Ian and Eunha continued their conversation via notebook until Aim delivered the result.
—Is your real name Ain? Or is it an alias?
—It’s an alias. My real name is Sin Ian.
—Sin Ian. It’s a rare name to see in Korea. But it’s pretty. Ah, I’m Eunha. Yu Eunha.
—I’ll remember that.
At Ian’s unhesitating reply, Eunha burst into a bright laugh. Then she tapped her lips with her pen, pondering their next topic.
Just then, the doorbell of Eunha’s house rang. The delivery she had ordered had arrived. She let out an “Ah,” voiced her acknowledgment, got up from her seat, and immediately returned holding a bag with a pizza box. The two exchanged glances and began their meal in silence.
Around the time they had almost finished the whole pizza.
[The scales have tilted.]
Aim suddenly spoke in a toneless voice. Their heads turned toward the scales of their own accord.
[Verify it.]
“…….”
Ian and Eunha set down the pizza slices they were holding, approached the scales, and checked the tilted bowl.
The bowl without the prisoner’s piece was positioned lower than the bowl with the boiling blood. This meant only one thing.
“It’s the truth.”
Eunha said.
“Good work, Aim. I’ll ask for your help again next time.”
[Fuck off, bitch.]
Aim vanished after those words. The blood contained in the scales disappeared on its own, and the prisoners’ screams also ceased. Tranquil classical music took their place. The sounds of violin and cello traversed the air and circulated through the room.
Eunha took out the orb she had placed at the base of the scales and set it upside down. The blood stored inside trickled down, flowing along with gravity.
It was by no means fast, but it seemed like it would all drain within a few minutes. Ian stared at the red blood starting to pool on the table for a moment, then turned his head toward Eunha.
Scratch, scratch.
She wrote a sentence in the notebook with the pen she had placed nearby.
—Is it okay to talk now?
Eunha, confirming Ian’s writing, smiled faintly and nodded.
“Yes, it’s fine now. I confirmed that it’s gone.”
“……Phew. That’s a relief, then.”
Ian let out a sigh of relief and wiped the grease from his hands with a tissue. Eunha did the same, then stretched her empty hand out into the air.
“Summon.”
With that murmur, a single grimoire revealed itself in her hand.
It was the Lemegeton covered with a *Hamlet* dust jacket. When Eunha peeled off the cover, the title *Lesser Key of Solomon* was clearly revealed.
The title was written in Latin. However, just like with other grimoires, Ian could understand every letter as if it were Korean.
Naturally, Ian had never learned Latin. The only language he knew was Korean. He knew a bit of English and Japanese, but he couldn’t use them like a native. For someone like him to read and understand Latin was absurd.
Still, he could guess the reason.
‘It’s probably because of my high compatibility.’
Hands of Re-Creation and Records of the Deep Sea. The two grimoires written by an Outer God were not composed in any earthly language, let alone a foreign one. Even so, Ian had been able to read their titles without any problem from the very first time he saw them. The contents were the same.
If the reason lay in that so-called 100% compatibility, then being able to understand the Lemegeton’s language was somewhat explainable as well. No doubt it was thanks to his compatibility with the Lemegeton being 100%, or close to it.
However, each time Ian’s gaze turned toward it, the Lemegeton flinched as if uneasy. It was an obvious fear response. The remnant thoughts of Solomon remaining in the Lemegeton felt the presence of something lying quietly in Ian’s coat and trembled at the edges.
[Eunha, never hand me over to him. This is an order!]
“……Why would I show my grimoire to someone else? Don’t worry.”
Eunha muttered as if it were absurd. Ian tilted his head.
“Huh?”
“Ah. The grimoire suddenly spoke to me. I was just answering it.”
“……Grimoires can talk?”
“Yes. I’ve been communicating with it ever since we first met. It sends its voice into my head.”
“……I see.”
Ian surreptitiously looked down at the Hands of Re-Creation in his coat pocket. His gaze seemed to chastise, ‘Why can’t you talk?’, and the Hands of Re-Creation vibrated as if feeling wronged.
But there was no way to understand the intent of an ordinary book that couldn’t even produce a voice. Ignoring the grimoire’s vibration, Ian turned back to Eunha. It was time to stop the small talk and get back to the main subject.
“So my words have been proven true, correct?”
Ian asked. Eunha answered, lowering the scales under the table.
“Yes. There’s no room for doubt. Aim is a demon that basically lives and breathes lies, but it can’t refuse an order to speak only the truth. So, Mr. Ian…… Ah, is it okay if I call you by your real name?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Thank you. Then, by your real name…… in any case, it’s certain that what you said is true, Mr. Ian.”
As Eunha spoke, she turned the pages of the Lemegeton. Magic circles detailedly drawn between yellowed parchment and descriptions of the 72 demons were briefly visible.
“So from now on, we’ll have to find the traitor and deal with them. Whatever their reason, I can’t overlook the selling of information.”
“But you still don’t know who they are, do you?”
“There’s always a way.”
Eunha donned a faint, tiny smile that would be hard to notice unless one was paying close attention. Then she said she’d prepare a spell for a moment and went into the dressing room. As a result, Ian was left alone in the living room.
“Hmm.”
He finished off the remaining slice of pizza, cleaned up the box and trash, then slumped back onto the sofa. Leaning against the backrest, he felt as comfortable as if lying in bed. Ian sat still for a moment to catch his breath, then put a wooden chopstick in his mouth and bobbed it up and down.
