Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 39: Tears
Salaar froze in place, his nose buried in Myss’s long hair.
Strangely enough, Myss didn’t smell the same as that slave.
In Young Master Karns’s memories, the slave had carried a sort of beastlike odor. Even after being washed spotless for sale, he still smelled of that tense, sweat-soaked animal scent.
Myss didn’t have that smell. Perhaps it had something to do with the effects of magic? Salaar wasn’t sure.
He only knew that Myss smelled warm, a little like white bread softened in milk. It was the same sort of living, vibrant scent, but instead of calling to mind some cornered beast at the end of its rope, it made people feel at ease.
“The instant you lose control, I’ll annihilate all of Semper… This, I promise.”
Myss whispered into his ear.
…That gentle breath brushed against him, and Salaar snapped fully awake.
What was he doing? He had actually been craving perfection in front of the Chaos Archdemon—
Humans had once been so clumsy, so desperate, only seeking the faintest chance of survival in the Night Scourge. Staying alive was victory enough. Salaar had never looked back.
And just now, he had been foolish enough to fuss over details and chew on irreparable trivialities.
“I’ve been affected,” Salaar judged on the spot.
Myss let go of him, his face full of disdain that plainly said you don’t say. “Yeah. Getting influenced by who-knows-what that easily is seriously disgraceful.”
“Our situations should be about the same, so why are you fine?” Salaar scrutinized Myss up and down. “No, maybe you’ve been affected too. You just haven’t noticed.”
Myss opened his mouth, intending to angrily denounce Salaar’s slander. But then he thought of that subtle self-doubt he had felt when they first moved in and hesitated into silence.
“As I thought.”
Myss’s hesitation didn’t escape Salaar’s eyes. He rubbed his chin with interest. “My mental resilience shouldn’t be any weaker than yours. So maybe it’s a matter of mindset… You don’t possess any basic sense of shame…”
Oh, now he was really getting into it, was he?
Myss threateningly spread his arms into the shape of an embrace. Seeing Myss’s intimidating pose—which resembled nothing more than a puffed-up chick—Salaar finally burst out laughing.
“Oh, let me guess.” Salaar wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. “There’s no way you’d ever genuinely reflect on yourself. Even if there were a problem, you’d think, ‘It’s all that bastard Salaar’s fault,’ and then feel perfectly at ease.”
Myss crossed his arms, righteous indignation written all over his face. “Because that’s the truth.”
“Right, right. So if I screw up next, that’s just an unavoidable consequence of being constantly intimidated by you.” Salaar smoothly tossed the blame right back. “With someone like you by my side, the fact that I’m still alive is impressive enough. How could I possibly do everything perfectly?”
“Mhm. It’s all your fault,” Myss agreed.
“What are you talking about? It’s all your fault,” Salaar countered.
“Yours!”
“Yours, all yours. Don’t be shy.”
Everyone knew that throwing responsibility onto one’s companion was a shameful thing to do. If the people involved had any sense of face at all, they would have to endure the torment of conscience.
Fortunately, enemies didn’t have that sort of moral dilemma.
The two of them muttered accusations at each other, yet the atmosphere turned strangely light.
“…Which means I really can’t leave your side now,” Salaar said with exaggerated sweetness. “If you weren’t here, who would I blame for my mistakes?”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Myss bared his teeth. “What a pity. I can only tolerate you dragging me down.”
The ragdoll cat Apple looked at the “arguing” pair in confusion. In the end, it decided to brush figure eights around them both, soothing each one in turn.
That night, Salaar sealed every gap in the bedroom, then lay back down in bed in a relaxed mood.
Curled up to the left of his pillow was Apple, fresh off duty. At his feet slept Cinnamon, on the early shift. Draped over him like a soft Archdemon blanket was Myss, comfortably nestled between Salaar and the quilt, asleep in the blink of an eye.
The orange cat Butter stood guard by the bed and had even thoughtfully prepared a ball of yarn and some dried fish on the bedside table in case boredom struck.
That night, both of them slept incredibly well.
Whether the Dragon Fae had given up or simply couldn’t enter the Red Amber for the time being, he never appeared again before sunrise.
