Chapter 11
The Cursed Room (3)
‘Where is he?’
After meeting with Ian, Linda couldn’t find her father. She stepped outside and walked along the flower-lined path around to the back of the house.
The blue flowers glimmered under the moonlight, swaying in the faint breeze and releasing a sweet scent.
These weren’t ordinary flowers but herbs used to reduce fever.
Her father had planted them all, and over the past few years, they had been used in large amounts to treat the frail former lord.
Arriving at the back, she looked over the small clearing filled with various types of plants.
Some had yellow stalks, while others gave off a strong stench.
These plants too, like the flowers along the path, were used as medicinal ingredients.
“Father.”
“You’re back.”
She approached her father, who was sitting in the herb garden.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing medicine for the scribe.”
“The scribe?”
“His knees have been troubling him lately.”
At her father’s words, Linda frowned.
“But this garden was made for the lord.”
“The scribe must stay healthy. If he collapses, the treasurer will only run more rampant.”
“Father, there are plenty of people around him to take care of his health. Besides, he and the treasurer are cut from the same cloth.”
“There’s no harm in being on his good side. Even if the lord has changed, the domain hasn’t.”
Calmly answering, Nekamo stood up, carrying a basket filled with herbs.
“Tomorrow, pull some weeds. I haven’t tended it lately since I thought we’d be leaving the castle soon, and weeds have already grown a lot.”
The soil of the herb garden was of the finest quality.
Years ago, by order of the previous lord, earth had been transported from far outside the castle over many days. It provided the best conditions for anything—herbs or weeds—to thrive.
“Why did the lord want to see you?”
As they left the garden and headed back home, Nekamo asked. Walking a step behind, Linda thought for a moment before replying.
“I can’t tell you.”
“What?”
Nekamo stopped in his tracks and looked at his daughter.
“Did I mishear you?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Sticking her tongue out playfully, she darted ahead and went inside the house first.
Left dumbfounded, Nekamo hurried after her, grabbed her, and asked again.
“What’s going on? Stop joking and tell me at once.”
“Alright, alright. The truth is, the lord wants to learn how to read and write.”
Linda briefly explained her meeting with the lord.
Listening silently, Nekamo leaned his face close to hers.
“You don’t think… the lord has other intentions, do you?”
“Other intentions?”
Seeing her confusion, Nekamo lowered his voice.
“I mean… seeing you as a woman.”
“Oh, Father, really. Of course not. I told you, he chose me because he didn’t want anyone else to know.”
Her words made Nekamo nod.
“Well, that’s true.”
“You must keep this secret too.”
She poured herself a drink of water, then went upstairs to her room.
Leaning against the closed door, she burst into laughter.
“Ha ha ha, ridiculous. The lord seeing me as a woman?”
The more she thought about it, the more laughter escaped.
“Are you insane?!”
Her laughter was so loud it reached downstairs, prompting Nekamo to shout angrily.
“Go to sleep already!”
Opening the door just to yell back, she then sat at her desk and pulled open a drawer.
Inside, she took out an ancient medical book, Fucuns, and slowly opened it.
Two years ago, she had asked a merchant returning from the royal capital to obtain it for her. The book contained the medical knowledge of long-vanished healers.
“If I could learn Heal Touch, I wouldn’t need to cut into wounds to treat them.”
It was said that some legendary healers had used Force to heal injuries. To her, it sounded like a dream.
“Sigh…”
Closing the book, she lay on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
The face of the patient she saw earlier that day hovered in her mind.
She regretted that, because of the family’s opposition, she couldn’t amputate the man’s rotting foot.
By tomorrow, he would probably die from the fever.
“If only I could use Force…”
Her ultimate goal was to heal people without harming their bodies.
The treasurer’s subordinate, Hicks, was a man who found pleasure in beating others. He often secretly beat strangers to death and dumped their bodies in the river without hesitation.
“You know better than anyone what kind of man I am. Tell me the truth.”
“Please, Hicks, I swear I’m innocent! I didn’t do it!”
Covered in crusted blood, Galato clung to Hicks’ leg, pleading.
“Please, beg the treasurer to believe me.”
“Let go.”
Hicks’ eyes were cold and empty.
“Hicks!”
“I said let go, you bastard!”
The massive Hicks bared his yellow teeth and swung his club furiously.
Galato screamed as his head cracked and his back split open, curling up in pain.
But Hicks didn’t stop, raining down blow after blow with curses.
“You son of a bitch, why did you betray me? I treated you like a friend!”
“Hicks! Stop, it hurts too much!”
“Hurts? Hurts? That’s the point, you worthless dog! Do you know how much I suffered because of you two years ago?!”
The small underground chamber echoed with screams and blows.
“You dare run off with the money? The gold meant for the Grand Lord?!”
“How many times must I tell you, it wasn’t me!”
“Shut up, bastard! I’ll smash your skull to pieces!”
Kicking Galato’s jaw, Hicks lifted his club again, panting heavily.
“Enough.”
The treasurer, who had been silently watching, finally intervened.
“No, Treasurer. This traitor deserves to die.”
At Hicks’ madness, the treasurer signaled a guard, who drew his sword and pressed it against Hicks’ neck.