He wanted a cigarette, but being invited to someone else’s house and then going outside to smoke was a ridiculous notion. Perhaps if they were close friends, but this was only their second meeting; there was no need to do something that would leave a bad impression. So he decided to be content with just imitating the feeling.
‘Magic that uses the blood of the pure.’
Ian recalled the testimony Eddie had spat out and looked up at the ceiling.
‘Will the opponent be tricky to deal with?’
At the mention of magic using blood, he couldn’t help but think of the blood magic that appeared in fantasy games. Mage combat classes that freely manipulated blood, transforming it into all kinds of forms to fight. Their performance varied wildly from game to game, but regardless, the spectacle itself was quite splendid.
Of course, reality wasn’t a game. Even Gim Yul, who handled water, had only been able to create a wave that rose to about thigh-height when using magic in an emergency.
That had been the result of using up all the water he had on hand. Unlike in games, he couldn’t use water magic from nothing. If that was the case, then what of magic that handled blood?
“…….”
Realistically speaking, it probably wouldn’t be all that impressive. Neutralizing it shouldn’t be difficult.
However, to catch and kill the bastard, he would inevitably have to set foot in the bastard’s residence. And a blood mage’s dwelling was bound to have a lot of blood.
Blood packs, buckets—no matter the form, stored blood would be scattered everywhere.
‘It’s basically like fighting in the bastard’s home ground. It might be even trickier than Eddie.’
Ian exhaled deeply and set down the chopstick he had been biting.
Well, just because it was tricky didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kill the bastard. It was far better to take some risk and deal with the matter thoroughly than to leave it alone and have another Eddie keep showing up.
If push came to shove, he could just ask Cecilia for help. Even if her limbs got blown off, she wouldn’t die, so hiring her for proper compensation wouldn’t be a bad idea.
It was the moment Ian thought that and leaned forward. Eunha, who had gone into the dressing room, poked only her head out and called to him.
“Mr. Ian, I’m ready. You can come in.”
“Ah, yes.”
Ian cut off his train of thought and entered the dressing room.
It was a walk-in closet without too many clothes hanging. Ian spotted the massive magic circle engraved on the floor and opened his mouth.
“This is…….”
“It’s a spell that borrows the power of a contracted demon. Unlike with Aim, the demon’s voice or form won’t appear, so you don’t need to worry.”
Eunha spoke those words and walked toward the center of the magic circle. The clearly drawn pentagram responded to her steps, each stroke glowing brighter.
“Please step back a few paces. It’s not dangerous if you get caught up in it, but still, just in case.”
“Understood.”
Ian didn’t bother refusing her request. Eunha smiled gently, sat down on the magic circle, and closed her eyes.
“Phew…….”
After taking a deep breath, she began to chant.
“O noble prince of prophecy. O great duke who commands legions. O being possessed of eyes that pierce through past, present, and future. I desire your ability to uncover that which is veiled; I, as your contractor, command you. Reveal to me the location and information of the one I envision.”
Hum!
The moment the chant concluded, the magic circle beneath Eunha began to glow. The letters spelling Vassago turned golden, and black fluid crawled out from the seal carved in the upper portion, inscribing sentences on the floor.
[I have placed the knowledge in your head.]
“…….”
Eunha opened her eyes narrowly and glared at the sentence. But what she was actually staring at wasn’t the sentence, but the new knowledge contained in her head. Eunha rummaged through the abruptly injected information for a while, then wiped the blood flowing from her nose and rose to her feet.
Ian slightly furrowed his brow at the sudden bleeding.
“Wait, you’re bleed—……”
“Ah, I’m fine. It’s a minor side effect. Vassago’s magic doesn’t suit humans very well. It can’t be helped.”
Eunha spoke with a bitter smile. Ian started to say something, then simply sighed, tore off a tissue from a nearby box, and handed it to her. After saying “Thank you,” Eunha roughly wiped the blood away.
“Still, I found out everything—location, name, age. The information disappears after twenty-four hours, so let’s hurry.”
“Understood. But just in case, how do you intend to dispose of them?”
“We’ll do it the mage way.”
Eunha answered without hesitation. At her refreshing reply, Ian let out a short laugh.
Right, he mustn’t be mistaken. The mage before him was decent enough in character, but she was a veteran who had been in this field for years. The time when she would feel aversion to killing had long since passed. She had likely become thoroughly accustomed to battles between mages as well.
‘Since she’s a mage who specializes in demonic power. She must have plenty of advantages in combat too.’
Ian thought so internally as he exited the dressing room. Then he grabbed the bag he had left behind and looked back at Eunha.
“Are we leaving right away?”
“Hmm…… I need to prepare a bit. Please wait a moment.”
Ian nodded. Eunha went back into the dressing room and began bustling about as if gathering something.
Shortly after, she walked out into the living room wearing a hooded jacket and a hat pulled down low. Several daggers were visibly fastened to the inside of her jacket. The Lemegeton was tucked into her pocket as well.
“Let’s go. The location is near Yongsan. He lives in an old villa, so be careful not to be noticed by the neighbors.”
“Yes.”
Answering, Ian loosened his stiff wrist.
His still-unrecovered left hand bothered him, but he could still hold a grimoire without issue. He checked the remaining bullets in his handgun, then followed Eunha out of the house.
Their destination was Yongsan.