A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 6: Lunelle Misthylene (2)

“This is...!”

“It's nothing much. Just a passageway to a basement, prepared for emergencies. It was quietly built in during the last renovation of the mansion, and it seems like now’s the time to use it.”

Whitney's excuse for the obviously suspicious secret passage was, in its own way, plausible.

After all, eccentric nobles obsessed with security—bordering on the fanatical—often installed hidden passages and traps in their estates.

Even aside from such cases, it was common for noble households to have at least one or two hidden escape routes in case of emergency.

But the gaping mouth of that passage, which resembled the maw of a beast, didn’t seem like it had been made for a mere escape.

“...Is that the stench of blood?”

Otherwise, there would be no reason for that faint, acrid scent wafting up from the depths of the corridor.

It was subtle—too subtle for an ordinary person to notice—but Lunelle, who had crossed the threshold of death multiple times, could clearly tell it was the smell of blood.

“What are you doing? Not coming in?”

But that didn’t make her want to run away.

Rather, the fact that Whitney hadn’t just talked big, but had actually prepared something real, made her heart beat faster.

Sure, there was still the possibility that it was a trap—but she no longer cared.

After all, she had already been betrayed multiple times by those who had once extended a hand to her. What difference would one more betrayal make?

At this point, resignation was her default.

“All right, since we’re here now... Let me # Nоvеlight # say this before we go in.”

With that thought in mind, Lunelle hesitated for a moment, then followed Whitney down the hidden passage, where the stench of blood only grew thicker.

“Don’t be alarmed.”

But even she couldn’t stop her breath from catching when they reached the basement entrance and Whitney opened the door with a voice that acted like it was no big deal.

“This isn’t some kind of evil black magic ritual or anything.”

Because what greeted her was the interior of the basement, filled wall-to-wall with a six-pointed star drawn across the blood-reeking floor.

***

“Well, I did warn you in advance, didn’t I...? I guess I still owe you a more detailed explanation.”

I did feel a bit bad seeing Lunelle’s face go pale the moment we stepped into the basement, but honestly, I also felt a little wronged. I myself hadn’t even known this place existed until a few days ago.

If Alfred hadn’t suddenly turned pale and told me about it while I was agonizing over where I could find a secretive location away from prying eyes, I probably would’ve stayed clueless.

Anyway, this place hadn’t been maintained for quite some time, and the recent experiments I conducted here only made the atmosphere even more eerie.

Still, if you understood the logic behind the magic circle on the floor, there was nothing to be afraid of.

“It might look a little off-putting, but using blood in rituals is actually a traditional method used even by the Holy Order, you know?”

In truth, white magic and black magic both deal with souls. The difference lies only in the ritual process and the outcome.

If I put it that way, you might think white magic and black magic are essentially the same—but that’s a serious misunderstanding.

That “slight difference” determines whether a person is sacrificed during the process or not, or whether the result is a curse or a blessing. That’s where the clear line between wicked black magic and righteous white magic comes from.

“For reference, the blood used to draw the circle is cow’s blood. So please don’t look at me like that.”

The old cow I’d been raising died of illness a few days ago. I do feel bad for Hans, the stablehand, but hey—someone’s gotta survive, right?

I’m sure even Hans’s beloved cow, Brau, would be thrilled beyond the rainbow bridge if it knew Lunelle would pick up the sword again.

“Well, if you still can’t accept it...”

“I’m not blaming you.”

I was about to clarify, since it looked like Lunelle still didn’t quite trust my explanation, but her cold voice cut me off first.

“If you can really help me hold a sword again, I’ll help you do this a hundred—no, a thousand times over if I must.”

“Uh... if we go that far, I’m not sure there’ll be any cows left in the Empire...”

I was about to correct her, sensing a bit of a misunderstanding, but Lunelle interrupted me again with an even deeper tone.

“So, tell me now.”

Her tone was calm, but in the darkness, her eyes burned brighter than ever before.

“What do I have to do here to wield a sword again?”

Her resolve was what mattered most—so now that I had confirmed it, there was no need for further explanation.

“Oh, nothing complicated. I’ve already finished all the preparations.”

Saying that, I pointed gently toward the center of the magic circle I had spent several sleepless nights creating.

