Chapter 92: Twisted Luck
A moment ago, after handing the gift to Seraphina, Kael first went to his own room where he gathered some fresh clothes, then without wasting much thought he moved along the corridor until at last he arrived before the familiar door that led to the bath, or more precisely, the bath that he always considered his own.
With a small push he opened the door, stepped inside, and quietly closed it behind him as though sealing himself away from the rest of the mansion.
The room was large, perhaps just as large as any other chamber of the house, its walls polished and white, smooth as if no dust had ever dared to touch them. Beneath his feet stretched the marble floor, cold and glossy, and in the very middle of the room was a square pool which served as his bath, carved with ornate designs that reflected a noble's luxury. On one side of the bath, smaller seats were arranged for the simple act of scrubbing one's back, though Kael rarely cared to use them.
Here and there stood pieces of furniture that were no doubt necessary, though Kael never truly paid much mind to them, for despite being a noble by birth he had long ago stopped considering himself one.
At the far end of the wall a tall glass window stretched upward, one that could be opened if he wished, and beyond it he could see the mansion's training ground and the high wall that marked its border. Further past the wall, a little distance away, rested a small forest that by now had already darkened under the night.
Of course, beside his bath there existed another, one that belonged to Seraphina. In truth, when the mansion was first built there had been only one bath to serve them both, yet Seraphina had soon forced Kael to construct another, and naturally she had paid for it herself.
Her reasoning was delivered cold and clear: if they were to share the same bath, one day by sheer accident they might encounter each other in what she called an incest moment, something that she claimed was entirely unacceptable. Kael had not even needed a reason at the time; he had simply agreed and gone along with her demand.
Yet now, thinking back, he could not help but regret the choice a little, for at least the first arrangement might have led to something more interesting.
After entering the room, Kael first set aside his dried clothes, then without delay he stripped himself of every last piece and stood naked, letting his palm slide down across his waist while a little laugh escaped his lips.
"After a long fight," he muttered to himself with exaggerated pride, "the only thing better is a proper bath, and of course, a naked one. What would be the point of a bath if I were not naked, huh?"
He felt no need to worry about interruptions, since Seraphina would certainly never come here, and thus he had always taken his baths without a second thought, although he didn't actually mind if she did, which was in fact impossible.
With casual steps he walked toward the mirror that stood against the far wall. For no reason other than habit he struck an awkward pose, flexing and twisting in a way that only he would ever find impressive. Yet the very moment his eyes caught the reflection, they widened in sheer disbelief.
"What the actual fuck…?"
His gaze dropped instantly, downward toward his abdomen, for there upon his skin something impossible had appeared.
A tattoo.
"Where the hell did this come from?"
His voice shook as his hand pressed against his flat stomach, rubbing and scratching as though the mark might vanish if he willed it. He even blinked rapidly, rubbed his eyes, and then gave his stomach a small slap, but no matter what he did the mark remained where it was. It was real.
"But… I've never even had a single tattoo in my life. Not one. And why is this so twisted, so strange, so damn disgusting to look at... wait!"
With hurried steps he moved closer to the mirror, eyes narrowing as he tried to study the design more carefully. What he saw made him stumble back a little, for the tattoo was unlike anything he had ever laid eyes on.
It stretched across his abdomen, black in color, set vertically along his stomach. On one side stood a crescent moon, black as ink, but unlike the moon of the night sky this one was placed vertically.
Its lower tip began just below his navel, curving upward toward it, yet as it was a crescent, the two points never quite met, leaving an empty space that gave the shape its unfinished beauty.
That part alone might have been acceptable, even artistic, but what struck him most was what lay beneath.
From the very place where the crescent began, there was a round crystal-like shape, inside of which black waves seemed to flow restlessly from side to side as though alive. Kael's heart clenched at the sight, for he recognized that shape immediately.
It looked somewhat the same as the Love Blossom clip he had given to Seraphina just a moment ago.
