Downfall Consultation
There's a saying that the darkest place is under the lamp. It was spot on. Ironically, people are often blind to what's right under their noses.
"A curse...... has been placed on it. It's incredibly faint. Count. The kind that fades after a set period. It looks like they periodically renew it. No wonder the mages and priests didn't notice such a tiny amount."
Count Yurtel hurriedly summoned a mage from the Magic Tower for a thorough examination. After nearly an hour of ultra-precise scanning, they confirmed it—a curse lingered on the pen.
The count staggered and collapsed into his chair at the mage's words.
"Count!"
The knights rushed to support him, but he waved them off.
"Thank you. Keep this quiet."
"Of course, Count."
The mage bowed politely and left the room. Count Yurtel stared at the pen for a long while before letting out a wry chuckle.
"That friend of Richard's. The one who used to come over and cause trouble all the time."
"Thompson, you mean?"
"Yeah, him. Rotten from the start as a kid. Bring him here."
"As you command."
Thirty minutes after the knights left, a pale-faced Thompson was dragged in and forced to his knees before Count Yurtel.
The count silently gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist—its blade long removed. As he channeled mana into the handle, glowing runes flared to life, and a blazing aura blade erupted above it.
Without a word, he pressed the aura blade to Thompson's throat. Thompson promptly pissed himself.
"I know everything, Thompson. Everything. This is just cross-verification. If a single word from your mouth doesn't match what I know, you die right here. You know why better than anyone."
"P-Please...... spare...... me......"
"Tell me everything you know about what Richard did at the casino."
With that, the confession poured out like a flood. Drugs. High-class prostitutes. Booze. Illegal high-stakes gambling. Tales of debauchery far beyond what any noble's son should indulge in, spilling endlessly.
The count listened to every detail without missing a beat. Once he'd heard it all about his eldest son—his own flesh and blood—he retracted the aura blade.
A faint smile crept onto Thompson's lips.
"Th-Thank you. Th-Thank you so much, Count. Truly......"
"Send him to Taltas Prison. The nuns there will judge if he's guilty or not. Drugs are a grave crime. Unforgivable."
Thompson's smiling face froze solid. He began slamming his head into the ground, trembling.
"Pl-Please! Mercy! Just kill me instead! Not Taltas! Please! Mercy!"
"Take him away."
The thrashing Thompson was hauled off by the knights, who made sure to gag him so he couldn't even attempt suicide.
Once Thompson was gone, the count suddenly burst into laughter.
"The darkest place is under the lamp, huh? Fucking pitch black under there!"
He laughed, but he looked utterly drained. Staring at the ceiling with hollow, empty eyes, he chuckled for a long time.
"Marco."
"Your orders, my lord."
"Bring every knight and every member of the police special forces to me. It's dawn—they're probably still sleeping. Wake them all if you have to."
The count glanced at the pen on his desk.
"Arrest the entire Black Hand Brotherhood and all accomplices on charges of attempted noble murder."
Marco, the count's adjutant and captain of the Yurtel knight order, approached cautiously.
"Your son, Young Master Richard, is also implicated."
"Arrest him too. Drugs, high-class prostitutes...... who knows how many imperial laws he's broken already. Send him to Taltas Prison."
"Are you sure?"
The count shook his head at Marco's question.
"Would you be?"
He gave a bitter smile.
"Can't play favorites in a situation like this, right?"
Marco nodded gravely.
"As you command."
Marco and the knights filed out. Soon after, all of Yurtel erupted in chaos. Sirens from police cars. The clanking of armored knights charging down streets. Screams and shouts filled the air.
The count pulled out cigarettes he'd quit long ago, lit one, and took a drag. The long plume of smoke mingled with the rising morning sun.
"Wh-What the hell? What are you bastards doing here?!"
"Mozdog? You're under arrest for attempted murder of an imperial noble."
The knights and police of Yurtel County were relentless. They crushed the resisting Black Hand Brotherhood with ease and rounded them all up in moments. No one escaped—the knight order and special forces had received the arrest orders so suddenly that day that the Brotherhood had no chance to mount a proper defense.
Everything proceeded swiftly.
"What kind of bullshit is this? What evidence do you have to arrest me without a warrant? Get my lawyer! I have the right to a trial!"
The Black Hand thugs started out defiant, necks craned high and bellowing. But their faces changed when the knights dragged in one of the casino employees without hesitation.
"We've got her, Captain Marco. There's definitely a Laila among the casino staff—a new hire from about two months ago."
"Send her to the mage for inspection. Confirm if she's a sorceress."
Laila, gagged and bound to prevent suicide, was carted off to the mage. Shortly after...
"Magic communication just came in. Laila confessed everything. She's a sorceress, and the Brotherhood put her up to cursing the count."
