To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 150

“What? You want me to gather information here, in the fortress?” Jin’s eyes widened with shock as he repeated the request. Irel quickly raised a finger to her lips, signaling for him to keep his voice down.

“I know it’s an uncomfortable task,” she said in a hushed tone, “but we really need information about the barbarians. We can’t make a solid plan without knowing our enemy, can we?”

Jin understood the reasoning. But he was a bodyguard, not a spy. He had followed Irel to the western frontier to protect her, not to gather intelligence within the fortress walls.

“I’m not refusing your orders, sister-in-law, but why me?” he asked, still not convinced.

Irel, as if expecting the question, answered smoothly, “Because I can’t do it myself. I’m treated like a delicate noblewoman here, and no one dares bring up rough topics around me.”

She sighed, touching her cheek in frustration. Since arriving at Namiève, Irel had felt a bit like an outsider. Joshua was kind enough to talk with her, but even he didn’t have any recent information about the barbarian invasions, having just returned to the region himself. In short, there was no one to give her useful information.

“What about the others? There are other people who could do this, aren’t there?” Jin persisted.

“Think about it, Jin. Who else could I ask? Yan Louis? Or Phaesus?” Irel replied, her voice tinged with resignation.

Jin immediately realized the truth in her words. Yan Louis wasn’t exactly the most coherent conversationalist. He had a habit of disappearing like a ghost and reappearing unexpectedly, startling those around him. And though his communication skills had improved, he still spoke in a jumbled, disorganized way that made it difficult for anyone to follow, unless they were exceptionally sharp.

As for Phaesus… well, there was no point even discussing him. The only conversations he excelled at were the kinds that involved threats of violence, like “I’ll stab you to death and carve your coffin out of your bones.”

Masakas were difficult to rely on for delicate social interactions. Their solitary, power-driven nature, coupled with their pride as Ha Mash, often made them poor choices for subtle tasks like gathering information.

Jin, on the other hand, was amiable and good at communicating—rare qualities among the Masakas.

Not to mention, I can’t ask Varkan to do it, Irel thought. Varkan was too feared and distrusted by the people here. His early displays of power—slaughtering Kitans by the dozens and nearly taking out his own allies in the process—had made the local forces wary of him.

“…I get it,” Jin muttered, realizing there was no one better suited for the job. Still reluctant, he asked, “But who will guard you while I’m gathering information?”

“Phaesus will take over your duties,” Irel replied with a confident smile.

At that, Jin finally accepted defeat. There was no escape. He sighed and lowered his shoulders in resignation.

“…Alright, then. I’ll do it.”

With no other choice, Jin trudged off to start his new assignment, while Irel cheerfully waved him off, calling, “Good luck, Jin!”

As soon as Jin disappeared from sight, Irel’s expression shifted. She brushed her hair back, glanced at herself in a nearby mirror, and then stepped out of the room with a resolute air.

Now it’s my turn to dig for answers.

While Jin focused on uncovering information about the barbarians, Irel had her own inquiry to pursue—one that only she could investigate. It involved the deceased Masaka, Seraphine.

Varkan’s right. There must be a reason why the king sent Erich to the western border.

Erich’s defensive abilities were impressive, but they didn’t kill Kitans. So why had the king stationed him in a place that needed an aggressive response to the constant threat from the mountains?

Irel suspected the answer might lie in what happened to Seraphine. And she intended to find out.

***

“Seraphine? You want to know about him?” Joshua asked, looking puzzled. Irel nodded.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Why the sudden interest? I mean, you never met him.”

And you never will, Joshua thought but didn’t say aloud. He found it odd that Irel would ask about someone who had already passed. But Irel’s kind smile softened his wariness.

“If you missed him so much, he must’ve been a good person. I wanted to know more about him,” she said, her tone gentle and understanding.

Joshua’s heart softened. He had been holding in his grief for Seraphine for so long, and here was Irel, offering a chance for him to express it.

A future leader should never show weakness. But Joshua reasoned that Irel was only staying for a while, and she wasn’t part of his long-term future here. Maybe it was okay to lean on her, just this once.

“Seraphine was…” Joshua began, his voice heavy with the effort of finally sharing his thoughts. Irel perked up, ready to catch any useful clues.

