The Curse of the Death King
The room was engulfed in pitch-black darkness. Even the midday sunlight was blocked by thick blackout curtains, unable to penetrate inside, and the fluorescent lights remained switched off, emitting not a single ray of illumination. Visibility was zero—one could not see even an inch ahead. Yet even this heavy gloom offered no comfort whatsoever to the woman's heart.
'It's coming! It's going to come!'
Her pupils trembled with unbearable fear. From the side, and when she turned her head, from behind. Somewhere in this room where she was the only living soul, she felt the gaze of someone watching her relentlessly. It was clearly a hallucination, or perhaps a delusion. Though it was nothing more than a fictional construct that did not actually exist, she perceived it with vivid clarity and felt pure terror.
'Never approach that little brat again.'
The memory of that day had become a curse, binding her soul in chains. In the jet-black darkness, a sinister violet gaze emerged, reaching out to constrict her windpipe.
'The moment you appear in that brat's life one more time, I won't even bother revealing your secret to the world. I'll end your life right then and there.'
She thrashed against the tightening grip around her throat, desperately resisting. As if trying to pry off a hand that wasn't even there, she clawed at her own neck with her fingernails and let out a scream.
"I won't go near him! I swear I'll never appear before that kid again!"
She wailed, begging for it to stop, pleading for forgiveness from some unknown entity. Thick liquid trickled down the paths her nails had carved. Hidden by the darkness, the wounds were invisible, but this self-harm was clearly not a one-time occurrence. Her neck and face—which she had always maintained with meticulous care to preserve their beauty—were now covered in hideous scratches. The tips of her fingers were soaked in blood, dyed a deep crimson as if stained with henna.
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!"
She screamed and shook her head violently, as if trying to shake off the illusion. But the one who had branded this curse upon her was the Death King Dark Heaven. To him, it had been nothing more than a casual remark, yet the scar left by an absolute being was far too heavy for an ordinary person's mind to endure. Her psyche had already collapsed to the point where simply leaving this cramped room, let alone continuing to live, felt impossible.
Even so, she could not bring herself to consider ending her own life. Her instincts knew it unconsciously. The one who had inscribed this curse was the King of Death, born into the mortal world. She could never escape it through death. Her afterlife was already completely bound to the Death King. Her bones, her blood, her soul—even a single scrap of flesh. The moment she died, her true soul might head to the Underworld, but everything else—her ego and all that remained—would belong to the Death King. She would become his summoned servant and suffer for eternity.
That was the worst punishment inflicted upon those who dared offend the Death King. She lived in agony, yet feared death even more. Nothing in this world could protect her, and salvation would never come to her life.
And that very being was silently watching the woman as she secretly harmed herself in the darkness. Since the Death King had intervened personally, no human in this world could save her. No 'human' at all.
"My lady! My lady, are you alright?!"
Beyond the door—the only place where light leaked into the darkness that contained only the woman and an unknown presence—a maid in uniform knocked urgently at the sound of her screams.
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!"
Startled by the noise, the woman screamed even louder. Something was thrown with a heavy thud, followed by violent shaking from inside the room. The hinges creaked as if they might break at any moment. The door itself was sagging toward the floor, covered in numerous scratch marks. It had withstood her attacks many times before, but seeing it rattle like this, it seemed to be reaching its limit.
"……."
The maid, who had been knocking frantically, turned around and shook her head with a sorrowful expression.
"Haaa."
Behind the maid stood a middle-aged man letting out an even deeper, more heartbroken sigh. His usually well-groomed mustache, which rose in a sharp W shape, drooped limply as if mirroring his mood.
'Anna.'
Baron Givernoon stepped past the maid and approached his wife's door. He gently stroked its surface, then gritted his teeth toward someone unseen.
'Just who the hell are you?'
He had already identified the cause: mental derangement caused by a curse. But knowing the cause did not mean Baron Givernoon had the power to solve it. His plan to summon expert mages and dispel it through rituals had failed. He had even brought in a black mage of comparable skill to try canceling the curse, but the man had simply shaken his head, saying it was the work of an exceptionally high-level black mage and beyond his abilities.
'I cannot forgive this!'
He had fallen in love at first sight the moment he met her by chance at a party. Though he already had a wife and she had a husband, none of that mattered. Baron Givernoon had persistently courted Anna, and his efforts eventually bore fruit—he was able to take her as his concubine. He knew she had lusted for power, brought in a black mage, and murdered his original wife, but he had deliberately turned a blind eye to her crimes. That was how much he loved her.
She was not a woman he had married for political reasons, but the first person he had ever truly loved, the one to whom he had given his entire heart. And now that woman was suffering because of someone's actions. That fact, and the reality that there was nothing he could do to help her, tore at his chest with unbearable pain.
"……."
It had happened exactly on the evening of May 21st. She had gone out alone, saying she was visiting Benedict Academy, and returned changed. Something must have occurred then. He had conducted an investigation to find the culprit, but it was impossible to identify anyone. It wasn't simply that there were no traces—the entire incident had been wiped completely clean. Not only the perpetrator, but every detail of Anna's movements that day had vanished without a trace.
What that meant was clear. Someone with far greater power than Baron Givernoon had intentionally concealed the event. At the same time, erasing the traces so thoroughly that it was blatantly obvious served as a quiet, unspoken warning directed at him: if you get involved, you won't escape unscathed either.
