Chapter 79 …
“If this keeps up, everything will fall apart!”
But regardless of Viscount Noema’s state of mind, the club was in an uproar.
A hazy cloud of smoke hung thick in the air. Even though Paris Emporus had disappeared and the distribution of opium had been cut off, many still enjoyed mixing opium into their tobacco.
Scholars fascinated by black magic—followers of Viscount Noema—argued heatedly; elsewhere people played cards, and in another corner those drunk on alcohol and drugs brawled.
The secret venue, having lost its owner, had become an uncontrollable madhouse. And this wasn’t limited to this place alone. It was the reality of Daimon.
“And yet the administration is steadily returning to normal.”
For over twenty years, Viscount Noema had worked to achieve his goal.
He became the crown prince’s tutor to expand his influence, and behind the scenes he corrupted officials. In that regard, Paris Emporus had been his greatest trump card.
He had slowly shaken public sentiment—paralyzing departments within the royal palace, delaying administrative work, and making corruption seem natural so it could be exploited at any time. Yet all of it was now gradually being corrected. After Paris Emporus’s death, the chaos he had stirred—centered around the administration—was calming.
“Must I really try to win over that girl, Peristera?”
He agonized.
The one who had normalized the administration was the girl brought by the Second Prince.
Not only had she exposed Paris Emporus, she had proven her ability and been formally appointed. She was an eyesore.
He had even considered assassination. But it had failed. He could attempt it again, but with her guard now fully raised, success would be difficult.
The best method was to corrupt her as he had the previous administrators.
“Looks like things aren’t going well?”
At that moment, a hooded man sat down beside Viscount Noema. The viscount recognized him immediately.
“Hel. The Third Prince isn’t even here—are you fine wandering around alone?”
“He and I aren’t children. So what’s the answer?”
“That’s not something you need to worry about. I’ll accomplish everything you want. So there’s no need for concern.”
The look Viscount Noema gave Hel was almost paternal.
The viscount glanced at the red hair peeking out from the hood, then withdrew his gaze.
“I can’t help but worry. You couldn’t resolve the matter in the royal palace, so I even had to raise corpses. And from what I hear, all this chaos is because you couldn’t deal with a single girl?”
“I’ll bring her to our side. Since the Second Prince actively supports her, persuading her would deal a major blow.”
“And how will you do that?”
“I invited her father, Baron Iasis, this afternoon.”
Though his face was hidden beneath the hood, Hel’s lips pursed in impressed approval.
“I know him well. He’s the same kind as us. Once he sees corpses rise, he’ll join Daimon of his own accord.”
“Indeed. Even that girl called the Cold-Blooded Witch wouldn’t be able to suppress the organization her father belongs to.”
In fact, Viscount Noema had used this very method to make many people either turn a blind eye to Daimon or cooperate with it.
There were those who refused outright—even abandoning their families—but such people had disappeared.
Whether they fell under a black mage’s curse, became sacrifices, or ended up sprawled out ruined by opium… even he no longer knew.
“Then I’ll look forward to the results.”
Hel patted Viscount Noema’s shoulder and left. The viscount gave a bitter smile.
But once Hel was gone, he clenched his fist.
“I will grant everything you desire.”
Ivelyn was tailing her husband and Viscount Noema.
The two left the royal palace and boarded a carriage; Ivelyn clung to the back of it.
She recalled the conversation she’d had with her daughter earlier that day.
‘You absolutely must not let your identity be discovered!’
‘Of course.’
‘And you must not kill anyone recklessly!’
‘Honestly, what do you take your mother for?’
‘An active volcano?’
‘Listen to this child—no respect for her own mother.’
Though she had told her daughter not to worry, Rachel clearly didn’t trust her.
Ivelyn tried to recall whether she had ever done anything to make Rachel distrust her—but couldn’t think of a single thing, which made her feel even more upset.
Children grow up quickly. Ivelyn felt both proud and saddened that the daughter who once seemed so small had grown beyond her arms into someone handling great matters.
Back then, she herself had been a girl who loved swinging a sword—reckless and impulsive, saved only by belonging to the temple.
But unlike her, Rachel—though physically weak—was already weighing options and becoming an adult.
That made Ivelyn feel sorry that her protection had been insufficient.
Rachel’s youthful face, which looked just like her own, was lovely, but there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She only returned home after sunset every day; Ivelyn couldn’t even imagine how busy the administration must be.
With that tired face, Rachel had spoken firmly:
‘The place Father was invited to is dangerous. Watch over him and rescue him if things turn bad.’
Her daughter, who had taken leave from work, loved her family so much that she worried over her father—who had lived more than twice her years—and told Ivelyn exactly what to do.
There was no suspicion in her heart. Though Rachel had changed overnight last spring, Ivelyn trusted her.
Because the sorrow Rachel sometimes showed never looked fake.
‘After that, others will appear to handle things, so you absolutely must not be discovered. Just take Father and get out.’
‘I said I understand. How many times are you going to repeat it? You nag more than your father.’
Ivelyn answered lightly, but she could sense her daughter’s desperation and wanted to sigh.
