Chapter 71
Zair imagined stripping Joo Yi-Gyeol’s clothes away and pressing his lips to the traces that would remain on that body.
He had never been interested in men. To be precise, he had taken both men and women to bed for temporary amusement and to satisfy his desires, but beyond that, he felt nothing. When he considered that even Sethian was the same, he found it amusing how similar they were.
Perhaps that was why.
He couldn't recall how often it had happened, but when he thought of Sethian keeping Yi-Gyeol in his bedroom, holding him as he slept, a powerful urge to imitate it overtook him.
‘But I don’t need to do that anymore.’
Soon, no one would remain to compare every little detail, yet still, he found himself wanting to copy them, one by one. Was living by others’ will this frightening?
A bitter laugh escaped him as he surveyed his laboratory.
Though it wasn’t particularly spacious, it was undeniably his own, not a mere imitation of Sethian’s.
Lately, he had begun to make subtle changes in other spaces—adding furniture, altering wallpaper. He would have preferred to tear everything down and rebuild from scratch, but the deeply rooted force of 'others' will' prevented him from making drastic changes. Despite it being clearly his space, it never felt truly comfortable.
In contrast, this room, built solely by his own will, was the only place where he felt at ease. Aside from duties requiring public appearances, everything was conducted here. It was in this laboratory that he secretly met with souls and commanded them.
Zair rose from his seat, stepping away from his desk to approach a curtained wall. Pulling the curtain aside, he revealed countless glass bottles filled with white butterflies. The butterflies, having been quietly resting on the floor of their bottles, fluttered toward the glass as if greeting him. Their voices were silenced with their imprisonment, not a single sound breaking the stillness.
Zair’s gaze swept over each bottle, occasionally pausing on the empty ones. More than thirty bottles remained vacant.
‘Perhaps I should increase the number of possessed ones.’
He already had plenty, but given his opponent was Sethian, he couldn't afford to be careless. Sethian had been captured, with no means of escape, thanks to Zair’s careful planning. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sethian might be orchestrating something behind the scenes. That was why he had assigned a servant—one who loathed Sethian—to watch over him.
Using souls as spies was another option, but the ones who had been thoroughly brainwashed already inhabited the bodies of people continuously fed possession drugs. Furthermore, Sethian could hear the voices of souls. Though he could not yet see them, if one soul inadvertently revealed something, it could provide Sethian with a crucial clue. This had to be avoided at all costs.
"If you give the order, I will personally kill Crown Prince Sethian at any time."
The servant was filled with rage, especially after his severed hand was presented to the emperor as a tool for coercion. When Zair showed him fabricated evidence of Sethian conspiring with other princes to weaken the emperor by poisoning him, the servant became so furious that he even shed tears. Zair found it amusing that the servant had such devotion to the old man, but it worked in his favor. A man driven by pure rage was easy to manipulate.
If Zair gave the signal, the emperor’s servant would kill Sethian and take his own life afterward, knowing that the emperor he adored had little time left to live.
‘But not yet.’
Zair had no intention of killing Sethian just yet. While they were apart, Yi-Gyeol would suffer from a lack of vital energy, gradually weakening. The effects of the drug would soon be amplified. If nothing changed, Yi-Gyeol would slowly wither away and die. In his despair, he would long for someone—anyone—to become his new master. And that someone would be Zair.
For that to happen, Sethian had to remain alive. Once Zair became emperor and became Yi-Gyeol’s new master, only then would Sethian be murdered in his prison cell by the vengeful servant whose hand had been severed.
The thought of Sethian’s cold corpse discovered in a damp stone tower twisted Zair’s smile into something cruel. He rarely smiled, but now, the blissful grin spread across his face effortlessly.
Covering his mouth with one hand, Zair decided to accelerate the brainwashing of the souls before closing the curtain. He then passed a shelf hidden behind another curtain. It was an imposing bookshelf, too heavy to move.
Grinning, Zair pulled out a thick book, about the width of his palm. Instead of revealing the back of the bookshelf, a peculiar-looking lock appeared. He inserted a key, turned it, and heard a click. Pushing the book back into place, he pressed against the shelf, which smoothly slid aside.
A hidden chamber was revealed, much larger than his laboratory—though not as spacious as an official office.
A dim, windowless space stretched before him, faintly illuminated by the light spilling in from the laboratory. At the end of the elongated shadow stood a massive glass cylinder filled with liquid. The liquid was too dark to discern its true color.
Zair’s gaze settled on something floating within the liquid. Amidst the murky substance, countless white butterflies glowed faintly, making their shapes distinguishable.
As the door fully opened, the color of the liquid became clearer.
