novelraw Chapter 11 Dark Spiral
Chapter 11 Dark Spiral
Stockholm, Scandinavia.
Cargo ships from Britain, Portugal, and even the distant East spewed steam, filling the harbor anchorage almost seamlessly like a moving steel mountain.
The Baltic winds blow, carrying not only the original saltiness but also the fragrance of tea, the richness of wine, and the aroma of olive oil.
The winch of the magic crane made a loud noise, startling the piercing cries of seagulls that mingled with the rough voices of dockworkers and the sharp haggling of merchants, creating a bustling backdrop to the capital of this northern kingdom.
A few blocks away, however, the Royal Theatre at Kaningholm Palace presents a different picture of prosperity.
The stage lights were dim, and the music was mournful, creating a somber atmosphere.
The young actor playing Pollux, son of Zeus, dressed in a pure white Greek-style robe, grieves as he holds the body of his brother Castor, his voice low and mournful like the sobbing of a cello.
"God of gods, wielder of thunder and lightning, supreme king of Olympus!"
"Please lower your gaze and listen to the cry from your demigod blood—if any of the stars flowing in this chest are of your divinity, let them become a bridge to carry me across the Styx River that separates life and death!"
"I do not wish to enjoy the immortal feast alone, but I beg that half of my eternal day be given to my brothers who have fallen into eternal night!"
The flags fluttered in the artificial wind, and the orchestral music suddenly soared, creating a thunderous and powerful atmosphere.
Offstage, the final act of "The Dioscuri Brothers" was reflected in the eyes of Lanto Rodman von Zaksmeiergen, the second prince of Scandinavia.
Zeus performed a miracle, granting the two half-brothers eternal life.
He curled his lip in an impatient gesture.
Before the actors could even take their final bows, Lanto turned impatiently to the First Prince beside him, his tone slightly stiff: "Brother, I must take my leave now."
The First Prince's gaze softened, and he gently shook his head: "It's still early. It's been a long time since we brothers have had a chat."
Having said that, Lanto could only suppress his impatience, sit up straight again, and stare blankly at the curtain that had already fallen.
With the new moon high in the sky, the actors and musicians dispersed in turn, and only then did the First Prince slightly raise his hand, signaling the guards and maids to all leave.
He spoke slowly and deliberately: "Lantor, do you understand why Father arranged this performance of 'The Dioscurians'?"
"I know, brother." Lanto lowered his head humbly, concealing the contempt in his eyes, and softened his voice:
"Father hopes that we can be like the brothers Pollux and Castor, sharing both glory and shame, and united as one."
The First Prince smiled with relief, his eyes softening further: "That's good. We share the same blood after all. Let those little unpleasant things from the past fade away with the wind."
"Furthermore," he paused, his tone becoming slightly serious, "you and the Queen of Bohemia are about to be engaged, followed by the wedding. Remember, your every word and action concerns the honor of the royal family. Maintain a proper distance from your maids; and as for those drugs, stop using them."
Lanto's face instantly filled with shame and gratitude, and he bowed his head deeply: "Thank you for your teachings, brother. I will remember them and never do such things again. If you have no further instructions, I will take my leave."
"Go."
As soon as he stepped out of the palace theater, the docile and humble facade on Lanto's face was instantly stripped away.
His face was extremely gloomy, and his steps were heavy and hurried as he walked silently toward the palace.
boom!
The door was slammed shut.
Like a wild beast that had been starving for a long time, Lanto pounced on the dressing table and took out a glass bottle and a syringe from a hidden compartment in the bottom drawer.
He deftly drew the cocaine solution from the bottle, aimed the needle at the vein, gently inserted it, and injected it.
The familiar pleasure surged through my body like an electric current, washing away the humiliation and frustration of the past.
Lanto let out a satisfied sigh and slid down to the ground.
But soon, the euphoric effects of cocaine amplified his suppressed anger.
His eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed the silver hand mirror from the dressing table and smashed it against the wall!
"Damn it! You're just a dancer's bastard! How dare you lecture me?! You old fool, you're blind! The crown of Scandinavia is mine!! It can only be mine!!!"
He staggered to his feet, frantically stomping on the shards of glass on the ground, as if they were the First Prince's bespectacled face, always bearing a gentle smile:
"Once I gain power in Bohemia... I will reclaim my throne! I'll throw you, you bastard, into the deepest prison... and torture you to death!!"
His mind flashed to his future wife, the jewel of Europe, and a fleeting look of infatuation crossed his face.
But soon, this obsession turned into vile jealousy and tyranny.
He gripped the heavy bronze lamp stand beside him as if it were the queen's neck, strangling it frantically: "You slut! You whore! You worthless thing that was played with by a lowly commoner three years ago! What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for?!"
