ILLYML – 20.2

Author-nim, why are you playing with my emotions like this?!? 💀🙀🤯

Four days later.

“My lady, you received a letter.”

“Is that so? Let me see.”

When I stayed at the Agernia’s mansion, servants brought me what I needed from the Melford estate.

Igelto hadn’t woken up yet, so in the meantime, I had secretly transported Amalion detoxification materials to a spare room.

I checked the seal on the letter.

The letter was sent from the Imperial Palace.

I began to open and read the letter, feeling puzzled.

There wasn’t much content.

It was brief National Founding Day approaching, and the royal family was hosting a banquet. The letter was an invitation.

While reading the letter, my face became vacant.

The original storyline has begun in earnest.

***

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—!”

The man screamed without stopping, making a hoarse sound even when his throat was worn out.

His legs were weirdly twisted so he couldn’t run away, and his hands had been cut to prevent rebellion.

Before they were cut, he begged and implored earnestly not to cut both his hands, but it was all in vain.

What was even more horrifying was that they acted as if they had no objective for torment.

If it was to gather the myriad of information he had, the torture would have paused, questions would have been asked. If so, he would have asked for negotiations and found a way to get out of the situation safely.

But the way······. These men did nothing but torture.

“Oh……! Save me! Save me!”

The man shouted again, but all he came back were words that made him dishearten.

“Hey, it’s noisy, I’m going to cut the tongue.”

“Can you do that? The tongue wasn’t in the instructions.”

“Well…. can I say I forgot?”

Instructions?

He was getting more and more confused, but the man, Viscount Galen, quickly rolled his head. Is there anybody who has had a grudge against him recently—Baron Eaglin?

Whenever he had a deal with him, he had stolen some supplies, but he wasn’t caught, so he asked:

“…… did Baron Eaglin send you?”

“No, it’s me.”

A sweet voice that didn’t fit the dark basement entered.

Click, clack.

The sound of approaching footsteps filled the basement. Black shoes came into view of the bloodstained Galen.

“Ah, ···········.”

Why is this man here ·······?

He was familiar with this voice, but he denied it—that is until he checked his face.

Viscount Galen realized he was abandoned.

“D-duke, ············.”

Galen wanted to reach his master even if he crawled on the floor. That way, he could beg to be saved.

However, his arm, which is the means of crawling, was cut off, and his legs were twisted.

He couldn’t move.

“S-save me, please….”

Fortunately or unfortunately, his tongue was still intact.

“Oh. I forgot to tell them to cut your tongue.”

“Duke, please….. please have mercy on me.”

“You, there— what are you doing, not cutting?”

The two men, dazed by Alastair’s words, approached with torture apparatuses

“Duke! I will do anything if you spare me.” ······~! Please! So please be merciful!”

“Galen’s work.”

Alastair’s eyes curved into a smile. It was the first time that his amethyst eyes felt so terrible. Why did people think those eyes were beautiful again?

“There’s a lot of people who’ll do anything for me, even if you’re not around.”

“Well, uh–“

“There’s plenty that are willing to be your replacement, so you don’t have to try.”

“Why-why are you doing this all of a sudden?”

“You should have kept a better watch over the slave operation, Galen.”

Now Sir Hypron was involved. It would take him no effort to find out Galen was the owner. But if Hypron caught Galen, he may also find out that Alastair was also involved.

That was the problem, so it was a simple problem to be solved if Galen is killed— without the need of torture.

But there were personal reasons that led Alastair to get involved in torturing Viscount Galen himself.

Namely, exposing Serina to danger by allowing her to enter the slave auction and her encountering Sir Hypron Aitez. And that damned elf.

There were countless reasons, and they were all related to Serina.

“You’ve worked hard, Mr. Galen.”

The two other dark shadows loomed over Galen.

“No, no….. You can’t do this to me ····· Stop! Stop! Please, please….!

Afterward, the only thing that filled the torture chamber was a hot scream.

Alastair’s thoughts upon seeing the cruel sight of Galen’s tongue being slit were genuinely absurd:

‘Serina would hate it if I smelled like blood.’

I have no choice but to wash as soon as I leave.