"Ugh… Uh…"
A weak groan echoed from above. At the end of the light’s reach, a man was suspended over the cylinder, bound and hanging upside down. He was naked, his body covered in gruesome wounds, as if someone had carved into him repeatedly to drain his blood.
"Ah… Ahh…!"
The man trembled violently upon recognizing Zair, his body convulsing in agony. Yet, he lacked the strength to do more than sway in the air, causing his blood to flow faster.
"It seems you’re eager to die."
His struggle would only drain his blood more quickly.
A dark smile spread across Zair’s face as he stepped closer to the cylinder. The enormous glass container was filled two-thirds of the way with deep red blood—far more than a single man could supply. The heavy scent of iron hung in the air, but Zair was unfazed.
The glass was covered with intricate engravings of ancient script, so complex that even Zair had spent considerable time deciphering them. He traced his fingers over a portion of the text where his own name was inscribed like an incantation. The engravings were deep enough to be felt beneath his fingertips.
‘It will be completed soon.’
Only a small portion of the inscription remained unfinished. This man wouldn’t last much longer, but with three or four more sacrifices, it would be complete.
Zair tilted his head up, gazing at the towering cylinder.
Ever since discovering Yi-Gyeol’s existence, he had meticulously designed a plan to mass-produce an army using him. The greatest obstacle was maintaining their 'vital energy.'
If he tried to sustain them with his own vitality, his lifespan would run out and he would die in less than a month. When refining bodies for dead souls rather than living spirits, it was enough to create them with ample vitality at the time and then, after a long while when that vitality ran dry, recharge them once more. Compared to a body like Yi-Gyeol’s, which needed a continuous supply of vitality just to breathe and keep its heart beating, that method was far more convenient and consumed less vitality.
But those bodies had their drawbacks. As with Teren, unless their bodies were covered here and there with masks, gloves, and armor, they did not look like ordinary humans. Nor did they breathe or have beating hearts like humans. They were also so finicky that more than half were rejected when a soul entered to settle inside.
In contrast, Joo Yi-Gyeol’s body was perfection itself.
To mass-produce that body, a large amount of vitality was naturally required.
That was why Zair had prepared to mix ‘the blood of a living human’ and ‘soul butterflies’ to substitute for his own vitality. Once the spell was filled to its end, even the soul butterflies soaked in blood would melt together and become his vitality, with Zair as the master they served.
‘Once this is complete…’
His laughter mixed with the dying man’s groans.
In the corner of the room, unnoticed in the darkness, a golden butterfly silently dissolved into the shadows and vanished.
He had never been interested in men. To be precise, he had taken both men and women to bed for temporary amusement and to satisfy his desires, but beyond that, he felt nothing. When he considered that even Sethian was the same, he found it amusing how similar they were.
Perhaps that was why.
He couldn't recall how often it had happened, but when he thought of Sethian keeping Yi-Gyeol in his bedroom, holding him as he slept, a powerful urge to imitate it overtook him.
‘But I don’t need to do that anymore.’
Soon, no one would remain to compare every little detail, yet still, he found himself wanting to copy them, one by one. Was living by others’ will this frightening?
A bitter laugh escaped him as he surveyed his laboratory.
Though it wasn’t particularly spacious, it was undeniably his own, not a mere imitation of Sethian’s.
Lately, he had begun to make subtle changes in other spaces—adding furniture, altering wallpaper. He would have preferred to tear everything down and rebuild from scratch, but the deeply rooted force of 'others' will' prevented him from making drastic changes. Despite it being clearly his space, it never felt truly comfortable.
In contrast, this room, built solely by his own will, was the only place where he felt at ease. Aside from duties requiring public appearances, everything was conducted here. It was in this laboratory that he secretly met with souls and commanded them.
Zair rose from his seat, stepping away from his desk to approach a curtained wall. Pulling the curtain aside, he revealed countless glass bottles filled with white butterflies. The butterflies, having been quietly resting on the floor of their bottles, fluttered toward the glass as if greeting him. Their voices were silenced with their imprisonment, not a single sound breaking the stillness.
Zair’s gaze swept over each bottle, occasionally pausing on the empty ones. More than thirty bottles remained vacant.
‘Perhaps I should increase the number of possessed ones.’
He already had plenty, but given his opponent was Sethian, he couldn't afford to be careless. Sethian had been captured, with no means of escape, thanks to Zair’s careful planning. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sethian might be orchestrating something behind the scenes. That was why he had assigned a servant—one who loathed Sethian—to watch over him.
Using souls as spies was another option, but the ones who had been thoroughly brainwashed already inhabited the bodies of people continuously fed possession drugs. Furthermore, Sethian could hear the voices of souls. Though he could not yet see them, if one soul inadvertently revealed something, it could provide Sethian with a crucial clue. This had to be avoided at all costs.
