WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

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◈ Whispers of a Scheming Demon ◈

Chapter 13: Sacrifice of the Impure Formation

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Scritch, scritch.

Betra sat in a dark corner of her room, biting at her nails as if she were having a nervous breakdown.

She was terrified. She could not forget Ilea’s eyes from that evening. Eyes as black as a bottomless abyss. The boundary between pupil and sclera had vanished, leaving them horribly unnatural.

They resembled the gaze of the demon she had seen in the royal capital long ago.

“...That bitch is a demon.”

Or perhaps she was possessed by a ghost. No ordinary human could harbor such malice.

Having seen Ilea’s true nature, Betra could no longer remain in the lord’s castle.

She had to leave before she was devoured.

As soon as dawn broke, she planned to leave the territory.

Her youthful days had passed, but her body was still fresh, and her sensuality had ripened beyond what it had been in her youth.

Some lord in the countryside would take her in.

She would start over.

“...Fuck.”

Reason and emotion were separate things. A runt of a girl had driven her from her nest. Anger rose apart from her fear. Her resentment slowly diluted that fear.

Why should she have to leave?

She liked this territory.

As long as she pleased the baron, the castle was no different from a playground. The tribute maidens she treated as toys were always replaced when they broke. The servants treated Betra as though she were the lady of the castle.

Where else could she enjoy such luxury? In the lowly life of a prostitute, she would never find another heaven like this.

The little power she had enjoyed until now held Betra in place.

She bit her nails irritably.

‘I can’t let some newcomer push me aside.’

She needed a way to drive Ilea out instead.

It would be difficult to ask the baron for help as she usually did. With Ilea now backed by the baron’s favor, it could bring needless consequences.

She needed another solution.

As she pondered deeply, a path forward suddenly flashed through her mind.

Betra curled one corner of her lips.

A perfect cure for destroying that possessed bitch. The Church of the Great Saint. The Great Saint Church, demons’ natural enemy, would see through Ilea’s true nature.

If Ilea truly was possessed, she would be locked in a monastery under the pretext of treatment. And if she was a demon contractor, she would be strapped to a rack and flayed alive.

Either outcome would be good, but the latter was far more appealing.

The moment that pale skin became a mass of blood and flesh, Betra might truly feel salvation.

She began to cackle like a witch.

Tomorrow morning, she would formally report Ilea to the church through a priest. She would tell them that a demon contractor had appeared.

The church would surely dispatch an Anti-Demon Order to the territory.

Inquisitors, holy knights, exorcist priests, priests of the Punishment Division, and more. People as vicious as demons would judge Ilea.

“You wicked bitch. That pretty face of yours will rot away now.”

The pleasant fantasy drove away her anxiety and fear. Within days, the castle would become Betra’s world again.

Smiling, she climbed into bed. Just as she was about to seek a good night’s sleep...

Click, click, click.

A dull noise came from beyond her door.

The doorknob moved at irregular intervals in time with the sound.

Betra abruptly sat up.

‘Someone is outside.’

It sounded as if they were trying to open the door.

She had locked it because she had felt especially uneasy today, so the door did not open.

“W-Who is it?!”

No answer came.

Only the rhythm of the noise grew faster.

Click, click, click, click, click.

The doorknob shook wildly. Soon, it began jerking up and down like mad.

Betra’s face turned pale.

The fear she had buried rose to the surface.

Just as she was about to scream, the noise stopped all at once. Silence suddenly descended.

The wildly rattling doorknob slowly turned.

Creeeak.

The door opened slowly with the sound of old wood grinding.

Betra’s eyes trembled violently.

“I-Ilea...?”

A silver-haired girl stepped through the doorway. Her blue eyes were colder than usual.

“You locked the door, Mother.”

“Y-You knew that, so why did you force your way in?”

“Because I need you.”

“You need me for what...?”

“More precisely, I want your body.”

Betra frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, Ilea began walking slowly toward the bed.

“Don’t come any closer! Speak from there!”

Ilea smiled gently at the shrieking Betra.

“What are you so afraid of?”

“I know your true nature! If you come any closer, I’ll scream!”

The lord’s knights and soldiers would rush here at once.

Ilea stopped, looking troubled.

“My true nature. It seems you have seen through my identity, Mother. So what did you see?”

Tension appeared on Betra’s face. As if she had resolved herself, she suddenly shouted.

“...A-A demon. You’re a demon!”

She wanted to shout for everyone to come and capture the demon, but for some reason, no sound came out.

Like a scream underwater, her voice drifted around her and scattered.

“Everyone is asleep. It would be rude to shout so loudly.”

Betra frantically felt around her throat.

At some point, she had become unable to utter a single word.

Something lodged tightly in her throat was choking her.

Betra desperately began to retch. Perhaps the effort worked, because black smoke poured from her mouth like vomit.

She howled like an animal.

“You wicked demon bitch! What are you doing to me?!”

“You have the wrong idea. I’m not a demon. Would you lower your head? You seem to have mistaken me for that.”

The smoke Betra had vomited was taking shape. A living, writhing mist. Black demonic energy reshaped itself into the form of a grotesque old woman.

