He had the answer. Ries’ eyes lit up as his tail swayed from side to side.
—Remember what I told you? The curse passed down through the Laufe bloodline is a crystallized mass of malice, born from souls that have lost their way.
Whyyy?
—In other words, the core of the curse is malice itself. So if it reacts strongly to something, then that something must also be a form of malice.
Wait, so that means…? Ries’ head shot up.
—If someone harbors malice toward the one cursed, a piece of the curse can latch onto them. That’s the most convincing theory so far.
Diana’s face flashed through his mind—how twisted she’d looked under the curse. Given her attitude, it wasn’t surprising she’d become a target.
—But the curse isn’t just made of one emotion. It’s a tangled, sticky mass of many kinds of malice. It’s almost like it has its own gravity. If someone affected by a fragment moves too far from the “root,” or if their emotions fade, that fragment returns to where it came from.
More theories came pouring in. But there was still one thing Ries didn’t get. He slowly raised a front paw.
“Nyaoong. Aeeeng?”
What about that mosquito?
He remembered it clearly—that bug, warped into something hideous, all because of a shard of the curse.
Hmmm. Sefiut hummed, rubbing his chin.
—Well, we can toss out another hypothesis. Maybe the curse doesn’t just latch on because of emotional malice. Maybe it also reacts to intent—like whether something’s trying to harm the cursed.
“…Myaong?”
A mosquito? Ries blurted out the question, but the answer came immediately.
—It drinks blood, doesn’t it?
…Fair point. Hard to argue with that, even if it left a sour feeling.
He clutched his head and groaned for a moment. In the end, he decided to just go with it. He didn’t have a better explanation anyway, and Sefiut was the one person who knew more about the Laufe curse than anyone else.
Besides, he’d already learned so much from him.
—You saw a ghost? Of course I let her in. You think any old spirit would dare poke their head in with me standing guard? That woman just looked so pitiful. Anyway, it worked out, didn’t it?
—Puhahahaha! At this rate, you might actually gain some followers! See? Didn’t I tell you? You’re at least worthy of being called a Spirit Beast—don’t act so surprised.
He really wished Sefiut would stop acting first and then informing him after…
—“You broke the promise,” huh… Not sure what that’s about. But one thing’s for sure—it was Thalassa who triggered that disaster. Why would she answer anyone’s prayers? If it weren’t for me, no one would’ve even recorded a word of it. The whole thing would’ve vanished into myth. This is exactly why I don’t believe in gods.
Still, thanks to him, Ries had picked up all kinds of useful intel—like the truth behind that so-called catastrophe that struck the Empire.
—Hmm… It might be connected to the beastkin. I vaguely remember hearing rumors back then about people hunting them. They’re such a mystery, even I’ve never seen one myself, so I thought it was just gossip. But given how things turned out, maybe that really was the cause of it all.
There was even a story that would send chills through any beastkin’s spine. Hearing it made Ries think—maybe that “promise” mentioned in the book had something to do with the beastkin after all.
But now wasn’t the time to be lost in old memories. He forcibly snapped out of it.
The theory was in place. All that remained was testing it. Would the curse really transfer to those who bore resentment toward Justyn…? The thought alone made his stomach churn.
To break the curse, they’d have to constantly face off against people who hated Justyn. That was awful. Even if he didn’t show it, Justyn would be hurt. Just imagining it was depressing.
And yet, there was something else even more troubling.
“Muuuung…”
Diana—the one who had stormed out, shouting that she’d reconsider the treatment.
She’d been rude, openly showed how much she disliked and feared them, and yet she’d still come back regularly. That could only mean the treatment was something Justyn desperately needed.
And now she’d refused. Said she’d “think about it,” but that was just a polite way of saying no.
Ries groaned. At the time, he’d been too worked up to realize it, but now it all felt like his fault.
If he hadn’t barged into the drawing room, maybe none of this would’ve happened. The conflict had started when Diana spotted him and launched into that whole “Hand over Strawberry!” routine.
