WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

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◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 51

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Panteleon!

The corridor was bathed in a lurid crimson light, the colour of a butcher’s shop after a long day. Its old floorboards groaned underfoot, a sound that was almost drowned out by the rhythmic creak of bedframes and the mechanical moans of feigned pleasure.

“…”

This was just one of the many brothels scattered across Panteleon’s outer districts, a squallid establishment under the discreet management of the Haomun.

“Yuri.”

Haryeong’s voice cut through the noise. Walking a few paces ahead, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“An able-bodied man, entering a place like this alone in broad daylight… It’s bound to raise suspicions.”

“…”

“Do you have any idea how flustered I was, standing outside? I found myself wondering what in the world could have happened to you these past two years. What change of heart, what tragic turn of events, could have possibly brought you here?”

She stared intently at his face as she spoke, her gaze sharp and probing. Yuri let out a sigh, grumbling under the weight of her scrutiny.

“Didn’t you know exactly what this place was before you came looking for me?”

“What do you mean?”

“That this is a Haomun front.”

“I knew that, of course. What I didn’t expect was to find you having a private meeting with a one-eyed, ugly old man instead of a cheap prostitute.”

While not every brothel in the world was a Haomun enterprise, the cheap, shabby-looking ones almost invariably were.

“I was too embarrassed to be seen entering, so I scaled the wall,” she continued, her tone conversational.

“Do you know how shocked I was when I saw you through the window? I thought two years might have… completely twisted your tastes.”

“Could we perhaps just keep walking?”

Haryeong had stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, forcing him to halt as well.

The symphony of creaks and groans continued around them. She studied his embarrassed expression for a long moment before shrugging.

“I thought you wanted to hear more.”

“Enough with the nonsense. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.”

“Then let’s find something to eat.”

“So suddenly? Does this incessant sound of procreation stir your appetite?”

“I told you to stop with the nonsense,” he muttered, pushing past her.

Haryeong watched him go, then clapped her hands together once, the sound sharp and clean.

“You’ve filled out in the last two years, haven’t you? Taller, broader shoulders… and that back. Wow.”

“Wow, what…?”

“I’m not one to make things up.”

Two years of diligently training both his internal and external arts had left their mark. While he hadn’t become a hulking giant like Bakerd, his physique was far more powerful than the lean frame he’d had in Rutlan.

They left the dilapidated brothel and found a nearby eatery.

A man lay sprawled in the corner, his face a bloody mess. He was likely the source of the screams they’d heard from Guzen’s office. A glance confirmed he wasn’t dead, but his mouth was a ruin of shattered teeth.

“Your taste in restaurants is truly abysmal.”

“Would you prefer to choose?”

“I imagine every establishment in this district is of a similar standard. Besides, I am not so shameless as to complain about a meal someone else is buying.”

Her reply contained two points Yuri felt compelled to challenge. He found an empty table and held up two fingers.

“I’m buying?”

“You are the one who suggested it.”

“I have no money.”

“Well, you certainly look the part,” she said, sitting opposite him and resting her chin in her hands.

“Have you been so poor these past two years that you couldn't afford a change of clothes?”

“What are you talking about?”

“This robe. You bought it in Rutlan, did you not? Two years ago.”

It had been sleek and new then. Now, while not quite rags, it was frayed at the edges, its black fabric faded from the sun.

“It’s practical.”

“I see. And you must wash it well, as it doesn’t smell. Or is it enchanted with a cleaning spell?”

“Second,” Yuri said, ignoring her and raising another finger.

“Are you still a salsu?”

‘What is he on about now?’ Haryeong wondered.

She swiftly placed an order with the slovenly waiter who had sauntered over before turning her attention back to Yuri.

“Once a salsu, always a salsu.”

“This isn’t the marines.”

“The ma-what?”

“It’s a saying.”

“My, my. Now that I know you’re a transmigrator, you feel free to say whatever comes to mind, is that it?”

“Are you here to kill me?” Yuri asked, cutting through her banter.

He had learned two years ago that engaging with her absurdities was a path to madness.

“Hmm.”

Haryeong’s impassive eyebrows twitched. Her eyes, a fraction wider than usual, fixed on him.

“Why would you think that?”

“I can think of several reasons.”

“I suppose you could. But if my purpose were assassination, I wouldn't be sitting across from you, waiting for a meal.”

She paused, tilting her head.

“Actually, I retract that statement. If I had come to kill you, I would probably choose this exact method over a straightforward attack.”

“To make me lower my guard?”

“Precisely. You should be flattered, Yuri. My choosing this method would mean I’ve judged that a simple assassination attempt is unlikely to succeed.”

She could weave lies with practised ease, but in this, she was telling the truth.

From her vantage point outside the window, she had analysed him, considered the angles of attack, and concluded that killing this version of Yuri would be exceptionally difficult.

He was not only a high-circle martial fighter, a far more durable target than an artist of the same rank, but he also carried himself with the tension of a man who lived every moment expecting a knife in the dark.

“This may be less credible now, but I am not here to kill you,” she said.

“But you said, ‘once a salsu, always a salsu.’”

“Does every assassin in the world want you dead? You have a rather inflated sense of self-importance.”

Haryeong tilted her head again.

“I’ve answered your questions. Now it is my turn. Why were you not more surprised to see me?”

“I was surprised.”