Myss slept to his heart’s content and refused to let go of his heroic cushion. Salaar decisively used the magic menu to order breakfast, ringing the service bell so the attendants would bring it to the room. It was a perfect chance to show off Young Master Karns’s decadent excess, and he was more than happy to stay in bed with Myss.
Their breakfast was soft berry cream pancakes, omelets mixed with crisp diced vegetables, and a strongly refreshing mint tea sweetened with plenty of sugar.
The cats received carefully prepared steamed fish mash and crumbled egg mixed with fish oil. All three cats ate delightedly, their throats rumbling continuously with happy little purrs the whole time.
Still, for all their enjoyment, the two of them hadn’t forgotten the important matter at hand—
“I found a family in a strange state.” Father Kalen’s voice came from behind the badge. “I ran into a Persian cat that had only recently started living as a stray. It was the one that told me. Very similar to Cinnamon, the family that abandoned it was noble too.”
“So you’ve started looking into things like that. Looks like there aren’t that many abnormal deaths after all.”
Smack. Salaar blocked Myss’s fork. The Archdemon had just launched a sneak attack on the raspberries sitting on Salaar’s pancake.
“That’s right. There have been fewer death cases than I expected, and they’re limited to nobles.”
Father Kalen said, “According to the cats, commoners are only passionate about buying scraps of blood amber or collecting inexpensive art. None of them have died in those bizarre ways. But…”
“But?” Salaar lost focus for half a second and failed to stop Myss’s assault. His raspberry died gloriously. In retaliation, he snatched a piece of fried egg from Myss’s plate.
“But everyone is abnormally concerned with how others evaluate them.”
Father Kalen’s voice sank lower. “People who own more collections earn higher regard among their neighbors. Quite a few families have even gone into debt to buy things they can’t afford.”
Myss paused the breakfast war. “Isn’t that just paying for validation? Nobles ought to live more easily than that.”
Commoners could only ask for an artist’s signature or a model’s hair. As long as nobles were willing to spend, they could truly buy the works themselves.
And yet it was not the commoners who had gone mad and died in grotesque ways. It was the nobles.
“To be honest, that’s the part I don’t understand either.” Father Kalen said plainly. “I didn’t come from a noble background, so I don’t know how they think… In any case, I’m going to visit that strange household in my capacity as a priest. They shouldn’t refuse me.”
“Oh, right. Their son works at the Red Amber. His name is Danny—no, Danton Domini. They place tremendous value on that.”
That was rather convenient, Salaar thought. They had only just encountered that Danton yesterday.
“We’ll keep an eye out,” Salaar said. “We’ll contact you later. Please be careful, Father.”
Kalen thanked him. He didn’t sound troubled by the “Perfect Ideology” issue at all. It was hard to tell whether he had simply not been affected, or whether the Shadow God was once again blocking the contamination for him.
Salaar cut off the communication and tried to resume the breakfast war.
Unfortunately, he was too late. The Archdemon had already constructed an impregnable defense. Myss had both hands wrapped protectively around his fried egg plate, pancake clamped in his mouth, eyes full of vigilance.
……
On the first day of work, the two of them decided to keep a low profile.
The Red Amber’s work area was just as extravagant as its residential area. Salaar even had a studio with a plaque bearing his name.
The room was incredibly spacious, its floor-to-ceiling windows facing the sun, and it came with a separate dressing room for models. From layer upon layer of gorgeous formalwear to silk undergarments that barely covered the essentials, it had both men’s and women’s styles, everything one could possibly need.
Unfortunately, all of those clothes were decorated with gemstones. Myss remained in the set from Mr. Anti’s house, sitting on the model’s chair in complete boredom.
Salaar’s charcoal pencil moved in swift strokes across the paper, and his work attitude actually looked fairly convincing.
“Looks like you haven’t been affected much.” Salaar spoke while sketching a draft. “Excellent. My condition is stable too, which means we still have a fair amount of time to investigate.”
“That means the food is fine.” Basking in the warm sunlight, Myss melted into the chair.
“That pancake was really good. Wonder if they’ll have it again tomorrow… Anyway, what are we investigating today?”
