.jpg)
That man.
The one called the Captain, the leader of this Horgan.
His mask was no longer visible. Strangely, the man's beautiful features blended uncannily well with this dismal basement. Rather than feeling out of place, the sight of him sitting abruptly on an old wooden chair in the center of a blood-pooled space, staring into the void, was like a painting set against the backdrop of hell.
Leaning back comfortably with his arms crossed, not even the sound of his breathing could be heard. Weasel turned his head in the direction of the man's contemplative gaze.
Something was certainly there, yet nothing could be felt.
That space was hidden within the darkest and most unpleasant shadow of the underground interior. As he approached as if possessed, he saw something collapsed against the wall, limbs bound in shackles. Weasel instinctively recognized what it was.
"Duke Libertan."
Only then did the man in the chair look over.
My god.
"Ugh!"
To think the source of this horrific stench was the corpse of Libertan. Weasel turned away from the pale, stiffened body, putting all his effort into suppressing the nausea rising in his throat. The corpse was so hideously ruined that he feared he might be cursed if he stared at it for too long.
"Is he... is he dead?"
"I wonder."
The man continued in a flat, emotionless voice.
"If you stare at him long enough, he occasionally wakes up with a dry cough. Just when it seems his heart has stopped, a very faint pulse continues. Sometimes he has seizures and talks in his sleep."
That corpse? That foul piece of trash, whose blood had already dried and was rotting away, could come back to life?
"I think he's dead."
Weasel felt like a fool for turning back out of curiosity. He shook his head violently with disbelief in his eyes.
"He—he must be dead. That's a corpse. There's no way he could be alive..."
Just then.
"Hey, shut your trap. You think we're staying quiet because we don't know? Stop bullshit and just give us the business."
A man roughly grabbed him by the collar and snatched the letter from his pocket. Weasel tried to take the letter back with trembling hands, but it was useless.
"Th-that needs to be confirmed by him personally..."
"Did I tell you to shut up?"
The man roughly tore open the letter and quickly scanned the contents.
"It's an Imperial Order to return to Makhachkala, Captain."
The man in the chair did not answer.
"Take a look at this too. This is the seventh death certificate. The seventh doctor also recognized this human as a corpse, didn't they? This is a corpse certified by seven doctors. It's trash. He won't wake up again."
"..."
"..."
"Chenko."
"Yes."
"Do I look crazy to you?"
"I'm not sure. But for starters, you don't look sane, sir."
The bold affirmation might have elicited a laugh, but the man, Valentin, remained fixed on the corpse hanging against the wall.
He didn't know when it might open its eyes again.
How many days had passed since he had left it like that, driven by that single thought? Maggots were already swarming the carcass. It wasn't a fact Valentin was unaware of.
The scent of rain clung to the air Weasel had brought in. Autumn rains in this region were violent. Imagining the fallen leaves piling up, he thought of Libertan, who had preserved his life by using young believers as shields.
He had been unable to escape on his own.
Dragging one ruined leg, he had run until he collapsed.
[How does it feel to flounder after losing a leg?]
Valentin was genuinely curious. Whether the feeling Libertan felt at this moment would be the same as the feeling he remembered from that moment.
[Trash... Do you know who I am? I am the only complete Emperor! Bow your heads, you traitors... For the crime of pointing guns at me, you shall live as Nicholas's slaves in hell for eternity. But I am different! All people must be equal. For the sake of you slaves, I shall wipe out the Imperial seed. Let us start a revolution. I am the Emperor, so follow me!]
Looking at Libertan pointing fingers in every direction, Chenko wore a deflated expression.
[He must have lost his mind from the lack of sunlight. How boring.]
Was that so? Valentin also found it boring. Looking at Libertan's pathetic state reminded him of his past self.
[Capture him alive.]
[Yes, Captain.]
The annihilation took place at midnight.
The dusty, wretched floor of a chicken coop at the Party Orphanage had been the entrance to the final stronghold. Every time he thought of Larisa's feet touching that door, it felt as chilling as a knife pressed against his throat. The four years he believed he spent protecting Larisa were, in truth, four years of driving her toward death.
Beside him, Larisa had never once been safe. What if Libertan had lost his judgment and set fire to the Party Orphanage in broad daylight, killing all the Horgan members who secretly accompanied her, and then kidnapped Larisa? What if his murderous intent toward Larisa had been greater than his grand ambition...?
Even after half a year, Valentin steadied his breathing against a vivid sense of self-loathing.
The rebels had been purged. Yet, Valentin was still anxious.
He did not know when a cruel god would try to take Larisa away again. Realizing this, he wanted to return to her as quickly as possible, yet he couldn't find the courage to go back. Fate was terrifying. And more than that fate, the existence of Larisa, who might disappear at any moment, was more terrifying.
Screeech.
Ignoring the scream of the rotting wooden chair, he stood up.
Approaching the shadow, he saw the wretched end of a silence that had departed for hell. Chenko was waving the paper and rambling about something, but it didn't reach Valentin's ears.
It was ten days after his capture that Libertan, sensing death, opened his eyes for the first time. The dying Libertan immediately recognized the bloodline that had come to visit him.
[Ivan, my son!]
As soon as his bound tongue found freedom, he uttered trashy words.
[You've finally come... my beloved son.]
[Bullshit.]
Chenko snorted loudly and warned Ivan.
[Don't be fooled, Your Highness. He's not a rebel, but a cult leader. When he regains a bit of sanity, he babbles about slaves, hell, and revolution; when threatened, he spills the identities of the remnants; and when things quiet down, he becomes a dog howling for food.]
[Chenko.]
[I apologize for overstepping, Captain. But shouldn't I say what needs to be said?]
Was it the pride of a biological father, or an instinct to trigger Ivan's sympathy? With an utterly exhausted face, Libertan brought up an old story.
[Do you remember? That day I carried you across the waterway, Ivan. Actually, there was something I really wanted to tell you. I didn't leave you behind in that castle...]
Ivan's face looked as if he had much to say in response to the ceaseless story, but he did not open his mouth recklessly. After a long silence, he left only a single word of farewell.
[It is quite ironic that the person who reminded me of the importance of family was you.]
After Ivan left, Libertan remained dazed for a long time. It was unclear whether it was the loneliness of an abandoned father or the regret of failing to persuade his son.
The second time the dying Libertan opened his eyes was the moment his remaining leg was also crushed.
[Mmmph! Mmgh! Mmm, kgh! Kghhh!]
Staring at the damp saliva wetting the corners of the mouth, Valentin revealed the inner thoughts he had kept in his heart for the first time since Larisa.
[I still limp often.]
[Kghhhmmph!]
[It's the foot you ruined. Remember?]
[Mmmph! Hmph! Hup, hmmmph, hup...]
[It's not as bad as you'd think. Because I can gain the Princess's sympathy.]
[Hhh...]
[If you are given a next life, you might have an opportunity like this. I thought it would be better if both were ruined, so I destroyed them all. Ah... perhaps you don't know yet. That foot ruined by a fall from a horse about 13 years ago. That was my work.]
Libertan fainted, unable to endure the pain.
.jpg)