"If you give the order, I will personally kill Crown Prince Sethian at any time."
The servant was filled with rage, especially after his severed hand was presented to the emperor as a tool for coercion. When Zair showed him fabricated evidence of Sethian conspiring with other princes to weaken the emperor by poisoning him, the servant became so furious that he even shed tears. Zair found it amusing that the servant had such devotion to the old man, but it worked in his favor. A man driven by pure rage was easy to manipulate.
If Zair gave the signal, the emperor’s servant would kill Sethian and take his own life afterward, knowing that the emperor he adored had little time left to live.
‘But not yet.’
Zair had no intention of killing Sethian just yet. While they were apart, Yi-Gyeol would suffer from a lack of vital energy, gradually weakening. The effects of the drug would soon be amplified. If nothing changed, Yi-Gyeol would slowly wither away and die. In his despair, he would long for someone—anyone—to become his new master. And that someone would be Zair.
For that to happen, Sethian had to remain alive. Once Zair became emperor and became Yi-Gyeol’s new master, only then would Sethian be murdered in his prison cell by the vengeful servant whose hand had been severed.
The thought of Sethian’s cold corpse discovered in a damp stone tower twisted Zair’s smile into something cruel. He rarely smiled, but now, the blissful grin spread across his face effortlessly.
Covering his mouth with one hand, Zair decided to accelerate the brainwashing of the souls before closing the curtain. He then passed a shelf hidden behind another curtain. It was an imposing bookshelf, too heavy to move.
Grinning, Zair pulled out a thick book, about the width of his palm. Instead of revealing the back of the bookshelf, a peculiar-looking lock appeared. He inserted a key, turned it, and heard a click. Pushing the book back into place, he pressed against the shelf, which smoothly slid aside.
A hidden chamber was revealed, much larger than his laboratory—though not as spacious as an official office.
A dim, windowless space stretched before him, faintly illuminated by the light spilling in from the laboratory. At the end of the elongated shadow stood a massive glass cylinder filled with liquid. The liquid was too dark to discern its true color.
Zair’s gaze settled on something floating within the liquid. Amidst the murky substance, countless white butterflies glowed faintly, making their shapes distinguishable.
As the door fully opened, the color of the liquid became clearer.
"Ugh… Uh…"
A weak groan echoed from above. At the end of the light’s reach, a man was suspended over the cylinder, bound and hanging upside down. He was naked, his body covered in gruesome wounds, as if someone had carved into him repeatedly to drain his blood.
"Ah… Ahh…!"
The man trembled violently upon recognizing Zair, his body convulsing in agony. Yet, he lacked the strength to do more than sway in the air, causing his blood to flow faster.
"It seems you’re eager to die."
His struggle would only drain his blood more quickly.
A dark smile spread across Zair’s face as he stepped closer to the cylinder. The enormous glass container was filled two-thirds of the way with deep red blood—far more than a single man could supply. The heavy scent of iron hung in the air, but Zair was unfazed.
The glass was covered with intricate engravings of ancient script, so complex that even Zair had spent considerable time deciphering them. He traced his fingers over a portion of the text where his own name was inscribed like an incantation. The engravings were deep enough to be felt beneath his fingertips.
‘It will be completed soon.’
Only a small portion of the inscription remained unfinished. This man wouldn’t last much longer, but with three or four more sacrifices, it would be complete.
Zair tilted his head up, gazing at the towering cylinder.
Ever since discovering Yi-Gyeol’s existence, he had meticulously designed a plan to mass-produce an army using him. The greatest obstacle was maintaining their 'vital energy.'
If he tried to sustain them with his own vitality, his lifespan would run out and he would die in less than a month. When refining bodies for dead souls rather than living spirits, it was enough to create them with ample vitality at the time and then, after a long while when that vitality ran dry, recharge them once more. Compared to a body like Yi-Gyeol’s, which needed a continuous supply of vitality just to breathe and keep its heart beating, that method was far more convenient and consumed less vitality.
But those bodies had their drawbacks. As with Teren, unless their bodies were covered here and there with masks, gloves, and armor, they did not look like ordinary humans. Nor did they breathe or have beating hearts like humans. They were also so finicky that more than half were rejected when a soul entered to settle inside.
In contrast, Joo Yi-Gyeol’s body was perfection itself.
To mass-produce that body, a large amount of vitality was naturally required.
That was why Zair had prepared to mix ‘the blood of a living human’ and ‘soul butterflies’ to substitute for his own vitality. Once the spell was filled to its end, even the soul butterflies soaked in blood would melt together and become his vitality, with Zair as the master they served.
‘Once this is complete…’
His laughter mixed with the dying man’s groans.
In the corner of the room, unnoticed in the darkness, a golden butterfly silently dissolved into the shadows and vanished.
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