"Why… why does it look exactly like her clip? No, not similar... it's the same, the very same! The only difference is that within her crystal there blooms a Snow Gentian flower, yet in this disgusting tattoo there is only darkness, something flowing like shadows. What the actual hell is happening to me…?"
Still he forced himself to look further, though every new detail made his thoughts spiral faster. From the bottom of the crystal rose the trunk of a tree, its roots twisting around the crystal as though it had been born from it. The trunk was thick, the branches winding upward in a rhythm that seemed almost alive, and though the branches were slender enough that parts of his skin still showed through, the pattern was unmistakable.
Some branches reached toward the crescent moon, not quite touching it, though one thin branch at last brushed against it.
From those branches sprouted small, curving twigs, delicate in form. Of course, there were no leaves. Strangest of all, the tree's design did not ruin the moon's shape in the slightest. Rather, with the branches encircling it, the crescent seemed to complete itself into a full moon.
"No… it's not a moon anymore," Kael whispered, eyes wide, "it's a sun. A full sun. Yes, definitely a sun."
Yet if that had been the end of the tattoo, he might have even called it beautiful, but the design did not stop there.
Just below the sun stood another tree, its trunk long and twisted, with sparse branches, as if it existed only to hold up the sun, for without it the sun might fall. Its branches wound around the sun, supporting it fully, though unlike the upper tree, this lower one had no twigs, only barren lines.
From one look, one might say the lower tree was holding the sun carefully in its hand.
When Kael's gaze traveled further down his body to see where the lower trunk ended, his expression froze in horror.
The bark stretched down far past his abdomen, stopping just above his thighs, and from there the roots twisted downward even further, burrowing toward the most vulnerable part of his body, making it appear as though the tree had grown straight from there.
"What… why the fuck is it there of all places? Is it because I hit that monster in its weak spot back then? Did it curse me or something? Out of every place it could have appeared… this? This is my twisted luck? Damn it, I really am the unluckiest man alive."
He groaned, running both hands through his messy hair as his thoughts tumbled into despair.
"And now what am I supposed to do about the bet with Seraphina? I was supposed to show her my stomach, but how can I call this a stomach anymore? It looks less like a stomach and more like a damned forest! A cursed, twisted, growing forest! Fuck my luck!"
However, soon enough he dismissed the thought, though not without forcing himself to linger on it for a moment longer, for of course he had already learned, at least in part, where such a strange thing as that tattoo could have possibly come from in the first place.
He was more than certain that he never had one, and even if by some strange twist of memory he had simply forgotten, there was no way Seraphina would have overlooked it when she herself had checked his stomach on the day of his first training. He remembered her cold gaze, her sharp observation, and there was no doubt that it had not been there back then.
Then, the question struck him harder than before. Where in the world did it come from?
The answer, though, was far simpler than the weight of the question itself. There was only one place that could be responsible for something so strange and twisted.
"The Silent River… where else would it come from?" he whispered to himself, his own voice ringing strangely in his ears.
He forced his mind to dwell on it further, pushing himself to remember with all the strength he could muster. How exactly had it come to him in the first place, and why was it not merely a small mark but a full, spiraling, twisted tattoo that now branded him?
He recalled the moment of his fall, that terrifying plunge from the sky, and how ever since then he had avoided letting his thoughts wander back to the Silent River.
He had avoided it because the very name carried a weight of mystery, and even more so because of the place where it lay, for once it vanished it was nearly impossible to know where it truly was. More terrifying still, the forest surrounding it was vast, dark, and merciless, a labyrinth of death, and who in their right mind would willingly seek their own grave in the Forest of Death?
Yet now he found that he could not escape it, for every thread of his mind was pulling him back to it.
And so, he tried to retrace it all, even shifting uneasily within the bath, recalling every single movement of his body that he could.
The first thing he could grasp with certainty was that the tattoo had indeed come to him at the moment he had fallen into that river, and that much was beyond doubt. What unsettled him, however, was the memory of how, in that water, his body had not obeyed him. He could not move his limbs, he could not struggle, he could not even twitch a finger. He had not wanted to think about it back then, but the memory pressed against his mind now. What had happened after that?
