The Snow Queen

I lifted his auburn hair and played with it for a while. Then, I casually slipped my hand inside his shirt. Redfox flinched.

“W-what are you doing…?”

What do you think?

“I hope you’d allow at least this much.”

At my teasing remark, Redfox looked like he was struggling to hold back from saying something.

Redfox had a determined personality. But I was a thousand times more determined than him. No one could beat me.

I know. If I touch you here, you’ll like it.

I carefully caressed his nipple, patiently waiting for him to relax. Since we had come this far, I had no intention of turning back quietly.

But in consideration of your situation, I’ll stop at a reasonable point today.

I smiled to myself.

My mood had been terrible since the morning. Emillen’s scandal had blown up into a big issue, but it wouldn’t last long. How pathetic it was to see Lord Wolfscott overjoyed by such trivial things. After lazily scouting 42nd Street again today, I headed to Snow White, planning to have a good time all night to lift my mood.

On my way there, I spotted two people arguing in the midst of a snowstorm. A fat, bald man was grabbing Redfox’s hair and beating him up.

What the hell is this? I quickly parked my car and jumped out.

The bald man’s loud shouts filled the street, claiming that Redfox was his wife and a debtor. My temper was already at its limit, and something snapped inside me.

I strode right up and yanked the bald man away from Redfox. I landed a punch straight into his gut. His swollen belly, as if he were pregnant with nine children, caved in from the force. With the same fist that had left multiple holes in 20-kilogram sandbags, I repeatedly struck his stomach. By the third or fourth punch, the whites of his eyes were all that remained. Every time my fist connected, I could feel his organs bursting inside his bloated belly. I shattered everything inside, leaving him unable to function as a human.

In the middle of it all, Redfox grabbed my waist and tried to stop me.

That only made me feel worse. I lied to him, saying that this wouldn’t kill the guy, and continued to crush the bald man. I especially focused on his crotch, ruthlessly and thoroughly stomping on it. The sensation of his testicles bursting and flattening under my boots was thrilling. After that, I broke his arms and legs as well.

Once I finished, I felt a bit better. Looking at Redfox’s face, smeared with blood from his nose, I knew I had done the right thing. Since I had already helped him, I quickly decided to resolve my sexual needs with his body as well. Unfortunately for Redfox, whose face and figure were exactly my type, it was bad timing—especially since he had recently decided to live a more upright life.

I buried my face in his auburn hair and caressed his chest. At some point, I got lost in thought.

The spirit, huh…

Could it really be his doing? If spirits truly exist, how does Manen communicate with them? And what kind of powers does the spirit possess?

Spirits were known to deal with the mystical, but no one knew exactly what they handled or how they did it. Even Lord Wolfscott spoke incoherently on the subject, which said it all.

In any case, Lord Wolfscott had thrown me a task related to spirits, and I had to produce results somehow. If I came up empty-handed, there was only one option left. I would have to rough up some ambiguous shaman, make him memorize a script, and present him to Lord Wolfscott as a spirit practitioner. It was a pathetic method, but I didn’t care. I was confident I could beat Manen.

So far, Manen’s actions had only been a step or two ahead of my predictions, nothing that surprised me greatly. He seemed quicker lately, but that was probably because he had his back against the wall. A boxer under pressure tends to react faster.

Even if spirits did exist, what would it matter? Imagine a high-ranking official summoning a shaman, chanting nonsense, and rubbing his palms together—that should evoke laughter, right? If this shaman were truly so impressive, he would have already made Manen number one long ago.

No matter how I considered the possibilities, the conclusion remained the same. The spirit was merely a product of Lord Wolfscott’s nervous breakdown. In other words, an illusion.

Lord Wolfscott refused to acknowledge Manen’s superior strategies. His inferiority complex had created this imaginary shaman called a spirit. That was my opinion.

Having sorted out my thoughts, I decided to take care of the heaviness in my lower body.

“Hmm…”

Redfox’s nipples had started to respond to my careful teasing.

See? I told you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Redfox remained silent. That silence was his answer. If he didn’t like it, with his personality, he would have already gotten angry.

I buried my face deep into his hair. As I ran my fingers through his thick, curling auburn locks, it almost felt like I was wandering through a forest alone. His body was as cold and damp as a winter forest.

“I won’t go too hard on you today.”

I pressed my erect lower body against his thigh. After a long pause, Redfox spoke.

“Liar.”

How did he know?

I laughed quietly to myself. No matter how much I tried to take it easy, I couldn’t help it. What I enjoyed was that kind of rough sex, and even when I tried to be careful, my natural tendencies came out. It was just who I was.

“I have oil. Let’s enjoy this together today.”

I tried to reassure him.

“I told you I wouldn’t. You made a promise too, so keep it.”

He talks a good game. Then why don’t you stop reacting like this?

