Chapter 71

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!