"I could not breathe, and that was why I released my breath and swallowed the water," he murmured, as though speaking the memory aloud would make it more solid.
As the thought returned, his hand rose almost unconsciously to his chin, and he forced himself to dig deeper, harder, until the memory stung.
Drinking the water?
Those words echoed within him until his eyes widened slightly in sudden recognition.
"Yes. Yes, indeed. That must have been the very moment," he said, his voice low and dramatic, as though trying to convince himself.
As he recalled the experience more carefully, he realized that, though he could not move his body at all while drifting within the Silent River, somehow his mouth had been able to open.
But the question was this: if his body was frozen, as if it did not obey him at all, if every command his mind screamed into the silence never reached his arms or legs, even when he could not even open his eyes, then how… how was it possible for his mouth to move and the water to be swallowed?
The answer was not so complicated after all.
At that time, he had already noticed that the Silent River granted a strange protection to his mind. When his memories had been clawing their way back into his skull, when the pain of the headache had nearly crushed him, the River had dulled it, taken it away. This made him believe that beneath the surface, the effect was somehow also connected to mind control, as though the River itself played a cruel game.
Thus, he reached a tentative conclusion: what if outside the water, it shielded his mind, but inside the water, it was the polar opposite or something different?
He did not know how it could protect his mind, yet he was sure that whatever the River had used back then had managed to crawl into his head unimpeded. And inside the water, it managed to bound the body, cutting off the connection between his thoughts and his flesh. That was why, when his mind had screamed for his limbs to move, it was not that he could not move his body... it was that his orders never reached his limbs, and thus they could not move at all.
His mouth, however, had been different.
The truth was simple. He had been trying desperately to keep his mouth shut, yet the order never reached his lips at all. The pressure within his chest had grown unbearable, his lungs clawing for air, until his body betrayed him. His mouth had burst open not because his mind commanded it, but because instinct and muscle forced it, a raw reaction rather than a thought.
Since it was not an order given to his muscles but merely a reflex, it had nothing to do with his mind, and that much confirmed his theory, at least a little. And soon after, the water had rushed in, and in that very instant, he had been pulled away.
He remembered drifting then, drifting into a strange place where he had control of another person's body. Yet another troubling question rose in his mind. If he had been submerged in the water for a while, why had he not drifted away earlier?
The answer was there too, quiet and sharp. He needed to swallow the River's water, and only when he did, forced by the crushing pressure, was he finally taken.
Hence, he had realized a few answers he had been seeking, as well as how exactly the Silent River worked.
Firstly, he was now certain that the twisted tattoo on his abdomen had appeared after he drank the water from the River and drifted away into that strange place.
Secondly, there was the fact that if the headache always held his mind back and took away his ability to suspect that some of his memories were missing, he had managed to dull that effect because of the River. But now, being away from it, how could he still remember or sense that some memories were missing? The answer lay right in front of him, in his abdomen. It was because of the tattoo. It was not merely for show; it was still fighting against the headache to keep his mind clear and to give him a chance to think.
Thirdly, it was the sweet scent in his body. Earlier, when Seraphina had told him it was a woman's scent, Kael had suspected that perhaps Arwyn had somehow lived in him for some test or other reason. But now, it seemed he had been very wrong. That moment, the sweet scent she had smelled from him was indeed the same scent he had felt when he had stood near the River. And because of the tattoo, the scent still lingered on his body, and perhaps it always would... though he would not be certain until he took a bath.
Now he had a few answers, yet soon more and more questions began to rise within him. He remembered seeing Hollow-Tongue drink from the River as well. If drinking the water was what made him drift away, if it was the act that carved the strange tattoo into his flesh, then what had happened to that creature? Had it too been pulled into some vision, had it too been marked as he was?
He could not know. There was no certainty, only the haze of memory. But he recalled the monster's body, its skin, the strange spiderweb-like patterns that laced its hands, and for a moment he wondered. Perhaps it had been marked with its own tattoo in its own way. Or perhaps it was only his imagination playing tricks on him.
