WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B
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◈ Whispers of a Scheming Demon ◈
Chapter 118: An Uninvited Guest (2)
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Mamon Leonar, a knight of House Leonar and a member of the Royal Guard, sat in the Baron’s drawing room, staring blankly at the ceiling.
His eyes were vacant and dull.
His heart felt empty.
“...Father, am I doing the right thing?”
Mamon had always heard the same words from his father, Marquis Leonar.
“No matter the situation, act honorably and without a trace of shame. That is what a knight of House Leonar must do.”
Mamon had taken his father’s words deeply to heart.
Those teachings were his convictions.
He had lived by them until now.
Recently, things had been different.
He had committed quite a few shameful acts.
Because of royal commands.
The King’s personality had changed greatly of late.
The King, who had never shown any interest in politics, had suddenly begun acting like an old monster of the political world.
He schemed and plotted against the nobles.
As a Royal Guard knight, Mamon had no choice but to take part in the King’s schemes.
To obey royal commands, he had to abandon his convictions.
Today was no different.
A knight like Mamon had laid a trap like a hunter.
He had personally fashioned shackles to capture the Watcher of Narak.
There was nowhere for his prey to run.
Without even swinging his sword, Mamon would close in around his opponent’s throat.
Such methods did not suit a knight bearing the name Leonar at all.
Mamon let out a low groan.
Just as he was lost in thought, there came a knock at the door.
The drawing room door opened.
Johan entered, dressed in formal attire.
“Sir Mamon, you have waited a long time.”
Mamon, who had been sitting there blankly, immediately composed himself.
He could not let Johan see his inner conflict.
A stiff voice came from Mamon’s lips.
“His Majesty will be waiting. Let us depart at once.”
His gaze swept over Johan from head to toe.
Their eyes met.
Mamon was overcome by a strange feeling.
Something about Johan had changed.
More precisely, the weight that had surrounded Johan was completely gone.
Only moments ago, Mamon had certainly felt a degree of respect for Johan.
Whenever their eyes met, an inexplicable reverence had risen within him.
Johan was young, but his bearing was worthy of the head of a noble house and the Watcher of Narak.
Now, it was different.
The Johan before him was merely an ordinary brat.
He wore a solemn expression, but there was no depth in his eyes.
He seemed like a different person from moments ago.
The same appearance, yet an entirely different being. Mamon instinctively sensed that fact.
Johan spoke calmly.
“Understood. We cannot further disrespect His Majesty. Let us go.”
He stepped out of the drawing room.
Mamon quietly watched Johan’s back and muttered.
“...As expected, it seems he has used Verdan.”
That Johan was a fake.
Mamon was certain.
* * *
Mapheltan hid within Nightfall Immersion and watched the entire situation unfold.
He had overheard the conversation between the fake Johan and Sir Mamon, and he had caught every subtle change in Mamon’s expression.
Mamon knew that the Johan before him was Verdan.
Mapheltan clicked his tongue in the darkness.
‘So it was a trap after all.’
He could roughly see what was happening.
The King had deliberately placed Verdan in Johan’s hands and was steering Johan into using Verdan.
Why was the King doing this?
He could not be certain, but he could make a guess.
The King was trying to place shackles on the Watcher of Narak.
Using the pretext that Johan had dared send a fake in response to the King’s summons, he would likely pressure House Myatro.
The moment the fake Johan’s identity was exposed, Johan would have no choice but to pay for mocking the royal family.
He probably would not be punished.
The price would surely come in the form of political shackles.
The King had revealed his political ambitions, and the Watcher of Narak was the most useful piece in the current political landscape.
One question remained.
How could the King be certain that Johan would use Verdan?
In truth, that was the wrong question.
The King was not certain of anything.
He was merely testing Johan.
The King had first planted suspicion in Johan’s mind that a trap had been set.
Johan, having taken the bait, would surely provide some sort of response.
If Johan found the midnight invitation to the royal palace suspicious and used Verdan, the King would use that as grounds to shackle him.
Conversely, if Johan went to the royal palace himself, either without suspicion or after seeing through the King’s entire plan, the King would try to win over or recruit Johan of the Noble Faction.
In short, the King would be pleased if Johan took the bait, but he would lose nothing if Johan did not.
Johan, however, had only one option.
He became a demon at night.
He had no choice but to use Verdan.
Regardless of the King’s plan, he had to walk into the trap.
Mapheltan clicked his tongue.
‘...What a damned situation.’
The moment the fake Johan entered the royal palace, House Myatro would fall into the King’s grasp.
He could not allow that to happen.
He could not simply bide his time and wait for a later opportunity, either.
Mapheltan had always lived pressed for time.
He had no room to spend time on politics.
He needed a solution immediately.
Mapheltan’s mind raced.
One face immediately came to mind.
‘Ilea.’
A conversation he had shared with her flashed through his mind.
“I developed a spell using Belzarak’s illusions. Flawless, isn’t it?”
Ilea had developed a spell to cover up the disappearance of the third prince, Gawain.
The spell she created possessed the power to imitate a target perfectly.
