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I Married the Dragon I Killed Chapter 9: As Deep as a Lake

Chapter 9: As Deep as a Lake

After⁠​ the death of‍‌‌ Tesalos Wolcher, all⁠‌‍ the lords boarded​⁠⁠ their carriages and‍⁠ returned home.

Only‌ Luri and Perda⁠ remained in the⁠ assembly hall.

“That⁠‌⁠ was magnificent.”

Luri,‍‍ looking up at‌‌ Perda, clapped her‍‌ small hands.

“Today​⁠ you clearly showed‍‍ who stands above.⁠​‌ Truly impressive—your political​ skills are almost​​⁠ an art.”

She‍ then raised both​⁠​ thumbs in a double-approval gesture.

Perda​ was suffering the‌⁠ side effects of⁠⁠ mana depletion, with‍​⁠ a throbbing headache.⁠

While‌ gently massaging his⁠‍ temples with his⁠‍‍ fingers, he replied:‌​

“It⁠​ was just an‌​‌ unintended outcome.”

“Even⁠‌‍ if it wasn’t‌ planned, that’s how‌ it turned out.​​⁠ What do you‌​‍ plan to do‌⁠‍ now?”

“What⁠‍‌ do you mean?”‍‍‍

Luri‍​ furrowed her brow,‍‌ as if wondering⁠‍ whether that was⁠‍ really a question.​‍​

“You​​⁠ just killed a noble. Even if⁠​‍ you lean on⁠ the Queen’s prestige,‍ this will clearly‍‍⁠ stir controversy.”

“Really?”‍

Perda⁠ recalled the scene​⁠ around him and‌‌ asked.

“For​ something to be‌ a problem, wasn’t‍ everything far too​⁠ quiet?”

“Who‌​ would speak up‌‌‌ when someone is‍ dancing with a sword right in​ front of them?​‌​ No fool would.”⁠

“Hmm…​​‍ is that so?”‍​

Perda⁠‌​ had overlooked it‍⁠ all too casually,‍⁠ not even realizing‍ he had committed​⁠​ a serious crime.‌‌‌

Upon‍‍ hearing that, he‍‍ at least began⁠​⁠ to acknowledge how⁠ problematic the situation​ was.

Luri,‍‍ seeing his attitude,‍ let out a soft sigh and​⁠‌ continued.

“Besides,⁠​ the victim was‌ one of the‌​ lords who showed‌​‍ absolute loyalty to⁠‍ Valdrova. This isn’t⁠ a simple issue—it’s⁠‌ something much more‌‌‌ serious.”

“Was⁠⁠ he upright?”

“Moderately⁠ upright and moderately​ corrupt. That kind‍⁠‍ of mediocrity, in‌⁠ the eastern frontier,‌‍⁠ was considered the⁠‍ highest form of‌⁠ loyalty.”

“If​ I personally killed⁠‌‌ the most loyal‍ one, I suppose‌⁠‌ that’ll affect the‍⁠ engagement too, right?”​‌

“Of⁠​​ course.”

Which‍ is why Luri’s​⁠ eyes gleamed.

However,‍‌‌ contrary to her‍‍ expectations, Perda just‌‍​ scratched his cheek⁠ and replied:

“The⁠​ engagement will go‌⁠​ forward. If I show there was‍ a reason he​‍‍ had to die,⁠ nothing will change,​ right?”

“Well,‍ that’s true in​‌‌ a sense… but‌ where does all‌‌​ that confidence come‌‌‍ from?”

According⁠‍‌ to Luri, Perda‌‌ had only met⁠ Tesalos Wolcher today.‌‍

And​ yet, he spoke‍‍ as if he‌​ knew him better‍⁠‌ than the lords⁠‍ who had known‍‌‍ him for years.⁠

‘Why?‌ Because he already​ knew.’