"Every bastard here is caught red-handed plotting noble murder. Throw them all in the underground cells. Ship them to Taltas Prison by end of day."
The truth unraveled in an instant.
"W-Wait a minute. Hold on, sirs. This is a mistake. We had no idea there was a sorceress working at our casino."
Mozdog, the Black Hand boss, desperately bared his teeth, but the knights showed no mercy now that the evidence was secured. Marco's steel boot slammed into his face. Teeth and jaw shattered, corn kernels of blood spraying into the air before splattering down.
Mozdog convulsed in agony, unable even to scream. Marco grinned coldly.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that. Don't worry—Taltas Prison's Frame of Truth will neatly reveal every filthy thing you've done."
Marco patted the fallen Mozdog's head fondly.
"Live long, Mozdog. The longer, the more you'll suffer."
"Sp-Spare me. No! W-Wait! Hey!"
Mozdog thrashed, but he was soon dragged to the underground cells and vanished. No future awaited him—only a fate worse than death.
"We'll leave these ones to the police."
"Of course."
After watching the special forces head underground, Marco gathered the Yurtel family knights. Only fifty strong—but each a human weapon who could take on a hundred armed soldiers.
"We're hunting traitors within the household. Young Master Richard and Head Butler Paco. They tried to murder the lord. Show no mercy."
Fifty knights stormed the mansion in the dead of night. Paco and Richard, deep in slumber, were arrested like thunderbolts from a clear sky.
"Wh-What? What the hell! How dare you touch me?!"
Richard's tantrum quieted the moment a blazing aura blade pressed to his throat.
Paco?
"Gaaah! Aaaagh!"
"Keep flapping that mouth, and I'll twist every remaining finger backward."
Only after several fingers were grotesquely bent did Paco shut up.
The two were apprehended. Mages dispatched from the Magic Tower ran precise scans, and the knights gathered ironclad evidence. It wasn't long before their guilt was confirmed again.
"We found a ritual circle in Paco's room to amplify the curse. He hid it well—took three hours of searching."
"Multiple stashes of drugs hidden in Richard's room."
"Crystal recordings of Richard with high-class prostitutes. But it wasn't just them—other women too. The problem is their ages......"
Marco grimaced at the investigation reports.
"Disgusting. How the hell did a son of the lord turn out like this? Arrest them all and lock them in the underground cells. Off to Taltas Prison."
"As you command."
And just like that, in a single night, everything came to light.
The next morning, Marco returned to the still haggard-looking Count Yurtel and reported every detail.
"I see. Good work, Marco."
Having heard it all, the count said only that.
"The evidence is airtight, so we're transferring all involved to Taltas Prison immediately today."
"Do it. This isn't some minor affair."
"Count."
Marco hesitated a moment but decided it was right to speak.
"Richard requests to see you."
The count fell silent at Marco's words.
"No. If I see him, my resolve might waver."
"......Understood."
"Send him to Taltas Prison. Make sure he never appears before me again."
Marco saluted.
"As you command."
After Marco left, the count stared blankly into space for a long while. He retreated to his bedroom.
There, he found a man in slightly tacky prophet's robes standing inside, pacing boredly. The man froze when the count entered.
Seeing Great Seer Aiden like that, the count couldn't help but chuckle.
"Where's the guy who boldly said to kill him if his prophecy failed? Looks like a scaredy-cat now."
Aiden cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his eyes at the count's words.
"Sit."
The count sat on the sofa and gestured. Aiden took the seat opposite as instructed.
The count lit a cigarette—the habit he'd resolved to restart yesterday.
"To cut to the chase, your prophecy was right. The head butler was using curses to kill me, and the Black Hand had hired a sorceress disguised as Laila. Richard was up to all sorts of shit."
"I see."
"Yeah. Your prophecy was dead accurate—chillingly so. Sorry for calling you a street fortune-teller. You're the real deal. I owe you a tip, huh?"
He forced a bright smile, but the count wasn't happy at all. Something inside him had crumbled.
The Black Hand was one thing—they were capable of it. But betrayal from those he trusted, especially his own son? That was harder to swallow.
"What do you want? Money? Tax breaks? Hell, I could set up a tourist spot just for you. With your skills, you could be one of Yurtel's main attractions. I'll assign guards too—knights from my order to keep anyone from messing with you......"
"Count."
Aiden cut him off. There was no smug confidence in his eyes from a proven prophecy. No relief at survival. Just a look of wanting to comfort him.
"You carry a sickness in your heart. If you keep charging ahead like this, you'll break. This isn't the time to spur your horse onward—it's time to stop and look around."
A quiet voice flowed from Aiden's lips, laced with an irresistible magnetism that demanded attention.