Back then, he had recognized the monster instantly because of its long, slim hands, its smaller buckle-like legs, and its long tongue. Of course, he did not know if the monster had actually had those spiderweb lines before.
"What kind of people would be foolish enough to claim they knew every part of a monster just by looking, when some of those parts made it unique and easily recognizable? Surely not me."
But still, the thought remained, heavy and troubling. To confirm it, he would have to do a little research on this monster. There was also the fact that monsters were called mindless beasts because they could not speak and attacked the moment they saw an enemy, yet Kael knew they still had a small measure of intelligence. However, even now he believed that perhaps any man or monster who drank its cursed waters would be bound to visions and left with marks on their flesh.
Kael shuddered, staring again at the reflection of the twisted tattoo that stretched across his abdomen.
"Just what the hell have I been dragged into…?"
Nonetheless, as much as he was worried about the tattoo he was also deeply unsettled by that strange vision, and yet there was no way he could understand anything so easily, no matter how much he tried to put the pieces together.
The only thing he was certain of was that the blue-haired girl and Mr. Handsome somehow connected, and for now Mr. Handsome guy is missing which he saw in the Guild. And both of them had been Velhart once, which is why he was sure that strange crimson hued place was maybe in this world or maybe near the Velhart? But for now he can only learn about Demons or search for one of them.
Back then, he had been pulled out of that dream because the River had vanished. Yet he still did not know why he had gained control of that man's body.
Still, he knew he had to turn his attention back to the tattoo for now. Even though he had more or less guessed at its origin, he continued to study the strange mark for another long moment, his mind restless, especially when his eyes traced the part of it that carried the same design as the hairclip.
"Are the two of them connected somehow? The River and this hairclip… but if so, then what of the old woman who told me she had made it herself, that no one else had ever bought such a thing, and that it had come to me only by chance? By luck?"
Luck.
That cursed word again, always returning no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Just what part of his life until now had been decided by such a thing as luck? His mind swirled in confusion, until another darker thought pushed itself to the surface.
"What if that old woman lied to me? What if she gave this thing on purpose?"
Kael shook his head in frustration, his temples tightening. "But how could she have known about me, about this tattoo? It is no longer a matter of coincidence. What should I do now? Should I go to her shop again tomorrow and see if she can tell me anything? Yes, I definitely should."
His gaze lingered on the crystal-like shape within the tattoo, where something seemed to flow in endless waves. He leaned closer, trying to understand, and the longer he stared, the more familiar those waves began to feel.
"What kind of wave is this? Flowing endlessly in one direction… a wave?"
And then, almost against his will, the memory came, the memory of the scene where he had used wind magic to slow his falling.
"Wind magic… yes, that is it. This wave is representing that. It is showing me that I have learned an element I had forgotten I possessed. Did the River force me into learning it, or is this crystal only reflecting what I have already gained?"
He tilted his head slightly. "Gained? But wasn't the tattoo placed first and then I learned wind magic? Also, it's not represnting any other element at all… does that mean the River already knew what I would gain? Then does that mean it already knew I would get this hairclip and so it drew a tattoo for it? But why though? If it did, the old woman may still be innocent and have nothing to do with it. But I still need to talk to her just to make sure."
His irritated gaze dropped to the tattoo once more. "And also, what are these two leaveless trees representing then? Two trees I'll meet in the future... is that what it means? Then what about the sun? And worst of all, why was this tattoo put on me in the first place? It surely isn't just for mind protection after all that. Ugh... this is driving me mad. My head is going to explode at this rate."
But in truth there was no way to know. Even though he had learned something, there were still too many things he did not understand, such as why the hairclip was tied to the crescent moon inside the tattoo or what exactly the upper tree represented, and above all, why the lower tree seemed so deeply connected to his very...uh...being.
"Damn it… I wanted to stay away from that cursed forest and its River, yet it is pulling me in again and again. In the end, I have no choice but to learn more about it. But how am I supposed to learn anything when all of this is so twisted? Who will ever uncover the truth for me?"