He roared, straining his arm muscles to twist the lamp stand right off.
Even so, he was still not satisfied and forcefully smashed the half of the lamp stand on the ground:
"It's all your fault, you filthy bitch! You forced me to bow down and compromise with that lowly commoner! When I reclaim the throne, I will kill you all! Not a single one will be spared!!!"
The effects of the drug gradually wore off, leaving behind only a mess and an exhausted Lanto.
He was panting heavily, spat a mouthful of phlegm mixed with blood onto the ground, and swayed as he walked to the communicator: "Call someone to clean the room."
Thump. Thump.
A few minutes later, a soft knock sounded on the door.
A timid female voice came from outside the door: "Your Highness... I... I've come to clean the room."
"Come in," Lanto replied casually, then, remembering the First Prince's lesson, he pouted unhappily.
The door was pushed open silently.
A very slender young maid, about five feet tall, carrying a bucket and cleaning tools, carefully moved in with her head down.
Lanto's gaze was instantly and firmly drawn to it.
He stared at the waist-length silver hair, which shimmered faintly under the magic light, and raised an eyebrow: "New here?"
The silver-haired maid kept her head down and replied softly, "Yes, Your Highness."
"Lift your head up, let me see."
The silver-haired maid slowly raised her small face as he instructed.
In an instant, Lanto's eyes widened.
He doesn't usually have a penchant for young girls; he prefers voluptuous, mature women.
However, the maid in front of him was completely different. Although she was thin and frail to the point of being pitiful, her morbid fragility aroused his sadistic and domineering desires.
Her eyes were as beautiful as rubies, her nose delicate, her lips like flower petals, her features small and exquisite, and her snow-white skin as smooth as porcelain from the East.
The simple, unadorned black maid outfit she wore did not make her look shabby at all; on the contrary, it accentuated her pure and innocent appearance.
Especially that silver hair...
Lanto subconsciously superimposed the image of the Bohemian Queen in his memory, and a surge of desire rose from his lower abdomen.
"name."
"M-Mina..." the maid answered softly, her ruby-like eyes flickering uneasily.
"Mina? She looks like a cat."
Lanto had completely forgotten his teachings. He licked his dry lips, and a wicked thought quickly formed in his mind: "From now on, your name will be Ophelia, understand?"
"Yes, yes, Your Highness!" The silver-haired maid seemed startled by his sudden outburst, her body trembling slightly. "I, I am Ophelia..."
"Take off your clothes!" Lanto grinned lewdly, eyeing the maid with a licking gaze.
"...Huh?" The maid was stunned, her jewel-like eyes widening in confusion and bewilderment.
"I said—take off your clothes!" Seeing that the silver-haired maid did not react, Lanto's expression immediately turned fierce, and he emphasized his tone.
"...Yes, yes." The silver-haired maid bit her lip, her large eyes welling up with tears, making her look even more endearing.
She raised her hand with trembling hands and slowly unbuttoned her collar, revealing a patch of snow-white neck skin.
Lanto's breathing suddenly became heavy, his eyes were bloodshot, and he felt a clear throbbing pain in his lower body.
"Damn, what a seductive little bitch!"
Under the residual effects of the drug, he stood up abruptly from his chair like a wild beast driven by instinct.
The maid instinctively took two steps back.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." Lanto smiled maliciously and gradually approached.
"Your Highness...please stop..."
The silver-haired maid seemed frightened and retreated in panic, accidentally stepping on something scattered on the ground and falling backward.
Lanto growled and pounced on it impatiently—
"Don't be afraid... Ah... Uh ah?!"
He clutched his neck, curled up in pain, and let out a series of wheezing sounds like a broken bellows.
—A tiny pinhole appeared on the side of his neck.
"You, you..."
Lanto stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the "maid" who was now brushing the dust off herself and showing no fear whatsoever.
He wanted to call for help, to shout, but even making a complete sound became a luxury.
His vision blurred rapidly, and before his consciousness completely faded into darkness, the last thing he saw was those dazzling red eyes—
They shimmered with a cold, inorganic light.
"...?"
Erin put away the syringe disguised as a hairpin and kicked the second prince.
There was no response; the body was convulsing, and more and more white foam was oozing from the corner of the mouth.
He frowned.
What I just used was a "fifth-tier magic blocker" provided by Moriarty, which theoretically would only cause the magic circuits of a magician of the corresponding tier to temporarily go out of control and lose the ability to move.
But looking at this guy, he seems like he's about to die?
He quickly pulled out an earring-like ornament from a hidden pocket in the maid's skirt, put it on his ear, and infused it with magic.
