Following Melissa’s lead, the other two knights drew their swords. If things continued this way, Averitt would be subdued and sent back to prison before long.
But Ries couldn’t shake his tension. Even with three blades pointed at him, Averitt showed no fear. The ominous, unsettling aura rolling off him kept Ries’s nerves taut.
Above all—
He said it wasn’t here.
That restless searching of his grated on Ries. It wasn’t hard to guess why.
This was Justyn’s office. If Averitt had come here looking for something, then surely, his target was Justyn himself.
But what was with that brazen composure? His schemes had already been exposed, his retainers were gone, and yet Averitt carried himself as if capture meant nothing.
That same foreboding that had been gnawing at Ries from the start surged back. And when their eyes met—
So that’s what was here!
Ries finally understood the source of his unease.
Averitt’s eyes, once a muddy red, had turned pitch-black—an abyss. Deep within those glossy orbs writhed a madness beyond description.
Ries wasn’t the only one who noticed. The moment Averitt shouted and called him “that thing,” the knight beside Melissa moved like lightning, swinging his blade at the count.
Luckily, he struck with the flat of his sword, sparing bloodshed. With seamless precision, he pivoted behind Averitt and slammed him down, pinning him face-first to the floor like a frog spread flat.
“Count Barmark. I’ll be reporting this to His Grace. When the time comes, you’ll need to explain in full how you escaped prison and made it here.”
Melissa leveled her sword at the fallen Averitt, her tone firm with warning.
When Averitt didn’t stir, she glanced at the remaining knight, signaling him to fetch men for the escort. But just then—
—Be careful!
A sudden voice broke in, and the situation spun out of control.
“Ghhk!”
Crack. A sickening sound rang out as the knight restraining Averitt crumpled to the floor, his wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.
“Alrof!”
The shocking injury froze the knight who had just been about to leave the office.
Shaking off his captor, Averitt leapt to his feet, laughter bursting from his throat. His mouth stretched in a grotesque grin.
“Huahahaha! If I can’t have Justyn, then I’ll just take what he treasures most!”
At that, Melissa no longer held back. She was clearly prepared to wound him if that was what it took.
The knight who’d been heading for the door turned back, and the other, shaken but recovering his focus after seeing his comrade injured, joined as well. But the scene was wrong—off, somehow.
Ries’s eyes flicked rapidly around.
What the hell is this…?
Three knights against one count.
His gaze caught Averitt’s soft, uncalloused hands—hands that had clearly never known a sword.
By all logic, there should have been no fight at all. Such a confrontation shouldn’t even have been possible.
And yet the struggle was deadlocked. The reason was brutally clear.
“Ungh—what kind of strength is this…!”
Each time Count Averitt thrashed, furniture splintered, floorboards cracked, and steel bent. The sheer power he wielded was monstrous.
—As I thought. The bastard’s possessed by a spirit.
“…Mya?”
Possessed? Ries snapped his head toward Sefiut. The chubby fins swaying idly on his side caught his eye.
So he’d finally dropped the pretense of being a mute doll mistaken for a fairy. Without even bothering to lower his voice, he continued:
—Magic exists in this world, but those who can use it are exceedingly rare. And to amplify strength to that level in such a short time? Impossible.
Sefiut glanced at him, eyes sharp.
—A power with no clear cause, one that defies reason much like magic itself. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?
A strange dissonance flickered through Ries’s mind, but he quickly grasped Sefiut’s meaning.
He’s right…
He had seen situations like this before. And every time, it was Sefiut.
The man had often used that mysterious power to put people to sleep—Justyn, Ketir, even Count Barmark himself.
—A stubborn attachment to the living world, mixed with malice, often corrupts a man. And if the one being corrupted already harbors those very emotions, the process becomes all the easier.
A sharp sting burned in Ries’s chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Like puzzle pieces snapping into place, the questions that had been floating loosely in his mind locked together.
Averitt, possessed by a spirit. His relentless fixation on Justyn. That unmistakable malice Ries could feel radiating from him.
There were countless possibilities, and no concrete proof to draw a final conclusion. But perhaps because of the truths that had been gnawing at him of late, Ries instinctively knew who was responsible.
Edler Laufe.
It was Edler who had approached Count Averitt and whispered poison into his heart. And judging by Sefiut’s expression, he had reached the same conclusion.
