The Price of a Son's Life
The butterfly mask, who had been hiding in a safe location, finally appeared. This time, it was not an illusion but a physical body.
“So Orsini really is dead?”
This had been a trap from the very beginning, designed to eliminate Orsini Addis.
Orsini was a formidable enemy to the Black Apostles, someone who would eventually have to be removed no matter what.
They had discovered his weakness at just the right moment and built the perfect snare around it.
Absurdly enough, that weakness was a woman.
“It’s true, then.”
The butterfly mask approached Orsini’s corpse and examined it closely.
“To die in such a pathetic trap… you really are a pitiful man.”
To throw away his life for a woman who despised him with every fiber of her being.
The butterfly mask sneered and gave his cheek a light tap. Orsini’s lifeless face lolled weakly to the side.
Just moments ago, he had been the Black Apostles’ most dangerous foe. Now he was nothing but a lump of meat.
A very useful lump of meat, at that.
“Take Orsini’s body. He hasn’t been dead long, so it should still be saturated with holy power. Perfect material for experiments.”
The butterfly mask stood up with a refreshed smile.
“Are all the other apostles dead?”
“Yes. I am the only survivor.”
“The sacrifice was heavy.”
Indeed, the price had been enormous.
It wasn’t just the Black Apostles who had died here today. To lure Orsini into the trap, they had even revealed the location of their gathering. Every apostle who had gone to that site had been sacrificed as well.
“Nearly a hundred Black Apostles, all thrown away just to kill one man named Orsini. Truly…”
The butterfly mask’s voice suddenly cut off.
A chill crawled up the back of his neck. A murderous aura surged over him like a tidal wave, as if someone were trying to rip the hair from his scalp.
“Hiiik!”
The Black Apostle who had been moving to collect Orsini’s corpse let out a scream and stumbled backward.
“I-I underst—”
Those were his last words.
The next instant, his body exploded into pieces. Blood sprayed in every direction, splattering across the butterfly mask’s cheek.
“…Oh dear.”
The corner of the butterfly mask’s mouth twitched.
“Why are you here, Alexandro Addis?”
“I came for you.”
Drip. Drip. Blood fell from the tip of Alexandro Addis’s sword.
He stared at the butterfly mask and spoke in a low, commanding voice.
“Keep your hands off my son.”
“Of course. Of course I will. Calm down.”
The butterfly mask raised both hands and quickly retreated. Then, in one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around Canna’s throat.
“Instead, I’ll be putting my hands on your daughter.”
“S-Save me…”
Canna began to sob.
That was the end of it.
Alexandro’s sword shot forward in a straight line, piercing through her chest and continuing on to impale the butterfly mask standing behind her.
Two people were skewered on a single blade. Alexandro immediately pulled the sword back, drawing both bodies into his arms.
Ignoring the dead Canna slumped against his chest, Alexandro grabbed the butterfly mask by the collar and ripped the mask away.
“……”
Alexandro’s brow furrowed. It was a familiar face.
The unmasked gentleman grinned wickedly.
“Looks like I’ve been caught… My master is going to be in trouble.”
At that moment, a breeze swept through.
With a soft crumbling sound, both Canna and the butterfly mask disintegrated into sand. The two dolls, nothing more than copies, returned to dust.
Alexandro lowered his sword. Then he knelt beside his son and examined his condition.
He soon reached the same conclusion as the butterfly mask.
“He’s dead.”
Orsini was dead.
His heart had stopped. The flame of life had been extinguished. It was an undeniable, absolute death.
This was the ending of Orsini Addis.
In this very moment, on this very day, he had met his death.
If Alexandro had not been here, that would have been the end of his life.
“It’s fortunate that Seon-hui cursed me with eternal life.”
Alexandro murmured quietly as he reached out toward his son.
“Because now I can share that life with you.”
Orsini opened his eyes. He gasped for air.
“Haaah!”
He bolted upright, looking around frantically.
It was a hunting ground drenched in blood and corpses.
He should have been one of those bodies lying among them…
Orsini looked down at himself.
His torn clothes were soaked with blood in several places. But there were no wounds. No pain. On the contrary, he felt overflowing with strength.
Suddenly, Orsini flinched in shock.
His right arm had moved.
He stared blankly at his right arm for a long moment before muttering under his breath.
“…Father?”
Why had those words come out? Why?
He looked around again.
But there was no one there.
An hour after arriving at the castle, Yeon-woo still had not woken up. Canna had left him in Ren’s room for now.
“He’s only talking in his sleep. What was it again? Tick-tock, tick-tock?”
“Tick-tock?”
“Yes. He keeps muttering strange things while he sleeps.”
That was the sound of a clock’s second hand moving.
Why is he making that noise?
Canna tapped her fingers on the table.
I must not get close to him.
She had saved him because his life had been in danger. But Canna knew she could not allow herself to get any closer than that.
The reunion with Yeon-woo is almost certainly a scheme by the Black Apostles.
It was no coincidence that Yeon-woo had appeared before her. Someone had set the stage.
They must have thought I would keep him close and take care of him.
That was exactly why she had to stay away.
“For now, just take him as your servant. Teach him the language of the Western Continent, and give him some self-defense training and swordsmanship lessons too.”
Ren responded in an extremely arrogant tone.