“This is disappointing. You’re reacting right now. A person who has no intention of doing

that

couldn’t possibly be acting like this, could they?”

Deliberately taunting him, I suddenly yanked open his shirt. Redfox screamed, but I didn’t care. I took his soft chest into my mouth, teasing his nipples, and traced my fingers over his lips.

I slid my fingers between his trembling lips, feeling the chilling sensation of his tongue. Enjoying the feeling, I lowered my head.

Redfox exhaled shallow breaths, unable to move. I pleasured him with oral, making sure to finish it thoroughly so there’d be no complaints later. His body shuddered as he lowered his gaze and let out a quiet moan. It was the kind of expression I liked.

Smiling, I swallowed his release. Since I took care of him first, now it was my turn. Absorbed in the moment, I suddenly realized I hadn’t even taken off my coat yet. With Redfox, I always wanted to experience skin-to-skin contact during sex. It would be foolish to leave that soft, white skin untouched.

Redfox blinked slowly, his deep blue eyes reflecting light like a concentrated Mediterranean sea. Staring into those eyes, I stripped off my clothes. As I began undressing Redfox, I stopped.

The state he was in after being beaten was worse than I had expected. The body I cherished was covered in bruises, with scratches in various places. My excitement quickly deflated.

Damn it. Rage surged within me.

I should’ve shot that bastard in the head until the magazine ran dry.

Redfox stared at me with a hardened expression, likely noticing the shift in my demeanor. I quickly forced a smile.

“I was just lost in thought. Haha. Don’t go making any wild assumptions.”

You’re incredibly lucky today.

I’m not.

Muttering to myself internally, I repositioned.

There was no other choice. Today would have to be a gentler affair.

Suppressing my frustration, I tended to him carefully. His flowing amber hair cascaded messily over his pale body. As I stroked the areas he liked and gently spread him apart, Redfox responded more eagerly and sensitively than I expected, much differently from when I was rough. It reminded me that most people preferred this kind of sex, and Redfox was no exception.

It was always a bittersweet feeling during these moments…

I smiled bitterly, slowly moving my hips. The sensation of sliding deeply into his body was soft and welcoming. As I trailed my lips over his tangled amber hair, I drifted into thought.

I suppose this is the sorrow of being a sexual minority.

I’ve never denied my sadistic tendencies. And they aren’t just limited to sexual preferences. It’s part of my core nature.

When I was young, my favorite pastime was roaming the streets and beating up the toughest guys. This habit extended into various sports, martial arts, and even shooting. By the time I realized it, my hobby had become my career. In my late teens, I was already a promising boss in one part of town.

I joined Guiger by chance, but for someone like me, who had no match in my territory, it was an opportunity to unleash my instincts. As a low-ranking member, I took joy in chasing down protesters and beating them senseless. When I was promoted to head of interrogations, I punished rebellious aristocrats and their dogs in a myriad of ways. As director, I personally took down historical figures of significance.

It might sound strange, but just like how some people show remarkable talent in art or music from a young age, I think I was born with a love for violence and a knack for scheming. Like a math prodigy, I’m a prodigy in murder and plotting.

Redfox once pointed out that I only pretend to be kind on the surface, and he was right. One thing I’ve learned as I’ve become a seasoned villain is that you have to behave in a way that makes it impossible for others to read you. Even Don Corleone said, “Don’t let anyone outside the family know what you’re thinking!”

Most people were fooled. My neighbors genuinely believed I was a respectable, hardworking businessman. I never liked the rough language or unnecessary displays of strength that street gangs enjoyed. When the aristocrats I kidnapped saw my face without a mask, they always looked at me as if to say, “Are you really the head of Guiger?” But as my promotion buddy Leopard once said, I’m the kind of guy who cheerfully laughs while pulling teeth and skinning flesh.

I snapped back to reality after climaxing inside Redfox for the third time.

“Ah…”

Redfox let out a soft groan. His disheveled hair covered his face, but he seemed satisfied. I, however, was not. He really was hopeless.

I pulled out a cigarette from my coat and lit it, trying to calm my frustration by taking a deep drag.

“…This is a bookstore.”

Redfox hesitated before speaking.

“Oh, right. I almost forgot.”

I quickly put out the cigarette. Redfox turned his back to me, as he always did after sex. It seemed to be an extension of his habit of avoiding people’s gazes. His demeanor bothered me greatly. With that level of beauty, why shy away from people’s stares? I couldn’t understand it.

As I ran my fingers through his hair, I found myself lost in thought again. At least after resolving things down there, I regained a bit of composure.

Either way, I needed to start working on my next “project” (which Guiger referred to as political thug jobs). Lord Wolfscott had barked at me to chase phantoms, but I couldn’t do that. I may be drawing a salary, but Lord Wolfscott was too stupid to handle this. If I let the fourth division commander handle this project, it would only come back to bite me. Commander Lizard was clever but lacked boldness and drive. This was a job I had to handle personally.