Ries turned his gaze forward again. The battle was already nearing its end.
He stepped back and studied Averitt carefully.
He’s not afraid of being hurt.
This was the same man who had once been bowled over by a cat’s headbutt, who had flinched at nothing more than a scratch from its claws. Yet now, his demeanor was unrecognizable.
Even when real blades cut into him and blood ran freely, Averitt showed no concern. If anything, he seemed oblivious to the wounds at all.
And yet… he was still a nobleman, not yet stripped of title, his punishment undecided. That tangled circumstance left the knights no choice but to restrain themselves. They couldn’t strike to kill. But Averitt’s unnatural strength—and the way he deliberately hurled himself against their blades—made subduing him far more difficult.
Still, courage and brute force meant nothing if one didn’t know how to wield them.
For a time, the knights were driven back. But as they adjusted to his raw power and adapted their tactics, the balance quickly shifted.
“Ghhhk!”
With a pained groan, Averitt collapsed. The knights, wary of another sudden outburst, kept their swords trained on him for a long while. But at last, he truly seemed unconscious, lying still and unmoving.
“Lord Ries, are you unharmed?”
Only then did Melissa turn her back on the fallen count, checking on Ries. Since he hadn’t hidden his voice earlier, her gaze lingered briefly on the fish-shaped doll at his side, but relief far outweighed any confusion in her eyes.
After all, she had stood between him and Averitt’s charges time and again. Gratitude was the least Ries owed her.
But his lips refused to move. The groundless unease still gnawed at his chest.
—Pathetic, foolish Averitt. I’ll grant your wish.
That unease, it turned out, was not misplaced.
Flicker. Beyond the doorway, a bluish figure shimmered faintly. Already on edge, Ries reacted immediately.
“Kyooong! Hissss!!”
—Get away from him, now!
But humans, blind to the dead, did not understand.
Sefiut realized instantly how dire the situation had become and tried to drive the knights back, but to them he was nothing more than a strange fairy—or perhaps a talking doll.
They couldn’t comprehend his warning in time. And in that moment’s hesitation, Edler Laufe’s form seeped into Averitt’s body.
Flash!
A cold, oppressive force burst outward from Averitt’s frame in violent waves.
Whoosh! A wild wind whipped Ries’s whiskers until they stung, forcing his eyes shut.
When he opened them again—
—Damn it. A peaceful end was too much to hope for.
The sight before him was carnage. The floor and walls lay torn and splintered. Melissa and two knights sprawled across the wreckage, limp and unconscious as though their strings had been cut.
It looked as if some overwhelming force had torn through the room. Judging by Sefiut standing protectively in front of him, Ries knew that without him, he would have been lying among them.
From the wreckage, Averitt staggered to his feet once more. His face, chillingly blank, lifted to reveal eyes that no longer belonged to him.
—Edler Laufe.
“You know my name?”
—I do. I’ve stared at your portrait enough times to last a lifetime.
Contrary to Ries’s fears, Edler—now in Averitt’s body—didn’t charge, but answered calmly.
—I know your malice bound you here. But you also know this: if you steal the body of the living without their consent, your soul will be torn apart.
“It doesn’t matter. As long as I can repay the injustice and hatred I’ve borne.”
—Fool.
The air grew suffocating, heavy with tension. Ries dared not speak, only listening.
And listening, he heard every poisonous word. To hear Edler—the abuser—cry injustice only made disgust twist hot in his chest.
As one steeped in malice, Edler sensed it immediately.
A crooked grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“I thought my foolish younger brother had ruined everything… but this isn’t so bad. To think he’d actually found something precious to him.”
The other corner of his lips curled upward as well, his eyes burning with hatred as his expression warped.
Bent, twisted, warped again—until the grotesque smile stretching across his face no longer resembled anything human.
“Tell me—how will he react when you die? Will he hate me? Will he mourn you? Or will he resent you for leaving him behind? Hahahaha! No, no—I already know!”
Edler threw his arms wide, shouting in rapture.
“His aimless fury will consume him, his hatred will gnaw at his flesh, and he’ll curse me—the already dead—while suffocating on his despair! Every moment, he’ll suffer and long for you until his dying breath. Because he takes after me! And when that moment comes, my vengeance will finally be complete!”
His mouth gaped wide, pupils dilating with manic delight.
He rejoiced—rejoiced at the thought of his own son’s torment.