If​‍ his memory was⁠‍ right, even now,‌‍ Perda was committing‍‍‌ a serious crime.‌‌​

“We​⁠⁠ need to visit​‌ the Wolcher lands.”‍​

“You’re⁠⁠⁠ saying you want​⁠ to stir the‌​ dust, so to​ speak?”

“Don’t‌‍ worry. It’s not‌⁠ dust—it’s an entire‍⁠⁠ mountain. You’ll see.”‌​‍

“Very⁠⁠ well. But before​‍ that…”

Luri⁠ pointed a finger⁠​ at Tesalos’s corpse.⁠

Instantly,‌​​ an invisible thread‍‍ sliced through his‍ neck, cleanly severing‌‌​ it.

Luri⁠‌‍ wrapped the head‍ in a cloth.⁠‍

“What‌‌ are you keeping​ that for?”

“It’ll‌​​ be needed. No⁠⁠⁠ matter the reason‌‌ for his death,​​ in the end,​‍⁠ it was because‍ he had done⁠‌ wrong.”

Perda⁠⁠⁠ nodded.

“Then‌‍​ you’ll display it‌⁠​ publicly? Like they​‍⁠ do with corrupt⁠⁠‌ nobles?”

“Isn’t‌ that obvious?”

“But⁠‌⁠ he was supposed​​​ to be the⁠‌ most loyal.”

“If‌ you want the‍​⁠ wedding to be‌‌ called off, go‌‌⁠ ahead, be my​ guest. I don’t‌ care.”

Perda​​‌ fell silent.

In‍⁠‍ the end, despite⁠​⁠ everything, Luri was​ the one who⁠ still supported him.‍‍

***​⁠‍

The‍​ Walcher Lands

They​ were the easternmost⁠‍⁠ frontier, right alongside‍⁠ the border army—​‍‍ and also the​​‌ lands closest to⁠​ Valdrova’s castle.

“I⁠‍ see… it’s darkest‌ under the lamp.​‌ So it was⁠ here?” murmured Perda.⁠‌​

He​​ had never expected⁠ to find Tesalos‍‍ Walcher in the⁠‍ southern deserts.

Until⁠​‌ now, he never​⁠ imagined he lived‍‍‍ on the frontlines⁠⁠ of the east.​

As​​ they arrived before‌ the inner castle,​⁠ the butler hurried​​ out.

Even‌ so, with the‌ composed demeanor expected‌​ of the Walcher‍‌‌ household, he greeted‌⁠‍ them politely.

“Welcome​‌ to this humble‍ place. Unfortunately, the‌ lord is currently⁠ away, so—”

“Oh,‍ don’t worry about​ that. That lord‌ is already dead.”⁠

“…Pardon?”​‌⁠

The​‍​ elderly butler, clearly‌ confused, asked again.‍⁠⁠

“I⁠‌‌ said the lord​⁠‍ is dead. I’m‌‍​ going in. Do‌ you know where‌ Tesalos Walcher’s lab​⁠ is?”

“That…‍‍ but… did you‌‌ say you killed‍ the lord…?”

“That’s​ enough. It’s nothing‍ to be proud‌‍​ of. He likely‌‍⁠ kept things hidden.‍‍‌ I’ll look myself.”⁠‍⁠

With‌⁠ that one-sided conversation,‍ Perda walked past‍⁠ the butler and⁠ entered.

The​ old man, still‌⁠⁠ at a loss,‍​‌ could only stare⁠‍ in astonishment.

Luri,‍‌‌ following behind, handed⁠⁠⁠ the butler the‌⁠‌ package containing the‍​‍ head and pointed⁠‍ toward the sky.‍

“Hang‌ this where it‌‌ can be clearly​⁠ seen from the‍‍‌ front gate.”

“Pardon?‌​ This is…?”

And⁠⁠‌ Luri went inside‌​​ as well.

Moments‍⁠ later, the terrified​ scream of the​ old butler echoed​‍⁠ through the halls.​‌​

***⁠​‌

Tesalos‍⁠‍ Walcher.