Ever since the new king was enthroned, I’d been waiting for the chance to take down Manen. Manen was a trickster even more cunning than the old Three. To deal with someone like him, you needed caution, patience, and above all, good fortune. I was confident that fortune was now within reach. Leopard might have thought I was idly wasting time fooling around, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I was doing everything behind the scenes, waiting for the right moment. I planned to drive Manen and all the tattooed nobles into ruin, starting with the upcoming assembly election.

I’d need to solidify the foundation first. There was no need to rush. I had more than enough leverage.

My office was filled with reports on the tattooed aristocrats. Outwardly, Guiger was known as a political thug group formed by Lord Wolfscott, but in reality, it was different. My fellow colleagues who rose in rank with me were the best members Guiger ever had, all brimming with ambition. While assisting Lord Wolfscott, we also reformed the gang-like structure of Guiger. It was now the best intelligence organization in the country. Of course, Lord Wolfscott didn’t care one bit about that.

Now, where should I start?

As expected, the first step would be to take down Manen’s media company. Just like a fighter becomes powerless when their body weakens with age, writers are finished the moment their pen breaks. First, I would catch those who would bark the loudest, then ignite the grand spectacle of treason charges. After that, it was just a matter of running with full force.Manen’s media company is a hub for tax evasion and money laundering. Should I start by cutting the ribbon on that?“What are you thinking about?” Redfox suddenly asked.

“You seemed lost in thought earlier too.”

“Oh, well. Hahaha.”

I brushed it off with a laugh.

“I was thinking about a few things. But you caught on despite that. You must have a keen sense of observation.”

“It must not have been great for you. You lit up a cigarette as soon as it was over.”

Huh…?

Is this another one of those straightforward remarks like, “Put it in”?

Feeling playful, I brushed the hair from his face.

“What? Does it bother you? Then, want to help me out?”

Redfox stayed silent. But once again, I could read his silence perfectly. He was saying, “It does bother me. Let me help you.”Was he feeling guilty for enjoying himself alone? Heh.“Well, I’m a pretty hopeless guy, you see. My hobbies are all about stuff like this. I know it’s bad. But, in my way, I see it as the sorrow of a sexual minority. Believe it or not, sometimes it makes me sad.”Speaking in a deliberately pitiful tone, I slipped my hand between his legs.As I gently parted the loosened hole, fluids trickled out. Redfox flinched but didn’t tell me to stop. I pressed my body against his and let the liquid moisten my fingers.Hopeless guy…With a bitter smile, I brought my fingers to his lips. Instinctively, Redfox turned his head away.“It’s nothing. You had no problem sucking on my dick that went in and out of there, right? It’s the same. Open up.”I slid my fingers between his parted lips. Watching Redfox’s face as my fingers entered, I felt the sticky interior clinging like mucus. Wetting my fingers again, I asked, “Does it taste good, though?”Still silence.However, his obedient response to my demands slowly started to calm the lingering desire. His pale lips, wet with my fluid, gradually fulfilled my sadistic urges. I decided to keep feeding him until nothing more came out. I came three times, so there was a lot.Sorry, but it can’t be helped.This is the only way to ease my instincts.Letting the semen pool in my palm, I dripped it into his lips and said,

“Anyway, you should probably go to the hospital. If you get prescribed meds, you’ll heal faster than waiting for it to go away naturally. Not just bruises, you’ve got scratches all over too. I know a 24-hour hospital. Let me take you.”

“No hospital for me.”

That’s what you think.

I’m going to make sure you go.

“Well, you’ll need to go at least once eventually,” I said, spreading him a little wider. I slipped my fingers in, savoring the lingering warmth in his body. While three fingers fit easily, I deliberately pushed in four.

Redfox

would probably struggle to breathe. I moved slowly, stroking his prostate. Fluids flowed out like a spring from deep within.