For now, the only thing he was certain of was that the tattoo was keeping those memories alive within him. Yet questions piled endlessly, and the most pressing of them all was this: was the tattoo safe or not? Would it help him in the future, or would it ruin what little luck he had, if one could even call it luck at this point?
Still, he reminded himself, he had other matters waiting. He still needed to learn about the demons, about himself, about the tomb and the diary, and he had planned to do that in the morning, once Seraphina left for the office. He could not risk letting her see, and he could not afford drawing any attention.
For now, he told himself, it could wait. First he needed to take a bath and prepare dinner for his wife, who was waiting for him, and so with both worry and sadness clouding his mind, he began to move forward, reminding himself that his injured hand also needed healing.
And then, as his thoughts drifted toward that wound, he realized something that startled him. His hand was no longer aching. It had been a long while since he last felt the pain, and now it was as though the wound had vanished completely. He raised his gaze toward his shoulder, and what he saw confirmed it: the injury had already healed.
"Don't tell me… this too is because of that cursed River. Well, at this moment, I'm not surprised at all. How funny!"
The thought tightened his chest. He sighed deeply, as if exhaling might purge the unease from his lungs, then turned to face the bath. Before that, he looked down at his abdomen, between his legs, where the tattoo seemed to originate. A strange expression appeared on his face, a mix of annoyance, triumph, blankness, and embarrassment.
"I'll never get used to this shit. I just want to die."
Now it was time to do what he had come here for. Without giving himself any more time to hesitate, he stepped forward into the small pool. As he walked a little further, he put his hands on his waist and finally felt some satisfaction. He moved forward, preparing to dive deeper into the water, but the moment his upper thigh touched it, his entire body shivered, his eyes widened, and then the pain erupted.
His stomach burst out with a burning agony so fierce it felt as though his flesh would soon ignite from within, but even that was not the worst of it, because a sharper, more brutal pain rose from the space between his legs, so savage it felt as though his entire lower body was being burned alive.
His breath caught in his throat. He could not move. He could not think. He forced his trembling hand downward in desperation, trying to stop the pain somehow, and in doing so he slipped and fell forward into the water again, his body jerking violently.
The pain was relentless, too great to bear, and though his throat ached to release a scream, he clenched it shut, muffling every sound in his chest until it nearly suffocated him. In the midst of this unbearable agony, it was impossible for him to move his body, the pain originating from his most vulnerable place. But he could not stay in the water much longer. With each passing second, the pain grew crueler, leaving him no choice but to throw himself forward toward the marble floor.
Somehow, despite the torment, he managed to leap from the water and hit the ground with a small thud, which should have hurt him since he was naked. But he could not feel it, consumed as he was by the burning, twisting pain in his stomach and below.
He lay back toward the ceiling, his entire body spasming, his legs thrashing violently, his hands flailing helplessly. At that moment, the only sensation he could register was the agony tearing through his lower body. With all his limbs flailing, Kael shifted and crouched, lying now with his shoulder against the floor, yet the pain persisted, relentless and unyielding. It was so intense he could not even cry out to ease it slightly. His vision blurred, and his eyes began to water.
And then, through the haze of fire that tore through him, his gaze dropped to his stomach, and what he saw only deepened his terror. The tattoo was glowing, a fierce and radiant light so bright it seemed to burn into his very core, and as it flared his body convulsed until blood rose in his throat and he vomited it out into the floor. His eyes burned, his vision blurred, the world around him turned crimson, and though he tried to summon healing magic his efforts collapsed uselessly.
For a moment, he believed this was the end. Then, time seemed to slow, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. And in that eternity, which passed too quickly for him to know how many minutes had actually gone by, the pain... sudden as it had come... began to fade. The burning agony drained away, leaving him trembling, weak, and hollow.
Kael lay there naked, motionless, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. He lifted his gaze toward the mirror nearby and saw his own reflection: blood trickling from the corners of his eyes, the glow of the tattoo was gone, his face pale and shaken.
He drew in a deep, ragged breath, unable to shake the feeling that he had nearly died just now.
