[CHAPTER 117]
Last dawn.
Before meeting in the alley, Amalie had been regretful, saying she didnât want to send the guests away, especially Meyna.
But.
âSomething feels different now.â
Exchanging glances with Sera across from her, Meyna slowly looked around at the villagers.
They wore confident expressions, as if they knew the guild members would not refuse Amalieâs offer.
Holter was the same.
“You answer as the representative.”
He gestured to Caliph with his chin.
While everyone paused, he quietly put down his fork, continuing to eat alone.
All eyes turned to Caliph as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“We appreciate the hospitality, but we will return to where we lived.”
The villagersâ faces hardened.
“Is that so? Do the others agree as well?”
Amalie asked, her expression calm as if she had somewhat anticipated Caliphâs answer.
“Yes.”
Biterion replied.
“We came here to destroy the dungeon.”
“Then what about us?”
The elderly lady sitting to Amalieâs right asked in an agitated voice.
“If you destroy the dungeon, we will alsoâŚ!”
She gripped the edge of the tablecloth with trembling hands, about to add something, but Amalie blocked her mouth with a glance.
Biterion continued.
“We know why you served us a farewell meal. Last dawn, Sir Renox secretly gathered all the guild members and told them.”
Meyna looked at Caliph in surprise.
He had left, saying he had things to do, yet he must have gathered the rest of the guild and told them in advance without her knowing.
At that moment, the wall clock showed 8 a.m.
Then, people they had just met brought wine from the kitchen. In the silence, glasses filled with red wine were placed in front of each guild member.
Rob raised his wine glass high.
“If you drink this, they say youâll be bewitched by the magic and live here forever?”
The villagersâ faces twisted.
Biterion spoke over Rob.
“We are fully aware that the moment I choose that with my own mouth, all outsiders lose free will. So eventually, our souls will be taken by the locals.”
Tsk tsk. Holter clicked his tongue and slowly opened and closed his eyes.
âImpressive.â
He looked at Caliph.
“You even came to my gun shop to destroy the core of the dungeon. Isnât that right?”
Caliph remained silent, neither confirming nor denying, his lips firmly shut.
A bitter smile appeared on Holterâs face as he watched him.
âSurvived long with a dead body.â
Holter murmured to himself, slowly looking over the villagers.
âBy feeding on the souls of the living.â
His eyes deepened as if recalling a distant and long past.
Meanwhile, Amalie, anxiously watching her elder brother, began trembling all over.
She called the name of Holter, seated in the place of honor.
“Holter.”
âIâm tired of this life too.â
In the tense atmosphere, Holter looked at Caliph.
As if making a final declaration, he said.
“I will reveal the core of the dungeon.”
“No, no!”
Amalie screamed and leapt up.
“Ah! I donât want to die!”
“We must kill them, now!”
The villagers began shouting and panicking all at once.
At the same time, a acrid smell of gunpowder filled the entire house.
“Meyna.”
Caliph called Meynaâs name, gesturing for her to stand behind him.
As he slowly stood, all the guild members rose and formed ranks.
When Meyna stood behind Caliph, he picked up the wine glass. Lifting it overhead, he inverted it in midair.
The red wine spilled over the precious food, plates, and tablecloth.
Surprisingly, it smelled of blood.
“Ugh.” Sera pressed her hand to her mouth, grimacing in disgust.
As all the guild members followed Caliph, spilling their wine, the villagers moaned in agony.
“No, stop!”
“Huff⌠I-I canât breathe. Holter, please!”
Cough! An elderly man knelt, vomiting a huge amount of blood.
Amalie, her eyes streaked with what looked like tears of red blood, shouted at the villagers.
“Run immediately!”
At that moment, Madder, who had been silently observing, ran to the door. She pulled an old key from the inner pocket of her dress and locked the door.
“Kyaaa!”
Seeing Madderâs action, Amalie screamed in a piercing voice.
“Why does that key belong to that devil?!”
She grabbed her hair, and all of it fell at once, revealing her scalp.
With blood and pus hardened, the ghastly appearance looked more like the skin of a corpseâs head than a human scalp.
“Those devilish things!”
Someone among the villagers pointed at Biterion and Sera.
“Emperor Parker burned us!”
“Yes! They are our enemies!”
“They tried to rip apart our bodies to steal our souls! Just like they tried to bind and burn us!”
Meynaâs gaze wavered at the incomprehensible statements.
Caliph watched the scene without emotional disturbance, while Biterion lowered his eyelids, troubled.
Clang! Caliph dropped and shattered his empty glass.
As the guild members followed suit, the villagersâ bones began to twist grotesquely.
“Ah!”
“We have to run, now!”
Those with broken limbs rushed toward the door, but Rob cast a spell to block them.
Caliph drew his sword from its sheath.
“Kyaaa!”
“Theyâre going to kill us!”
Amid the screams and shouts, Caliphâs blade pointed at Holter.
Hmmm. Holter, groaning in pain with his eyes closed, slowly opened his eyelids.
He scanned the faces of the villagers, Caliph, and Meyna, and let out a heavy sigh as if resigned. He then pulled a gun from his chest.
“Put the sword away.”
He spoke to Caliph in a calm, commanding tone, part persuasion, part warning.
“I cannot allow that. Reveal what the core of the dungeon is.”
But Caliph remained adamant.
âThen I have no choice.â
Holterâs gun was aimed at Meyna.
Caliph pressed his lips together.
* * *
Jolly worked at the Wispoon Theater.
“Jolly Pepper. Youâve fallen on hard times. At my age too, and divorced three times.”
The proprietor of the Wispoon Theater, Madder Wispoon.
She possessed both beauty and a cheerful personality. People were always around her, praising her charisma.
Jolly had come to her because she had been chased out by her third husband with nothing left.
She thought Madder would take her in, despite her unattractive, unskilled, and hopeless self.
“Iâll feed you and give you a place to sleep. From today, help with the theater work. Iâll give you a generous weekly pay. Is that alright, dear?”
“Of course. If you decide it, Iâll do anything.”
Madderâs husband, Brown Wispoon, the theaterâs manager, said as he closed the ticket booth door.
“Then letâs live well together.”
They shook hands, and unknown tears flowed.
Thus began the connection between the Wispoon couple and Jolly.
The town they lived in was a remote village in the western continent, under the emperorâs rule.
Seeing outsider Jolly, the villagers whispered among themselves.
“How can Jolly be so unlucky and plain?”
“Itâs pitiful.”
“When His Majesty visits our village next month, he might chase her out if he sees her.”
It was early spring in March, when the flowers began to bloom.
The emperor, accompanied by the empress, traveled with dozens of subordinates.
