Chapter 343
Chapter 343
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 343
Chapter Title: Summer Horror Special - Someone's Inside Me -1
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The study in Duke Redburn's estate.
It was decorated in deep crimson tones, with the duke's desk elevated by a single step, designed to make visitors gaze up at him in awe and feel the weight of his presence.
And what of his own charisma? Duke Redburn Maximus, with his massive build exuding a heavy pressure, and eyes like a lion's, could dominate the entire room.
The "Despair-Engraving Noose," Duke Redburn Maximus was that unyielding a man.
After twists and turns, Faceless had finally returned, hoping her iron-willed father would guide her.
She longed for him to issue commands with the unbreakable confidence that could rule the world at whim, solid as steel unscratched by a chisel.
But...
"...In this situation, where have you been wandering off to, Faceless? At the very moment when all my plans are unraveling and falling apart, what exactly have you been doing?"
"Father, that's──"
"No excuses. They're not needed."
Duke Redburn pressed a hand to his forehead and waved her off. Faceless could sense confusion, frustration, and a hint of fear from him. It shocked her deeply.
It wasn't the scolding. It was that he'd declared he wouldn't hear excuses. He was a man who listened to every tiny detail, no matter how trivial, before deploying his precognition ability.
And yet, no excuses?
This wasn't mere disappointment. It was fear. Unconsciously, Duke Redburn was shifting the blame for his failure onto Faceless. For that to work, she couldn't be a victim of unavoidable disaster—she had to be the one who botched it through negligence.
Ugly. So utterly ugly.
It hadn't been like this when everything was going smoothly and he dominated the board. Crack. A faint fracture appeared in Faceless's heart.
The duke spoke.
"...The 'Numeral Virgin' is dead. The 'Corpse Flower' has gone into seclusion to revise her magic. And the 'Lamb' has half-lost her mind—she's no longer sane."
"......"
With the 'Numeral Virgin'—who controlled the provincial nobles—dead, their influence no longer reached the empire's fringes.
The 'Lamb,' who supplied sacrificial victims, had gone mad, which would soon cause chronic shortages in the black mage community.
The 'Corpse Flower,' meant to deliver a decisive blow, had vanished, leaving no one to face the empire's powerhouses head-on.
Why? When had it all started crumbling like this? The black mages' dream of toppling the empire teetered like a mirage, fragile enough to scatter in a single gust of wind...
"I'm all that's left. And even I'm in danger. The second prince's movements are suspicious. One ducal house alone can't hold back the imperial family. So, Faceless, take responsibility for your negligence."
"Yes, Your Grace. Shall I assassinate the imperial heirs?"
"Fool. I have no spare capacity to deal with the empire's sword saint right now! Faceless, your targets are the black mages. Subjugate them and bring them under the 'Noose.'"
"......"
The named black mages who led them were dead or mad, leaving scattered groups in disarray. Duke Redburn's plan was to gather them and seize their power.
In other words, unite the black mage factions that had splintered into four pieces.
"Yes, Your Grace. I'll carry out the orders."
"Don't disappoint me this time."
"...Of course, of course."
"...You're dismissed."
Faceless bowed low and backed out with quick, shuffling steps. It felt like everything was crumbling bit by bit. Utterly unpleasant.
Fine, time for a mood boost. While subjugating black mages, she could toy with a few. And on the way, she'd need to replenish her dolls...
Raiding a village and turning all the villagers into meat puppets sounded good. Their screams should dull this displeasure a bit.
With that, she set off to fulfill the duke's mission.
Meow.
A secret black mage outpost. Screams echoed through it.
"Aaagh! Aaaahhh!"
"Kill me! Just kill meee...!"
Muscle fibers twisted unnaturally. The discordant symphony of bones and organs shifting out of place was always a delightful mood-lifter.
Once the exemplary black mage died in agony, the others naturally submitted. They prostrated flat on the floor, expressing with their entire bodies that they had no will to resist.
In the blood-soaked corridor, Faceless laughed. She'd missed this sensation. Everyone looking up to her in fear. The thrill of toying with others at will.
"Ha, hahahahaha──!!"
She laughed until she was breathless and panting.
Then, stomping on a prostrated black mage's head, she issued her command.
"You've all been pierced once by my 'Precise Flesh Control.' Try to run, and you'll end up like those fools who went first. Now, clean this place spotless and give me the best room to crash in."
"Y-yes! This way..."
Faceless was led to the finest room—the one belonging to their leader, who'd just twisted to death. Gems sparkled everywhere upon entry.
She wrinkled her nose.
It was gaudy with all sorts of decorations, but lacked any unity or aesthetic—just tacky nouveau riche vibes. Vulgar. And thick with the man's unpleasant stench.
"Air freshener."
"W-we don't have any... B-but if you order it, I'll fetch some righgaghhhk."
"You're the air freshener."
Crunch. She twisted him like uncorking wine, splattering blood everywhere. There, much better.
She flopped onto the massive bed in the center.
Faceless mentally outlined her next steps: expand her puppets while consolidating black mage forces, then relay info so the duke could control them with his 'Foresight Lantern.'
Just repeat that simple process.
This time, no spare puppets meant going herself, but next time, she could send puppets alone. Maybe handle several at once.
For safety during her rest, she stationed meat puppets as guards. They'd attack anyone entering the room except her.
