Chapter 37
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 37
She worried for two reasons. First, as a maid of the family, it was her duty. Second, she feared for her own life.
To a girl born from a flask, the world was a harsh and merciless place. Even if she were lucky enough to survive this ordeal, where would she go? How would she scrape by?
Would she be forced to wait in a garbage dump again, looking more wretched than a slum child, waiting for a master who might never return?
She closed her eyes. Her body was terribly emaciated. She had been locked up for weeks—long enough for her sense of time to warp—yet the guards and jailers remained tight-lipped. Nothing was more agonizing than this endless wait. If only someone, anyone, would save me—
Crack.
A sickening snap echoed through the darkness.
It was a faint sound, barely a whisper. At this slight change, the girl’s eyes fluttered open. The guard’s back, which should have been right in front of her, was gone.
He had collapsed, sprawled on the floor as limp and lifeless as she felt.
He was dead.
Standing in the guard's place was an alien, unsettling entity.
She couldn't tell what it was, but it exuded a heavy, suffocating aura. Draped in a pitch-black robe, its silhouette was far too unstable to be human. The way the fabric writhed and squirmed, as if alive, made that much clear. As if possessed, the girl stared blankly at the figure. Their eyes met. Only then did she realize there were other entities lurking around it, all radiating a sinister malice.
"Who… are you?" a raspy voice slipped past her parched lips.
"Who do I look like to you?"
The voice that responded was just as cracked and raspy.
*
The banquet grew livelier as the night deepened.
Yet Lapudir Thirdvale, the guest of honor, slipped out of the hall before the air had even turned cold. He’d already shared a few drinks with Breysa, who had arrived earlier than scheduled, but the main reason was simple: he wanted to rest.
There was no need to linger; the festivities would stretch on for days. Besides, the banquet was being held in his own castle, so he hardly needed to worry about what others thought.
The imperial family and the distinguished guests from Riaze—all of whom required his utmost hospitality—wouldn't arrive until tomorrow afternoon. He needed a good night’s rest to prepare for the exhausting day ahead.
Feigning a weary yawn, Lapudir walked down the corridor.
The flickering candles cast eerie shadows along the walls. Normally, this space would be filled with the bustling noise from the surrounding rooms, but tonight, even the serving maids had been permitted to join the banquet.
It was a show of benevolence from Lapudir, the man of the hour. Since they would have to work twice as hard to serve the VIPs tomorrow, they surely deserved a single night of celebration. It was a slight inconvenience for him now, but if it secured his servants’ loyalty, it was a worthwhile investment.
Creak.
With a soft groan, the door to his bedchamber swung open. The air inside the spacious room was freezing. Looking for the cause, he noticed a window had been left slightly ajar.
This is a bit much, even for tonight.
He had never told them to abandon their duties entirely for the party. Did he really have to hand out punishments for them to learn their lesson?
Irritated, he slammed the window shut.
A shiver ran through him. He climbed into bed and pulled the blankets over his head, but the deep, biting chill refused to leave his bones.
He began to shake violently, as if seized by a sudden fever.
Was it really this cold outside?
If the room was cold simply because of an open window, it shouldn't feel like this. On his way from the banquet hall, he had crossed an open-air colonnade. The night air then had been merely brisk—the kind of chill you only noticed if you stood in it for too long.
Undermountain was a city where it never snowed. In his twenty-plus years of living here, he had never experienced a chill like this.
With a gasp, he kicked off the blankets and sat up. No, this wasn't the ambient temperature. His very body was freezing from the inside out. As he pushed the blankets aside, his hands felt slick.
"...Sweat?"
He muttered in disbelief. How could he be sweating this much in such a short time? His body was shivering with cold, yet he was drenched in sweat?
He stood up. His eyes, already adjusted to the dark, had no need for a light.
Lapudir walked over to the full-body mirror.