Privately, she was relieved that she herself was strong. Otherwise, Rachel would have had to cling to someone else for help.
‘But what will you be doing?’
‘I’ll stay by Enoch’s side.’
Ivelyn, who had worried Rachel might be throwing herself into danger again, felt relieved at that.
During the Paris Emporus incident, Rachel had said she would stay beside a young man named Abis—yet somehow ended up at the very center of the 사건, witnessing the truth and exposing it herself.
How shocked she had been when she heard that afterward.
Ivelyn wanted Rachel to be protected somewhere safe.
Rachel was weak—physically and in strength—just like her father.
She had the advantages of agility and sharp intelligence, but those were suited for escape, not for fighting others.
Yet Rachel had stood against Paris Emporus and exposed his crimes one by one.
Ivelyn had an ominous intuition that her daughter might not live long, and it worried her.
Even so, she couldn’t clip her daughter’s wings just because the world was dangerous. It would be easier to eliminate every threat in Rachel’s path instead.
‘I’ll crush every danger that stands in Rachel’s way.’
Ivelyn smiled brightly in front of her daughter. Rachel, not knowing why, smiled back.
And so, Ivelyn had now arrived at a place that gave her a very unpleasant feeling.
The carriage stopped on a certain street. Though it was the capital’s outskirts, the area was strangely deserted.
Ivelyn quietly jumped down and hid between the alleys.
Soon after, her husband and Viscount Noema stepped out of the carriage. One particularly large building showed signs of heavy activity, and Noema led her husband inside.
“A club?”
When women held gatherings, they usually hosted tea parties. That was because women’s activities were restricted.
Among the nobles of Kudas, women who were active outside were viewed negatively, so their activities naturally remained confined within their estates.
Men, on the other hand, moved freely—forming connections at the academy in youth, then meeting through banquets, clubs, business, and more as adults.
Among these, clubs were common gathering places for male nobles. At the same time, they were places women could neither enter nor use.
Without moving from the alley, Ivelyn observed the entrance her husband and Noema had entered. Soon a man appeared and blocked the doorway as if denying entry.
“That’s awfully big for just staff. And…”
Her sharp senses picked up something strange about him.
He wasn’t breathing. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat. He was like a corpse.
“Those black mages are up to something strange.”
She couldn’t detect black magic directly, but years in the temple had sharpened her instincts.
She might not be able to find cursed objects, but she wasn’t foolish enough to miss something this blatantly unnatural.
“They said to tap it when I reach a suspicious location.”
Ivelyn tapped the crudely designed brooch Rachel had given her three times. It was an artifact that transmitted the wearer’s location to its paired counterpart.
Then she unwrapped the cloth bundle slung across her back and grasped one of the five swords.
After a short prayer, she sprinkled holy water on the blade and approached the building entrance.
Immediately, something not alive blocked her path.
“Those without permission may not pass.”
Ivelyn rested her chin on her free hand.
“You talk better than I expected.”
During temple missions, one occasionally encountered mysteries. Once she had seen walking trees in a forest, and they had carried a refreshing aura.
But the things before her now gave off a sharp, unpleasant smell.
“Your eyes look like they’ll burst any second, and your skin is unnatural. Let’s see…”
When Ivelyn moved her hand without retreating, they finally reacted and tried to attack.
But she stepped back and opened a vial of holy water, splashing it on them.
They collapsed weakly.
“As I thought—zombies made with black magic!”
This was Ivelyn’s first time seeing zombies in person. Since they were already dead, ordinary people stabbing or slashing them with swords would likely have done nothing.
After confirming what they were, Ivelyn immediately rushed into the building.
Powerful black magic required many sacrifices. The black mage who raised even one zombie must have killed many people.
How dangerous, then, must a place be if it used such zombies as guards?
Feeling the danger prickle across her skin, Ivelyn’s lips curled upward.
“Sneaking in without being noticed is going to be tough. Rachel’s going to nag me again, isn’t she?”
Her lips twitched as she followed the trace of her husband’s presence.
“It’s an honor to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
Henri was busy greeting people.
In the club basement he had come to at Viscount Noema’s invitation, there were many attendees. He didn’t know all their names or titles, but they were scholars he had seen moving about the royal palace. Among them were scholars as famous as Viscount Noema—and even a physician Henri respected.
“Your hair color changed.”
“The contract must be completely severed…”
Henri seemed too distracted to hear the murmurs, but Viscount Noema caught every word.
Henri didn’t know everyone here—but everyone here knew Henri.
Some knew him as Paris Emporus’s younger brother. Others had learned of him after he recently received his title.
Some knew him because of Peristera from the administration.
“He doesn’t seem to have the same personality as the Cold-Blooded Witch.”
“They say they don’t even run into each other at the palace. Maybe they’re not on good terms?”
Viscount Noema clicked his tongue at their loose chatter.
Intellectuals were curious by nature. Since he had deliberately gathered only scholars today to win Henri over, they were even more talkative than usual.
“I invited you here today not only to introduce these people—but because there’s something I wish to show you.”
“Something you wish to show me?”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes, of course.”
“But God merely created us—He does not watch over us. Have you never felt doubt while watching people struggle against illness?”