No, wait… if I hadn’t gone in, I wouldn’t have been able to protect him.
…And just like that, he was back where he started. Caught in a never-ending loop.
Sefiut, who had been silently standing nearby, noticed Ries’ turmoil. Of course he did—anyone would, seeing a cat with its face buried on the floor, front paws wrapped around its head, groaning in misery.
—Is this about the treatment?
“…Grrrrng.”
Ries let out a faint, lifeless mewl. Sefiut crouched down in front of him and lightly tapped the whiskers peeking out between his front paws.
He couldn’t physically touch them, of course—but that tiny gesture was enough. Ries cautiously poked his head out.
—Tch, you really do worry too much. Divine Power only stops the curse from spreading rapidly; it doesn’t actually lessen it. You think I asked for your help just for fun? It’s way more beneficial having you stay by our descendant’s side. That’s the whole point.
Ries’ big round eyes grew even wider. Sefiut made a mock gesture of patting his head.
—And don’t forget, you even absorbed part of the curse. I guarantee it—our descendant’s condition is probably the best it’s ever been. And it’s only going to get better. All thanks to you. So go ahead—be proud of yourself.
Ries uncurled his front paws and slowly pushed himself up. Just moments ago, he’d looked like he was ready to dig a hole straight to the underworld. Now his chest swelled with a rush of pride.
He sat up properly and looked Sefiut in the eye. He could be smug and annoying—downright exhausting sometimes—but in moments like this, Ries could really feel his age and wisdom.
He had a way of comforting you without making it obvious. As Ries wrinkled his nose, trying to find the right words…
—Anyway, never mind all that, you little punk! You had that much fun and didn’t even call me?!
“?”
Ries’ mouth dropped open. What did he just say?
Sefiut kindly spelled it out.
—I wanted to see that dumbass descendant of mine smack that smug priest right in the face! And what? He’s still panicking, scared you’ll leave him? I should’ve seen him in that pathetic state with my own two eyes! You got to enjoy the whole thing alone—was it fun?!
“……”
Ries couldn’t say a word.
Forget everything. I take back all my gratitude.
He cringed at the memory of seriously wondering how to thank him.
“…Myaaak…”
Elder…you can leave this place, can’t you… He muttered, full of wounded indignation.
—H-Hey! Elder?!
Sefiut stumbled like he’d just been slapped.
—Just call me Mister! What’s with “Elder”?! People are gonna think I’ve already died of old age!
Yep. That reaction definitely belonged to someone still recovering from being called “Mister” before. But the rant didn’t stop there.
—And what was that? “You can leave this place~”? Listen, kid—if you’re gonna show respect to your elders, do it right! You think I want to be stuck here?! What if I left and you came looking for me and couldn’t find me, huh? Ever think about that?
Oh. Ries froze. He hadn’t considered that at all.
He glanced up at Sefiut, trying to read his mood. His words were grumbling and sharp as ever, but… he weirdly looked kind of sulky. Like someone hiding disappointment behind irritation.
That image stuck with him, even after they left the gallery.
Ries had apologized, and Sefiut had accepted—but one thought kept replaying in his mind.
That lonely figure, guarding the empty gallery all by himself…
“Mya…”
Suddenly, a strange heaviness settled over him.
If only Sefiut had a body he could return to. That quiet little wish drifted down the hallway, fading like footprints in the dust.
***
Ries stared at Justyn in silence. If his gaze had substance, Justyn’s face would’ve been squashed flat long ago.
His reasons kept changing. He wanted to check—again—if the curse had really weakened. He was proud. He wanted to guess how much longer until the curse broke completely.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t get enough. He could watch him forever.
Beneath his belly, he’d tucked the plush fish Justyn gave him. It was thickly stuffed, and the gentle pressure felt oddly satisfying.
Flop down on the desk just like that, and voilà—perfect setup. Cozy for him, and a front-row seat to observe Justyn hard at work.
