Salvation Through Delusion C36

Chapter 36

 

“Exactly. And if the traitor’s desperate to get on Tyroc’s good side, they’ll make sure to get their hands on that gem—to give it to him.”

 

That meant the traitor would have to show up at the charity auction.

I clenched my fists and nodded firmly. “I’ll go.”

 

“Good. Go there and see for yourself who takes that cursed gem.”

 

“Yes, cursed—wait, what?”

 

“They say the gem has a magical charm that draws people in… but anyone who touches it is doomed to misfortune. Not that you need to worry too much.”

 

“Well, you had the gem and nothing bad happened to you, Dr. Kim.”

 

“That’s right.” She nodded lightly.

“I bought it, but I’ve never looked at it or touched it directly.”

 

“…Sorry, what?”

 

“It’s just superstition. Don’t dwell on it. Like that old wives’ tale about dying if you write your name in red ink.”

 

I resumed eating, though suddenly my bread felt like sand in my throat.

Still, she wasn’t wrong—writing a name in red was bad luck. I swallowed my protest and brought up the topic I’d been trying to ask earlier.

 

“So, about the Biwine Party—”

 

“Cough! Cough!”

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

“Tyroc won’t come.”

 

This time Solongo sounded absolutely certain, even clenching his fist.

“That money-grubbing Duke never attends any event where he has to spend money instead of earning it. He’s never shown up once.”

 

Good. That meant I wouldn’t have to face that maniac again.

All I had to do was deliver the item, attend the auction, and see who the traitor turned out to be.

Simple enough—at least until the moment before I stepped out of the carriage in front of the temple.

 

“You’ll need to carry it yourself,” Solongo said matter-of-factly.

Behind us, the attendants were unloading a massive black trunk from the following carriage.

From it, they carefully retrieved a small jewel box.

 

Why the hell was that tiny box in something big enough to fit a coffin?

 

My confusion deepened when I peeked into the trunk. The space around where the box had been was filled with bottles—dozens of them. And those bottles looked suspiciously familiar.

 

“…Are those bottles of holy water?”

 

When I pointed, Solongo nodded like it was nothing. “Yes.”

 

“Why surround the jewel with holy water? Don’t tell me it’s because of the superstition?”

 

“The servants were nervous.”

 

“Ah, I see…”

 

“The curse is said to only affect those who touch the gem directly. So as long as you don’t touch it yourself, there’s no danger. You’re just handling the box.”

 

“But Solongo—”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are you standing so far away from me?”

 

At this rate, I was going to need a megaphone just to have a normal conversation with him.

But Solongo ignored my question and urged me forward instead.

“We’re short on time. You’ll need to enter the temple soon, so please, carry the box. Quickly.”

 

For a second, I had to fight the urge to write his name in red ink.

Fine. Whatever. What’s the worst that could happen just from holding it?

 

Exactly ten minutes later, I witnessed misfortune with my own eyes.

 

“Ohhh, so this is… the Tear of the Demon King!”

 

The priest gasped in awe, eyes wide, as he beheld the gem in the box.

The temple staff had kindly provided me with a rather luxurious room for the donation inspection—clean and pure, decorated entirely in white.

 

Actually, the whole temple was pristine. From the towering white columns to the gleaming marble steps, it all sparkled like new.

My first thought? Temples sure are rich.

 

It must cost a fortune to keep it this spotless.

The priest, clad in fine robes that screamed wealth, was staring at the gem like it was divine revelation.

 

“It’s… truly magnificent,” he breathed.

 

The jewel was black as a diamond but shimmered with trapped rainbow light—its color shifting depending on the angle.

Sure, it was beautiful. To me, though, it was just a shiny black bean worth a ridiculous amount of money.

 

Still, the priest beside me was way too into it. He looked absolutely entranced, unable to tear his gaze away, and finally—he reached out his hand.

 

“You’re going to touch it?”

 

The question slipped out before I could stop myself. The priest didn’t even look at me, just nodded.

“Yes, I need to verify the donation item.”

 

Verify my ass—you look ready to pocket it. His eyes were glazed over like a man under a spell.

And the moment his fingers brushed the gem—

 

[AAAAH!!! FILTHY HANDS! GET THEM OFF ME!!! DON’T TOUCH ME WITH THAT FOUL SOUL!!! AAAH! I SAID DON’T TOUCH!!!]

 

Only words appeared before my eyes, but the screams echoed right in my ears.