A bloodline of mages,‌​ exiled to the‌ outer reaches due‍‌‍ to political trouble.‍​

A family marked by​‌⁠ rage and resentment,‌ nearly on the‌​ level of Perda⁠‌ himself.

As‌​ they say, “God‌​ brings together those​⁠⁠ alike”—Perda had once‍‍‍ seen Tesalos as​​‌ his first comrade.‍‍‌

‘Tesalos​‍ Walcher hated the‍⁠ Empire.’

He‍‍​ bore a Red⁠ Circle, and for⁠‍ that, the magical​ community branded him​‌ a heretic, pushing​ him to the‍‍​ fringes.

With​ one goal alone,​⁠‍ he studied magic:‍‌⁠ to kill all⁠ the nobles who‌⁠ had exiled him⁠​ eastward.

And‌‍ what happened?

‘He​​ succeeded, in a way.’

But​ that was all​‌​ he accomplished.

‘I⁠ never saw that⁠ spell.’

Because​​ before he could‍‌ cast it, before‌ it even had‍‌ a name, he‌⁠‌ died at Perda’s‌ hands.

Just⁠‌ like today—without knowing‌‍⁠ how or why.‌​

‘Now⁠‍‍ that I think⁠ about it, why​ did I kill‌‍ him?’

Not‍‍ even Perda could⁠‍‍ remember.

It​ wasn’t surprising. Back​ then, he desperately⁠⁠ needed a target‍‌ to hate.

And‌‍⁠ to reach the​ Sixth Circle faster​​ than anyone else,‌‌ he had to⁠​ become a monster—capable‍⁠ even of killing​​ his benefactors.

‘It⁠ doesn’t matter.’

It⁠‌ wasn’t because he​⁠​ thought himself righteous.⁠​ What mattered was​⁠ that Tesalos was‌ someone who would‍‌ one day bring​ sorrow to his⁠⁠ fiancée.

‘Anyway,‌ it must be⁠‍‍ somewhere around here…’​

Perda‌ began inspecting Tesalos’s‌ room.

He’d‍‍ said he dedicated‍ his whole life‌‌⁠ to his research.‍

Though⁠‍ he posed as⁠ a loyal servant,​ he clearly harbored⁠‌ twisted intentions.

While‌ searching, Perda finally‌ found something.

“Here⁠ it is.”

It‍ was under the‍‍ bed.

The​⁠‍ tiled floor didn’t‍⁠⁠ line up properly,⁠ and a strange​ breeze seeped through‌‍ the cracks.

“So​‍ you hid a secret room under​ the bed.”

“Are‍‍ you going to‌‍ open it?”

“Of⁠​‍ course. I’ll look​‍‍ for the mechanism…‍⁠‍ wait a sec—”‍‍⁠

Crash!⁠

Before​ he could finish,‌ a loud crash⁠‌ rang out.

Turning​ around, he saw‌⁠ the bed split⁠‌ in two—and the​ hidden hatch destroyed‍‌​ with it.

Luri‍‌ brushed off her‌‌ fist and remarked:​

“What’s⁠‌ the point in‍ looking for a switch?”

“………”‌⁠

It⁠​ was, without a doubt, an ignorant‍⁠ method—but there was​ no real reason​⁠‌ not to do⁠‌‍ it.

And⁠ so, Luri and‌ Perda descended the​‍‌ steps into the​ underground.

As‍‍‌ they went deeper,‍​‌ the darkness thickened,​‍‌ and a faint‍⁠‍ metallic stench filled‍ the air.

“It’s​​ the smell of⁠ monster blood.”

“You‍‍ can tell? Wow,‌⁠ you’ve got a dog’s nose.”

“Don’t‍​‍ compare me to​⁠ such lowly creatures.”​‍‍

“Sorry.⁠ But I’d say‌​‌ your loyalty’s pretty‌‍⁠ dog-like.”

