Gunmage
Chapter 180: Ninety percent dead

Chapter 180: Chapter 180: Ninety percent dead

"Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you... but Lugh is dead."

The whole room went still. The words lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

"You don’t seem surprised,"

Selaphiel’s voice echoed, smooth and sharp, like a blade of ice.

Victor blinked, as though coming out of a daze.

"No, what? How? What do you mean he’s dead?"

Selaphiel leaned forward slightly, the candlelight casting shadows beneath her cheekbones. Her eyes, two calm voids, held an unfathomable depth.

"What else could I mean?"

Victor remained silent. His mask cracked for a brief moment, but his expression immediately retur e dark to normal

Selaphiel leaned back, composed.

"It’s exactly as it sounds. Due to our negligence, Lugh was killed last night. An Assassination."

"Oh. Wow..."

Victor exhaled slowly, trying to regain footing.

"How did this even happen? And nobody’s even heard of it?"

Selaphiel raised a single brow, razor-sharp in its scrutiny.

"You haven’t heard of it?"

The silence in the room grew thick, almost tangible, like a suffocating veil between them.

"No... I haven’t heard of this."

Selaphiel almost smiled, but it was cold, humorless.

"So you didn’t hear the explosion the previous night? It was quite loud. We had journalists clamoring at the gates. Caused quite a commotion. Are you telling me you’re unaware?"

Victor’s awkward smile had vanished, replaced by a solemn expression. But beneath the supposed grief was calculation. Layers turning in his mind.

He hesitated.

"Of course I heard the commotion... I just didn’t know it was related to, to..."

The words caught in his throat.

Isolde, silent until now, finally spoke.

"For a ’fan’ You don’t seem too concerned though."

Victor’s demeanor hardened in a flash.

"I could say the same for both of you."

His voice sharpened, cutting through the tension.

"You don’t look particularly aggrieved."

Selaphiel interrupted smoothly, brushing off his accusation.

"Why, that’s obvious. Isolde is his stepmother—you can guess they weren’t on the best of terms. As for me?"

Her fingers twirled her flaxen hair into curls.

"I’ve lived centuries. Death has become a familiar companion."

Victor opened his mouth, desperate for some thread to pull, but Selaphiel’s next words froze him.

"But that’s beside the point. Lugh may be dead... but we can still resurrect him."

"I’m sorry—what?"

Victor stiffened. Air caught in his lungs.

"Yes,"

Selaphiel said calmly.

"It’ll take time and effort, but it’s possible with magic."

"C-Can magic do that?"

She tilted her head.

"Well, not regular magic. Forbidden magic."

He recoiled instinctively, eyes wide in disbelief.

Selaphiel smiled.

"That’s why we’re so... carefree. While I said he’s dead, he’s only about 90 percent dead. We’ve bound his soul to his body. It’ll last a few days at most. The only thing stopping us from initiating the ritual are the ingredients."

Victor stood abruptly, chair scraping back against the polished floor. Multiple layers of pretense stripped off in an instant.

"Why are you telling me this? What is your goal?"

Selaphiel chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth.

"Sharp of you to notice. Not befitting someone who gambles away most of his wealth and mindlessly fulfills his debtors’ dares."

She raised two fingers in air quotes at the word "dares."

Victor’s gaze didn’t shift. His mind had already memorized the layout of the room, the possible exits. One hand crept slowly toward his pocket. Selaphiel’s eyes trailed him lazily.

"Good survival instinct. Top-class acting skills."

She laughed again.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you were... someone else."

Her tone dropped in temperature during the last words.

"Have a seat."

She gestured gently, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

Victor sat, this time with no awkward smiles. No diplomacy. Just cold calculation behind a stone-still face.

Selaphiel clasped her hands.

"Now that the pleasantries are over... let’s talk seriously. The reason I told you all this is because we need your help."

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

"My help? What could the great Von Heims possibly need from me?"

"There’s an underground auction in three days,"

She said.

"The ingredients we need will be sold there."

"You need my help... in an auction?"

He repeated, almost incredulous.

"My coffers aren’t as deep as yours."

"Obviously."

Selaphiel cut in, flatly.

"We’ll handle the main items. You focus on the lesser, less conspicuous ones."

She leaned in, voice low.

"We’re cutting it close. Once the auction ends, we’ll need to start the ritual immediately if Lugh’s to survive. I don’t need Victor Aelhurst—I need you. To handle the cleanup. The complications."

Victor rubbed his temple, thoughts racing behind his eyes.

"And why would I do that? What’s in it for me?"

Selaphiel pretended to ponder, even tapping her chin.

"Hmm... Ah yes. You get to keep your life."

The room dropped into silence, the fire flickering slightly as if reacting to the shift in tone.

Victor stood again, slowly, deliberately.

"How do I contact you?"

Selaphiel removed the bird from her shoulder and handed it to him. It was small, feathered in bright red and blue, it did not panic even as it was being moved.

Victor examined it, puzzled.

There was no trace of mana.

"What is this?"

"It’s a bird."

She replied flatly.

Victor gave her a look, deadpan.

"Yeah, I can see it’s a bird."

He barely had time to follow up before she answered.

"Then why are you asking?"

He bit the inside of his lip but said nothing. There was no point.

Selaphiel hummed a tune, melodic and ancient.

"That is a well-trained bird. Give it a letter, and it’ll come flying back to this house. To me."

"Ah, I see. How convenient."

He straightened his clothes, his composure mostly restored.

"I’ll be taking my leave now."

He began walking away, steps light but alert. He had barely crossed the threshold when her voice echoed again.

"I don’t have to remind you—what we spoke of must be kept secret, yes?"

"Yes"

His reply was clipped and stoic.

"Good."

Her tone darkened, her words like knives.

"Because if word of this gets out—not only you—but the entire Aelhurst line will be slaughtered before dawn."

Victor turned back sharply, alarmed, eyes darting to the strange, silent servants who had witnessed everything.

"What?"

His voice wavered, a rare crack.

"What if I’m not the one who leaks the info? What if someone else—"

"That’s a you problem,"

Selaphiel said coldly.

"Whether you’re guilty or not, if the news gets out, you pay the price. So make sure it doesn’t."

Victor gritted his teeth, jaw clenched with frustration, but said nothing more.

He left, the bird cradled in one hand