It resembled the Mimic Authority at first glance, but there was one difference.
Ilea’s spell could not be forcibly undone by another person.
If Verdan’s Authority ceased to function when someone tore the skin from their face, Ilea’s spell could only be dispelled by its user’s own will.
Mapheltan needed Ilea’s power immediately.
He had to bring her to the Royal Capital.
If he flew at full speed, he could reach the Count’s territory in about an hour.
Mapheltan picked up a sheet of paper.
He quickly scribbled something down.
Then, from within the darkness, he placed the note in the fake Johan’s hand.
Buy as much time as possible.
The fake Johan gave a slight bow toward empty air.
They were already Mapheltan’s Thrall.
Mapheltan immediately left the estate.
After hiding himself within Nightfall Immersion, he raced through the skies over the Royal Capital.
The Holy Power barrier surrounding the entire capital blocked him only briefly, but it was no great problem.
Mapheltan was no longer a demon in an immature form.
He was a Horned Demon with two horns and the Twelfth Apostle of the End.
He could easily tear apart a weakened barrier.
Mapheltan ripped through the barrier and sped through the darkness.
* * *
At the lord’s castle in Staviana’s direct domain, the Count was drinking black tea after dinner.
A subtle yet deep fragrance spread through the dining room.
Ilea, seated across from the Count, savored the scent and spoke.
“It smells wonderful, Father.”
She had officially become the Count’s adopted daughter.
Ilea de Staviana. She was now the young lady of the most powerful house in the Kingdom.
The Count spoke.
“The taste will be different. When you first drink it, you will only find it astringent. A sharpness hidden beneath a sweet fragrance. It may be similar to first love.”
He greatly enjoyed metaphors and topics related to love.
Over the past week or so, Ilea and the Count had shared many conversations, most of them connected to love.
Ilea did not dislike the topic of love. In fact, she found it interesting.
It felt like giving form to something unknown and abstract that could not be grasped.
In a way, it was similar to learning magic.
Ilea took a sip of black tea.
“...It certainly is a little, no, very astringent. It is so different from its sweet fragrance.”
The Count chuckled.
“Is your relationship with Sir Johan not similar? The closer you get to him, the more the fragrance fades, until only the sharpness remains.”
Ilea slowly nodded.
Whenever she revealed her feelings, Johan always left her disappointed.
The sweetness vanished, and bitterness filled its place.
Ilea often sulked.
She sighed.
“That is true. I do not know what I should do.”
The Count smiled gently.
“Even this bitterness is part of black tea’s charm. If you savor it slowly, you will eventually find its sweetness. Love is the same. Even bitterness is part of learning about love. Do not give up, and continue knocking on your beloved’s heart. Of course, you must not be impatient. Leisure is essential to both tea ceremony and love.”
Ilea quietly studied her cup of black tea before taking another sip.
It was still bitter.
“It is difficult. I do not understand it yet.”
The Count smiled broadly, and the wrinkles on his face deepened.
“That is only natural. It is something that requires much effort and time.”
Ilea considered the Count’s words.
The conclusion was simple.
Take your time.
It did not suit Ilea’s nature.
Whenever she wanted something, she always did her best to obtain it as quickly as possible.
It was difficult for her to accept the Count’s advice.
Still, she intended to keep it in mind.
The Count was remarkably wise among humans, and love was the field he had studied all his life.
Ilea smiled softly.
“I will remember your words, Father, and do my best.”
The Count nodded.
“Before that, conquer this black tea. Tea ceremony is the foundation of social etiquette.”
Ilea was studying the etiquette of noble houses.
She had already mastered most of it.
She learned extraordinarily quickly.
In truth, even if she were placed among noble young ladies, she would not seem out of place at all.
Now, she only needed to refine her palate.
Ilea raised her teacup.
“I will keep trying.”
The moment she brought it to her lips, her brow narrowed slightly.
It was not because of the taste.
Ilea’s senses had caught a presence.
The Count chuckled.
“It is still astringent, I see. Let us stop here for today.”
Ilea smiled with her eyes.
“I suppose we should. It seems we have a guest.”
The Count looked puzzled.
“What do you mean? A guest at this hour?”
As soon as he finished speaking, a black shape swept past his eyes.
Crash!
The sound of breaking glass reached them a moment later.
A fierce gust swept through the room.
The Count’s white hair flew wildly in every direction.
The tableware on the table had been completely shattered.
The Count stared ahead expressionlessly.
Ilea had vanished.
Only a single note remained where she had been sitting.
The Count read its contents.
I will borrow Ilea for a little while.
He looked toward the window on the opposite side.
The glass had been completely shattered.
“...Hm.”
At the same time, numerous soldiers rushed into the dining room.
“Your Excellency! Are you unharmed?!”
“Are you all right?!”
“What in the world happened?!”
A great commotion broke out.
The Count spoke expressionlessly.
“A guest merely stopped by for a moment. There is no need for a commotion, so disperse.”
Night wind blew through the shattered window.
The Count gazed into the darkness and leisurely raised his teacup to his lips.
The soldiers merely exchanged wary glances.
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