“The mail collection room? Or asking around with other people? Or maybe figuring out what that Dragon Fae is up to?”
“We—” Before Salaar could finish, a roar sounded from outside, followed by crashing sounds of easels toppling over.
That roar sounded a little familiar.
Myss and Salaar exchanged a glance, then instantly dropped their work and rushed out to investigate.
…Yes. That roar had indeed come from Danton Domini.
Unlike the two of them, who had joined halfway through, Danton and his painter occupied the best position in the work area. Their studio was semi-open and broader than the drawing room of a small noble’s house, with all its luxurious furnishings on full display.
Under ordinary circumstances, that was a silent form of boasting. At this moment, however, it left their secrets exposed beyond concealment.
To accentuate his figure, Danton was wearing a body chain of pure gold, along with a strip of white fabric loosely wrapped around himself, plus a lovely decorative short sword. A female model beside him was dressed in much the same way. She had an equally splendid figure, and lips as vivid as rose petals.
By the looks of it, the painter had been creating a piece on the theme of “Perfect Love.” A draft was already outlined on the canvas: a pair of lovers meeting in a garden, the young woman lightly throwing herself into her beloved’s arms.
Yet at this very moment, the two models stood as far apart as enemies, unwilling even to let their gazes meet.
“Why does she get a full face while I only get a profile?”
Danton glared at the painter, his handsome face boiling with rage. “What kind of ‘Perfect Love’ is this supposed to be? I’m just acting as her supporting role!”
“By the Rhythm God, just look at your build!”
The female model’s voice was sharp. “You take up way more space in the composition than I do, of course I need more face time!”
Danton laughed in fury. “This isn’t about ‘more face time.’”
“Anyone can see that you’re closer to the center of the composition, and you’re wearing four more gemstones than I am! …Completely unfair. Did the two of you make some kind of deal?”
“Listen, there’s this thing called composition. This painting has to have a sense of story, and the jewelry and styling have to suit the story’s theme.”
Dragged into the fight, the old painter joined the argument too. “What, do you expect me to paint the two of you wearing identical clothes and jewelry, standing side by side and holding hands? Who would like that kind of trash?”
“You’re the so-called great ‘Master,’ not me. I’d never presume to instruct you.”
Danton gave no ground. “But I’ll state this much clearly. I will not act as a foil for this newcomer. You absolutely cannot depict her more than me.”
The old painter drew in a long breath. “You’re thirty-two years old, Danton Domini. Your figure is already going badly. I have no interest in ‘focusing on’ something like that.”
“In a few more years, no one will want to paint you at all. You will never become ‘first-rate’ in this lifetime. I’m the one who should be complaining that you’re dragging my painting down.”
Danton froze. He instinctively rubbed at the blood amber on his body chain, fingertips trembling slightly. He looked as though he wanted to deny it but couldn’t come up with a rebuttal.
The onlookers—especially the younger models—let out quiet snickers that sounded like something cracking apart.
“You mean…” Danton turned his wet eyes toward the old painter. “You mean I can never go any further… I can never become a ‘perfect model’ in this lifetime…”
The white-haired painter sneered. “Go look in a mirror. Can’t you see your own white hairs?”
Beside Myss, Salaar’s body suddenly tensed, like a beast catching the scent of blood. Myss turned to him curiously, but before he could ask—
Thwack!
Blood sprayed everywhere. Danton’s body crashed heavily to the floor. He was holding that decorative short sword in his own hand, and it had neatly opened his throat.
Everything happened with extreme speed, so fast that it didn’t even look like a moment of impulse, but something planned long in advance. Bright red blood splashed across the canvas and palette, slowly sliding downward.
Amid the screams, the female model’s anger disappeared.
Her expression went blank, then was flooded with despair. Tears rapidly filled those beautiful eyes.
“My God, he was just arguing with me a moment ago.” Her lips trembled, and tears rolled down like pearls. “This stain will follow me for the rest of my life… By the Rhythm God, everything is over…”
Her helpless gaze swept across the room. The people she looked at all stepped backward, as though she were some terrible contaminant.