“I am very expensive. Are you sure you can afford me?”
“How much?”
“At least this much.”
He spread out all five fingers.
“Are you a thug?”
“I told you. I’m expensive.”
The corner of his lips curled up in a secretive smile. He leaned down and whispered.
“Or, we could just continue what we stopped last time.”
“What we stopped last time?”
“Do you remember climbing on top of me?”
He looked at her face with a suggestive gaze.
“If you continue from there, I won’t need any money. I’ll follow any order you give like a dog.”
“I don’t need a dog bastard like you.”
“You said dog. You didn’t say dog bastard.”
“Oh, did I?”
Canna answered smoothly, but inside she was thinking something else.
This guy’s price is insane.
Whatever he asked for, he got. The profession of mercenary suddenly seemed incredibly impressive.
I could solve this quickly by making gold with alchemy.
But she had no intention of creating cracks in the world for that reason. Canna decided to sell off some of her valuable possessions instead.
“Fine. I’ll pay it all at once when we return. Let’s write up a contract.”
After sending Ren away, Canna let out a long sigh and stood in front of the mirror. The most fundamental question rose in her mind.
Who knew about him? How did they find out? And how did they bring him here?
Who in this world could possibly know Yeon-woo?
Unless they shared her memories, there was no way they could know.
…Wait. Unless they shared my memories?
There was one such being.
Juhwa. The one who had possessed her body.
But Juhwa was not in this world.
However, if they assumed Juhwa had come here…
The moment that thought crossed her mind, the scattered puzzle pieces began snapping together perfectly.
The genius physician from the Eastern Continent who had appeared three years ago.
The doctor who had cured the Empress’s skin disease that Canna herself had created with alchemy. The one person who knew of Yeon-woo’s existence.
A chill ran down her spine.
If Juhwa has really returned, then everything fits perfectly.
Her head began to throb painfully.
Juhwa, if you really have come to this place…
Who brought you here, and how?
It must have been the Black Apostles.
The Black Apostles, who drew power from other worlds. Perhaps they had discovered a way to pull people from other dimensions.
But it can’t have been easy.
If bringing people from other worlds had been simple, they would have dragged in dozens or hundreds long ago and used their blood as ingredients.
Pulling someone from another world must be extremely difficult. It would probably be impossible without meeting very specific conditions.
But if they had good material, the story changed. An excellent catalyst capable of drawing out the power of alchemy.
For example, the blood of a foreign substance.
My blood.
If they used that as the material, it might have been possible to summon Juhwa.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced.
When she had entered the Great Temple to break off her holy marriage with Sylvien, she had been required to offer her blood.
Did the Black Apostles steal my blood then and use it?
They must have used it to bring you here and then lured you in. Just like Jerome had tried to lure her.
If they had obtained Juhwa’s blood that way and used it for alchemy…
It also explains why the Black Fog has grown so much worse in the last three years.
Everything fit together flawlessly.
At that moment, the door burst open. Canna whirled around in surprise.
“What the hell are you?”
It was Orsini. He strode quickly toward her and grabbed her wrist.
“Your fingers are still attached.”
“Of course they are. Why, were you hoping they’d been cut off somewhere?”
“I saw a woman who looked exactly like you.”
Canna’s expression darkened. A woman who looked exactly like her?
It must have been one of my dolls.
Now it was completely certain. There was no room for doubt.
Creating a doll requires high-grade material on the level of my blood.
If it was the blood of Juhwa, another foreign substance, it would be possible. Juhwa had returned to this world.
But the knowledge to create dolls belongs to ancient alchemy…
It seemed Seon-hui had left behind documents on the spell arrays for making dolls among the materials she gave the Black Apostles. And by now, Orsini would have realized that it was alchemy—a special technique of the Black Apostles.
He roughly grabbed Canna by the collar and glared at her with savage eyes.
“When you ran away from Riben Island, a woman who looked just like you pretended to be you and died in your place. They even held a funeral for her. It must have been something similar to the fake I met today.”
He had noticed after all.
“Where did you get the fake that pretended to be you on Riben Island?”
“……”
“Are you a Black Apostle?”
Canna stared at him, then let out a small laugh.
“What if I am?”
Orsini’s mouth tightened into a hard line. His eyes shook violently.
“The truth is, I am a Black Apostle. I approached you to tear Orsini Addis apart and kill him… What if I said that?”
Canna smiled gently.
“Answer me. If I were definitely going to kill you someday, what would you do?”
It wasn’t a question asked out of ignorance. She already knew the answer.
“If I were a Black Apostle, then this time you really could kill me.”
Canna gave him a sorrowful smile.
“But what a shame. Unfortunately for you, I am not a Black Ap—”
The next moment, he roughly twisted her collar and yanked her forward.
“…!”
Their lips nearly collided.
But they didn’t.
He stopped just before they touched. Then he shoved her backward. Canna stumbled back weakly and was momentarily stunned by the look in Orsini’s eyes.
He looked furious, as if his soul had been stolen. The rage in his gaze was so raw it almost looked like agony. She couldn’t understand it at all.
Orsini took several steps back.
He retreated, his face deathly pale, as if he had seen a demon crawling up from hell, as if he had seen the harbinger of the world’s end.
Then he kicked the door open and strode out without looking back.
It looked exactly like he was running away.
From her.