I dropped my lips to his chest and licked his nipple. Redfox, groaning low, spoke.“You have to go at least once? Why?”“Why do you think? A STD test,” I responded casually.“You need to go get tested at least once. I go regularly. It’s essential for people who spend nights with whoever they like.”“Wha…what?”He freaked out. His reaction was more intense than I expected. I let the fluid slip into his trembling lips. This time, the amount was quite large.“Don’t worry. At least, not about me. I got tested a week ago and the results came back clear. You’re the only person I’ve been with since then. If there’s a problem, it’s probably on your end.”“I…I…”Redfox mumbled. He hadn’t even swallowed the fluid yet, and his pale, shocked expression was priceless to me.“Don’t just sit there; use your tongue. I’ve already come inside you, and I’ve drunk plenty of your stuff too. What’s the point of freaking out now? If, by any chance, something’s wrong with you, then tough luck. We’ll both go down together. So just swallow it already. We’re not stopping until I dry up down there.”Once I set my mind to something, I always followed through. Even the division heads at Guiger would give a thumbs-up to my cheekiness, lies, and extortion. No matter how tough the opponent, I was always the one laughing in the end. Always. Redfox was nothing.Sure enough, Redfox went to the hospital. As I drove, I glanced over to see him nervously biting his nails. I chuckled silently.While Redfox was being seen by the doctor, I smoked a cigarette in the hallway, waiting. I asked a nurse for his chart and skimmed through it. Redfox was twenty-seven, much older than my guess of nineteen, maybe twenty at best. And his real name?Ray Arisa.The nurse told me to come back in three days for the test results. I drove Redfox—or should I say Ray—back to 42nd Street. His drained expression was worth seeing.Ray Arisa…I pondered as I smoked a cigarette. Arisa—there was a renowned family of military nobles with the same surname. It was amusing that he had such a name. Surely, he wasn’t the illegitimate child of Lord Arisa?I glanced at Ray. By now, he was lightly snoring, mouth wide open. I couldn’t help but be baffled by the sight.So careless…I clicked my tongue in disbelief. 42nd Street Square was visible in the distance. Passing the forlorn bronze statue of Perseus covered in snow, I headed straight for the brothel. We arrived in front of Ray’s home in 15 minutes.After stubbing out the cigarette, I gently shook Ray’s shoulder.“We’re here. Time to wake up.”“Mmm…”Ray mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes. Seeing him like that made me salivate again. He was truly incorrigible. The heater was on, and Ray had taken off his coat. I slipped my hand inside his shirt. Ray’s eyes shot open in surprise.“What are you…?”“What do you think?”I smiled and kissed Ray on the lips, drawing it out into a slow, sensual kiss. While devouring his lips, I leisurely caressed his chest. His nipples responded almost immediately.As expected…I chuckled softly, pulling his hand to touch me. I was already fully erect. Still kissing him, I began undressing Ray little by little. After countless sexual encounters, I had seen and learned everything about him. I now knew what Ray liked and disliked.Though he hadn’t fully realized it yet, from my observations, Ray enjoyed sucking cock. He wasn’t very skilled at it, though. He found anal sex uncomfortable, but once you got it in, he would wiggle his hips rather enthusiastically. He preferred doggy style. He didn’t like missionary because he hated being watched. If you got him sufficiently aroused through foreplay, he’d easily give in to penetration. Even though he acted reluctant, his body responded quickly. It was a well-tuned instrument of pleasure. Trying to live a celibate life with a body like that? Absurd.I checked the time. It was 1 AM. I decided to settle for car sex tonight. Unzipping my pants, I pushed Ray’s head downward. He stared at my erection, his eyes filled with hesitation and confusion. His trembling lips made the sight all the more thrilling.“Hurry.”

I yanked down his underwear and urged him on.

꙳•❅*ִ

Ten years ago, around this time, it had been snowing heavily as well.

I was 17, and Lord Manen was still a duke.

“Is it true? You truly wish to enter a contract as my personal sorcerer?”

Lord Manen had asked me again, his face filled with astonishment.

On that day, Lord Manen and I forged what was called ‘Love.’ The name of the exclusive contract magic between us was ‘Love.’ A ridiculous name… but fitting in some ways.

When ‘Love’ is forged, the spirit (sorcerer) can no longer be read by anyone other than the contract holder. Only one spell can be used. In short, their powers can only be exerted for the contract holder.

The sole spell I could use was clairvoyance. I could read not only the thoughts of the contract holder but also the intentions of anyone who came into contact with them. In this way, ‘Love’ captured the essence of a connection between hearts.

In exchange for the spirit’s loyalty, the contract holder’s life became more burdensome. If I were to read the minds of Lord Manen’s enemies, he would first have to physically meet with them. This meant that Lord Manen constantly had to attend parties to shake hands with his rivals, earning him the unflattering nickname of ‘the party animal.’

Without intense effort, everything could dissolve into nothing. In that sense, it was very much like love. So, perhaps the name was apt.

I never knew the origins of the spirit clan,

Ryeong

(령), even as its 132nd leader. Outwardly, the

Ryeong

clan seemed no different from ordinary sorcerers. However, for clients willing to pay exorbitant fees, they would wield powers far beyond the capabilities of normal sorcerers.

“But most clients don’t pay such astronomical sums. Remember this: the true meaning behind their large payments. It means they recognize our value. They’ve found the real gem hidden in the sand. And for those rare clients, we use our elite skills. That’s what sets us apart from ordinary sorcerers.”

My teacher and benefactor, Marata, often said this.

