Chapter 104
“Ahhh!”
The thing—whether a ghost, a mage, or a demon—thrashed violently.
“I will never let you go. No matter what you are… I must know.”
Sinclair couldn’t allow something so dangerous to roam near Theodore.
As she swiftly swung the black, cold, and soft foot to the side, Sinclair’s hand shot upward in an instant.
What… is this lightness?
Startled, Sinclair looked down.
The foot she had just severed was crawling like a spider, propped on both hands and one leg.
Damn it!
Sinclair flung the foot aside and leapt forward.
At that instant, the black object jumped like a frog and slid straight into the mirror.
Whoa!
Sinclair’s jaw dropped in shock, and she covered her mouth with her hands.
What on earth is happening?
Then she noticed the foot she had thrown earlier bouncing like a ball toward the vanity, disappearing inside as if diving into a pool.
What… what is that thing?!
Sinclair ran to the mirror.
“Hey, you plutonium-like thing, come out! I said come out, you Fukushima nuclear waste-like thing!”
But no matter how much she tapped the mirror or looked inside with both hands cupped, she only saw her own reflection.
“Sniff… sniff…”
It was that sound she had heard earlier.
Sinclair quickly turned and surveyed the room.
“Your Highness, the Grand Duchess!”
“Your Highness!”
Only then did Ariel and Sophia, apparently freed from the magic, try to rush toward her.
“Shh!”
Startled, Ariel and Sophia froze, eyes wide, obeying their mistress while simultaneously scanning the surroundings.
“Quiet.”
Finally, the two nodded and looked toward where Sinclair was focusing.
“Sniff… sniff…”
Sinclair eyed the long bench in front of the vanity suspiciously.
“Please… save me…”
The voice was weak, barely alive, but it was unmistakably the same voice she had heard earlier.
Sinclair swiftly lifted the seat cushion of the bench. Inside, a child was curled up, hands on their chest and knees drawn up.
“Sniff… please… save me.”
Flustered, Sinclair grabbed the tiny, emaciated child by the armpits and pulled them out. Ariel and Sophia ran to assist the Grand Duchess.
“Are you okay, child? Are you alright?”
As Sinclair checked the child dressed in an assistant priest’s uniform, someone spoke.
“Who are you?”
Sinclair looked up to see a man standing in the doorway.
“Show respect. She is Grand Duchess Sinclair von Zeyer!”
Ariel stepped forward, prompting the man to bow in surprise.
“I am Alexandre Dumas, at your service.”
Sinclair looked at the actor introducing himself. He was a tall, well-built priest.
On the floor lay the robe and mask of the man who had just called himself Alexandre Dumas.
Inside the Grand Temple’s Magician Tower
From a fragment of the ceiling embedded with broken mirrors like a puzzle, the black body of the man who had been Alexandre Dumas poured out.
Below him, a large stone chalice-shaped statue caught his body.
The statue’s interior was now filled with the pitch-black Dumas, his two bright red eyes glowing from within the dark mass.
The man called Dumas exhaled deeply.
The mirrors on the ceiling reflected countless images of the empire’s people.
He raised his head and saw Sinclair and her attendants at the far corner of the ceiling, handling the situation behind the stage.
“Sinclair von Zeyer…”
His voice echoed softly in the empty space, a smile creeping onto his lips.
“And where have you been?”
“Do I have to report everything to you?”
At the question of Minister Jubierre, the black figure rose from the statue and looked down at the minister.
Jubierre quickly bent his knees and bowed his head.
The figure descended from the statue and lifted what appeared to be human skin from a hanger, sniffing it.
“There’s nothing fresh.”
“Eh? Isn’t that the body you selected a month ago?”
“I found something I liked.”
“And whom do you mean…?”
“Grand Duchess Sinclair von Zeyer.”
The minister stared in shock.
“Orlesion Travi, spare that one!”
“…!”
Orlesion furrowed his brows.
“Why?”
“She lives in the demon world.”
“The demon world?”
“Yes. Black magic may not even affect her.”
