Chapter 47: The Woodshed and the Demonic Whisper

Dusk had fallen, the stars were hidden, and the castle’s backyard was steeped in profound silence.

Well before the deadline set by Mankha, I found myself alone, treading through the fragmented shadows of moonlight, as I slowly approached the dilapidated woodshed door.

This was a forgotten corner of the castle, rarely visited by anyone other than the working servants during the day, let alone in the dead of night.

Around me, the air seemed to congeal, leaving only the echo of my footsteps in the emptiness, beating in rhythm with my anxious heart.

I stood before the door, taking a deep breath, attempting to calm the tumultuous rise and fall of my chest.

Within my sleeve, the sharp kitchen knife seemed to sense my heartbeat, trembling subtly with each pulse.

In my mind, the words of that mysterious entity from the mirror still reverberated, like an inescapable incantation.

“What you yearn for is nothing more than the mighty power to change your destiny; what I require are merely twisted souls and the agony of despair. Since our objectives align so perfectly, your only opportunity is to end that woman’s life. Let her death become the wellspring of your strength, using her vanished existence to complete the missing fragments of your transcendence.”

“Of course, you are free to disregard my proposal. You can continue to obey their commands, endure their torment, and passively accept your fate, just as you have before. But tell me, is it truly the right choice to entrust the hope of reuniting with your daughter to these powerful figures, begging them to uphold their promises?”

That almost demonic whisper coiled around my heart, tightening it, making my entire body break out in a cold sweat.

If that voice wasn’t merely a figment of my imagination, then according to its implications, killing Mankha seemed to be my sole chance at acquiring some formidable power.

Though the voice presented two options, after careful consideration, I felt there was only one path forward.

Kill Mankha!

If it were any other innocent person, I might have been able to betray them, stifling my conscience.

But Aisha had helped me too much; she had even saved my life.

Though a selfish and flawed individual, I simply couldn’t bring myself to harm her.

Truth be told, even if Mankha was Lord Axas’s spy, as long as I could kill her before anyone else realized, my betrayal should remain a secret.

‘There’s a chance,’ I silently encouraged myself.

Moreover, given the cowardice I had previously displayed, if I concealed my actions well, no one would ever suspect a simple, honest person like me of being the murderer.

Therefore, the only immediate problem was whether I could kill Mankha, and do so decisively, leaving as few traces as possible.

Could I do it?

I wasn’t certain of her true strength, but from our recent confrontation, it was clear that even with her aged body, she possessed power far exceeding my own.

This was abnormal. In my experience, at that age, ordinary people struggled even to walk, so how could she be so agile and powerful?

The only explanation was that she, like a certain witch I had once encountered, possessed some supernatural ability.

I made a rational deduction.

The old woman was also hideous, which perhaps meant she had once coveted demonic power, only to suffer failure for some reason, thus becoming the grotesque figure she was today.

My sixth sense told me that the old woman didn’t possess the potent magical abilities of Lulu, the witch, yet the strength she exhibited was still terrifying.

To compare them, I felt Lulu was a witch capable of performing bizarre magic, while Mankha was more akin to an agile and formidable assassin.

So, how was I to kill her?

I had no definitive answer to this question, able only to gamble my hopes on shameless deception and a surprise attack.

With my mind set, I finally knocked on the dilapidated wooden door.

“Thump, thump…”

In the silent night, the sound resonated like a heartbeat, clear and abrupt.

No response?

I cautiously pushed open the wooden door, my gaze sweeping through the crude furnishings of the room like a probe, finally settling on the still-burning charcoal.

The flames flickered, not yet extinguished, hinting that Mankha had been here just moments ago.

Where had she gone?

Just as I was lost in my confusion, I suddenly detected a chilling moan emanating from the back door of the woodshed, like a mournful wail that sent shivers down my spine.

Gathering my courage, I crept to the window and peered through a crack.

Beneath the silver moonlight, a grotesque woman was sprawled on the grass like a cockroach, her limbs twisted as if her joints didn’t exist.

At the same time, she let out a series of piercing screams:

“I can’t bear it… I can’t bear it… I’m starving to death! Let me eat… let me eat another one… Has that little b*tch brought the redhead over yet! I can’t wait… I can’t wait anymore, ahhhh—”

Hunger and madness transformed into a chorus of shrill cries, her sharp fingers clawing at the trees, producing an ear-splitting screech.

In that moment, Mankha seemed to have transformed into some terrifying monster!

Heavens!

The sight terrified me into silence, an inexplicable dread rising in my heart.

Kill her, me?

To be honest, at that very moment, the urge to flee surged within me.

‘Coward!’

I cursed myself, but the thought grew stronger, my resolve to assassinate her wavering more and more.

Yet, fate always seemed to enjoy playing tricks at crucial moments. The next instant, Mankha’s bloodshot eyes met mine unexpectedly.

She had discovered me!

Realizing this, I instinctively gripped the dining knife hidden in my sleeve.

“Haha… Hahahaha…”

Mankha’s laughter echoed through the night sky, like a summons from hell.

She slowly rose from the ground, her steps faltering and bizarre, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings, gradually closing in on me.

When only a few steps separated us, she suddenly lunged, pushing open the back door and bursting into the room, appearing right before me.

“Where is the person I asked for?”

Her voice was hoarse and urgent, her hands seizing my shoulders fiercely, like a predator gripping its prey.

I had no doubt that if I couldn’t provide a satisfactory answer, she would devour me alive without hesitation.

Of course, I had no one to give her, but to buy myself time, I lied:

“A-Aisha said she needed… to take care of some personal hygiene first. She’ll be here shortly.”

“What reason did you give her?”

Mankha’s tone betrayed suspicion; clearly, she was not easily deceived.

I hastily replied:

“I told her I had some of Lord Rodd’s secrets, secrets that could help her gain his favor more effectively…”

“Such as?”

“Such as some matters involving Governor Sherlock…”

I briefly revealed some of the information I had gleaned during my previous conversation with Rodd, understanding that only half-truths were truly deceptive.

In the other world, lying had been my specialty.

I could do it effortlessly, without a blush or a racing heart.

Now, however, I found myself utterly incapable, left only to pray that she would believe my words.

Perhaps Mankha was too desperate, for she didn’t delve into the veracity of my statement. Instead, she released me, her gaze greedily fixed on the outside, as if anticipating something.

“Good… good,” she murmured.

Her voice held a hint of longing as she bypassed me and headed towards the front door.

In that moment, I sensed a slight relaxation in her guard.

Her hunched back was turned directly towards me, revealing an unmistakable vulnerability.

What a perfect opportunity!

Without hesitation, I swiftly drew the kitchen knife from my sleeve and plunged it fiercely into her heart.

With a sickening *thud*, the sharp blade sank directly into her back, blood gushing forth.

A flicker of surprise crossed my face, but the next instant, it was replaced by profound shock.

Staring at her cold, furious expression, my mouth involuntarily uttered two words:

“Monster…”

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