Chapter 205: Interlude – Undercut Story (3)

Once it was decided that they would join forces, everything else proceeded without a hitch.

Sylvia brought out the highest-grade potion and generously poured it over Beryl’s wounds to heal them, along with an apology for hastily throwing a dagger at her.

Seeing her like this, she seemed a bit high-strung but not a bad person.

As Gilphy had said, she just tended to react a bit violently whenever the topic involved her younger sister.

Well, it was understandable—if someone said your only little sister had been kidnapped by a massive organization and brainwashed, anyone would lose their mind.

Beryl sympathized with Sylvia’s feelings, and so, putting aside her resentment for being injured, she decided to cooperate fully.

However, there was a problem—Beryl was currently unable to give proper testimony due to a restriction spell placed by Sion.

Every time she tried to speak, her heart rate spiked wildly, disrupting her ability to talk.

At this rate, they wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation.

Before doing anything else, they needed to address this constraint.

With that in mind, Sylvia summoned one of her subordinates—a mage—to the base to lift the curse placed on Beryl’s soul.

Not long after, a man wearing a robe entered through the back door.

And the moment she saw his face, Beryl was so startled that she fell backward.

“Kyaaah!?!?”

Crash! A nearby chair toppled over with a loud noise.

Sylvia, standing next to her, and even Gilphy, looked at Beryl with puzzled expressions.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Th-that man…! His face…!!”

Beryl, pale-faced, pointed a trembling finger at the man.

His clothes weren’t unusual—just a dark-toned robe commonly seen around university campuses.

The problem was above his neck—where his facial features should have been.

The part that should have had eyes, a nose, and a mouth—the human “face”—was… completely blank!

“W-what’s going on with this guy!? He doesn’t have a face!

D-don’t tell me this mage you summoned is actually a faceless ghost or something?! Is that it?!”

“?”

“?”

Sylvia and Gilphy both frowned at the same time, looking like they had no idea what Beryl was talking about.

What the heck? Is this some side effect of the control magic?

“Are you drunk or something? What do you mean ‘no face’? He’s got eyes, a nose, and a mouth all in the right place.”

“?! You two don’t see it?! That completely empty face?!”

“What nonsense are you babbling…?”

Sylvia crossed her arms, clearly exasperated.

Seeing her reaction, Beryl grew even more confused.

Could it be… that she was the only one seeing this? Really? But why?

The mage—or whatever he really was—scratched his chin with a troubled expression and spoke:

“Hmm, it seems her condition is more serious than I thought. She’s showing some signs of hallucination.”

“Really? Is that even possible?”

“Control magic directly affects the soul. It’s not surprising that it might cause side effects.

It looks like this young lady is experiencing a form of prosopagnosia (face blindness). She’ll need treatment right away.”

“……..”

Beryl stared blankly at the man pretending to be a mage.

Was he really right? Was the strange one not him, but her?

It might be true.

Sylvia and Gilphy were interacting with him like nothing was wrong.

Meanwhile, Beryl had had her mind messed with by the cult, so maybe this was indeed a side effect.

But still… it was too realistic to be just a hallucination…

“Then, I’ll take her and perform the spell. Please wait here for a moment.”

“Alright. Be quick. I’ve got a lot to ask her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The man bowed politely to Sylvia, then escorted the still-dazed Beryl out through the back door.

And right after the door closed—

“Pardon me for a moment.”

“!?!”

The man casually placed his hand on Beryl’s chest and started to feel around.

Beryl’s face turned bright red from the sudden act of groping.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?! Move your hand! How dare you touch a woman like that—”

“I just need to check something. Please bear with me for a moment.”

With that, the man declared seriously (though Beryl couldn’t see his expression—only sensed the mood) and felt her pulse through his hand.

After about five seconds had passed, the man turned to Beryl and asked:

“Forgive the impertinent question, but have you recently had your heart pierced and then restored by someone else?”

“Eh…?”

Beryl made a flustered expression.

