novelraw Chapter 105 : Chapter 105
Chapter 105 : Chapter 105
105. Dead Shadow Cleaner
“Ilea, did you know? Sir Yohan intends to take wives beyond you. Several, in fact.”
The Count’s words fell, and Ilea’s face hardened to ice.
She asked, voice flat as wax,
“…Is it true, Yohan?”
Her eyes were unbearably cold.
Yohan felt a chill down his spine.
Since arriving in this world, it was the first time he felt true fear.
Even facing demons in the Abyss hadn’t been this terrifying.
Unconsciously, he stammered,
“If… if necessary, I can marry as many as needed.”
Ilea murmured, voice sinking,
“I see.”
Then silence. She seemed lost in thought.
The quiet stretched, until Yohan, restless, cleared his throat.
“Whoever I marry, you’ll always be first. You know we’re bound together.”
He had no intention of neglecting her.
She had given him far too much already.
No matter what wives came, she would always be his priority.
Her gaze sharpened.
“And what exactly does first mean to you?”
He said firmly,
“In every way.”
Her eyes narrowed further.
“Then keep that promise.”
Yohan nodded.
“Of course. No matter how many wives, you’ll always be the one above them all.”
The air thawed.
Her expression softened slightly.
She smiled faintly.
“Fine. Let’s leave it here today. Continue your talk with the Count.”
Yohan blinked.
“That’s all you came for?”
He had thought she came with business.
Ilea smiled again.
“Yes. I just wanted you to see me like this.”
She gestured at her ornate gown.
‘She has a girlish side after all.’
Yohan chuckled.
“It suits you. Clothes really do make the angel.”
She pouted.
“No. The hanger’s what’s good.”
He shrugged.
“If you say so.”
She spun around, feigning a sulk.
“I’ll go. Sorry to interrupt.”
The door slammed shut.
Only Yohan and the Count remained.
The Count folded his arms.
“Yohan, do you realize what promise you just made to that sorceress?”
Yohan frowned.
“What do you mean?”
The Count sighed.
“You just swore to love her alone.”
Yohan froze.
Then he broke into loud laughter.
“Love? Is that what you call it? Ha! Cromwell, your head really is full of flowers.”
To Yohan, the Count was a man drowning in “love.”
He had sacrificed countless lives to revive his dead wife.
The Count replied calmly,
“Then your head must be a desert—sand everywhere, not a seed of love in sight.”
Yohan scowled.
“Are you saying Ilea loves me?”
“At last, you grasp it. I see it clearly.”
Yohan sneered.
“You only say that because you don’t know her true nature.”
She was a witch. Witches knew nothing of “love” or “loyalty.”
Love requires sacrifice, understanding.
Witches were pure selfishness.
Their “affection” was only obsession, hunger to possess.
That was no love.
The Count said,
“True nature? If you mean the selfishness of magi, I know it well. But ordinary humans are the same. Love itself is selfishness.”
Yohan clicked his tongue.
“Then your wife too? Reviving her is only to sate your own desire?”
The Count answered instantly,
“Indeed. I almost made Yeriel a demon. Out of my greed to see her face again, I would have dragged her back to live in Hell.”
His “love” was obsession.
And he admitted it.
Yohan stared in disbelief.
‘So twisted…’
He thought the Count a romantic, but he was only a madman consumed by fixation.
“…Enough. I’ve no more to say to you on this.”
Their values were irreconcilable.
But the Count calmly continued,
“In the end, humans and love are selfish. One day, you’ll see.”
Yohan felt like he’d stepped in filth.
Why was the Count spouting this?
“Let’s get back to the real subject.”
The Count said,
“Marcano’s daughter, was it?”
Serena von Marcano—the girl with the Insightful Eye, and Yohan’s target.
Yohan said,
“Yes. Write me a letter of introduction for Marcano.”
With the Count’s letter, he could see Horenz immediately.
Serena would be there too.
The Count pointed to the stack of papers.
“Already written, for every council family. Take them.”
Prepared ahead of time.
Twisted though he was, in this he was reliable.
Yohan pocketed them.
“Housing and funds?”
“Arranged.”
He would need both in the capital.
Too poor still, he had to rely on the Count.
Yohan smiled faintly.
“I’ll repay you someday.”
The Count handed him another parchment.
“Of course. Here’s the loan contract.”
It listed the sum, date, repayment, interest.
‘…So he means to collect in full.’
No free favors.
Cromwell was a hard man.
Yohan tucked it away with a sigh.
The Count added,
“And take care not to cross Ilea. Indulge her as needed.”
Yohan thought they’d get along fine.
A witch and a madman—a fitting pair.
The Count said evenly,
“I won’t provoke a great sorceress. But how should I help her?”
Yohan shrugged.
“Just do whatever she asks. Letters, supplies—give her everything.”
The Count nodded.
“Very well. And the Dead Shadow?”
The underground city was his biggest headache.
He had once conspired with the Hyungshin Society there, but that was over.
With Yeriel’s true resurrection, he no longer needed them.
Yohan said,
“As I told you, it will vanish. Ilea is likely moving already.”
Her first mission was to erase Sa-yeong.
The Count said,
“Not a trace must remain.”
Yohan smirked.
“Don’t worry. Your stain will be wiped clean.”
The Count rose.
“Good. Now go. I’ve work to catch up.”
Two uninvited guests today—Yohan and Wolfgang.
His schedule was in ruins.
Yohan stood too.
“Next time I’ll send word ahead.”
The Count’s face was stone.
“A promise you won’t keep.”
Yohan chuckled and left.
He headed straight toward Marcano.
***
At the mouth of an alley leading down to Sa-yeong, Ilea walked with her hood drawn low.
Her eyes were shadowed.
“…Why did he say that?”
She had nearly lost control with Yohan earlier.
His talk of many wives had shaken her.
“It’s nothing, really. If it helps him, it doesn’t matter.”
So she told herself.
But it stung.
The reason was simple—her possessiveness over Yohan was growing.
It was her nature as a witch.
Once interested, they dug deeper and deeper, until obsession consumed them.
Yohan loomed ever larger inside her.
It was instinct—unavoidable.
“…Will he come to hate me?”
That she could not allow.
She would rather die.
Her sigh was broken by a rumbling voice.
“Well now. A rat survives. I thought I butchered a lot.”
She looked up.
A hulking figure stood at the alley’s end.
Short white hair, a body of corded muscle, beast-like eyes, the stench of blood.
Not an ordinary man.
She knew at once.
She asked coolly,
“You have business with me?”
The giant grinned wide, wrinkles deepening.
“If you’re a mage, then plenty.”
“I am. Speak.”
His gaze sharpened.
He clenched his fist.
The air cracked and warped.
She tensed.
This one was beyond human.
He said,
“Sorry, but I’ve no words for mages.”
In a blur, he shot forward.
The air behind him buckled.
His massive fist slammed toward her gut.
The explosion came after.
But she hadn’t moved an inch.
His fist was frozen solid.
Ilea said,
“Dead Shadow was full of mages. Did you greet them like this too?”
He grinned savagely.
“I killed them all. For my worthless son-in-law.”
She smiled.
“Then you’ve done my work. Thank you.”
He stared hard.
“What’s your name, girl? It’s been fifty years since one stopped my blow.”
“You first, elder. Your name?”
He chuckled.
“I am Wolfgang Eisenpelt.”