“He was… bald.”

Wait, what? Irel blinked, unsure if she had misheard. But Joshua’s expression remained soft and nostalgic as he continued his reflection.

“He didn’t have hair. I mean, he couldn’t grow any. It was part of his ability—his body produced a powerful acid.”

“Ah,” Irel murmured, starting to piece it together.

“Because of that, all his hair—including his eyebrows and body hair—was dissolved. His skin was smooth, and Seraphine was always a bit sad about that. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t make his hair grow back.”

That is actually kind of sad, Irel thought, her expression softening as she looked at Joshua.

“His ability was incredibly dangerous but he controlled it well. He rarely ever hurt anyone. Still, I remember how he would gently push me away whenever I tried to hold his hand or hang onto him. He was always worried he might accidentally harm me.”

Joshua smiled faintly, recalling how kind Seraphine had been. Right, bald guys are usually nice, Irel mused, her head nodding in sympathy. But she couldn’t let this tender moment go to waste, so she decided to probe further.

“He must have been really effective against the Kitans, with that kind of power,” she suggested.

“Yes, when he unleashed his acid, the Kitans would melt down to their bones. He was incredible!” Joshua’s eyes lit up with admiration.

“If you had to compare him to Masaka Erich, would you say Seraphine was stronger?” Irel asked, trying to sound innocently curious, like a child asking whether a lion or a tiger was stronger. Joshua seemed to take her question at face value, answering without suspicion.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it since they usually fought together, not against each other. Erich would create walls to trap the Kitans, and Seraphine would melt them from within. I could only watch from a distance, but it was an incredible sight.”

That explains it, Irel thought. The king had likely sent Erich to the western frontier because he and Seraphine had once been a perfect team, like a sword and a shield. But now, with Seraphine gone, only the shield remained.

“If Erich had been there that day when my brother died… maybe they would have all survived,” Joshua murmured, his tone suddenly heavy with regret. His earlier excitement drained away as the memory darkened his mood.

Seizing the moment, Irel asked, feigning ignorance, “Where was Erich that day?”

“He was saving the villagers from the Kitans, along with my father.”

How unfortunate. Joshua sighed, explaining what had happened.

“Normally, we only had to deal with either the barbarians or the Kitans, but that day, both attacked at once. Seraphine and Erich had to split up. Erich was supposed to hold the Kitans off with his walls while Seraphine handled the barbarians and then came to help…”

But he never made it. Seraphine died, along with Joshua’s brother, Ruth Varel.

“That’s odd,” Irel mused aloud, resting her chin on her hand.

“What is?” Joshua asked.

“If Seraphine was so powerful, how could he lose to mere barbarians?”

The barbarian tribes of the western desert had nearly been wiped out generations ago. The previous Marquis Varel had aggressively driven them out, pushing them to the brink of extinction. It was only in recent years that they had begun to recover enough to challenge the borders again. But to have killed a Masaka capable of melting Kitans to the bone? It didn’t add up.

“We found that odd too,” Joshua said, his expression darkening.

“Fortunately, Lieutenant Harty managed to arrive later and caught a glimpse of what happened. My brother, Ruth, had always been too soft on the barbarians. Harty thinks Ruth let his guard down, and they managed to ambush him. Seraphine… well, maybe he couldn’t use his full power because he was afraid of harming my brother. And then… both of them were lost.”

Joshua trailed off, unable to continue. The explanation was plausible—Seraphine, unable to unleash his deadly acid for fear of hurting Ruth, was overpowered. But Irel couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t fit.

Why did the barbarians kill Ruth and Seraphine?

That part seemed off. After all, capturing them as hostages would have made more sense. The barbarians could have demanded a ransom or negotiated for land where they could live in peace. If those demands were refused, then they could have killed them.

Maybe it made sense to kill Seraphine, she reasoned. A Masaka as powerful as him would have been too dangerous to hold captive. With his acid abilities, ropes and chains would have been useless. But Ruth? Killing him made no sense.

Why would they kill someone like Ruth Varel? Irel’s suspicions deepened.

Something wasn’t right. Her eyes narrowed as she pondered the puzzle behind her calm, smiling expression.