Startled, Hicks backed off at last.
“You’ve turned him into a wreck.”
The treasurer clicked his tongue, looking at the blood-soaked floor.
Hearing his voice, Galato crawled forward on his hands and knees.
“Treasurer, please, spare me.”
“Calm yourself, Galato. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be.”
“Thank you, Treasurer.”
“Tomorrow, I plan to bring in your family.”
The treasurer’s cold words made the bloodied Galato wail.
“Please, Treasurer! They’re innocent!”
“That’s for me to decide. This is your last chance. Where is the gold sent to the Grand Lord two years ago?”
“I swear, it wasn’t me. Bandits attacked us and took it.”
He had repeated the same thing countless times.
Tears streamed down his face as he begged, terrified for his family.
“If that’s true, how did you survive when everyone else died? You can’t even fight.”
The treasurer had long suspected Galato of stealing the bribe gold sent to the Grand Lord two years ago, since Galato disappeared at the same time.
Galato had once been one of his most trusted underlings.
“I was stabbed, but by sheer luck, I survived.”
“Then why did you run? You should have reported to me.”
Under the treasurer’s suspicious glare, Galato writhed in despair.
“I was foolish! I was terrified after losing the gold and didn’t dare face you. But if I had stolen it, would I have returned in rags to see my family? No—I would’ve sent others in my place.”
“Hmph.”
The treasurer studied him with pursed lips.
It was true—if Galato had stolen such a vast amount of gold, he wouldn’t have come back looking like a beggar.
When he was captured yesterday, he looked no different from a vagabond.
Despite torture and threats to kill his family, he gave the same answer again and again. The treasurer’s suspicion began to waver.
Grabbing Galato’s hair, he yanked his head up violently.
“I’ll ask just once. Who were those bandits?”
“It was the Chenkaloto brothers.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m sure. I pretended to be dead and saw them remove their masks. I recognized them from the wanted posters.”
“Damn it!”
The treasurer grimaced and rose to his feet.
The Chenkaloto brothers were infamous across the kingdom.
Unlike ordinary gangs, they were six blood brothers, each possessing exceptional combat ability, making them a scourge upon the land.
If it truly was their doing, capturing them would be nearly impossible with his own power.
‘Of all people, why them?’
Troubled, the treasurer looked down at Galato.
His eyes betrayed the thought of whether to kill him or not.
Having served under him for years, Galato recognized that murderous glint in the torchlight and pressed his head to the floor, begging.
“Treasurer, please, spare me! I’ll do anything you ask—anything! Just don’t kill me!”
“Anything? Even killing the lord if I ordered it?”
“What?”
As Galato froze in shock, the treasurer told Hicks:
“Send him to the Killong Mine. Work him to death.”
The Killong Mine was his private gold mine, secretly operated without the lord’s knowledge.
Stepping out of the cell, he stroked his thick jaw as he walked down the corridor.
The humiliation he had suffered at the training ground earlier still stung.
Taking orders from a powerless young lord was awkward and infuriating.
He could easily have the boy killed in the absence of a guard captain, but the problem lay in what would follow.
‘That brat is still useful to me.’
Though Ian’s recent actions annoyed him, it was better than having someone uncontrollable appointed as lord.
‘When he outlives his usefulness, I’ll take his head. Arrogant brat.’
Blanzor (1)
On the rooftops of the dark village, Ian was practicing warp. Exhausted, he slumped against a chimney still warm from the fire.
Warp demanded both stamina and concentration.
‘No need to push myself too far.’
After resting for a while, he stood again.
In the course of practicing warp, he had ended up near the eastern docks of the village.
The river was wide, and several large ships were moored at the piers.
‘Do I own a ship?’
If he asked the treasurer, the man would probably just say, “The former lord sold it off to pay debts.”
From the rooftop near the docks, Ian watched the ships as the river breeze brushed past. He was about to warp back to the castle when the sound of pounding hooves reached him.
Thud-thud-thud-thud—
A dozen horses were escorting a carriage at full speed toward the docks.
Each rider held a torch in one hand and their reins in the other, maintaining perfect formation with flawless riding skill.
Ian, who had never ridden a horse, found their precision impressive.
‘Who are they?’
They all wore identical helmets and high-shouldered breastplates, looking more like regular soldiers than mercenaries.
They ignored the garrison soldiers guarding the docks as if they weren’t even there.
‘The hell? My soldiers can’t even lift a finger?’
Frowning, Ian crossed his arms and continued watching.
The riders stopped at the end of the pier, where their carriage halted. Soon, they unloaded several heavy crates from the carriage onto the ship, two men per crate.
‘So it wasn’t passengers inside, but crates. What’s in them?’
While Ian pondered, the men finished loading the crates onto the ship. Then, after exchanging a few words, they led their horses aboard as well.
It seemed they were abandoning the carriage and leaving by ship.
“Cast off!”
A sailor shouted, and the vessel slowly pulled away from the dock.
Ian’s eyes narrowed.
Who were these people? What was in the crates? And why had his soldiers not dared interfere?
Watching the now-empty pier in silence, Ian finally turned back toward the castle, his expression grim.