This is an alchemical artifact created by Moriarty, employing numerous advanced chimera techniques, enabling long-distance voice communication.
"……professor?"
"What's wrong, Adler? Is there a problem with the plan?" A slightly distorted voice came from inside.
"Yes. After the target was injected with the blocking agent, he foamed at the mouth, turned purple, and fell into a coma."
"Heh..." Moriarty's contemptuous laughter rang out:
"These are signs of poisoning caused by an overdose of the inhibitor. It seems that the Second Prince's advertised fifth-tier strength is largely exaggerated. He has an alchemical ornament on him that creates false magical energy fluctuations. Find it and remove it, then tell me his true tier."
"it is good."
Erin closed his eyes and sensed the magical fluctuations in the air, quickly pinpointing the source—an inconspicuous obsidian cufflink.
After the spell on the cufflinks was removed, the Second Prince's true magic was exposed, like a beggar stripped of his fine clothes.
"Third tier".
With the resources that come with royal birth, it's truly a waste that he only reached this level at the age of twenty-four.
"Draw four-fifths of the light green potion and administer intravenously," Moriarty's instructions were concise and clear. "Also, the barrier will remain in place for another ten minutes."
"it is good."
As the new medicine was injected, the second prince on the ground convulsed violently and slowly opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the "maid" before him, his mind still a little muddled: "Who...who are you?"
Erin looked at him calmly, smiling as she resumed her original voice: "Your Highness is truly forgetful. You just gave me a gift with tremendous power last night, and you already don't recognize it?"
"A man...? You're a man?!" Lanto blurted out.
After a while, he finally deduced the person's identity from the silver hair, red eyes, and the words spoken earlier: "You, you're Erin Adler? Impossible! How did you get in?!"
You guessed right, but there's no reward.
Erin lifted her skirt, pulled a dagger from the strap of her over-the-knee stockings, squatted down, and pressed it against Lanto's neck.
The cold, sharp touch sent a shiver down Lanto's spine, and his handsome face turned deathly pale with fear.
His survival instincts kicked in, and he flashed an almost fawning smile, speaking rapidly: "I'm so sorry! I must offer you my sincerest apologies!!"
"Compensation! I must make amends for my previous rudeness and offense! Gold coins, magic crystals, alchemy materials—just ask, and I will do everything in my power to find them for you!"
Seeing Erin's expressionless face and the blade pressing down on his neck, Lanto's mind raced.
He had a sudden inspiration: "If you wish, my marriage to Orpheus... no, His Majesty Olmstan can be just a formality! Yes! You can be with her! Even in the future, your children can have the right to inherit both the Bohemian and Scandinavian kingdoms!"
"You're smart to back down." Erin seemed swayed by the suggestion, and his tone softened slightly. "Go on."
Lanto was overjoyed and continued to wag his tail and beg like a domestic dog: "I can even sign the most stringent magical contract with you! That way, I'll never be able to betray you!!"
"Okay," Erin agreed, and immediately put away the dagger.
"Oh, right," he said, as if remembering something, his tone flat, as if discussing tomorrow's weather, "why did you kill Jane Hawthorne?"
Lanto froze: "Who is that?"
Erin's expression remained unchanged: "The maid you sent to my side."
"Oh! You mean that lowly slave!" Lanto exclaimed, looking at him with a fawning expression. "Using the life of a lowly slave to bear witness to the agreement is truly disgusting! I apologize to you again!"
Erin took a deep breath.
He could sense that there was no hypocrisy in Lanto's words, but rather an air of self-righteousness.
It is taken for granted that
—I should be indifferent to the death of a maid.
The illusory thorns that once entangled my heart began to spread again, tearing open old scars and then piercing them deeply.
He gripped the dagger tightly.
"Adler, calm down."
Moriarty's voice rang out just in time, "Our goal is to create the illusion that he committed suicide out of guilt."
"...Yes, Professor."
"By the way," she added casually, "the third tube of emerald green medicine is very effective for sharps wounds, promoting rapid healing and leaving no trace. However, be careful to control the amount of bleeding."
"...Thank you for reminding me, Professor."
Erin chuckled softly.
The medicine, whose purpose wasn't specified, actually has this effect.
As expected of Moriarty, he even foresaw the current situation.
He raised his dagger, lifted the other man's clothes, and, under his terrified gaze, slashed open a wound on his abdomen.
The skin split open, revealing the fat underneath, and fresh blood slowly seeped out.
"Aaaaaah—!!!"
The enormous screams even made Erin's eardrums hurt a little, but fortunately, there was a magic barrier set up in advance, so the noise inside the room could not be heard outside.