My parents, overwhelmed by the burden of caring for me during my childhood illness, secretly abandoned me. In the kingdom, there was a custom where, after death, bodies would be placed on the foothills or wastelands and covered until the flesh decayed, only then receiving a proper burial. It was essentially a temporary burial, and in that condition, Marata found and took me in. I was seven years old then.

Born with the

Orkitunika

ability, I quickly surpassed Marata. Even the skills of the

Ryeong

clan couldn’t keep up with my

Orkitunika

. Yet, Marata often worried that while I might become a great sorcerer, I could never be truly happy due to my illness.

“It might have been kinder to let you die back then.”

Marata would sigh and gently stroke my cheek.

Lord Manen had been a devout Catholic who detested sorcery. His interest in magic was piqued through his wife, a regular client of Marata. Discovering that his wife’s advice had come from Marata, Lord Manen visited the house on 42nd Street with skepticism. Three hours later, he left a fervent believer in

Ryeong

.

Lord Manen was lucky. Unless bound by an exclusive contract, the

Ryeong

clan would offer their services to any client willing to pay. That was the basic principle. Marata’s special treatment of Lord Manen was solely due to the fee he paid, not because he was Lord Manen.

Only much later did Lord Manen realize this, and he was deeply relieved.

“Thank goodness the military nobles scorn sorcery. They tend to dismiss anything unseen, preferring physical strength. If they had been smarter, Marata, you’d have been serving me in the morning and Wolfscott in the afternoon.”

“I serve all clients equally.”

“You forgot to add ‘if they pay a hefty fee.’ It’s fine. How long have we known each other?”

Though he said this, Lord Manen deeply regretted boasting about his connection to

Ryeong

in front of Wolfscott. Wolfscott, though dim-witted, had an excellent intuition and an unyielding tenacity. For over a decade, he had relentlessly pursued

Ryeong

, never forgetting Lord Manen’s careless remark. If Marata had still been alive, relying on direct contact with clients, he would have long been captured.

One of Ryeong’s core principles was to thoroughly hide the successor from the clients. Even until the day Marata died, she had no idea of my existence.

“Never sign an exclusive contract.”

That’s what Marata said right before she breathed her last. However, as soon as her funeral ended, I called upon Lord Manen and proposed an exclusive contract. At first, he was suspicious of me, as I refused even to reveal my name. But when I pinpointed his innermost thoughts with perfect accuracy, he accepted the contract without further objection.

Lord Manen must have thought it was a stroke of luck. He had been fretting over the possibility that Ryeong, who treated everyone fairly as long as they paid a large sum, might someday entertain Wolfscott as well.

“What do you want? A woman? A man? Jewels? Money? A house? A title? Just say what you wish.”

To Lord Manen’s question, I replied,

“I want nothing. Only contact me through the phone. That will suffice for any consultations.”

The reason I refused any form of financial compensation was nothing more than a guilty conscience for having disobeyed Marata’s last will. But now, looking back while being pursued by Wolfscott, it felt like a stroke of luck. I didn’t want to die from illness, but neither did I welcome the idea of being brutally murdered.

The main reason I entered into a ‘relationship’ with Lord Manen was to weaken the illness that was plaguing me, even if only slightly. Unfortunately, it happened during a time when the illness was at its worst. Though binding my abilities solely to the contractor through the exclusive contract, I calculated that it might at least reduce the pain.

There were personal reasons as well. There was a reason why, out of all the clients, I chose Lord Manen as the contractor.

The contract’s effect wasn’t bad. Although the illness didn’t leave me completely, without it, I would have gone mad and be wandering somewhere by now. Perhaps it was poison suppressing poison. Well, Ryeong is merely a shaman, not a religious person. Ryeong’s sorcery does not involve austerity in the face of death, and I was just an ordinary human being who couldn’t face the fear of death calmly.

At any rate, because of this, I was living as a pauper. With my sorcery bound, I was powerless. I hadn’t even acquired any skills since I spent my days learning under Ryeong instead of attending school. While Lord Manen continued to prosper, rising to Lotus just a year ago thanks to my consultations, I, who had been the cornerstone of his success, was suffering from extreme poverty.

Marata had donated all her wealth to society. All I inherited was Ryeong’s sorcery, a single bell passed down through generations, and an old, worn-out coat. Marata, who had disguised herself as an ordinary shaman, set up shop on 42nd Street to deal with prostitute clients, but I lived there simply because it had the cheapest rent, being dirt-poor.

A solitary old woman who lived in the next room bequeathed her used bookstore to me on her deathbed, slightly improving my financial situation. But poverty still loomed. It’s been ten years of such miserable days.

A cold wind slipped through the window crack. This time of year, with about three months left until winter, was the most impoverished period. It was the worst time of the year in terms of business. Only a couple of customers came by each week. I could barely afford the electricity bill, so I eventually closed the bookstore yesterday and went on a temporary hiatus.