His reflection was pale with terror. His hands and feet were like blocks of ice, yet the man in the mirror was drenched in sweat, as if his body were purging every drop of moisture it held.
Fear? What did he have to fear? He was the great Lapudir. This was surely just some sudden illness.
"Ha… haha. Did that bastard Breysa… poison my drink…?"
But that baseless suspicion vanished the moment he realized the true cause of his symptoms.
Looming behind his reflection was a shadow far too massive to be his own.
How long had it been standing there?
How could he have failed to notice it until now, when it was right behind him?
No. The entity had deliberately chosen to reveal its presence just now.
It was mocking him. It wanted him to drown in terror.
Normally, Lapudir would have reasoned it out calmly. But his terror-stricken instincts completely overrode his reason.
His mind went blank, and he screamed. The black silhouette, looming a full head taller than him, slowly tilted its head to the right. Then, with an unnatural crack, the head twisted all the way around.
"Wh-who… who's there?!"
Falling backward, Lapudir scrambled on the floor, his hands desperately searching for a lamp. His fingers brushed against the smooth glass of a lantern. Next, he fumbled for the flint. He couldn't find it.
As he panicked, his bedchamber was suddenly bathed in light. The source came from above. He looked up and saw a small orb of light floating gently near the ceiling.
Shaking violently, he forced his gaze back to the dark entity.
The figure in the mirror had been a massive, shadowy silhouette.
But the man now looking down at him was…
"Podes…!"
It was Podes—the man who was supposed to be locked away in a dungeon in Riaze.
"…Good to see you, Lapudir Thirdvale. You look absolutely terrified. Why is that? Did you see a ghost? It's strange, isn't it? I'm supposed to be rotting in a dungeon, yet here I am, standing right in front of you."
"You bastard… how did you…!"
His mind refused to function. There were too many questions, too many impossibilities, and his brain simply shut down.
"Ha! You look like you have a lot of questions. I have no desire to chat with trash like you, but know this: I crawled back from hell to clear my name. I made a deal with a devil. If that's what it took to stand before you again, then I can only thank God. You miserable bastard, tearing you to shreds a hundred times over wouldn't be enough."
"A deal with a devil…? You've… you've lost your mind. What is this, Podes? Did you actually have a brain after all? Did you set all this up, knowing I was going to screw you over? How did you escape? Who is backing you?!"
"Backing? …No. Like you said, I'm stupid. I was born into a family of warriors, so I'm not as clever as a bookworm bastard like you. When I fell for your scheme, I really thought I was finished. But God is fair. A devil came to find me. Walked right up to me on its own two feet."
"A devil? Ha… ahaha! Ahahaha! You poor, pathetic bastard! You've finally lost your mind! I hate to break it to you, but Undermountain is the territory of our faction. Do you really think you can kill me? Even if you do, do you think you'll walk out of here alive? Tomorrow, the 1st Imperial Prince arrives. The future Emperor is coming to see me personally! You can't kill me. The moment you lay a finger on me, you become an enemy of the Empire. You know that, which is why you're trying to scare me with all this nonsense about devils—"
"Look at the mirror."
A low, resonant voice cut Lapudir off.
Prompted by Podes's grim tone, Lapudir looked back. Reflected in the glass was his own twisted, ugly face, Podes, and…
The massive, black silhouette from before.
Even with the room fully illuminated, it remained pitch-black.
I didn't missee it.
A moment later, the massive mirror shattered into dozens of shards.
Only then did reality sink in. He had no choice but to accept it, no matter how impossible it seemed.
Podes stood there, along with the writhing black silhouette, a hideous beast with the razor-sharp forelegs of a mantis, a three-mouthed insect crawling on the floor, and an old witch with a mutilated face.
Things that should not exist were crowding his bedchamber.
"Devils…"
The word slipped from his lips. It was exactly as Podes had said. There was no other word for them.
