“Let go! Let go! How dare you lay hands on me!”
A man’s voice followed quickly. “Please, madam, calm yourself—!”
But the ‘madam’ did not calm down.
“Don’t interfere! Get away!”
The woman’s voice tore through the corridor like the snarl of a wild beast. Yunsol’s heart hammered painfully in her chest.
Panicked, she pulled up the map, desperate for an escape route. The glowing floor plan unfolded before her eyes—only to make her feel even more hopeless.
Of course…
The golden question mark she needed to reach lay in the exact same direction as the blood trail—right where the madwoman’s voice was coming from.
The corridor stretched straight ahead, then bent sharply to the left. There were no side doors, no detours.
So that’s the way I have to go…
Her feet trembled, but her fear of being left alone was even worse. Clenching her fists, Yunsol forced herself forward. She ignored the sticky residue still clinging to her sole but kept her eyes glued to the ground, determined not to step in blood again.
The closer she drew to the corner, the louder the chaos became.
“Let go! I said let go!”
“When will the young master get here?”
“Sir, maybe we should sedate her—”
“If she wakes again, she’ll be worse!”
A jumble of voices—one furious, one weary, one fearful—clashed with the shrill screams of the woman.
Yunsol pressed herself against the wall, leaning forward just enough to peek past the corner.
A woman, dressed in what had once been a fine gown, struggled violently against the grip of a man in a white coat. He held her arm in both hands, straining to keep her from breaking free. Her elegant updo had fallen into disarray, and wild strands clung to her sweat-dampened face.
Even from a distance, Yunsol could see the madness blazing in her eyes.
“Madam, please, enough of this,” the man begged. “You must come to your senses!”
Beside him, a young maid in uniform knelt on the floor, pressing a thick wad of cloth against another woman’s stomach. The second maid—collapsed in a spreading pool of blood—twitched weakly, her face pale as paper.
Yunsol’s throat tightened. The bloody trail in the hallway… it had come from her.
The middle-aged woman—‘madam’—suddenly shrieked, throwing her head back.
“Hund! Hear me! I offer you my precious Marie as a sacrifice! Take her! Accept her life!”
The doctor recoiled, dragging the woman back with all his strength, but she didn’t yield an inch. Where her frail body found such force, he couldn’t fathom.
“Bless your loyal follower! Appoint me as humanity’s representative!”
Yunsol’s eyes went wide.
A believer?
And then—like a curse—the memory of the game’s advertisement slammed into her mind.
[Sign up now to receive the rare building Sanctuary and the rare helper Zealous Follower!]
No way… Don’t tell me that lunatic is my ‘rare helper’?
And that ruin of a temple she’d woken up in… was it supposed to be the ‘rare Sanctuary’?
This is fraud! A scam!
Yunsol nearly laughed in disbelief, but her thoughts were cut short.
The man in white cried out in pain.
“Ah! Madam—!”
She had stomped on his foot and, while he faltered, lunged to bite his arm savagely. He howled, losing his grip.
In a flash, the woman snatched up a fallen weapon. As lightning flared outside the window, the blade gleamed in her hands—ready to strike down the helpless maid on the floor.
“Wait!”
The word tore out of Yunsol’s throat before she even realized it.
Three heads snapped toward her at once—the doctor’s, the maid’s, and the madwoman’s. Three pairs of eyes locked onto her: confusion, desperation, and blazing fanaticism.
Regret hit her like a hammer. She wanted to vanish, to melt into the shadows. But she couldn’t.
Because the next second, that blade would end the maid’s life.
Yunsol swallowed hard. Her lips trembled as she forced the words out.
“I… I am the agent. The one you’ve been waiting for. So please… leave the innocent alone.”
Her whole body cringed at the sound of her own voice. To declare herself the representative of some god—it was humiliating. Unbelievable. Who would even believe her?
But the woman’s reaction chilled her blood.
The knife clattered to the floor.
“Ah! At last!”
The Duchess’s face lit with ecstatic joy.
It was the reaction of a devout worshiper receiving divine grace.
But to Yunsol, it was only terrifying.
Elsewhere
The sky hung heavy with clouds.
In his study, Ethan Blake—the eldest son of the Blake family—let his father’s letter slip from his fingers. It fell soundlessly onto the desk.
His eyes, cold and detached, showed no longing. No anger.
It had been eight long years since Duke Cesar Blake had abandoned his family to roam the continent, searching for his missing second son.
At first, the duke hadn’t left himself. He had simply poured his wealth into the search—lavish offerings to temples, extravagant rewards for the smallest rumors, outrageous commissions to guilds and mercenaries.
But eventually, when the Blake fortune was drained and no one would answer his summons, he cast aside his ducal duties and departed in person. He had never returned.
Now, only the sporadic reports from his attendants, and thick, one-sided letters that arrived once or twice a year, reminded his family that he still lived.
Ethan no longer cried when they came. He no longer shredded the letters in helpless fury.
Sometimes he even wished an accident had ended his father’s life—so that the ducal seat would finally be his.
Expressionless, he opened a small notebook, scrawled a line—214.5.2. Aodin Province (x)—and filed both letter and journal away in the locker.
Drip.
“Hmm?”
A knock.
“Sogaju, Laura has come to see you.”
Ethan frowned. Laura was his mother’s maid. If she had come running here, it meant the Duchess’s madness had flared again.
He rose instantly, yanking open the door. A trembling maid stood there, wringing her hands.
“M-Master Ethan! The mistress—she has a knife—Marie—”
“Lead me.”
“Y-yes!”
Laura scurried down the corridor, Ethan following with grim strides.
His parents, broken by the loss of their second son, had both gone mad—though in different ways.
His father had fled from duty and wandered endlessly.
His mother had turned to worship.
She had discovered the name of a forgotten god—Hund, the god of search—in some ragged old tome bought from a peddler. Since then, she had offered countless sacrifices in his name: flowers, fruits, grain, jewels, family heirlooms.
When those went unanswered, she turned to living sacrifices. First animals, then worse. Wreaths on her head, blood-stained garments around her body, she danced and chanted around slaughtered offerings.
It had been Ethan himself who finally confined her to an isolated annex, away from the family’s main residence. He had ignored her desperate messages asking for something precious enough to summon her god.
Never had he imagined she would go so far as to try sacrificing her own maid.
“What was the situation when you left?” he asked tersely.
“Sir Calvin and Diane were restraining her… Madam had stabbed the maid, but she’s still alive.”
“Fortunate.”
His lip curled.
The Empire forbade human sacrifice under the harshest penalty. The Blakes would lose everything—their titles, their lands, their very name—if the Duchess claimed even one life in Hund’s name.
Ethan strode into the storm-darkened corridors toward the annex where his mother was kept, his jaw set in cold fury.