At times like these, I earned my living by attaching doll eyes, a fitting job for someone as untalented as I was. Looking at the pile of dolls in my cramped room, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What a pitiful sight.”

Another cough came. I had been coughing so much lately that my chest ached. This damn cold.

Thinking back to how I caught the cold was embarrassing. It was all because of a man. I was suffering all because of that pervert. He had offered me a ride home but then pounced on me in the car. I didn’t mind the oral part. I thought it would stop there. But he insisted on penetrating me.

When I asked why oral wasn’t enough, he just said, “We’ve come this far, it wouldn’t make sense to stop,” laughing it off.

He wouldn’t even open the door, just laughed as I was helpless. He reclined the seat, laid me down, and did it twice. I almost passed out. I thought I was going to die. The car shook so much I got nauseous. A massive, muscular man pressing down on me felt like I was being crushed by a boulder. My hips were lifted so high that my feet hit the car’s ceiling.

I clung desperately to his back as he relentlessly pounded into me, slapping my buttocks. Sweat poured from my entire body. Unlike usual, I let out loud moans and cries as the overwhelming pleasure, bordering on pain, consumed me. I screamed, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” The man, amused by my expression, laughed wickedly, but I was too out of it to say anything. After enduring for a long while, I finally got dressed and left.

For a moment, my face flushed. Nearby patrolling officers smirked at me. The shame washed over me at the thought that a neighbor might have seen me.

I quickly ducked into an alley, waited for time to pass, then headed home. And that’s how I caught the cold. It was unbelievable. That bastard.

As I attached more doll eyes, I muttered to myself, “Pitiful, truly pitiful.”

Suddenly, a loud shout pierced through from outside.

“Cheer louder! Cheer! Cheer!”

I put on a cardigan and walked to the window. The street, which had been quiet due to the recession, was now deafeningly noisy.

It was the day Wolfscott was visiting 42nd Street ahead of the election. The street was packed with people who had been forcibly mobilized. From a distance, the trumpet announcing Wolfscott’s arrival blared menacingly. Banners and flags fluttered throughout the streets. The rows of flags gave off an eerie vibe. Each flag depicted a saint holding a bloody head in his right hand and a sword in his left — the Wolfscott family’s crest, the “Saint Holding His Own Head.”

Standing by the drafty window made me shiver, but I decided to keep watching Wolfscott’s visit to 42nd Street. I muttered bitterly, “As if anything good will come of this.”

After dealing with Wolfscott intensely for a year, I was beginning to feel drained. I missed the power that had been bound by the exclusive contract. If I had retained Ryeong’s sorcery, Wolfscott would have long been dead, his body oozing black blood from every orifice. Well, what’s done is done.

From afar, a lavishly decorated open trailer came into view, followed by dozens of cars. Even from a distance, I could clearly see Wolfscott, waving from the front of the trailer. Tall men stood rigidly around him, maintaining an impenetrable stance. They were the Guiger chiefs.

The Guiger commanders, with their dark red uniform coats billowing, wore terrifying masks. Embroidered on the back of their coats was the emblem of the “saint holding his own severed head.” Despite the fierce wind and roaring crowd, the commanders remained utterly still. I recalled Lord Manen’s words about how even the nobility would shudder at the mere proximity of Wolfscott. Walking into a party surrounded by such men would indeed make anyone’s knees weak.

Across the street, Guiger troops were dragging people out of their homes by force, as if the crowd already filling the streets wasn’t enough for them. How could they expect to gain votes behaving like this? Just as I was thinking that, a shout erupted behind me.

“Open the door!”

Oh no.

This house was no exception. The moment I opened the door, the Guiger troops rushed in.

“Get out now!”

Without further words, they roughly dragged me out. The entire building was shaking as they pulled people out by force. Pushed into the freezing winter street, with the wind biting at me, I felt the bitter cold. I hadn’t even had time to grab my coat, and I was only wearing a cardigan, my bones freezing in the sharp wind. Pressed into the crowd, I ended up standing at the edge of the sidewalk.

“Take this! Wave it with all your might!”

The Guiger troops shoved a red flower into my hand. They forced everyone to take one, and I was no exception. I waved the red flower, barely suppressing a coughing fit.

“Japanica! Japanica!”

“Long live Lord Wolfscott! Long live!”

People raised their voices in unison with the Guiger troops’ chants. Cheers, slogans, and trumpet blasts echoed so loudly the sidewalk seemed to vibrate.

Just finish and go away, you blockhead. Idiot. Stupid warmongering fool.

As I waved the flower, I silently echoed the curses Lord Manen always muttered under his breath. Yet as the open trailer drew closer, I found myself studying Wolfscott more closely. This was my first time seeing him in person.