With that, Faceless dozed off briefly...
Flicker, flicker.
"Meow."
Hayangi opened her eyes.
She'd watched from deep in her mind what her other self was up to upon suddenly waking. She'd been slaughtering people at random.
Hayangi had learned that harming others was wrong.
It was morally bad, and practically speaking, it just made more enemies—so best avoided... or so she'd been taught. But her other self had done it anyway.
She'd even laughed after killing. So embarrassing. Flaunting ignorance like that. Why did Hayangi have to bear the shame?
Why? Faceless seemed much older than Hayangi. Why act like she didn't know things Hayangi did?
After a moment's thought, Hayangi figured it out.
"She must not have had proper upbringing, meow."
Pure Mommy said ignorance wasn't a sin. Daddy-Mommy said it was, but Pure Mommy always won their arguments. So Pure Mommy was right.
If someone's ignorant, you teach them. It'd be great if Grandpa Abraham were here, but he wasn't.
So Hayangi would have to be the teacher.
Teacher... what a touching word. Teachers held immense power, deciding how many marshmallows to give for correct answers.
Hmm. To be a teacher, she needed intellectual glasses.
Hayangi pinched her thumb and index finger to make finger-glasses and put them on.
Oh my. She was now 'Teacher Kim Hayangi.' A sense of duty—or something like it—made her heart thump.
Hayangi looked around for something to write on, but no pen or pencil. A bit disappointing, but she'd borrow some blood. Dipping and using it as paint should work.
She scrawled big Hangul letters on the wall.
[Don't Kill People]
Perfect. Even Faceless would get this. Teacher Kim Hayangi had succeeded. Beaming with pride, Hayangi lay back on the bed.
Teaching people... felt this rewarding!
"...W-what the hell?!"
Waking from her short nap, Faceless recoiled at the massive, bizarre script on the wall. The strangely curved symbols looked like random scribbles at first, but patterns emerged on closer inspection.
A curse? A magic circle?
No, that wasn't the point. The point was how.
The puppets were fine. No signs of combat in the room. The bedding was a bit mussed, like she'd tossed in her sleep, but that was it.
Puppet malfunction? Dulled senses?
A chill ran down her spine. If someone could infiltrate this stealthily, they could have killed her.
"Who is it? What... what bastard did this!"
She burst out the door. Outside, the subjugated black mages were cleaning. They quaked at her furious expression, glancing nervously.
"Did anyone approach my room?"
"Huh? No, none of us went near. No one..."
"......"
"Gahk! Khurk! W-why...?!"
Crunch, cruuunch.
Right there, Faceless turned five more black mages into meat puppets. She needed more guards.
Then she fled the spot. On to the next black mage group. She didn't know what happened, but better defenses would handle it.
After that, Faceless subjugated three more groups, then "borrowed" an entire small farming village.
She turned all the villagers into meat puppets for patrol and set up her bedroom on the top floor of the village head's mansion. The place was, of course, crawling with guards inside too.
She'd seized a whole village. Even if someone targeted her life, they'd have to give up and leave. "......" Too much precognition use. It brought fatigue, so she needed sleep. Clutching an odd unease, she dozed off again.
Can't read?
Hayangi puffed her cheeks. She hadn't expected Faceless to be illiterate. Even more ignorant than she'd thought...
Fine, pictures it was.
Hayangi drew on the wall. Killing people was bad, so X. People alive was good, so a smiley face.
"Perfect, meow..."
Masterpiece. On par with the world's greatest art. Hayangi puffed out her chest proudly. Even a fool would get it now.
But if she kept doing bad things anyway...
-Hayangi, you're a righteous magical girl with me! We crush evil and spread good. Some bad guys never change. When that happens! Fist time!
-Use the rapier then.
Got it.
She etched her mommy-mommies' and daddy-mommy's wisdom into her heart. And horror movie tropes too. For unrepentant villains... a vicious punishment.
Why.
"What the hell is this?! Show yourself! Come out──!!"
Why. Why. Why.
"What's your game?! Trying to kill me? If so, do it! Come at me yourself!"
The whole village was guarded. Windows and doors sealed with meat puppets—no one could enter. Yet that someone had slipped into her room and...
Left marks on the wall.
What did it mean?
She didn't know. Didn't want to. Faceless just wanted peace of mind. A restful sleep.
She smashed and tore at the wall, ranting.
"No guts for a real fight? That's it, right?! Can't win fair, so you pull this sneaky crap. I won't let you die easy. I'll make you beg for it──!!"
But the village was eerily silent──.
......
From that day, bizarre phenomena haunted Faceless. They intensified daily, her terror growing with them.
Dead rats by her pillow upon waking.
Words in an unknown tongue, drawings hinting at death.
Strangle marks on her neck, discovered in the mirror—unknown when they'd appeared.
It strengthened every time she killed. As if the vengeful spirits of the dead were dragging at her ankles.
She kidnapped priests and screamed at them to fix it, tried potent narcotics. Nothing worked.
No matter the guards, even sleeping in an iron coffin—upon waking, grotesque drawings adorned the inner walls.
After endless torment, Faceless reached a conclusion. If someone kept entering an impenetrable space, they weren't entering. They were already there.
In other words.
Just as Faceless had hidden inside the elf girl's body.
Someone's inside me.