Ambush (4)
Geometric patterns were etched all over the magical artifacts. In glass vials of various shapes, colorful reagents bubbled and boiled vigorously.
"Lady Moribwe. I've brought Viscount Seolhwa."
"The sleeping mist worked pretty fast, huh? Put him on experiment table one."
Lady Moribwe spoke, dressed in something far more comfortable than what she'd worn to the Round Table Meeting.
At her command, Seolhwa was laid out on a massive cutting board, wide enough to butcher a giant blue marlin.
"Let's start with the basics. Run the mana affinity test first, then the physical ability scan."
"As you command, Lady."
The moment Lady Moribwe finished speaking, her masked attendants sprang into action. They mixed reagents like paints, pouring them into bowls, and fetched what looked like enormous flyswatters—magical tools.
Woooong!
A drop of the increasingly transparent reagent fell onto Seolhwa's forehead, vibrating lightly. It rippled across his body like waves spreading over a still lake, then gathered back into a perfect droplet above his brow.
"Oh? What the...? Is this even possible? You didn't mix the reagents wrong, did you?"
Lady Moribwe's shadowy eyebrows furrowed in mild irritation.
"W-We’ll check it right away! Please forgive us, Lady!"
"He'll wake up at this rate. Keep it down. Not that he'd stir from this with whatever sleeping mist you used."
Even her offhand remark sent the terrified attendant scrambling to recheck the reagent sequence.
"The mixing order is correct. The transparent solution for mana affinity is normal."
"Then why's it still transparent? Who in the world has clear mana?"
Every living being—human or otherwise—possessed innate mana, and that mana always carried a unique color tied to the creature. For instance, Lady Moribwe, at the pinnacle of shadow magic and puppetry, had mana that was an inky black verging on gray.
Thus, the affinity reagent should have reflected Seolhwa's color upon contact.
"Hold on...."
The droplet hovering over Seolhwa's forehead wasn't just transparent—it was more exquisitely formed than any ordinary water drop. The closer the shape resembled a perfect droplet after scanning the body, the higher the subject's mana affinity. From that perspective, Seolhwa's was on par with Lady Moribwe's... or even superior.
"Lady?"
"Don't talk to me—I'm thinking.... No. Just run the physical scan."
"Understood, Lady."
The attendants swept the giant flyswatters over Seolhwa's body. They wielded them carefully, like evenly toasting a steak over flames without missing a spot—and one by one, the swatters began to glow.
Ding!
The sound rang out clear, signaling completion. Luminous geometric shapes appeared atop the overlapping swatters in sequence.
A near-perfect hexagon.
"......!"
No human body could be perfect. Upbringing, nutrition during growth, injuries, illnesses—plenty of factors marred perfection. Even a pampered childhood couldn't prevent later setbacks. Yet Seolhwa's hexagon defied belief as a human physical readout.
"Th-The tools show no anomalies, Lady."
The reagent mixer spoke up preemptively, as if stabbed by her gaze before she could ask.
"I know. Quiet.... Everyone, out."
"Th-Thank you! As you command, Lady."
Lady Moribwe was kind and merciful in most matters, but when it came to magic, she was pickier than a teenage girl. The attendants fled the hellish laboratory, slamming the door behind them.
'Clear mana like the reagent itself, affinity matching mine, and a perfect hexagon?'
'No way! Impossible. If it were, I'd have killed him rather than abandon him.'
Denying her own thoughts, Lady Moribwe resolvedly slipped off her silk gloves. Her arm was flawless enough to pass for glass porcelain, its pale, translucent skin so sheer that veins showed through—now cracked like shattered pottery.
"I hate this part the most."
She picked up the smallest dagger from the neatly arranged board and sliced her palm. The blood drop stood out vividly against her transparent skin.
'Is there no way to extract it all from you....'
She glared briefly at the blood flowing from her palm, then clenched her fist to gather it and let it fall onto Seolhwa's heart.
Incantations and diagrams erupted like the birth of a tiny universe.
Endless sigils stretched out, coiling into serpentine bands that enveloped Seolhwa and Lady Moribwe.
"I finally found you!"
Her ecstatic cry peaked in triumph. Tears streamed down her face as the flickering sigils danced like a serpent's tongue, as if bestowing a blessing. Lady Moribwe shouted,
"My son!"
* * *
His body felt weightless. Like oil floating on water. Like the immortals of the distant East strolling atop clouds.
"Feeling better now, young master Seolhwa?"
A familiar, comforting voice reached him.
'Young master? The only one who calls me that...'
"Y-Yeah, it was scary earlier, but I'm okay now, Teacher."
Seolhwa, piggybacked on the man's broad, bear-like back, replied. But his voice sounded far too young.
'What the hell? Why does my voice sound like this?'
It was so childish he could hardly believe it came from his own mouth. The listener might sense something off, but the man called Teacher responded nonchalantly.
