He imagined stripping Yi Gyeol of his clothes, pressing his
lips to the traces left on that body.
He had never been interested in men before. To be precise, he
had taken men and women alike into his bed for the fleeting amusement of
satisfying his desires, but beyond that, he had never harbored any emotions. He
had always believed Sethian to be the same. And yet, upon realizing how similar
they were in that regard, he found himself strangely unsettled.
Perhaps that was why.
He did not know how often it had happened, but the thought of
Sethian keeping Yi Gyeol in his bed, holding him through the night, filled him
with an inexplicable urge to do the same.
‘There is no need for that anymore.’
Soon, there would be no one left to scrutinize and compare
each and every detail. And yet, why did he still feel compelled to imitate? Was
the life he had lived, dictated by the will of others, truly so terrifying to
abandon?
With a bitter smile, Zair let his gaze wander around his
laboratory.
It was not a large space, but unlike the rest of his life, it
was unmistakably his own. A place untouched by Sethian’s influence.
Lately, he had begun making small changes to the other rooms
as well—adding furniture, changing the wallpaper. It would have been easier to
destroy everything and start anew, yet the deep-rooted habits of living under
another’s will prevented him from making such drastic changes. That was why,
despite it being his own space, he never felt entirely at ease.
In contrast, this laboratory—built purely by his own will—was
the only place where he truly felt at peace. Here, he conducted all matters
that did not require a public face. Here, he communed with spirits in secrecy
and commanded them as he pleased.
Zair rose from his seat and approached a wall draped with
curtains. Pulling them aside, he revealed a multitude of glass jars, each
containing a white butterfly. At his presence, the butterflies fluttered toward
the glass, as if greeting him, their delicate wings beating against their
prisons. Their voices had been sealed away along with their souls, leaving
behind nothing but eerie silence.
His gaze drifted across the jars, pausing now and then at the
empty ones. There were more than thirty vacant jars in total.
‘Should I increase the number of hosts?’
There were already plenty of possessed individuals under his
command, but against Sethian, he could not afford to be complacent. Though Sethian
had fallen into his carefully laid trap this time, Zair could not shake the
nagging suspicion that his adversary was maneuvering beneath the surface,
preparing a counterattack. To mitigate that risk, he had assigned one of Sethian’s
most resentful attendants to keep a close watch on him.
Using spirits for surveillance was an option, but all the
perfectly brainwashed souls had already been implanted into those sustained by
possession drugs. Moreover, Sethian could hear the voices of spirits. He had
not yet developed the ability to see them, but if one of them spoke carelessly
and exposed even a fragment of the plan, it could provide him with the very
clue he needed to unravel everything. That was a risk Zair could not afford.
“If you give the order, I will personally kill Crown Prince Sethian
at any time.”
The attendant had been consumed by fury ever since Sethian
severed his hand and had it presented to the Emperor as a tool of coercion.
When Zair fed him fabricated evidence that Sethian had conspired with the other
princes to weaken the Emperor by supplying him with poison, the old man had
been so overwhelmed with rage and despair that he wept. Zair had found it
curious—why did he hold such loyalty to that decrepit ruler? But his blind
hatred made him all the easier to exploit.
The Emperor’s attendant would kill Sethian on command,
knowing full well that his own life would be forfeit in the process. After all,
the Emperor he adored had little time left to live anyway.
‘But not yet.’
Zair had no intention of killing Sethian immediately.
Separated from Yi Gyeol, the man would begin to wither, growing weaker as his
vitality drained. The effects of the drug would only intensify. Eventually,
despair would consume him, realizing that unless he submitted to Zair as his
new master, he would waste away and die.
For that moment to come, Sethian had to remain alive. Once Zair
became Emperor and claimed Yi Gyeol as his own, then—only then—Sethian would be
executed in his prison cell, slain by the very attendant whose hand he had
severed, his body left to grow cold against the unyielding stone walls.
Imagining Sethian’s lifeless form within the icy confines of
his cell, Zair could not contain his laughter. He rarely laughed even when he
wanted to, yet now, it came so effortlessly—an intoxicating mix of euphoria and
satisfaction.
Stifling his mirth behind one hand, he turned away, resolving
to accelerate the reeducation of his spirits. He stepped past the curtained
shelves and approached a towering bookcase that appeared immovable, its shelves
lined with heavy tomes.
With a smirk still tugging at his lips, he reached for a
particularly thick book and pulled it free. Instead of revealing the back of
the shelf, the movement exposed an intricate locking mechanism embedded in the
wall. Producing a key, he inserted it into the lock and twisted. A soft click
resonated in the quiet room.
After replacing the book, Zair pushed against the bookcase.
It, which had seemed immovable before, now slid aside with ease, revealing a
hidden chamber beyond.
The secret room was larger than the visible laboratory,
though still smaller than an official study. A single beam of light stretched
into the darkness, illuminating a massive cylindrical glass tank filled with
liquid. The substance inside was so dark that even its color was difficult to
discern.
Zair’s gaze settled on the countless pale forms floating
within. Despite the thick, murky liquid, these forms gleamed with an unnatural
glow—their outlines clear even in the dimness. They were white butterflies. Not
a handful, but thousands.
As the door swung fully open, the color of the liquid became
apparent.
“Ugh… ughhh…”
A faint groan echoed from above. Suspended over the tank was
a man, his naked body bound and hanging upside down. He was in a horrific
state, his flesh carved open, as though someone had been deliberately drawing
out his blood.
“Aaah…! Hhh…!”
At the sight of Zair, the man convulsed, his body trembling
violently. Weak as he was, all he could do was sway helplessly in the air, his
movements only quickening the flow of blood dripping down into the tank.
“Eager to die, are you?”
Such struggles would only hasten his end.
With an amused smirk, Zair stepped closer. The tank, now
fully visible, was filled nearly two-thirds of the way with crimson blood—far
more than any one person could provide. The stench of iron permeated the air,
yet Zair remained unfazed.
Ancient runes, painstakingly inscribed, covered the glass
surface of the tank. Even for Zair, deciphering them had required immense
effort. He traced a fingertip along the etched characters, feeling the grooves
beneath his touch.
‘It will be completed soon.’
Only a little more blood was needed. Another three or four
victims should suffice.
Zair lifted his gaze, taking in the towering height of the
container.
Ever since he had discovered Yi Gyeol, he had envisioned
using him to mass-produce an army. But to sustain such a force, he needed vast
quantities of life force.
As Zair’s soft laughter intertwined with the dying man’s
feeble moans, a golden butterfly hidden in the shadows quietly dissolved into
the darkness, vanishing without a trace.
END OF THE CHAPTER
Sorry guys, i was busy!
i will try to keep up and post one chapter every week!