“…Are⁠⁠ you trying to⁠ provoke me?”

Luri‌ shot him a death glare, but​ Perda didn’t even⁠‍‍ flinch.

Soon,‍⁠​ the stairs ended,‌ and they entered‍​⁠ a new space.‌‌‍

“This⁠​⁠ is…”

They​​ instinctively furrowed their​‌ brows.

A mage’s lab was⁠ always chaotic, full‍‌ of strange, indecipherable⁠ things, so a bizarre sight was⁠ to be expected.⁠⁠

Sometimes,‌ one even had‍⁠ to be ready‍ for bloodstained scenes.‌⁠

But⁠⁠ Tesalos Walcher’s lab⁠‌‌ went far beyond⁠ that.

It​⁠ was so brutal‌‍‍ and grotesque, it⁠⁠⁠ crossed any limit​ of tolerance.

Anyone‍‌ with a weak​​ stomach would’ve vomited​ instantly, but neither⁠ Luri nor Perda‍ flinched much.

‘Though‌‌‌ I’m still not‍ used to the‍‌‍ smell…’

He‌ pinched his nose,‌⁠​ waiting for his‌ sense to adapt.‌

Luri‌​​ glanced at a corpse and scowled⁠ deeper.

“So​‍‌ this is what‌‍⁠ they meant by‍​‌ ‘it’s darkest under‌‍⁠ the lamp.’”

Laid⁠‍ out on a gurney were the‍ bodies of a human soldier and‌‍ a monster.

Their​⁠⁠ abdomens had been​ opened, and their⁠‌ red and purple⁠‌ entrails were sewn‌‍ together with thread.‌

“I​⁠ never imagined that‌ a feudal lord,⁠‌‍ once considered the⁠ most loyal, was‌⁠ actually a demon‌ worshiper.”

Demon⁠‌⁠ worshipers.

Those‌⁠⁠ who, after the​‍‍ corruption of the‌‌‌ black dragon Godwin​​⁠ 150 years ago​⁠‍ and the resulting‍ Great War of‌​⁠ Dragons and Demons,‍​​ continued following the‌‍ path of so-called⁠‌​ demons.

People⁠‌‌ who pursued their​‌‍ traces and sought‍⁠ to harness their​ power.

“You​ didn’t suspect it?”​⁠‌

“I​ know mages tend‍‌ to be shady.‌​‌ And we tolerate⁠​​ some of it,‌​‍ since the darker‌‌‌ ones are usually‍ more gifted. But…”⁠​‌

Her‌‍ silver eyes gleamed‍‍ with deep hatred‍ and sharp betrayal.​​

“I‍​ never thought he’d‍‌ have such twisted​​‌ taste—stitching together human⁠ and monster guts.”‍

Of⁠ course, betrayal hurts​‌ in proportion to‍ the trust placed.⁠​‌

“All​ humans are the‌‍ same.”

As​‍ a dragon descendant,​ Luri had never​​​ trusted humans. So‌ she blinked away⁠ her feelings coldly‍ and cleanly.

What‌ mattered wasn’t the​‌ grotesque methods—it was‌ what he aimed‍ to gain from‍⁠ them.

Luri‌ found manuscripts scattered⁠ across a worktable.‌⁠⁠

Her‍ eyes scanned them‍‍ quickly, and she‍‍ scoffed.

“He‍‌ was a complete⁠ psychopath.”

“Why​⁠​ do you say⁠ that?”

“He​ had the absurd‍ idea of using‌⁠​ monster genes to‍ enhance mana—and based⁠‍‌ all his research​‍ on that.”

“Really?”‍

“Want‍‍ to see?”

Perda​ took the page⁠⁠ she pointed to‌‌ and read the‌​ summary.

And‍⁠‌ then he remembered.⁠‍‌

‘Right.‍ He wanted to‍ create undead that⁠ resembled monsters.’

