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Chapter 103: Murderer
By the time Ram arrived in front of his tent, Damion, Charlon, and even Jedrick—who was supposed to remain hidden from the soldiers—were all outside.
Under the torchlight, Ram checked Maraka’s blood on his hands.
He had wanted to report this urgent matter to Damion quickly and discuss it with Terdin.
But there was no time.
It no longer even seemed important.
Even if Maraka’s killing spell had roamed the camp and taken countless lives, he thought he should have left it alone.
“No, Your Highness! I swear, I truly… for Jedrick…!”
Charlon cried out in despair, but Damion silenced her with an even louder voice.
“Enough! There’s no need for another word.”
Jedrick was already bound in rope, forced to kneel.
Rusef came running in, panting as he asked, “
Your Highness, what is the meaning of this…?”
“Captain Rusef, this barbarian has just violated your younger sister by force.”
“What…? What did you just say?”
Rusef’s eyes widened.
“So take her away and make sure she’s safe,”
Damion said in a cold tone.
At first, Rusef looked confused, but then his face turned completely expressionless, erasing all traces of doubt.
Without anyone having the chance to stop him—without even Ram, standing right beside him, being able to intervene—Rusef kicked Jedrick.
The force of his boot, reinforced with thick leather, sent the kneeling man flying backward several steps.
Not satisfied, Rusef strode over, grabbed Jedrick by the collar, and brought his fist crashing down.
In an instant, Jedrick’s face was a mess of blood, his nose pouring red.
Ram instinctively moved to stop Rusef, but Damion commanded,
“Stuga! Leave him be.”
Rusef, still unsatisfied, reached out toward the surrounding soldiers.
“A sword!”
One of the soldiers hesitated but began to hand over his weapon.
Ram could no longer stand idly by, but before he could act, Charlon screamed and threw herself onto Rusef’s back.
“No! Rusef, stop!”
Damion spoke again.
“That is enough. Stand down, Captain Rusef.”
Rusef lifted his head.
His face twisted with rage.
“Give me one reason to stop, Prince.”
General Terdin also stepped forward.
“Follow the proper procedures, Captain.”
“Procedures? Did you just say procedures to me, General Terdin?”
“I meant that there may have been some misunderstanding.”
“What misunderstanding? His Highness himself has pointed him out!”
“Calm yourself. This is Triton’s territory. And making a scene over ‘this matter’ will not benefit the Lady in any way.”
Rusef scanned the crowd of men surrounding him.
Then, he got to his feet.
“Take your sister and help her calm down.”
Terdin, with a firm gaze, urged Rusef to leave.
Then, he addressed the soldiers who had tied up Jedrick.
“Take him away, imprison him, and allow no one near.”
The soldiers dragged Jedrick away.
He was already unconscious, unable to walk on his own.
“Disperse!”
Terdin’s voice was louder and more commanding than ever before.
The soldiers flinched at the force of it, some even stepping back in shock.
Soon, the murmuring soldiers scattered into the night.
Terdin approached Damion, but the prince raised a hand to stop him.
“Leave me alone for now, General.”
Terdin lifted a hand as if to offer comfort but then withdrew it.
“Call if you need me, Your Highness.”
The other guards also withdrew, leaving only silence around Ram’s tent.
For Ram, the sudden stillness was deafening.
Though they were alone, Damion spoke in a voice only Ram could hear.
“…Did you know?”
His voice was laced with anger—the kind of rage that despised not the murderer but the one who enabled the crime.
Ram answered honestly.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“You all made a fool of me.”
“That is not true. No one intended to—”
“Say nothing! I don’t need excuses! How could even you betray me? A bond of souls? A bond sealed in blood? It was all just a child’s game in a heathen temple!”
When a master speaks, a slave listens.
When a prince speaks, a commoner bows his head and listens in silence.
A shadow must remain silent.
‘You will kill the three serpents…’
But after hearing Maraka’s curse-like prophecy, Ram could no longer stay silent.
“Even so, I must speak.”
Damion shoved Ram in the chest.
“How dare you? A slave dares to lecture me, a prince?”
For the first time—and with genuine intent—Damion used the word slave.
