The Godmother’s house had an overall warm color palette.
Bright wood flooring and ceiling. The marble walls, contrasting with those, added an accent to an interior that might otherwise have looked aged. White curtains hung over the windows, and the small kitchen and living room were neatly organized.
It did not look like she had tidied up in a hurry. Since there was nothing particularly awkward or out of place, she apparently was not the type to neglect cleaning.
In the corner were stacked water bottles and toilet paper. Above them sat a moon-shaped mood light, which was turned on, its pale light scattering in all directions and gently illuminating the room.
On the wall stood a wooden bookshelf. All sorts of tightly packed autobiographies and general knowledge books boasted their forms in various shapes. Novels were rarely to be seen. The few present were works like *Sherlock Holmes*, *Crime and Punishment*, and *The Metamorphosis*—mostly famous novels.
She seemed to enjoy the act of reading itself more than cultural life in general.
Ian clicked his tongue softly as he slowly examined the books on the shelf. Among them, he found a single incongruous book.
The cover was ordinary. However, it trembled slightly every time he looked at it; it was obviously a grimoire. It was probably the Lemegeton she possessed.
*She seems to have no talent for acting.*
Well, acting was hardly an important virtue for a grimoire. Ian shrugged it off and plopped down on the sofa the Godmother had guided him to.
The plush sofa gently supported his body. The Godmother brought a teapot, snacks, teacups, and the like from the kitchen and sat across from him.
“Thank you for coming. Entering a magician’s space is something even fellow magicians are reluctant to do….”
She had a point.
In a space inhabited by a ritual magician, the magician held absolute authority. Not only could they freely manipulate the magic circles laid out everywhere, but outsiders had no way of knowing how many there were; in practice, barging into a magician’s house or workshop was tantamount to suicide. This was why Eddie, a man brimming with arrogance and conceit, had gone out of his way to wait outside Ian’s house.
Those who handled ceremonial magic were somewhat less so, but dangerous all the same.
Thus, entering a magician’s space had become one of the acts avoided by all those involved in the arcane. Not even fellow magicians were exceptions.
He simply had not perceived them yet, but even now, the magics installed in this room were likely spinning ominously, waiting only for the Godmother to activate them. Should he do anything even slightly amiss, they would likely fall like a guillotine blade.
Since he had no intention of doing such a thing, it was all for the best. Ian accepted the tea the Godmother handed him and smiled vaguely.
“I don’t particularly think you’re someone who would call me here to ambush me. I trust my judgment.”
To be exact, he trusted the reverse targeting device and other tools, along with the magic bound to his coat. The moment the targeting device sounded an alarm, Ian planned to exhaust every means at his disposal to escape this place and then kill the Godmother.
For now, there was no need. As long as the targeting device did not react, his safety was as good as guaranteed.
Had the Godmother been a psychopath incapable of feeling hostility or murderous intent, things would have been different, but she did not seem to be one, so there was no issue.
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
The Godmother forced a smile to hide any sign of tension and placed the snacks she had brought onto a plate. Ordinary potato chips and chocolate chips tumbled out onto an incongruously luxurious plate. The Godmother neatly folded the empty snack bags, tossed them in the trash, and carefully set the plate on the table.
“Please make yourself comfortable and listen. Oh, shall I order lunch in advance? The magic I intend to use takes quite a while. Of course, I’ll pay.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’ll leave the menu to you. There’s nothing I particularly avoid.”
“Hmm… then let’s go with pizza. One pizza should be fine, right?”
“I’m fine with that.”
At Ian’s answer, Eunha nodded and ordered pizza. She then set her phone down beside her and took a sip of tea.
“…Hot…”
Perhaps she had drunk too quickly; she stuck out her tongue slightly and scrunched up her face. Ian let out a soft laugh and brought the cup he was holding to his lips.
The bitter and sour tastes unique to black tea, along with a faint sweetness, mingled on his tongue.
It was not a taste he particularly preferred. As expected, coffee was far better than tea.
Still, she had gone through the effort of preparing it. Without showing his distaste, Ian set down the cup and spoke.
“How will the magic you intend to use proceed? Is there anything I need to do?”
“Ah, you’ll need to make a small cut with the scales I’ve prepared. It might sting a little.”
That was nothing. Ian nodded and rolled up one sleeve. Naturally, he did not remove his coat.
“May we begin right now?”
“Yes. Please wait a moment.”
Eunha rose from her seat and went into a small room. After a moment, she returned and placed a silver set of scales on the table.
Scales engraved with a demon’s face. A sharp needle protruded from the top, and in the bowls, human-like figures writhing in flames were carved.
Each face was twisted in agony, but their eyes were covered by blindfolds. Only faint screams resonated from their gaping mouths.
No matter how or where one looked at it, it was no ordinary object. Ian narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the scales.
Clack.