"Shamanism must be learned in extreme conditions—that's how my master taught me. It's the only way I know. I'm sorry."
"No! It's my fault. I couldn't do it, Teacher...."
'Ah, right.... It's a dream.'
The goosebump-inducing childish voice, the "Teacher" he called out to—clearly a dream of before his family fell. One of the few precious memories from his confinement in the annex. The kind of dream you wanted to linger in.
"You did amazingly for your first time. Didn't you revive a tiny spark in the torch before the wolves came?"
"Really?"
Little Seolhwa's face lit up.
"Yes. Those without any talent can't even produce a spark after a lifetime of effort."
"Ehehe.... Good."
The satisfying crunch of leaves underfoot with each step made him wish the path back to the annex would last forever.
"Young master Seolhwa."
"Yes, Teacher."
"When you tried to relight the extinguished torch... did you hear any whispers? Any sound at all?"
"Sounds?"
"Yes, anything. The toll for shamanism varies for each shaman."
In the dream, he dredged up the memory. After the Teacher vanished and the torch went out, wolf howls echoed in the dark woods. He'd huddled in fear... and gripped a branch to reignite the flame.
[...Back.]
"Ah!"
"What's wrong, young master?"
"It wasn't clear, but... I think I heard a voice saying 'back.'"
The man carrying him halted abruptly.
"Teacher?"
"It's nothing. Let's go."
"Yes!"
Adult Seolhwa smiled warmly at the sight of innocent little Seolhwa's pure grin. About ten minutes after basking in the Teacher's warmth, warmer than the torch?
The crunching leaves stopped.
"Teacher?"
No reply.
"Teacher? Is this part of the training?"
Splash!
A water-drop sound hit, and the world drowned in blood-red.
"Wh-What! Teacher! Teacher!"
Like a hole punched in the ceiling, leaves, Teacher, and the entire scene sucked upward.
The last remnant, little Seolhwa, slowly swirled into the void.
'Grab my hand!'
Knowing it was a dream, he reached out at the pitiful sight—but it slipped away. Now even adult Seolhwa was being pulled in.
'Damn it! What the hell!'
Floating like a ghost, there was nothing to hold. He was swallowed powerlessly, consciousness fading.
* * *
"Gah! Huff! Huff!"
Splash splash!
Waking from the dream, Seolhwa bolted up reflexively, sending ripples across the bath.
His fingers were pruney—who knew how long he'd soaked in the hot tub.
Knock knock!
"Viscount Seolhwa Romanov?"
"Y-Yeah. Where am I?"
"Pardon? Oh, right. This is a guest room in Moribwe Castle."
Memories clicked together like puzzle pieces. Entering Lady Moribwe's domain, shown to a room by a maid, heading straight to the bath at her request....
'Unbelievable. Fell dead asleep in the tub?'
"Haa."
He sighed out all his fatigue and grime.
"You seemed to be in there a while, so I checked. Excuse me."
"Ah, thanks."
"Lady Moribwe invites you to dinner. Spare clothes are on the bed—please check. That's all."
Her tone left no room for refusal, as if it weren't even an option. Sure, his viscountcy was nominal, but wasn't this rude? He shook it off.
'Pointless thoughts.'
He wiped away water and regrets, donning the maid's prepared attire. Perfectly tailored—how'd she know his size? It felt refreshing.
Guided by the waiting maid, he headed to the dining room.
"Welcome, Viscount Seolhwa. Like the room?"
'Room?'
He'd dressed and rushed out fearing lateness, no time to look around.
Before a polite platitude, their carriage chat resurfaced.
[Lies are a nightmare and abomination to mages.]
"Honestly, I dozed off in the hot tub and didn't get a good look."
"Ahahaha! That happens. And you're minding what I said about lies? No need to be so brutally honest every time."
Her tone was worlds apart from the carriage—warm, even.
"Ah, yes. Thank you, Lady."
"Look at me. Hungry? It's been ages since guests at the castle, so I went all out."
"My stomach was chiming like cathedral bells."
Ting!
Lady Moribwe rang the table bell; the dining room doors swung open.
"Dinner is served."
Silver trays gleamed with delicacies. Not hyperbole—the table groaned under roasts, seafood, drinks; a feast fit to break legs.
"If I'm not mistaken, it's just you and me tonight, right?"
"Yes."
As attendants finished and lit candles, service concluded.
"Not much, but eat up."
Whole roast wild boar, buttered lobster, saffron-smoked duck, fairy tear wine. Overwhelming even to survey.
"Can't finish it all, but I'll do my best, Lady."
As Seolhwa lifted a slice of boar...
"Oh, right. About renting cold arms from Moribwe on loan?"
"Ahem. Yes."
"Forget it. On the house."
Lady Moribwe beamed, holding her boar slice.