“All you have to do is walk to the center of the circle and stand there. I’ll handle the rest.”

Though I said it lightly, the truth was, today’s ritual was anything but simple.

If I hadn’t been a die-hard fan who memorized the game’s setting books with all their obscure appearances, secret rituals, and lore—and if I hadn’t learned how to handle souls to enhance my white magic—I wouldn’t have even been able to recreate this imperial ritual in the first place.

Even the Emperor who devised this ritual had to go through numerous trial-and-error attempts before succeeding. The process itself was actually rather primitive despite its complexity.

Simply put, the ritual involves inscribing a manufactured sigil onto Lunelle’s soul to replace the mana circuit in her body that had already burned out. In easier terms—it’s like cutting into raw flesh to create artificial veins throughout her body.

In short, it’s madness.

But it works.

Do you know how an undead—especially a lich—uses magic?

No matter how much mana their phylactery holds, a lifeless body doesn’t allow mana to flow naturally.

Yet casting magic requires a mana circulation system that lets mana be expelled from the body on demand. Since liches are nothing but bones, they solve this by engraving rituals onto their soul.

By inscribing mana directly onto the soul, they can use magic even if it doesn’t flow through the body.

Of course, this carries enormous risk. Not only can it severely damage the soul, but the pain is akin to having every bone in your body torn apart.

And because it’s not physical pain but pain of the soul, even liches—who are practically immune to harm and exist in death—feel it acutely. Still, their resistance is far stronger, and their dead bodies can withstand more.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Even so, some liches still fail to endure the torment and disintegrate entirely. If an ordinary person tried it, they’d lose their mind or have their soul shattered before the ritual even finished.

That’s why this ritual, intended for someone like Lunelle—who still falls within the range of human—is designed to proceed in gradual stages, carefully etching the sigils one by one.

The pain can’t be reduced, but by splitting it into phases, the stability of the process improves drastically.

Even so, not even the Emperor who designed this ritual could promise success.

Though she was the one who finally unraveled how liches manipulate mana, she remained skeptical about applying it to a living human soul.

But Lunelle pulled it off.

I know that for a fact—because I read all about Lunelle’s past in the official lore book that came bundled with the game. She was one of the most popular characters, after all.

Maybe it was because I had just finished laying it all out in my head and spoken it aloud to Lunelle—but when I gave her the choice, she accepted the soul-engraving ritual without a second thought, solely on the promise that it would let her hold a sword again.

And although the process was divided into stages, she ultimately endured the kind of pain that even liches couldn’t withstand and succeeded in the end.

However, perhaps because the pain was so overwhelming, her already faint emotions completely withered away, and she ended up becoming nothing more than the Emperor’s killing machine.

Still, things might turn out differently this time.

After all, I’d been refining the ritual over the past few days and had achieved some results of my own.

So... she really has to endure that much soul-rending agony just to hold a sword again?

“Well, it’s not exactly like that... but sure, let’s go with that.”

Anyway, it was time to begin the ritual, so I gave Lunelle a brief explanation of the process, but it seemed she didn’t really grasp it.

Well, even I—someone who’d lived their whole life immersed in games—found it difficult to fully comprehend the complexities of black magic, so it was understandable.

“Let me know when you’re ready. The ritual will be painful, so take time to steel yourself—”

“I’ve been ready for a while now.”

And yet, now that the moment of the ritual was finally here, I felt more nervous than Lunelle did, despite her being the one about to endure it.

Did I really manage to reproduce the Emperor’s ritual correctly? Will the emergency measure I prepared actually work?

“All right, let’s begin.”

A wave of worries hit me all at once, but after taking a deep breath, I quietly channeled mana into the magic circle on the floor.

—Zzzzznnng...!

In the blink of an eye, the pitch-dark basement filled with blinding red light and a stinging smoke.

“Ugh!?”

Lunelle’s expression twisted with pain in an instant.

“Kh... ughhh...”

“Ghh...”

She was probably feeling as if her nerves and intestines were being shredded by sharp blades right now.

I wanted to cast a pain-numbing spell, but it was her soul that was being torn apart—not her body—so it would be useless.

