Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Chapter 119 - Interloper, Part 1

"So, he was a target...?" Marcy clicked her tongue, surveying the wreckage of Michael's blown-up house. Royal Guards had just finished carrying away the lifeless body of Michael's father.

"It appears so," Amoria replied, her tone thoughtful as her eyes scanned the ruins. "Hmm..."

"What is it?" Marcy asked, turning to her, concern flickering in her voice.

"Why blow up the house?" Amoria murmured, half to herself.

"To... Hm. Maybe whoever did it noticed he saw something and wanted to silence him?"

Amoria shook her head slightly. "Then why not just control him, like you suggested, Marcy? Besides, Michael would've told us if he'd seen anything. If he didn't, why go this far?"

"This feels more like... tying up loose ends," Amoria said finally, stepping carefully through the scorched remains of the house. Ashes crumbled underfoot as she approached what was once Michael's room.

"Loose ends?!" Marcy's eyes flared with anger. "You don't mean to suggest that—"

"It's an option," Amoria interrupted grimly, her tone detached as she sifted through the rubble with her eyes. Her voice dropped into a clinical coldness, like a surgeon examining a patient's chart.

"He has a motive—a powerful one. Your daughter's affection... and mine. Or perhaps even their physical companionship. Not much to lose, considering his deadbeat of a father—drowning himself in grief and ale over a woman who abandoned him, instead of caring for the son who didn't."

Marcy stiffened, her jaw tightening at the suggestion. Amoria continued her cold assessment, unbothered, as the ruined house offered no answers, only silence.

"His father was a drunkard..?" Marcy let out.

"Yes. You never visited his house, so you wouldn't know. After his wife left, seeing him sober was rare." Amoria said, her tone deadpan, her face appeared to be lifeless.

"That, and..." Amoria trailed off as her gaze landed on a faintly hidden mark—a circle burned into the wood, ashes scattered around it, as if the explosion had originated from that very spot.

"He wasn't branded," she said at last, motioning for Marcy to join her.

"Does this look familiar, Marcy?" Amoria asked, pointing at the mark.

Marcy's eyes narrowed as she studied the mark. "...A trapped object. The kind Mika and Rika would craft. It could detonate either by touch..."

"...Or incantation," Amoria finished grimly.

"And you'd only tie up loose ends if someone decides that—"

"—he no longer wants to be a part of it." Their voices overlapped seamlessly as they locked eyes, realization hitting them at the same moment. Michael, now a potential suspect, was with their daughters.

"And this object... A circular mark like this is most definitely a—"

"SLAVE MARK!" Marcy blurted, her breath hitching sharply.

"We need to get back to the guild. Now," Amoria commanded, her tone clipped with urgency.

Without hesitation, they turned and bolted back the way they came, their boots pounding against the ground as dread sank deeper into their chests.

Van sighed softly as he walked the streets, keeping his gaze low to avoid the eyes of the passing residents.

"Haah..." he exhaled again, frustration lacing his breath.

'I've gotten used to it somewhat... This light around everyone. But it still irks me.' His thoughts simmered as he approached the guild—Marcy's guild. His gaze flicked away from the glowing auras surrounding the people he passed, a constant, blinding distraction.