As expected of a military noble, Wolfscott cut an imposing figure, his uniform adorned with numerous medals. His leisurely hand waves carried an air of innate cruelty. His presence alone was overwhelming, but with the towering Guiger commanders flanking him, it was like witnessing a pack of predators.

I scanned the Guiger commanders surrounding Wolfscott. Standing motionless, they wore masks of Togo, the grim reaper from the kingdom’s legends.

Togo, the prince of water spirits, was exiled to the outskirts after falling out of favor with his father. There, he gathered an army and staged a rebellion. Wherever Togo and his soldiers passed, the blood of the people flowed like a sea. Eventually, Togo avenged himself by killing his father and drinking his blood from a chalice. By that time, Togo’s face had become so grotesque that anyone who laid eyes on him would die of fright.

Could those commanders have something to do with that dark aura?

Outwardly, they seemed like nothing more than thugs using their sinister appearance to intimidate people. Wolfscott often openly showed his disdain for them. I couldn’t make up my mind. I shook my head slightly and continued waving the flower.

“Long live Japanica! Long live Japanica! Long live!”

As the open trailer passed by, confetti burst into the air like celebratory fireworks, and balloons drifted into the snowy sky. The Guiger troops shouted orders.

“Wave those flowers! Harder and with more passion! When Lord Wolfscott approaches, throw them at him!”

Such bad taste… bad taste indeed…

I smirked bitterly and waved my flower with exaggerated enthusiasm. I now understood why Lord Manen despised Wolfscott. They were like oil and water. The quiet, graceful, and dignified Lord Manen and the loud, violent, and ostentatious Wolfscott were polar opposites.

But in the end, both are just parasites feeding off the people’s blood…

I laughed cynically as I threw the red flower toward Wolfscott.

The wind carried the flower slowly, moving helplessly and precariously, like a prisoner being led to execution under the moonlight. The red flower brushed against the shoulder of the man standing to Wolfscott’s right. His mask suddenly filled my vision.

I froze, my hand still mid-air. An overwhelming sense of darkness seemed to envelop me. Pain throbbed through one part of my body.

Somehow, a gun had appeared in the hand of the man who had been standing still. The muzzle pointed in my direction, his cold eyes locking onto mine through the mask. Then, a single gunshot rang out.

A white puff of smoke rose from his gun.

A brief moment passed. In that time, the street fell into total silence. Then, shouting erupted. The Guiger troops shoved people roughly as they advanced in my direction.

I stared blankly at the ground. A man had collapsed beside me. The Guiger troops examined him and shouted.

“It’s a gun! An assassination attempt!”

The guards quickly surrounded Wolfscott, shouting in panic. The scene descended into chaos within seconds. Yet the man who fired the gun remained calm. After a brief communication on his radio, he moved toward Wolfscott and whispered something. Wolfscott hastily straightened his clothes.

As the crowd pushed me backward, I caught a glimpse of the corpse. The Guiger troops lifted it, and I saw that one of his eyes had fallen out from where the bullet had pierced his face.

I clutched my mouth. I felt like I was going to be sick.

꙳•❅*ִ

 

For a few days, Manen remained quiet. It seemed he assumed we were satisfied with the Emillen incident.

Foolish assumption.

I scoffed. Whatever was on Lord Wolfscott’s mind, I no longer cared. It had been three years since I started running things here. By now, I had become quite skilled at plotting behind the back of Lord Wolfscott, who rarely listened to me. As long as the outcome was favorable, Wolfscott would laugh it off. My only focus was on when, how, and through whom I would execute my plans. After carefully crafting the scenario, I got straight to work.

First, I summoned a few prosecutors and lied to them, claiming it was on Lord Wolfscott’s orders to dig into Manen’s media company. I handed over most of the grunt work to the Guiger troops and simply asked for some minor cover. Naturally, I promised them full support. The prosecution was already in cahoots with Lord Wolfscott, so the legal process was nothing but a meaningless formality.

Afterward, I instructed the troops to kidnap a few journalists. They were from East Eden, the second-largest newspaper after Manen’s media company. My plan was to break them down over a few days and make them ours. Instead of wasting money on bribes, I figured beating them senseless would be more beneficial for the already struggling state finances, turning them into obedient poodles in no time.

With this, the casting for the actors was complete. After two weeks of rehearsal, I planned to go straight into the movie screening. For security reasons, I only selected my most trusted agents and kept the team as small as possible. Not even the department heads were informed. I personally oversaw and approved most of the tasks, and for a few days, I was overwhelmingly busy.

“What are you working on these days? You seem pretty busy.”

“Yeah.”

On the day I accompanied Lord Wolfscott to his visit on 42nd Street, I had dinner with Leopard after finishing my work at headquarters.