Looking down at Lanto, who was lying on the ground, tears streaming down his face from the pain, his ugly state exposed, he looked down at him coldly, yet with a hint of satisfaction, and raised the dagger again.
"Cough, cough cough." Lanto forced a smile through the excruciating pain, "Please wait, please wait a moment... Although I attacked you, you're alright, aren't you? If you're not satisfied with the previous conditions, I can raise the stakes!"
"I'm very satisfied with your terms; this is just a small hobby."
Erin tilted her head slightly, her smile innocent and harmless: "Alright, I have one more question. If you can answer it, I'll let you go—tell me who the person I have the photo of is?"
The past between Erin Adler and the Queen of Bohemia is hard to hide; it can be discovered with a little investigation.
But no one would be foolish enough to publicize the existence of the photos.
The surveillance and poisoning that Lanto had previously sent Hawthorne to carry out also testify to this.
Thus, only one mystery remains in the entire "A Scandal in Bohemia"—
Who told Lanto about the existence of that photograph?
Lanto forced a stiff smile: "I...I don't know...the person who sent me the letter didn't leave any information...but please give me time! I will definitely find that guy! Yes, it was him! He's the one who instigated me to do this to you!"
The answer was exactly what Erin expected.
After all, unless that guy is an idiot, he wouldn't leave any clues.
He shook his head apologetically: "I'm sorry, since I can't answer that, I can only continue."
The dagger plunged back into the previous wound, slowly stirring the fat, the sensation like cutting butter with a heated knife.
"Ah! Ahh! Ugh!!!"
Lanto let out an even more piercing scream.
Erin calmly watched all this, continuing to toy with the greasy piece of meat in his hand.
Amidst the continuous wails, his eyes gradually narrowed into slits.
It's strange. Even though it was my first time killing someone, I didn't feel any guilt or horror. I only felt a sense of accomplishment, like cleaning up the trash in the room.
Today is such a good day, tomorrow will surely be even better.
That's what he was thinking.
Because from this day forward, there will be no trace of this man left in the world.
"Three minutes left."
Moriarty's voice pulled Erin back to reality.
He stopped what he was doing and took out the last two vials of medicine.
The icy gaze, as cold as an Arctic glacier, instilled in Lanto an unprecedented sense of fear.
A terrible premonition rose in his heart. He tried to resist, but his body was so weak that he could barely move. He could only watch helplessly as the medicine was injected into his body one after another.
The medication takes effect quickly.
The wounds on Lanto's abdomen healed in a few breaths, but at the same time, he also began to convulse due to the effects of another drug.
That was a tube of extremely concentrated compressed liquid magic, which would allow Lanto to experience the same pain as Hawthorne before he died.
With his last ounce of strength, he struggled to lift his head: "Tell me... why?"
"If I had to say something," Erin replied without looking up as he began cleaning up the scene, "it's because you killed Jane Hawthorne."
Was it not due to an attack?
Or was it because of her?
Lanto felt a sense of absurdity overwhelm him.
Wasn't she a spy? Why would someone want to avenge her?
He couldn't understand it; it made no sense at all.
He tried to argue, but could only make a hoarse sound like a broken bellows.
Soon, after a few violent spasms, his body finally stiffened completely and became still.
After confirming the target's death, Erin nodded in satisfaction.
He glanced at the corner before leaving.
There was a slight, unusual fluctuation of magical energy there just now.
Well, there's not much time left.
.
After Erin left, the shadow in the corner of the room rippled twice like water, and two figures with ashen faces emerged from it.
One of the figures, wearing a cloak and a top hat, looked at the contorted corpse and said in a trembling voice, "Your Highness, the person that child killed was still your brother! And it seems he discovered us! Besides, his mental state is definitely not right, is it really okay to just let him go like this?"
The First Prince's fingers trembled as he pushed up his glasses. "It's nothing. Rather, this child helped me."
The cloaked figure glanced at him: "Your Highness, you wouldn't happen to be like those priests...?"
The first prince rolled his eyes in response.
He slowly walked to Lanto's body, half-squatted down, and gently closed his foolish brother's eyes, which were filled with pain and incomprehension until his death.
Even trash has its value. Let me make one last use of you, for the blood that flows in your veins is the same as mine.
A vast amount of pure white magic power spread from his body, quickly filling the entire room and forming an extremely complex large-scale spell.
He looked at the figure in the cloak: "Then, let's begin, the penultimate deduction."
"Yes, yes, who asked you to pay?" The cloaked figure shrugged helplessly, concealing the magical fluctuations in him.
The First Prince sang softly
— "Apokalypsens Frigörelse·Paradoxens Orakl (Apocalyptic Liberation·Paradoxic Oracle)"