If he was asking whether that had happened, then of course—it had.

From her perspective, her last memory in Anatolia was of being struck in the chest by an arrow and collapsing.

She didn’t believe that had been a hallucination. Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could recall the sensation vividly.

But why ask something like that?

“Y-yes, I have. But why do you ask?”

“Is that so? Do you perhaps know who healed you?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but… probably the Hero? Among the three people who were with me at the time, the Hero was the only one with healing abilities.”

“…I see.”

Upon hearing her answer, the man removed his hand from his chest and stepped back.

Then, as if something greatly amused him, he covered his face with his hand and began to laugh, shoulders shaking.

“Heh, hehehe… I see. So using a creation spell can cause something like this.

Well, it is the heart, after all. It stores and circulates mana throughout the body. If it was directly repaired by him, then I suppose it wouldn’t be too strange for a lingering trace of him to remain. Hahaha…”

“!?”

Hearing the man laugh, Beryl instinctively took a step back. A chill ran up her spine, though she couldn’t say exactly why.

Aside from the fact that he had no visible face, which was creepy enough, the man didn’t give off any particularly overwhelming aura.

Unlike the pressure she had felt from Sion or Sylvia—those unmistakable signs of strength—this man had none of that.

And yet, Beryl felt that the threat he posed was equal to—or perhaps even far greater than—theirs.

It wasn’t about physical power. It was something more fundamental.

For example, Sion and Sylvia could kill Beryl in a second if they wanted to.

They could end her life before she even realized it.

But that would be the extent of it. They could only take her life—nothing more.

They couldn’t harm the core of who she was, the essence of her dignity and self.

This man, however, was different. The nature of the danger he posed was different.

She might be able to fight him. She might even win easily, if it came down to that.

But paradoxically, despite how weak he seemed, she had the terrifying sense that she could lose something far more than her life.

A fear that her very existence might be consumed—swallowed whole.

She knew it instinctively.

She must not accept this man’s help.

In fact, she must not get involved with him in any way.

Acting on that gut feeling, Beryl reflexively pushed off the ground and widened the distance between them.

From the man’s faceless head came laughter.

“Hahaha, there’s no need to be so wary. I’m your ally. I’m standing here right now to help you.
I understand I may look suspicious, but please believe me. I really won’t do anything except undo the spell.”

“…Really?”

“Of course. If you’d like, I can even swear on my name, right here and now. I truly won’t do anything else.”

“……..”

Despite his reassurances, Beryl’s wariness did not fade. Her instincts were screaming at her with blaring alarm bells.

She placed her hand on the dagger hidden at her waist and asked in a low voice:

“What’s your name? Who—what exactly are you?”

“That?”

The man rubbed his chin as if pondering deeply.

“Technically, I have thousands of names… But for you, I suppose I can reveal my true name.

You’ve caught the interest of that person, after all—enough to be considered valuable. Though I have no idea what it is that makes you so.”

“………”

‘That person again…’

Was he referring to Hero Sion, based on the context? But that couldn’t be right.

Sion didn’t seem like someone who would associate with someone this dreary and unsettling.

This wasn’t like Sylvia being Sion’s sister. That was different.

This man’s every movement provoked a visceral sense of disgust in her.

It felt like his very soul was… filthy.

“I’ve been called by many names over an indescribably long time,” the man said, spreading his arms dramatically like an actor.

“The Ancient Evil… the Demon of Contracts… the Worst Collector… the Pinnacle of Hypocrisy… I’ve heard so many insults, I’ve lost count.

It’s absurd, really. As if there’s another demon in this world more honest and upright than me.”

“But among all those slanderous names, there’s one I actually like.

A title bestowed upon me by one far, far above me—a name that pierces the very essence of my existence.”

The man removed his hat and bowed his head.

A twisted smile flickered across his face.

“‘Greed, Avritch Grad,’ at your service. Though I’m sure you’ll forget soon enough,” he added with a mocking grin.