But Baron Givernoon paid no heed to such threats. For the woman he loved, he was willing to face any danger. Even if it meant throwing eggs at a boulder.
'But first, I must restore Anna to her former self.'
If he killed the culprit prematurely, it might trigger some posthumous curse that would make her condition irreversible. Punishment for the offender would come only after Anna was healed. It had to wait until her safety was secured.
'There is now only one way left to cure her.'
Mages were out of the question. Black mages too. More precisely, none of the capable individuals he could summon within his current reach had any hope of dispelling that curse. That left only one option: to borrow the power of those who had been called the natural enemies of black mages since ancient times.
With a hardened expression, Baron Givernoon turned away from the room where Anna's screams continued to echo. The maid and the butler quietly followed behind him on either side.
"My lord."
At that moment, the butler—who had remained silent as if waiting for the baron's heart to calm—spoke to him softly. When Baron Givernoon turned his head with a questioning look, the butler bowed slightly and replied.
"We have received contact from them."
"Is that so?"
He had been about to make another urging call, so this was perfect timing. Baron Givernoon nodded and took the smartphone the butler offered.
"It's been a while, Baron."
The voice coming through the smartphone was a very low, deep baritone. He did not know the speaker's exact identity. The man had been introduced by 'that person' to whom the baron had connected. All Baron Givernoon knew was that he belonged to the 'Church.' Since a high-ranking noble had introduced him personally, he could only vaguely guess that the man ranked at least as a cardinal or higher.
"Thank you very much for your help last time. Thanks to your efforts, we were able to proceed with the matter smoothly."
"For all that, the results don't seem particularly good."
Baron Givernoon had eyes to see and ears to hear. He had been anxious as he watched them work to bring the Church's forces into the kingdom, knowing their goal involved terrorism. That was how he knew their terror plot had failed and that the ringleader—a superhuman—had been taken into custody by the special investigation department.
"Still, we cannot downplay the hard work you put in, Baron. Of course, to be precise, he was taken not by the special investigation department but by the underworld. However, Baron Givernoon did not know that fact. That was the limit of his capabilities, and for that reason, the other party did not expect too much from him either."
"What I wanted to tell you is actually related to that matter. First, I must apologize. It seems the royal family has caught onto our tail. This call is born from nothing more than excessive worry. Because I cannot fully trust in your abilities, Baron, I am giving you direct advice like this."
"It looks like they plan to start from the bottom and work their way up rather than touch that person directly. If that happens…"
"I will become the immediate target."
An investigation from the royal family. Just hearing it made his mustache bristle with goosebumps.
"But at the same time, this is an opportunity. If they investigate you, Baron, and find no evidence at all, we will be able to launch a counterattack instead."
That was how the governance of a nation worked. No matter how clear the circumstances, without concrete evidence, it was all meaningless. That was why corruption among nobles never ended.
"It means my role has become even more critical."
Baron Givernoon understood his position well. He was a disposable pawn that could be used and discarded at any time. If things went wrong, they would abandon him without hesitation. The reason they had given him this advance warning over the phone was likely because, as they had just said, successfully handling the matter would bring them enormous benefits.
Even though he knew all of this, there was a reason Baron Givernoon had cooperated with them.
"If this matter is resolved successfully…"
"Of course we will keep our promise. The reason we cannot come to your side is because the royal family's surveillance continues. Everything is for the treatment of Anna Givernoon."
Mages and black mages had failed, but if it was the Church, they would surely be able to restore her to normal. For her sake alone, Baron Givernoon had willingly stepped into this role where he could be discarded at any moment.
"To be honest, that curse possesses far too much power compared to its symptoms. If one tries to dispel it recklessly, it will undoubtedly put your wife in great danger."
"This was the common opinion given by both the mages and black mages he had summoned. That it was not something one could touch carelessly."
"To resolve that curse, we will need to dispatch cardinals from our side as well. But as you have experienced yourself, getting even one cardinal into that country requires tremendous effort. In short, if this matter is handled well… If the Church can enter again without worrying about the royal family's gaze, then we will be able to treat Baroness Givernoon without any burden."
'To be completely honest, we could treat her even now.'
He had not told Baron Givernoon, but that person had already taken notice of the baron's wife. With that person's power, dispelling the curse on her right this moment would not be difficult. The problem was the identity of the black mage who had cast it. The Church already knew that the curse had been placed by the Death King. In such a situation, if the curse were dispelled, the Death King would learn of it. Moreover, the moment Anna Givernoon recovered, this man—blinded by love and no longer aware of his own place—would frantically search for the Death King with fire in his eyes.
'That cannot be allowed.'
The Death King was a figure the Church ranked higher in danger than other absolute beings. Baron Givernoon's provocation might provoke his direct intervention. As long as that person had not yet made a decision, that was absolutely unacceptable.
'Once this is all over, he must be dealt with.'
Just as originally planned. If this matter ended successfully, the Givernoon family would disappear from this world entirely. Just like the airship that Kayen Nasara had once boarded, which had crashed for unknown reasons.
"……I will trust you."
"We will trust you as well, Baron."
Unaware of his own impending fate, Baron Givernoon answered after a short silence. Everything was for his beloved wife. He gripped the disconnected smartphone tightly, his eyes sinking low.