In​​ black magic, necromancy‌‌ had two main‌‍​ branches:

— Create a single,⁠‍ massively powerful monster.‌‍​

— Or flood the‌‍ enemy with hordes‍⁠ of weak ones.​

That’s‌‍ why necromancers were‍‌ the easiest mages‌‌​ to counter and‌ subdue.

‘He​ aimed to combine⁠‌ monsters’ toughness with‌⁠ undead numbers.’

If‍⁠ successful, it would⁠‌⁠ become the ultimate⁠ magic for mass-producing‍​​ elite soldiers for‍ the Empire.

‘Though⁠‌⁠ I wasn’t interested⁠ in that…’

What⁠​⁠ had drawn Perda’s‍​ interest wasn’t the‍ final spell—but the‍⁠​ mana refining technique⁠‍​ created to make‌ it possible.

Monsters⁠⁠⁠ generated mana endlessly.‍⁠

‘But​‌‌ it was always⁠ defective and useless‍ mana.’

They​⁠‌ became strong by​ devouring vast amounts⁠‌⁠ of that defective⁠ mana.

‘But​‌ if that production​ could be reproduced‍⁠ and refined into‍​⁠ pure mana…’

Even⁠‌ those with no​⁠​ talent could, by​​‌ learning it, easily‌ reach the Fourth⁠ Circle and enter‍‌ the mage ranks.‌

Thanks‌‍‌ to this research,‍⁠ Perda had reached⁠‍ not just the⁠ Sixth Circle and‌⁠ the rank of‍​ Archmage, but even‌‌‌ the Eighth.

He‌‌​ looked again at‌⁠ the summary page.⁠

‘If⁠‍​ I researched this‍ again…’

He‍⁠ could gather the‍ materials needed to‍​ reach the Eighth‍​⁠ Circle faster—and leveling​ up would be​‌⁠ much easier.

‘There’s‌⁠ no doubt.’

It​ was possible—maybe even‍​‍ several times faster.‍

As​‍ he studied the‍ paper intently, Luri‌​‍ watched him just‍ as closely.

‘He’s⁠ human. Of course‌​ he’ll feel greed.’​‌

Luri⁠‍‍ chewed over her⁠ deep hatred for‍ humans.

That‍​ line about “sorrowing‌ the queen” was‌‍ just an excuse.‌‍‌

Surely‌ Perda had killed​‌ Tesalos just to‍⁠​ steal his research.‍‌

‘All⁠⁠‌ humans lie.’

They’re‍⁠ a foolish race​‍‍ that lives happily‍ and sadly, trapped‌⁠ in lies.

Knowing‌ they lie, there’s​​ no point in‌ feeling betrayed.

‘And‍‍‌ yet…’

Why‌‌‌ was this man​‌​ different?
Why, unlike with⁠ Tesalos, did her‌‌‍ chest feel tighter?⁠‌​

‘Do​ I want to‍ trust this man?’‍

Luri‍‍‌ bit her lip,⁠⁠‍ pride as a dragon descendant wounded.‍​​

To​​‍ chase that thought​‍ away, she asked⁠‍ bluntly:

“So,‌‌ what will you⁠​⁠ do?”

“What⁠​‌ do you mean?”​​

“With​ this research. You‍‍‌ could continue it.‌‍​ Isn’t that what​ all mages say?​​ That letting it​‌ go to waste​​‍ would be a shame.”

A simple justification, needing​ no long excuse—because​ for a mage⁠⁠‌ in search of⁠‌‌ knowledge, it was​ natural.

But‌ Perda’s answer was⁠ unlike any other⁠‍‌ mage’s.

“No.”​⁠​

He​ handed the page​ back to Luri.‌​‍

“Destroy​‍‌ it all.”

“All‍ of it…?”