At last, she numbly sank to her knees beside Danton’s twitching corpse, making a gesture of prayer. Just when everyone thought she was about to mourn him, she seized the short sword and drove it deep into her own chest.
The bloodied point pierced through her heart in an instant. Eyes slightly widened, the young woman collapsed onto Danton’s body.
This time, no one screamed. The entire scene fell silent. The two pools of blood merged into one beneath them, slowly spreading outward.
“…Oh.”
The old painter let out a long breath, the first to break the silence.
“Don’t move them, whatever you do! This is truly the blessing of the gods. This is the best composition possible—!”
The painter’s cheeks flushed with the kind of red one saw from drunkenness. He tore up the draft of “lovers’ meeting” and instead began sketching a scene of lovers committing suicide together.
“Perfect love,” the old painter muttered excitedly. “Perfect love! Why didn’t I think of it before…”
Salaar’s gaze swept over the two corpses. He pulled Myss a little closer to himself, his face unreadable.
Myss, meanwhile, stared fixedly at the bodies.
The instant the two of them died, their Magibase vanished completely, leaving not the slightest trace behind, as though they had never existed.
Mina also absorbed Magibases very quickly, but there was still a process of gnawing them away. These two… their Magibase hadn’t been gnawed down. It was more like they had been swallowed in a single gulp.
That wasn’t a good sign.
It meant that whatever was feeding on the Magibases here was far more powerful than the “Fallen Child.”
The blood on the floor gradually cooled. Human voices around them slowly returned.
Myss listened with half an ear, and what he heard were excited whispers like, “This is huge news!” “The inside story of famous people’s deaths!” “I’ve got to tell my relatives in the capital!”
Suddenly, a figure parted the disturbed crowd.
It was Mr. Anti. He stopped at the edge of Danton’s blood and looked down at the two beautiful corpses.
“I must take Danton Domini away.”
He turned to the painter and spoke in a tone of pure business. “Mr. Domini signed an additional agreement with the Red Amber. If he should die unexpectedly during his work period, I am to make him into a specimen for display by the Red Amber.”
“If he isn’t handled soon, the condition of the body will worsen. I hope you understand.”
“What about my painting?” the painter said, dissatisfied.
“You may preserve the image with a magic artifact.”
“How could one of those ever compare to the real scene?” The old painter shook his head fiercely. “Fine, then, if there’s an agreement… You’ll at least leave me the girl’s body, won’t you?”
“Yes. You have until daylight is over. Her body will be taken away at midnight.”
The farce drew to a close, and the crowd dispersed reluctantly. No one was panicked or afraid, as though the actions of those two dead models were utterly ordinary… as though those deaths, that blood, and those tears were all nothing more than delicate sweets served alongside tea.
“All right. I think we can draw a conclusion now.”
Salaar spoke in a low voice. “The people outside aren’t normal. The people here aren’t normal either. The whole of Semper has gone a little mad.”
“Yeah. The thing this time is definitely harder to deal with than Mina.”
Myss muttered, “You didn’t see it. The two of them lost their Magibase instantly, like they’d fallen into a hole.”
“It looks like we need to pay another visit to Mr. Anti. He’s clearly very familiar with ‘employee deaths.’”
Salaar lowered his eyes. “And after something like this, the administrators never showed themselves. It was him arranging the aftermath. He’s probably not just some simple taxidermist.”
And they just so happened to have the perfect excuse: the “messenger from the Karns family” Mr. Anti had mentioned. Who knew if that person had arrived yet?
Suddenly, at Salaar’s feet, Cinnamon let out a loud hiss.
Salaar instinctively twisted aside, yet didn’t perceive any attack from the Dragon Fae. Instead, Myss’s long hair twitched, and there was now an additional suspicious strand of rose gold among it.
“Ceasefire! Ceasefire!”
The Dragon Fae clung to Myss’s ear, shouting in a thin, urgent voice. “Hey, I’m requesting a ceasefire!”
Myss, Salaar: “…?”
Salaar’s fingers silently curled around Knife. “Go on.”
