed against the door, trembling, staring at me. But I wasn't done.
"Indulging in luxury and pleasure. Using others as tools. Claiming victimhood."
Fury clenched my fist.
Not just from today's manipulation.
"Or maybe you reveled like a goddess, living it up."
Flinch.
Her shoulders jerked.
Hit the mark—she quivered, yelling.
"G-get away! What if I loved you? If my feelings cool, you die!"
"Was it good?"
Absurdity drew a scoff. She looked baffled.
Drip by drip, I stabbed verbal daggers into her chest.
"Good turning your daughter into a slayer?"
"Ah......"
"Ugly woman."
"N-no......"
She clutched her head, sliding to her knees.
"Evil woman who devoured husband and daughter to fatten herself."
"Nooooo!"
Bang bang bang!
What's happening!
Poton pounded outside at her scream.
But the noise only rattled her more.
"Self-consoling that your hands stayed bloodless?"
I met her tear-streaked eyes, hair disheveled.
Her tattoo screamed to wipe her tears, embrace her affection.
Bullshit.
"You know it deep down. How filthy and repulsive you are."
"......Hic, urk."
"Do you still love that self?"
Snap.
Something broke.
As the cornered Ophelia shook her head—
"Kyaaaaaaa!"
Black threads erupted from her chest.
I leaped back; they coalesced where I'd stood, hunching into a withered human form.
"If you'd taken my words seriously, truly tried resolving this, it wouldn't have come to this."
But Ophelia just used me. Craved only material gain, saw me as an easy mark.
"I gave you chances. You exploited them."
So I'd use my last resort.
"When your love fades, your daughter kills the target."
The tattoo wasn't limited to men, nor Ophelia straight.
Execution didn't require masculinity.
"Time to pay for losing love for yourself."
The daughter's red eyes, slayer of countless men, now fixed on her mother.