Yet, Ram felt nothing.
He had never truly believed he had escaped slavery.
It was Damion, not Ram, who looked shaken by his own words.
“…I’m sorry. That was too much. But…”
Damion pressed a hand to his forehead and trailed off.
Ram waited.
For a long time.
But Damion never continued.
So Ram spoke first.
“It was not betrayal. They simply fell in love. That is something neither of them could help. And both of them were more concerned about Your Highness’s feelings than anything else. But as you know, they had no chance to tell you. That is all.”
“Ram, your words don’t reach me at all.”
Damion turned abruptly and walked away.
“We’ll talk later.”
Ram called out.
“What will you do with Jedrick, Your Highness?”
Damion did not answer.
He disappeared into the night.
As always, Ram was left alone.
‘I should have stopped it.’
One by one, every moment where he could have intervened replayed in his mind, filling him with regret.
He could have sent Jedrick away the moment he arrived, ordering him to forget love and leave.
He should have gone to Jedrick first, while he was still willing to give up.
Instead, he had relayed Charlon’s words, making it impossible for him to let go.
He should have stopped Charlon.
She wouldn’t have listened to her brother, but if Ram had spoken firmly—coldly—she might have given up.
What if he had lied and promised later?
Then Jedrick would have been forced to leave for Tagda Village at dawn, and Charlon would have lost her chance forever.
What if he had let Maraka’s killing spell run its course?
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If Ram had been anywhere else—hiding Jedrick, watching over Charlon, or staying by Damion’s side—he could have stopped this.
But he had gone to Maraka instead.
‘But that was a spell of death. Knowing that, how could I have stayed still?’
After seeing that in the morning, ignoring it had not been an option.
Maybe if he had stopped it earlier.
But how could he have known…?
‘Stopped it earlier?’
At that moment, Ram finally realized the source of the nagging feeling that had been bothering him since the evening.
It was like the feeling of having left something behind but not knowing what it was.
Like the feeling of leaving behind someone important but forgetting who they were.
Like the feeling of knowing something terrible would happen because you failed to do something, but not knowing what that thing was.
Now, he understood the source of it all.
All evening, he had mistakenly believed it was something related to Jedrick, Charlon, or Damion.
It was Maraka!
If he had stopped Maraka from the start, this disaster would never have happened.
If Ram had personally taken Charlon to Jedrick at the barracks, they would have only exchanged brief farewells and gone their separate ways.
Even if they had been caught, it would have been a manageable situation.
If only Maraka hadn’t been there, that’s how things would have gone.
‘There was a moment when I could have stopped Maraka…’
Ram grabbed a torch and ran across the camp, heading back to Maraka’s corpse.
From a distance, the patrol guards could be heard muttering:
"Hey, what’s that over there?"
"Who’s carrying that torch?"
"Someone’s moving over there."
Hak’s body was still there.
The dagger was still embedded in his throat, and the other unknown corpse lay beside him, unchanged.
But there was no sign of the panther's corpse.
Ram knelt down in front of the body that had attacked him as a ghoul, holding up his torch to illuminate its face.
"This... this can’t be..."
Until this morning, he thought nothing could be stranger than seeing a corpse, missing its head, lunging at him.
He thought nothing could be more bizarre than fighting the black panther Maraka had summoned through sorcery.
But now, something even more inexplicable, something even more terrifying, was unfolding before him.
The ghoul that had attacked Ram—the corpse that now lay still—was none other than Zenri Selken, the only son of Baron Selken.
A man Ram had killed and buried in the ground fifteen days ago.
‘Maraka’s sorcery wasn’t aimed at the soldiers in the camp—it was aimed at me.’
This evening, Maraka had gone out of his way to show Ram Zenri’s armor.
‘From that moment on, he had already set his sights on me. He was luring me in.’
He had prepared the ghoul with a death spell.
He had released a black panther that would have been invisible in the daylight.
Out of all the countless corpses on the battlefield, it wasn’t one of those. It wasn’t even Olga or Dulam, who had died that very day.
Instead, Maraka had specifically dragged a corpse all the way from across the Targef River.
And he had deliberately shown the armor first.