My gaze snapped to the gem. The priest, still wearing a blissful expression, was just about to lift it from the box.

 

[AAAAAHH!! FILTHY!!! A SINFUL, LUST-FILLED SOUL DARES TO TOUCH ME!!! WHAT KIND OF HUMAN ARE YOU, THIS DEFILED?!]

 

Oh, come on—it was a priest!

Trying not to look disturbed by the flood of psychic shrieking, I hurried to stop him.

 

“Didn’t you already verify it?”

 

“No, not yet—”

 

“If you’re worried it’s a fake, get a professional appraiser.”

 

Reluctantly, the priest set the gem down again.

“Ahem… it does appear genuine, but for certainty’s sake, I’ll return with an expert.”

 

[YOU FILTHY CREATURE! I CURSE YOU! EVERYWHERE YOU WALK TODAY, YOU’LL TRIP AND FALL! TEN TIMES! A HUNDRED TIMES! SCRAPE YOUR KNEES AND HANDS, YOU VILE SOUL!]

 

…Wow. So the curse was real after all?

Though honestly, for something supposedly cursed, it was kinda… petty.

 

[AND YOU’LL STUB YOUR TOE SO HARD IT SWELLS UP LIKE A SAUSAGE! THEN YOU’LL LIE AWAKE ALL NIGHT FROM THE PAIN—UNTIL THE TOENAIL FALLS OFF! HAHAHA!]

 

Horrifyingly detailed. I’d never heard of such an oddly specific curse.

 

“Well then, I’ll return shortly—ah!”

 

Thud! The priest tripped over the hem of his own robe and went sprawling.

 

[HAHAHA! YOU FELL, DIDN’T YOU?! DIDN’T YOU?! THAT’S YOUR FILTHY, LUST-STAINED SOUL AT WORK!]

 

I half-rose to help him, then froze mid-motion.

Just how lustful was this guy, exactly?

 

Suddenly I didn’t want to touch him—or anything he’d touched. I just waved him off politely instead.

“Take care.”

 

[DISGUSTING HUMAN! NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN! THE SCAB ON YOUR KNEE WILL STICK TO YOUR ROBE, AND WHEN YOU TRY TO PULL IT OFF, IT’LL HURT SO BAD YOU’LL SCREAM!]

 

…Again, disturbingly specific. That gem sounded like it was speaking from experience.

 

Was there a human soul trapped inside?

No, that couldn’t be right—it clearly despised humans. Either way, I resolved then and there never to touch it.

 

It also seemed to only hear those who made physical contact.

That much I confirmed when the priest returned later—limping, and now accompanied by a middle-aged man in lavish robes.

 

“I brought the appraiser to verify the gem’s authenticity,” the priest explained, still staring at the jewel like it was his true love.

 

Was he some kind of gem fetishist?

My doubt vanished when I saw the appraiser’s eyes. The instant he saw the gem, pure greed ignited in them.

 

“Oh! This is—”

 

[AAAHHH!!! DON’T TOUCH ME!!! AGAIN?! ANOTHER FILTHY HUMAN?! YOU—YOU SPY ON YOUR PARTNERS HAVING SEX AND DO PERVERTED THINGS ALONE AFTERWARD!!! AAAHH! YOUR SOUL IS ROTTEN!!!]

 

The gem was losing its mind again.

And I wasn’t exactly okay either. I really didn’t need to know that much about this man’s private hobbies.

 

“Yes, there’s no doubt. That strange iridescence is unique to the Tear of the Demon King. Ah, such beauty… truly breathtaking.”

 

[GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!!! EVERYWHERE YOU GO, THE WIND WILL RIP YOUR WIG OFF!!! YOU FILTHY FRAUD! THE DUST WILL BLOW INTO YOUR EYES UNTIL YOU RUB THEM RAW AND CAN’T OPEN THEM FOR DAYS!!! PUT! ME! DOWN!]

 

“Mo, tone down the exclamation marks. It’s giving me a headache.”

 

[The exclamation marks were to express the sound’s decibel intensity. Would you prefer a different notation?]

 

 

 

 

 

🧧 TL;DR

 

When Dr. Kim said:

 

> “It’s just like saying you’ll die if you write your name in red,”

she meant it’s a baseless superstition — but one that’s still deeply ingrained in Korean culture.

 

 

 

So in essence:

 

Writing a name in red = symbolically calling death or cursing someone.

 

Writing your own name in red = bad omen for yourself.

 

 

 

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