“The slave Myss is wrong; Kendrick Karns is wrong. Even Antis is wrong!” The Dragon Fae’s voice was full of panic. “This place—this damned place—is especially wrong!”
“I… I can’t leave the Red Amber Collection Hall!”
……
Near the Red Amber Collection Hall, noble residential district.
“You simply must try this, Father.”
An elderly woman pointed to the teapot a maid had set down. “It’s the newest fashionable tea from the capital, with the fragrance of sacred wood. You’ll certainly like it.”
Kalen nodded honestly and offered a smile of thanks.
According to the family cat, this elderly couple’s emotions were under such strain that they bordered on the neurotic. And yet at the moment, the two of them looked kindly and benevolent, their moods utterly relaxed.
“It seems you used to keep a cat.”
Kalen’s gaze flicked to a claw mark on the corner of the table.
“Yes, sadly, we did.”
The old woman’s expression shifted, then settled into one of regret. “That cat wasn’t obedient at all, and it shed terribly, so much that it made it hard for me to breathe at night. Such a pity. I used to dote on it.”
“We need a better cat. It must be nobler, more obedient, quieter, and… more suited to this household.”
She stroked the blood amber brooch pinned to her chest, a large glossy piece that was clearly worth a fortune.
She looked as if she wanted to say more, but a male servant entered the drawing room with a courier, interrupting her.
“This is the Red Amber’s dedicated courier. My apologies, but we must deal with his business first.”
The old gentleman introduced him to Father Kalen, his tone carrying faint pride.
Then he solemnly cleared his throat. “…Has something happened to Danton?”
Father Kalen held his breath and listened closely.
“Mr. Danton Domini committed suicide half an hour ago. In accordance with his final wishes, the Red Amber will preserve him as a specimen.”
The courier recited it all in an even tone. “I have come specifically to deliver permanent admission passes to the two of you. Once the specimen is complete, you may view it at any time, free of charge for life.”
Father Kalen: “…?”
The death notice was too absurd. For a moment he didn’t know how to react at all and could only look apologetically toward the elderly couple.
Almost at the exact same moment, the husband and wife covered their mouths. Their eyes reddened, and tears slid down the wrinkles in their faces.
When they lowered their hands again, a chill rolled down Kalen’s back. Their tears weren’t sorrowful. They looked more like… excitement? Relief?
“My God, I’m so proud of that child.”
The old woman wiped away tears. “Every night I worry. What if he offended someone? What if he took up with some improper lover and a scandal broke out? …What if he grew old and became a third-rate model? What then…”
“But now he has turned himself into a legend! An immortal legend!”
The old man embraced his wife and kissed her forehead. “My dear, the work Danton left behind will be a final masterpiece. Our son will live forever in praise. Tonight we’ll finally sleep soundly…”
After kissing his wife’s forehead, he began kissing the blood amber ring on his own hand, his excitement entirely genuine.
The Red Amber courier wore a comforting smile. “The painting Danton left behind is bound to become an extraordinary masterpiece passed down through generations.”
As though what he had brought wasn’t news of death, but of joyous tidings.
Kalen felt as though he was sitting on needles. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “I won’t disturb this, ah, important moment any longer. I’ll come visit again another day.”
“Of course, Father.”
The old woman said it while choking with sobs. “May God bless you.”
“This is a small token of our appreciation. Your visit brought good fortune to this household…”
She slipped a ring set with blood amber from her finger and handed it to Father Kalen.
Yes. I certainly could use a little divine blessing right about now, Kalen thought.
He forced a smile as he took the ring. The instant the blood amber touched his skin, the ring on his left hand turned into a branding iron, scorching his flesh.
Clink. The blood amber ring fell to the wooden floor.
It spun in circles with a rattling little sound, finally coming to rest between the old couple’s tearstains. In the sunlight, the blood amber flashed with lucid, flowing light.
Like a single tear of blood.
The author has something to say:
Good News: The Dragon Fae has temporarily surrendered.
Bad News: He’s trapped inside the Red Amber.
Good News: There are three adorable cats at their side.
Bad News: Every human around them is insane.
Good News(?): the Archdemon and Mr. Hero might be even crazier(?)
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