“Could the demon you met before have been that child?”

Betra had seen those pitch-black eye sockets through Ilea before. Was the deep shadow she had seen then truly the gaze of a demon?

Betra convulsed as she muttered,

“Y-You really were a demon contractor.”

“No. I’m a witch. And you are the sacrifice.”

The Old Crone Spirit ran its tongue up Betra’s cheek.

She could not even scream. Before extreme terror, humans turned as rigid as stone.

“Come. Let us go to the altar together.”

The Old Crone Spirit scattered into smoke again and seeped into Betra’s body.

Her eyes were covered in a pitch-black shadow.

She had been possessed.

Ilea looked out the window. Tonight, the moon glowed with eerie brightness.

She made the holy sign toward the full moon.

“Saint Marziel. Your original sin has taken root. Please keep watching.”

* * *

Descending the spiral staircase leading to the basement, Johan was lost in thought.

‘Has Ilea arrived already?’

According to their contract, she would have prepared the magical power and sacrifice for the Corruptive Formation.

If all went according to plan, Kazan’s Ring would be corrupted tonight.

The moment the sacred relic became a cursed object, Johan would evolve.

But Johan could not know what form would emerge, or what authority would awaken.

There were no examples to draw from.

A white-horned imp. No demon in the novel had possessed a single horn from birth. Not even the Apostles of the Apocalypse had enjoyed such a privilege.

Nor did the power called Dream Demon help Johan discern their identity.

There were quite a few demons who wielded Dream Demon.

There were too few clues to guess Johan’s species.

Johan had no choice but to learn who they were through direct experience.

‘It’s difficult to make plans for the future when I don’t know what I am.’

Johan had been worrying about that often lately, but no solution came to mind. For now, it was best to focus on what lay before them.

If luck was on Johan’s side, perhaps a clue or two would turn up tonight. In exchange for corrupting the sacred relic, another power would awaken.

Having sorted out those thoughts, Johan spoke.

“Raguel. Sit here for a moment.”

The blind boy, who had been feeling his way down the stairs, stopped.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask. Just wait. It won’t take long.”

Someone would die in the basement tonight. Not an ordinary death, but a human sacrifice. It might be too great a shock for a frail boy.

Raguel, noticing Johan’s intention, lowered his head.

“Do we really have to do this? Even if Betra is evil, dying that way is unfair.”

“Whether Betra is evil or not does not matter to me. She is simply suitable as a sacrifice. Do not misunderstand. This is not a judgment.”

“I-If you truly mean that, wouldn’t it be far more efficient to use one of the tribute maidens as the sacrifice? You chose Betra because you do not want to hurt them either, didn’t you?”

Clicking their tongue, Johan jumped down from Raguel’s arms.

“You are trying to judge me by your standards. I am not human. I am a demon who intends to devour this castle. Betra is an obstacle, and I merely wish to dispose of her on this occasion.”

Johan began descending the stairs alone. Walking and running were easy enough now.

“B-But...!”

“Enough. I do not wish to hear any more of your hypocrisy. You cannot even stop me, so you do not even have the right to complain.”

Perhaps it had struck home, because Raguel stiffened. With his head lowered, he could not say a word.

Johan swallowed a groan and headed into the basement.

* * *

“You seem to be in a bad mood.”

Ilea had already arrived in the study.

“I am no different than usual.”

“You insolent little imp. Don’t put on airs for no reason.”

The Old Crone Spirit picked a fight with Johan, but Johan did not even respond.

The conversation with Raguel had been enough pointless talk.

‘...Did I push him too hard?’

Thinking of the boy, who was likely feeling discouraged, left Johan with an oddly unpleasant feeling.

Ilea tilted her head and looked down at Johan.

“Johan?”

“Where is Betra?”

Shaking off those thoughts, Johan went straight to the point.

“She’s over there.”

Ilea pointed at the Corruptive Formation with her index finger.

The Old Crone Spirit spoke with displeasure.

“You came late, so that bitch woke up. She was so noisy that we had some trouble.”

Betra lay face down atop the grotesque formation, a gag wedged in her mouth.

Her eyes trembled.

What in the world was happening in this castle? Demons, witches, a Corruptive Formation, and an unfamiliar space. Everything around her was too bizarre.

She wanted to scream, but the tightly secured gag would not allow it.

Just as Johan was about to approach her, footsteps sounded behind them.

“I told you to stay on the stairs.”

It was Raguel.

“I-I have a responsibility too... I don’t want to avoid this on my own. Please let me stay.”

“You will be complicit in an evil deed.”

“It is better than becoming a coward.”

“So much for going to heaven.”

“From the moment I made a contract with you, heaven was already beyond my reach.”

Johan gave a faint laugh.

“Well, do as you wish.”

It was an extremely awkward exchange for a demon and their contractor.

That was why Ilea found it interesting.

“This is amusing.”

The Old Crone Spirit looked displeased.

Johan pointed at Betra.

“Are you just here to watch? Stop standing around and do your work.”

There had been enough needless chatter. It was time to activate the Corruptive Formation.

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