“But not that surprised. Your reaction was far too subdued for a man who just had an old friend appear out of thin air.”

“I always assumed you might show up one day. I just didn’t expect it to be today.”

“And why is that?”

Instead of answering, Yuri drew White Fang from his belt and slammed its point into the wooden table.

THUNK.

The dagger stood quivering.

The waiter, arriving with their food, glared at it, then at Yuri.

“What are you looking at?” Yuri growled, glaring back.

The waiter lost the staring contest, grumbling as he set down the plates and retreated.

“Why take it out on him?” Haryeong chided.

“You’re the one who just stabbed a perfectly good table.”

“Judging by the look of this food, that bastard will be guilty the moment I taste it.”

Haryeong casually picked up a fork and tried a piece of meat, her expression unchanged.

“Death sentence,” she declared, then flicked a finger at the retreating waiter.

A tiny, almost invisible bead shot from her hand and struck his ankle.

“Agh!”

The waiter yelped, tumbling to the floor in a clatter, and Haryeong promptly ignored him.

“You are also guilty for bringing me to a place like this.”

“You’re getting a free meal from a pauper. You’ll eat it and you’ll like it.”

Despite her complaints, she took another bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“So, why did you pull out White Fang? Are you planning to carve your meat with it?”

Yuri didn’t reply, simply staring at her.

She continued to eat, unperturbed. After a few more bites, she dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief and finally spoke.

“So that’s how you knew. I see. A blunder on my part.”

“Does that game of yours have something like the Twin Fangs of Black and White?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then how?”

“I studied the magic on White Fang.”

Haryeong’s eyes widened slightly.

“Magic is not something one can simply see.”

“I can, if I concentrate.”

At first, the enchantments had been too subtle. But as he used the dagger, he grew attuned to its unnerving sharpness, its self-maintaining edge, and most usefully, its unerring ability to find its mark when thrown.

He had become interested in the magic itself, wondering if he could replicate it.

The attempt was a failure, however, in the process of analysing the spell formulae, he discovered one enchantment he could not decipher, a strand of magic that felt… different. Active.

“So you couldn’t decipher the magic itself, but you could tell it was there,” Haryeong mused.

“Yes.”

“To think I would fall for such an obvious leading question,” she sighed.

“I was fairly certain,” Yuri grumbled, pulling White Fang from the table.

“You stressed that I should never get rid of it. I even wondered if it was so you could track me down later.”

“Then why didn’t you throw it away?”

Haryeong’s eyes narrowed.

“If you suspected that, you should have discarded it. Why allow me to find you?”

“You told me not to.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“It’s a useful dagger. And I figured getting rid of it would cause more problems than keeping it.”

“Was it not that you believed you could handle me if I came for you?”

“I’m not that arrogant.”

“A wise choice,” she said.

“If you had discarded the gift I so earnestly gave you, I would have come for you. And it would have been as a very cruel salsu indeed.”

She paused.

“So. Why have you come to Panteleon? It’s not a tourist destination.”

“And I’m not a tourist.”

“I overheard you attempting to acquire an entry pass for District 4. Why would you want to go to such a dangerous place?”

“Do I have to share my business with you?”

“My, how your words wound me, Yuri.”

“Why?”

“Did I not say it before? I have very few friends.”

“So?”

“I considered you one of them. Was I mistaken?”

“I still haven’t heard why you are here,” Yuri countered.

“Did someone send you?”

“Such an inflated sense of self-importance.”

The corner of Haryeong’s mouth twitched into a smirk.

“I came of my own will. You can put aside any hope that Lady Elena is looking for you.”

Yuri’s expression soured, and Haryeong’s smirk deepened.

“You really were hoping, weren’t you?”

“Why did you come?” he repeated, his voice flat.

“No particular reason. I was curious what you’d been up to.”

He knew there was more to it. There was always more with her.

“Get closer for what purpose?”

“Let’s become good friends. We can help each other out. Just now, I saved you from being swindled by that badger.”

A deep sigh escaped him.

She was going to pick at him until she got an answer. Besides, it wasn't a secret he had to guard with his life.

“I’m looking for something.”

“What is it?”

“Heretics,” Yuri said, his voice dropping.

Panteleon’s outer districts were a melting pot for every wanted criminal and degenerate on the continent. And the most wretched part of it all was the 4th District.

It was precisely the kind of place where those who worshipped evil gods would make their nests.

“Hmm, heretics,” Haryeong repeated, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“And I’ll catch some wanted criminals while I’m at it.”

“For the money?”

“To get stronger.”

“Financially stronger?”

“Martially stronger.”

“What Circle are you now?”

“Secret.”

“When did you reach the 5th?”

“About half a year ago.”

The rapid-fire exchange concluded with Haryeong letting out a hollow laugh.

The Sword Dragon, Estor Orsia, a genius hailed by the heavens, reached the 5th Circle at twenty-one. Yuri was only slightly behind him.

“Yuri,” she began, her tone shifting, becoming serious for the first time.

“As it happens, I have a secret I must take to my grave.”

“What is this, all of a sudden?”

“I have never told another soul. But I feel I can tell you. Keeping it from you might damage the trust between us.”

“Well…”

A voice echoed not in his ears, but directly in his mind, sharp and clear.

[Are you, by any chance, the Young Leader of the Demonic Cult?]

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