"Yes, devils. Yet to me, they are like gods—perhaps even greater. I staked my life on my innocence. I told them that if I lied, they could tear my flesh and soul to shreds. And even if I spoke the truth, I would still offer them my head, provided they brought judgment upon everyone involved in this conspiracy. I, Podes Alvim, head of the Alvim family, am a dead man either way. I have staked my life. Now, Lapudir, it's your turn to make a wager."
"…Wager what? What are you talking about?"
"The arson in the Forest of Graphenia."
"I already released an official statement. I had absolutely nothing to do with— urk!"
Lapudir's voice cut off as he gasped, a suffocating pain squeezing his heart. The shadow-like entity towering behind him slowly pulled back its black hood.
Even without the robe, the entity was pure darkness. It had mismatched, asymmetrical eyes and a mouth torn open at a sharp diagonal. Barely holding a humanoid shape, its body constantly contracted and expanded in an unstable, writhing rhythm.
If a god of chaos truly existed, it would look exactly like this.
The black entity—evidently the leader of these devils—spoke through its torn mouth, its voice raspy and grating.
"I don't have the patience to listen to you drag this out. It was a real pain getting here. I had to stop by Riaze first, and the longer this takes, the more questions I have. And the angrier I get."
The sheer pressure radiating from the creature made it difficult for Lapudir to even process the words.
"I-I swear, it wasn't me! Even the Empire's investigators found items belonging to the Alvim family at the scene…"
"One of my subordinates—a smart skeleton—told me something. He said in cases like this, you look at two types of suspects. First, the one who left evidence at the scene. That's this guy here. Second, the one who stood to gain the most from the incident. That's you. Now, this guy staked his life on it. To be honest, even if he wasn't the culprit, I was going to kill him if he had even the slightest connection to it. But he is absolutely certain that the real culprit is someone else."
Lapudir couldn't even swallow.
"And judging by your reaction when you saw him just now, it looks like you have a guilty conscience."
Forcing his trembling body to move, Lapudir glared at Podes, his eyes burning with pure hatred.
"Podes… You, the man who always prattled on about how revenge goes against the code of chivalry… you sold your soul just for vengeance…?"
"…Yes. Vengeance."
The reply was cold and merciless. Before the speechless Lapudir could recover, the black entity delivered the final blow.
"Human. Do you know why that forest is called the Forest of Graphenia? Do you know the legend of the witch who ruled it? Do you know the myth of the ancient monster that dwells there?"
The old witch with the mutilated face grinned, her expression twisting grotesquely.
"Let me ask you this first. We were minding our own business. Why the hell did you have to pick a fight with us?"
* * *
Crimson flowers began to bloom throughout the lively banquet hall.
They bloomed everywhere, starting with the Thirdvale knights who were drunk on wine and revelry. The end of the party was heralded not by the morning sun, but by cold steel tearing through human flesh.
It was pandemonium. Screams echoed from every corner. Men thrashed helplessly like fish out of water, each sporting a fresh, gaping wound that spewed blood.
The ones performing this deadly sword dance wore teal epaulets. Pinned to their shoulders were iron fangs—the crest of the Alvim family's knights.
Humans slaughtering humans was a common enough sight.
The captain of the raiding knights raised his sword toward the ceiling and roared.
"Proud warriors of Alvim! This is the final command of our revered patriarch, Lord Podes! These bastards are the dogs of the Thirdvale family who dared to deceive us! We are not killing men today—we are putting down rabid dogs! Let the hunt begin! Leave none of these mutts alive!"
As if on cue, the knights roared in unison: "For the eternal peace of the Empire!"
They raised their weapons as one. Their blades, gleaming like sharp fangs, carved more crimson flowers into the hall.
*
"How boring."
Those were the black monster's parting words to Lapudir's corpse. His headless body lay on the floor, pooling blood like an overturned glass of red wine.
Lapudir's end was pathetic, utterly unworthy of the grand legacy he had built. Even Podes, his lifelong political rival, could not hide his disappointment.