For‌ a moment, Luri’s‌‌ composed expression cracked.⁠​⁠

She​ hadn’t expected that.‍⁠⁠

At‍ the very least,​‍ she thought he​⁠ would hesitate—but Perda’s⁠​​ answer was as​‍ sharp as a blade.

“Didn’t‍ I tell you?‍​‌ I don’t like‌ my fiancée having⁠‌‍ to grieve.”

“Even⁠ so, you’d destroy​ all this research?​​‍ The world might‌​ call it an​⁠ unprecedented discovery.”

“A‌ great discovery, sure.”‍

Perda‍‌‍ nodded.

“But​⁠ if it ends‌ in sorrow for⁠​ my fiancée, what’s⁠​ the point?”

Yet⁠‌ his eyes didn’t⁠ match his words.​‌

A mage’s eyes should‌​‌ never look like⁠‍⁠ that—his blue eyes‍ reflected a calm‌⁠ scene, free of‍ greed, as deep​​​ as a lake.​‍⁠

“………”‍‍

“Why​​ are you looking‍‍ at me like⁠‌ that?”

“Because​‍‌ I wonder if‍‌ you can really​ do it.”

“Of‌⁠‍ course I can.”⁠‍

Luri⁠ summoned a blue‌‌‌ flame to her‍‌ fingertips—a pure fire⁠​⁠ born of transmuted​ mana.

If​ she released it,⁠ the papers would‍​⁠ burn instantly.

As‍⁠‍ she stared at⁠ the flame, she‍⁠ turned her gaze‌‌⁠ back to Perda.‌

“…You⁠⁠ won’t regret it?”⁠⁠‍

“No.‌‍ It’s fine.”

And⁠‌‌ so, as he‌​‍ wished, Luri burned​​⁠ all the research.​​‍

The‍ lab, the grotesque⁠ bodies used in‌ the experiments—everything turned‌​‌ to ashes in⁠‌ the blue flames.​‌​

‘Burns⁠‍⁠ well.’

Perda‍‌‌ watched silently.

If‌​ he’d wanted, he​​ could’ve finished it‌‌ in a few‍ months.

Tesalos​‍‍ had already done‍ half the work,⁠​​ and above all,‌ it was a spell Perda had‍⁠ already learned.

But‍​‍ he abandoned it⁠ for one simple‌‍⁠ reason.

‘All⁠ magic carries the​‌ caster’s personality and‌⁠‍ emotions.’

And​​ as the saying‍⁠ goes, “Lie down​ with charcoal, get​​⁠ stained.”
Those emotions eventually​‍ seep into the⁠ caster, leading to⁠‍ corruption.

That’s​ why one must‍⁠​ never learn black‌‍⁠ or forbidden magic.⁠‍

‘This​ magic was born⁠‍ of hatred and​⁠‍ resentment.’

Tesalos‍‍ had hated the‌​‌ Empire.

If​⁠​ he practiced it‍ again, Perda would‌⁠ be enslaved by⁠⁠​ a fury and‌⁠‌ hatred that weren’t⁠​ his own.

‘So‍‌‍ it must be⁠⁠‌ discarded.’

One​‍ shouldn’t cling to​ petty things. What‌‌ mattered was recognizing‍⁠ who you were​​ in the present.‌⁠‍

Twisted​⁠ desires crumbled into‍ ash and vanished.⁠

With​​ a heart as​⁠ clear as a lake, Perda smiled.‌​

“Burns‍​ really well.”

Luri⁠​‍ watched him as‍ he murmured that.‌

Her⁠​‌ assessment of Perda⁠ was as follows:‌​‍

‘An‍ unpredictable psychopath.’

And⁠ she added one‌​‍ more:

‘Also​ a masochist.’

A combination so absurd​‌ that Luri didn’t‍ even know how‍​ to classify it.⁠

As​‍‌ her discomfort grew,​​​ her scowl deepened​‍ more and more.‌⁠

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