At this point, all I could do was trust in Lunelle’s fanatical obsession with the sword, and the superhuman mental fortitude that came with it.

“I—I can still... endure this...”

But my hope was short-lived. She stumbled and seemed to recover her balance for a moment—but then her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor.

“That’s unfortunate.”

Seeing that, I couldn’t help but sigh heavily.

“...This is below expectations.”

“Tch.”

I had done my best to replicate the ritual, but the quality of the magic circle still fell far short of what the Emperor, with infinite resources and manpower, had created.

Thankfully, the ritual itself was proceeding correctly. But the problem was time.

With the circle's reduced quality, the pain inflicted was far worse—and now the duration of the ritual seemed longer too. At this rate, even someone like Lunelle might not survive to the end.

“Well, no helping it.”

Of course, I had no intention of just standing here sucking my thumb while things went to hell.

If I’d walked into this without any contingency plan, knowing full well what could happen, I wouldn’t be qualified to call myself human.

All right. It’s about time I use the failsafe I’d prepared.

“Not... not yet...!”

“Whoa.”

Just as I was walking toward the magic circle with that thought in mind, Lunelle’s hoarse voice pierced the air beside my ear.

“I... I can still hold on! Just a little longer...!”

Collapsed and writhing in pain, she somehow raised her head and called out with all the strength she had left.

“I swear I’ll meet your expectations...!”

“No, that’s enough. You’ve done more than enough.”

Her mental strength was truly worthy of respect, but if she couldn’t even keep herself upright, there was no way she could keep enduring this level of pain.

Even the Emperor’s far superior ritual had erased her emotions in the end—if she tried to endure my subpar version, it wouldn’t be her emotions that disappeared, but her life.

So I had to act quickly and activate the contingency I’d devised.

“I’ll do anything! If my soul alone isn’t enough—”

“...Excuse me?”

“In that case, I’ll offer you the world if I must...!”

As I stepped into the circle, ignoring her words, her voice turned desperate, now tinged with fear.

“P-please... Just give me one more chance...!”

What the hell was she even talking about? I’m not some demon lord—I don’t want the world, and I have no interest in cruelly giving and then snatching things away.

“I’m literally trying to help you with this ritual right now...”

“Ah...”

Feeling like this really needed clarification, I scratched my head and tried to explain.

—Drip...

“Oh dear.”

Her bloodshot eyes finally gave out, and just as she clenched her teeth to endure the final burst of pain, a stream of blood ran from her nose and she lost consciousness.

She really is something else.

Her clothes were soaked through with cold sweat, and her entire body trembled in spasms, unable to forget the pain.

And yet not once did the word “give up” cross her lips. She was... truly something else.

But even someone like her would be in danger if her soul took any more damage. Even now, while unconscious, Lunelle’s soul was still writhing in agony.

So now—it was time to carry out the “failsafe.”

“Huff...”

But now that the moment was here, my heart was pounding out of control.

Because the contingency I’d prepared was just as reckless and dangerous as the main ritual itself.

I didn’t really think I’d have to use this...

The plan was to activate a hidden sigil I’d embedded into the magic circle and redirect the soul’s pain meant for Lunelle into myself.

It was a technique based on the paladins’ tactics—redirecting curses and damage aimed at allies onto themselves, and distributing their own blessings to others.

If this worked, the ritual would stabilize and Lunelle would be fine.

Of course, that came with the minor issue of experiencing the raw pain of being flayed alive until the ritual ended.

But I’ve gone through that kind of pain more than once in my previous life.

Not something I enjoy recalling, but pain was something I became familiar with long ago. And honestly, I’m not exactly the kind of person who willingly suffers for others.

If I were, I wouldn’t still be haunted by dreams of my death.

Truthfully, I’d rather live a nice, easy life... but here we are.

If Lunelle ends up on my side, that alone makes this all worth it.

I’d already invested this much time in her—now I just had to endure the rest.

And if she really does pick up the sword again, what would be the point if her emotions were gone? I don’t know if this method will work, but at the very least, I’d like to see even a flicker of joy in her expression.

—Zzzzznnng...!

And on that note, here’s something people often forget:

With higher authority comes greater responsibility.

“Ugh...!”

Then again, now that I think about it... this might be too much responsibility.