There are many pains one can endure, but there are some places where pain becomes unbearable, and this had been beyond all measure, far worse than anything he thought himself capable of surviving. For a long moment he thought of collapsing into sleep right there, letting the darkness take him, but he did not. Instead, he forced himself to accept one truth: he could never let the tattoo touch water again. He was certain of it, for the moment it touched water, the pain began.
Later, when his breathing calmed, he healed his eyes and tried to make his face look normal, but inside his heart was anything but steady. The memory of that pain returned again and again until his face darkened and his vision blurred with the weight of it, and against his will a few tears slid down his cheeks, which he covered with the back of his hand.
"Is living a normal life really impossible for me? Why does everything become harder each time? I only wanted to live peacefully, to punish those who deserved it, nothing more… but my fate refuses to allow me even that. I can't… I can't take it anymore."
Could anyone really live like this?
He stared into his reflection, crouched lightly, and buried his head in his arms, staying that way for a long, silent while.
At last he rose again, took his used clothes, and dropped them into the water, already knowing what had to be done. His stomach must never be touched by water again, but he also could not sleep without cleansing himself. So he covered his stomach with a shirt, pressing it firmly against his skin so that not a drop could reach it, and then he moved the wet cloths over himself, taking what little comfort he could from the ritual, until at last a sad smile appeared faintly on his lips.
---
As that painful memory returned to him Kael shifted his body a little closer to Seraphina and for a brief moment the only thing that his mind desired was to wrap his arms around her waist and bury everything else in the warmth of that embrace, to let the weight pressing down on him dissolve if only for a heartbeat.
Yet he knew better than anyone else that he could not do such a thing, if he dared to try she would not only be furious but perhaps even strike him down without hesitation.
Even so, he could not deny the quiet relief that stirred inside him, because she had at least made an effort in her own way to give him a fragment of comfort, and that small gesture was enough to steady the tremor in his heart. With that faint reassurance holding him together he let his eyelids sink shut and soon sleep claimed him.
It was after a short rest, perhaps two or three hours at most, that Kael stirred again and slowly opened his eyes, and as soon as he did his gaze sought Seraphina where she lay in her usual stillness. The rise and fall of her breathing told him she was lost deep in sleep, which was exactly what he wanted to see, for it meant his next steps could be taken without interruption.
Moving with as much care as he could muster, he shifted his weight and rose from the bed, his eyes lingering on her face for another moment before he turned toward the door.
He pulled it open with a slow hand and stepped outside, careful not to let the hinges or floorboards betray even the smallest sound. He knew well that waking her in such a way would be difficult, for Seraphina could not sense his mana core unless she deliberately focused on it, and so at this moment he was certain that slipping away into the night would not cause her to stir.
But there was one problem: he couldn't remember, before that headache came, exactly how he had always managed to sneak out at night without her ever realizing, even when he stayed out late. It seemed he simply couldn't remember.
Before long he found himself once more standing in front of the tall mirror from earlier, though this time his eyes held a sharpness that had not been there before, sharp enough to cut through hesitation itself.
He stepped closer and with a firm push shifted the mirror aside, revealing the plain white wall hidden behind it. Without pause he reached forward, and his hand slipped past the surface as though the wall itself was nothing more than water, and when he drew it back he carried with him the things he had hidden away.
Piece by piece, he gathered them into the open: the long black coat that caught the faint light like a shadow come to life, the dark trousers and the hood that blended with a half-cloak to match, the slim longsword that seemed as if it had been forged from ink itself, and at last the mask etched with delicate, curving white lines.
When he had adorned himself with every part of that familiar attire he pushed the mirror back into its place, sealing away the secret once more, and then he crossed the room to the window.
He opened it and stood at the frame without moving, letting the wind pour across him, the night air pushing at the edges of his coat so that it flowed around his masked figure like a living thing. He remained there for a moment in silence, his thoughts steadying themselves before he whispered inwardly,
"It's time to test my wind magic… to see just how many possibilities it holds."
---
(Chapter Ended)