“….”
“You dare doubt my ability? You, who’ve been helpless even after catching that pathetic wretch’s tail…”
His hand was now tightening around Jubierre’s neck.
“My apologies. I eliminated that one just now.”
“Is that so? Then why does its breath still remain?”
Jubierre looked up at the ceiling, startled.
Sure enough, Michael Owenga, wrapped in bandages and gasping for air, was lying on a bed. The priest’s body trembled.
“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”
Orlesion’s body grew like creeping vines, reaching the ceiling, and slipped into the mirror where Michael lay.
Jubierre watched, trembling.
When Orlesion’s hand released him, he staggered but quickly steadied himself. Showing weakness now could make him a target; he still had to demonstrate his usefulness.
Watching Orlesion scan the long-time ally Michael through the mirrored ceiling, Jubierre gritted his teeth.
Meanwhile, in Michael Owenga’s room, a black, sticky, spiderweb-like strand adhered to the small mirror on the bedside table.
The ominous strand moved slowly, tapping the air as if searching.
No one is here…
Like a spool unraveling, the black thread began to emerge from the mirror.
Shhh… hiss…
Michael breathed evenly, his chest rising and falling in rhythm. But soon, in pain, he let out a groan and twitched his leg.
The black thread paused.
By the faint moonlight coming through the window, it looked like a shadow of a branch.
Michael’s breathing, which had groaned, began to calm. The black thread moved again toward his bed.
Then—
Knock, knock.
The rope-shaped Orlesion slipped into the shadow of the bedside table.
“This is Eli of the Schlesen Palace.”
The door opened, and Eli entered.
Step, step.
Eli checked Michael’s breathing, felt his pulse, and confirmed everything was normal.
“Michael Owen, Marquis. Marquis.”
But Michael didn’t respond.
Eli clicked her fingers, and the screws on her glasses glowed. Special glasses made with magical stones for night-time examination.
Eli lifted Michael’s eyelids and checked his condition.
“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
Sighing, Eli replaced the blood-soaked bandages with clean ones, disinfected the wounds, and rewrapped them carefully.
As she checked the bed for discomfort, she noticed the shadow of a tree branch under the window, swaying.
Naturally, Eli looked outside. The purple lilacs swayed in the wind, spreading their sweet fragrance.
“This spring is rather lively… hmm.”
Eli gathered her medical tools and left the room.
“The Marquis is stable. If he regains consciousness at dawn, contact must be made immediately.”
“Yes!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She could hear the voices of two knights standing guard in the room.
Step, step.
The footsteps faded, and quiet returned.
The shadow in the bedside table wriggled. Like a vigorous black vine, the thread crept over the bedpost and climbed onto Michael’s bed.
Once a fearsome demon slayer, Michael remained unresponsive.
The cold black strand slowly entered his nose and ears.
Gurgle!
His airway blocked, Michael’s eyes snapped open.
Gurgle.
He clutched his throat. Veins stood out on his hand.
As the unknown entity seemed to siphon his organs, consciousness returned in pain. He had to remove it.
Michael twisted his body, lifted his upper torso, and fought the entity.
Ugh, ugh, ugh.
He pounded the bed with his feet. The massive form began to thrash violently, like a deep-sea monster dragged from its net.
The bed legs lifted and fell with a loud thud, the floor vibrating through the room.
Thud! Thump!
The door swung open.
“Marquis Michael Owen?”
A knight holding a torch shone light into the room. The black threads retreating from Michael’s nose and ears disappeared into the darkness.
“Your Grace?”
In an instant, blood streamed from Michael’s ears and nose with a loud pop.
“Marquis Owen! Your Grace!”
“Heh, th… this evil…”
Michael struggled to describe how the entity was trying to crawl into him.
“What… is this?”
The knight wiped the blood with a nearby towel.
“Is anyone there? Is there anyone?”
The knight shouted, but no one came.
“Wait a moment. I’ll fetch the physician and attendants.”
“No… ah…”
Michael reached out, but the knight rushed out of the room.