Eunha took out a small sphere from the lower part of the scales.
A transparent orb. She pricked her finger on the needle rising above the scales to make a cut, then carefully let the blood flow into the orb.
Like ink dropping into water, the blood slowly spread until it eventually dyed the orb completely red. Eunha placed the orb back into the scales and closed her eyes.
“O, Destroyer.”
She began her incantation. The magic circle engraved on the lower part of the scales, the base, glowed in response to her will.
“O thou who bearest a false tongue. Thou who rulest sinners with fire, and who sweetly savorest their agony. I command before thy scales: answer whether the owner of this blood speaketh falsehood, and let naught but truth fill thy reply.”
Eunha sent him a glance. Ian immediately brought his finger to the needle on the scales and pricked it lightly.
Blood flowed with a stinging pain, trickling down the needle as if sliding. The moment it collected in the silver bowl, the scant trickle abruptly multiplied, filling the bowl to the brim. The sinners’ lower halves were submerged in the blood.
At the same time, the prisoners let out screams.
[Aaaaaaaah!]
[Hot, hot! Save me! Fuck, what did I do to deserve this pain—!]
Click.
And then.
[Beautiful blood. Truly exquisite.]
An old man’s voice flowed from the mouths of the sinners carved upon the scales.
[The characteristic bitter yet sweet taste of a magician. Judging by its richness, you must be quite skilled. I find myself wanting to converse with you face to face.]
“Aim, follow my command.”
The Godmother commanded in an icy voice.
Aim.
It was a name in Ian’s memory as well. It was most certainly the name of the being recorded as twenty-third among Solomon’s seventy-two demons.
“….”
He watched the exchange between the two with a calm face, wiping the blood from his hand onto his clothes.
[Don’t get so worked up, successor of Solomon. You’ll pop a vein.]
“Aim.”
[Fine, fine. I got it, I said. Feisty bitch. I’ll obey, won’t I? Such a nasty temper and a scary voice to match.]
The demon called Aim grumbled as such, then soon began to hum a tune. Eunha took out a notebook she had placed under the table, wrote something, and showed it to Ian.
‘From now on, let’s talk through the notebook. The demon might eavesdrop.’
[Scratch scratch. What are you writing? What is it? Can you tell me too?]
‘I’ve commanded you to speak only the truth, so you can’t play tricks. It’ll take roughly an hour for the results to come out. Until then, we have to keep talking through the notebook. Understand?’
[Scratch scratch. Scratch scratch. Damn scratching. Speak with your mouths. Hotly, passionately, breathing as you speak!]
Eunha cleanly ignored Aim’s words and looked up at Ian.
An unwavering gaze.
Ian stared at her mint-colored eyes for a moment, then nodded. At that, Eunha wore a faint smile.
‘Then tell me now, Mr. Ian. What you went through. It’s fine to say this out loud.’
‘Yes.’
Ian, having written a brief reply, turned to the scales and opened his mouth.
“I killed a magician named Eddie. He asked a specific target whether there was anyone in Korea who had recently obtained a grimoire, and the target sold that information for money. The target in question is a magician who joined a community.”
[Hoo, a voice I’ve never heard. A male? Well, of course. Solomon’s successor is female, so if you’re going to bring someone, it ought to be a male. Haha! A one-night stand? Or passionate love? Either is fine! I simply adore—]
“Answer, Aim. Is what he said true?”
Eunha cut off Aim and asked. Aim seemed annoyed by her voice and growled once, but due to the existence of the Lemegeton and the commands entered therein, he immediately tucked his tail.
[Wait. I’m analyzing. You could have known immediately if you had summoned me in the first place. Why go through such a bothersome procedure?]
“Speak only what is necessary, Aim.”
[Ha, just as expected of Solomon’s successor. Identical personality. You human child, how long do you think you can remain so brazen before a demon? Hundreds of hellish legions and demons covet your blood and organs. So please, die. And scatter your flesh in hell, where eternal suffering—]
“It seems those words are absolutely necessary for you. Very well, let me change the command. Analyze only whether the blood owner’s words are true or false, and answer that. And shut up.”
Click.
Aim’s voice vanished. Eunha twisted the corner of her mouth and slowly sprinkled the salt she had prepared over the scales.
“You will never be able to kill me. Because I am Solomon’s successor.”
[…….]
“For Thy light and love cover my shoulders and back; deign to preserve me upright against the demonic presence.”
[…You bitch.]
“So shut up and obey my commands.”
With those words, Eunha did not open her mouth again. The same went for Aim. Yet the difference between the two was whether it was voluntary or not.
Gulp.
Eunha, who had shut the demon’s muzzle, let out a long breath and took a sip of tea. Ian watched her for a moment, then wrote a question in the notebook.
‘Are you a Christian?’
Eunha smiled wryly and answered.
‘I’m not religious.’