‘Even if it was a trap, I should have gone to Maraka. I wanted to go. But I couldn’t.’
Because at that moment—
‘I heard the sound of a trumpet in the sky!
Ram was so stunned that he didn’t notice the five men approaching from behind, their torches lighting up the darkness.
"Who’s there?"
Ram turned around.
It was four patrolling soldiers and Aedun, the lieutenant.
"Shadow? What are you doing here?"
With six torches burning in the darkness near the hill leading to Elum Village, it was impossible to go unnoticed.
The camp was already in turmoil over Prince Damion’s situation, and now another disturbance was drawing attention.
Ram didn’t realize that among those approaching was the one person who absolutely should not be here.
"This corpse… isn’t he a Geron from Elum Village?"
)ne soldier asked.
"Well… what did this old man say his name was again…?"
"Shadow, do you know who this is?"
Aedun asked.
"He is Hak Maraka,"
Ram answered truthfully.
"Why is he dead here? And this dagger… isn’t it yours?"
"It was Maraka’s dagger. I had been carrying it for the past two days, though."
"Then who stabbed him?"
"I did,"
Ram admitted, as if entranced, spilling the truth without hesitation.
"…Why?"
Ram couldn’t answer.
Another soldier covered his nose and muttered,
"What’s that smell? This corpse… looks like one of ours."
"Really? Wait, what? When did he die?"
Aedun brought his torch closer to the body but quickly recoiled in shock.
Even the seasoned soldiers, accustomed to corpses, instinctively stepped back.
"Who is this, Shadow?"
"Zenri Selken."
"Wait… hold on, that means…"
Aedun seemed to recall something, then suddenly fell silent.
At that moment, another group of torches approached from behind.
It was Count Vadio and three of his knights.
"Who did you say this was?"
The count asked.
"A corpse has been found, appearing to be the missing son of Baron Selken,"
Aedun reported.
"Really? Let me see—"
Vadio stepped forward but immediately retreated from the stench.
"Go check,"
He ordered.
His knights hesitated but complied.
"We can’t tell by the face…"
Another knight muttered,
"At this level of decay, I wouldn’t recognize my own friend."
"But the emblem on his armor confirms it. This is definitely from House Selken."
"Why is his body here?"
Vadio asked.
Ram remained silent.
Vadio grabbed Ram by the collar.
"Why is your master’s corpse here?"
Ram still couldn’t answer.
It wasn’t just that he couldn’t think of a suitable excuse—he couldn’t think at all.
"Master…? My lord, isn’t he General Terdin’s Shadow?"
One of the knights asked.
"Ask Lieutenant Aedun here. Or better yet, ask him yourself. He was once Baron Selken’s slave but was recently made the general’s Shadow. And yet, here he stands before his master’s corpse. Explain yourself, slave!"
Ram could only stare blankly at Zenri’s body.
"Arrest him,"
Vadio ordered.
Aedun immediately protested.
"Slave or not, he is General Terdin’s Shadow. You have no right to arrest him."
"The command of this army was transferred to me just now. That means I have the authority to detain and execute him."
Two knights roughly tied Ram’s hands with rope, but he did not resist.
Aedun tried to argue but couldn’t stop them.
"Even if you have the authority, what crime has he committed?"
"Murder! A slave killing a noble is punishable by immediate execution."
"What evidence do you have?"
"My own eyes. Seeing this corpse and this man standing before it is proof enough. If no one presents solid evidence or an argument by tomorrow morning, I will have him beheaded under my authority."
Vadio emphasized the word "authority."
"This is ridiculous! Look at that corpse—it’s been dead for at least a month! What kind of proof is that?"
From that moment on, Ram heard nothing else.
Dragged away by the knights, his mind was still replaying the moment he could have stopped Maraka.
‘When Maraka shoved the armor in my face, I could have stopped him.’
But at that moment, a trumpet had sounded from the sky.
Then Astian called for him.
He never said who he was looking for or why he had come.
He had only spoken in riddles.
But now, looking back on that conversation, it was clear.
Astian had come for Ram.
And he had stopped him from doing something.
Now, Ram knew what that was.
But it was far too late.
‘I could have stopped it…’
Ram could think no further.
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