Leopard casually asked me.

“I heard from your subordinates. They’re keeping some journalists locked up under your special orders, but they’re being pretty vague. Something smells fishy. Come on, spill it. What project are you developing lately? What’s your concept, our great director?”

“Seems like some of my guys have loose lips. I’ll have to take care of that.”

“Don’t be too hard on them. I figured a chief like me would catch on sooner or later, and you must have expected that. Doesn’t that mean you had me in mind to be part of your project? So why not spill it now?”

“Wait a moment.”

I smiled faintly and raised my wine glass. Leopard clinked his glass against mine. The clear ringing sound was pleasant, and the sensation of the glass in my hand was enjoyable.

It had been a rather decent day. Glancing briefly at Ray among the crowd had been a stroke of luck. Ray, who looked like he had been dragged out in a hurry, was waving a red flower. His flaxen hair was flying in the fierce wind, and his hollow blue eyes were fixed on me. I let myself get distracted, which was rare for me. It was purely by chance that I spotted a familiar face next to his fluttering hair.

Well, well, who do we have here?

It was Fran Maenpa.

Fran Maenpa was one of Ecdal’s top lieutenants. When Ecdal fell from power, he fled with Yan Mujin, and his whereabouts had been unknown since. Judging by his gaunt face, it seemed he had been through quite an ordeal. I was about to order his arrest over the radio when I hesitated.

Something was off about the menacing look on Maenpa’s face. His hand was deep inside his jacket. Instinctively, I knew—it was an assassination attempt.

Without a second thought, I drew my gun and shot Maenpa dead. Ray’s pale, terror-stricken face was quite a sight to behold. His flowing hair, drenched in blood, was a tangled mess in the snowstorm. His blue eyes, wide with fear, looked like a full moon in the deep night.

The scene stirred something primal in me, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Ray trembling and being pushed around by the agents.

What kind of person am I…?

I assured the trembling Lord Wolfscott, “There’s no need to worry. It wasn’t a trained assassin; it was Fran Maenpa. It looks like he was attempting some kind of personal revenge for the Yan Mujin incident.” After that, I scanned the crowd for Ray.

He was already gone.

At any rate, I had taken down a well-known figure and enjoyed the sight of Ray’s frightened face. It had been a lucky day. Murder and fear—they always lifted my spirits. I even considered visiting Ray’s bookstore tonight. If he was still terrified, it would be even more fun.

Hahaha.

Reflecting on the car sex with Ray always brought a smile to my face. His reaction had been phenomenal—absolutely wild. He screamed uncontrollably, covered in sweat, his flaxen hair stuck to his face, completely helpless. It was incredibly exciting.

I could already picture his nipples in my mind. The thought of sucking them all night made my lower body ache again.

“By the way, about Redfox.”

Leopard’s sudden mention snapped me back to reality.

“Yeah?”

“I saw him briefly next to the guy you shot. It was definitely Redfox. He looked like he was forcibly drafted. I guess he’s been living around 42nd Street.”

“Seems like it.”

I briefly considered telling Leopard about Ray’s residence. He’d definitely be furious if he found out I had been sneaking around with Ray behind his back. Leopard had been quite fond of Ray, even confiding in me once that he was considering asking him out seriously. I felt a sudden pang of guilt.

Leopard shrugged as he took a sip from his glass.

“Don’t try to hide it. You spotted Redfox first, and that’s how you found Maenpa.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hmph, you’re not fooling anyone. You had a thing for him too, didn’t you? Don’t think I didn’t know you were screwing Redfox’s ass while I was in the shower.”

Leopard grinned slyly as he looked at me. What an insolent bastard… My mood soured instantly. His crass language and the way he referred to Ray with such disrespect irritated me.

Leopard waved his hand dismissively.

“Alright, alright. I was just messing around. No need to get so serious. I just meant it’s been a while since Redfox showed up at the bar, so seeing him was a pleasant surprise.”

“You sure had a lot of random thoughts during our assignment.”

“Heh, I’m serious. The moment I saw him, I was so hard it hurt. If I knew where he lived, I’d head over right now and pin him down. You know what I mean, right? Didn’t you say he moaned especially loud when you stuffed two at once into his ass?”

Finally, I couldn’t hold back.

“Have you gone blind? Why do you keep calling a decent man things like that?”

Leopard paused with his wine glass halfway to his lips and glared at me. When I said, “What?” he shrugged again.

“Got it. Understood, Chief. He’s a man. A real man. Sure.”

Leopard drank his wine with a mocking tone. He was a decent colleague, but his arrogance was infuriating at times. I decided then and there not to tell him where Ray lived. After all, even if Leopard tried to pursue Ray, it would be pointless. Ray, who craved solitude like a monk, would never respond.

Heh, screw you.

What had been a good day was now ruined.