Gunmage-Chapter 239: Ten live children

"Mr. Von Heim."

"Oh look, it’s that fat fool again. Lugh, you know what to do."

Selaphiel’s voice cut through the air with sharp disdain just as the figure of Victor Aelhurst began his approach.

The man from the Aelhurst family wasn’t truly fat—chubby at best—but the nickname had stuck, likely because it amused Selaphiel to keep it that way.

Victor’s sudden movement, however, was more telling than any nickname.

It wasn’t just eagerness. It was calculated timing—he wanted to get to them before anyone else in the room could. The other guests hadn’t even registered their presence yet. But Victor had.

Lugh narrowed his eyes at the approaching man, his analytical mind silently ticking through past interactions.

Victor had checked the bird discreetly, verifying its condition with the precision of a man terrified of hidden threats.

The avian scout, seemingly ordinary, had shown no sign of sabotage or distress. And yet Victor continued to keep it housed at an unreasonable distance from wherever he conducted his private affairs.

He never let it near. Never risked it overhearing or observing too much.

Which meant, despite his best efforts at secrecy, Lugh still hadn’t uncovered what Victor Aelhurst was truly involved in. And that bothered him.

"Ah. Mr. Lugh Von Heim. A pleasure to meet you. I didn’t actually expect to see you here... especially after all the... rumors."

Lugh didn’t respond, didn’t even nod a second time. He simply stood there in silence, letting his presence—quiet and unnerving—do all the talking.

From what he’d learned in the past few days, Lugh was confident Victor was attempting to verify his identity.

The possibility that the real Lugh had died and been replaced was not just a fringe theory; it was a strong and deliberate line of speculation among certain circles.

As far as their enemies knew, this boy standing in front of them could be a decoy—an actor trained to mimic Lugh’s mannerisms, or perhaps the result of some transformative spell designed to give the illusion of life.

All of it, they believed, part of a larger scheme to buy the Von Heims time to conduct a forbidden resurrection ritual, hidden away from prying eyes.

But the truth was far simpler. No magic ritual had been performed. Lugh was not a copy, not an illusion, and certainly not dead.

And Selaphiel intended to keep that fact obscured until the moment came to strike back. Until the enemy revealed themselves.

And then? Then would come overwhelming force, crushing, total, merciless. Because no one plotted against the Von Heims and lived.

"So um, Lady Selaphiel..."

Victor began again, his tone now an awkward stammer. It would have been easy to believe that this was simply the man’s natural demeanor.

But Lugh knew better.

Victor Aelhurst’s acting was of an extraordinary caliber—genius, even. A performance carefully engineered for maximum effect. Impressive, yes. But not rare.

Lugh already knew of actors just as talented—perhaps more so—hidden in every corner of the kingdom.

Agents of Heieg, embedded within his homeland, unreachable by conventional methods, untraceable except through exhausting and time-consuming protocols.

"Will you still be needing my services during the auction?"

Victor continued, his gaze flickering toward Lugh once more.

Selaphiel smiled then. It was the kind of smile that chilled the spine.

"But of course. We’ve even added to the list."

As she spoke, her hand reached inside the folds of her dress with practiced elegance and produced a small slip of paper—neatly folded.

It looked plain, no different than an invitation card, but the effect it had on Victor was instantaneous.

He unfolded it, read the contents, and his expression shattered. His pupils dilated. His fingers trembled.

And then, without warning, the paper burst into flames, vanishing in his grasp and drifting downward as ash.

"I... I can’t do this."

He stumbled backward, voice breaking, eyes wild with disbelief.

"Of course you can,"

Selaphiel replied, leaning forward. Her smile remained, but the warmth had gone completely. Her voice was flat and cold.

"You don’t have a choice."

Victor swallowed hard, looking for words but finding none.

"But this... this is too..."

He began, only to cut himself off. His mouth worked silently as he weighed his options.

"What if someone finds out?"

He asked, almost in a whisper.

"No one is going to find out,"

Selaphiel chided with dismissive ease.

"Nobody even knows about it."

"I’m somebody,"

Victor muttered, his voice lower now.

Selaphiel’s head tilted, her eyes narrowing. Her gaze was laced with cold, unmistakable threat.

"Are you?"

His hands shook. But then, like a man resigning himself to drowning, he forced calm back into himself. Or so it seemed.

"No. I’m not."

"Good,"

Selaphiel said, her voice final. Without another glance, she turned, walking away with Lugh beside her.

Behind them, Zhou the elf followed, her expression a storm of confusion.

"What was that all about?"

Zhou asked as soon as they reached a secure corner.

The tension in her voice was obvious, she hadn’t understood what she had just witnessed.

Selaphiel, ever cautious, activated her spellwork.

The hallway around them pulsed slightly.

Anyone eavesdropping would find their efforts wasted.

And should someone be strong enough to bypass Selaphiel’s acoustic barriers, they would be powerful enough not to care about the conversation in the first place.

Upon Zhou’s question, Lugh turned his gaze toward Selaphiel.

Victor’s reaction still echoed in his mind.

"Just what exactly did you do?"

Lugh asked, voice level but firm.

Selaphiel hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Zhou, once, then again, as if weighing just how much she could trust the elf.

Then she shrugged, as though the answer were simple.

"I just gave him a list of materials to be delivered to me, that’s all."

Both Lugh and Zhou looked unconvinced. In unspoken synchrony, they exchanged glances—each skeptical in their own way. Lugh, with cold logic. Zhou, with quiet suspicion.

"What materials?"

Lugh asked at last.

Selaphiel responded immediately, without flinching.

"Ten live children. All at fifteen years of age."

Zhou gasped. Her reaction was immediate.

"Wha—?"

She began, he voice tight with revulsion. Lugh, on the other hand, merely nodded.

He understood perfectly why such a request would provoke horror—and misinterpretation. And that was precisely the point.

The more rumors they could inspire, the better.

Zhou, however, had not recovered. Her posture changed. Her voice dropped low, almost as if speaking of something profane.

"Selaphiel... don’t tell me that you—"

"No, you idiot,"

Selaphiel cut in, sharp and annoyed.

"It’s all a ruse. I’m trying to flush some people out. You’d do well to keep your mouth shut."

Zhou still didn’t look convinced. Her expression darkened with distrust.

Selaphiel sighed, clearly exasperated.

"Think about it. If I were actually going to do it, why would I tell you?"

Zhou hesitated, the gears in her mind turning.

"...That makes sense,"

She admitted slowly. And yet, her voice remained uncertain.

"It could also be that you needed my magic to—"

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Selaphiel snapped again, now visibly irritated.

"I didn’t need your abilities last time. If I were really doing it, I wouldn’t ask for your help."

"...Okay,"

Zhou finally relented, her skepticism melting away under Selaphiel’s glare.

Lugh, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, now turned his attention to both of them.

"I’m initiating the next phase of the plan,"

He said simply.

Selaphiel nodded.

"...Alright."

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