Chapter 214

Chapter 214. Flow and Reversal

Liam sat down on the parched lawn to gather his thoughts.

Most likely, all of this was an illusion. He knew of a spell that could invade one’s mind and trap them in a dream.

What was it called…? Some name containing words like dream and portrait.

When it trapped the mind through sleep, the physical body would be left defenseless outside while experiencing an elaborate dream. Without realizing this, one could wander trapped in the hallucination for days until dying of starvation.

Ah, now he remembered. The ‘Portrait of the Starved.’

‘They must have been quite desperate.’

What could these cultists, pursuing the hollow goal of immortality, be trying so desperately to prevent that they would resort to turning someone’s mind inside out?

Surveying the devastating landscape, Liam took a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air.

Immortality. Living on without death or aging.

It was a blessing that external beings rarely bestowed without significant reason. When Liam first learned he had received the blessing, hadn’t both Lucita and Saint-Germain checked multiple times with dubious expressions whether there were any problems with the contract?

However, Liam Moore’s immortality was incomplete. Death was denied to him until the 21st century. The moment Liam Moore’s eternity would cease was singular—when he met ‘Jane.’ That was the contract’s condition.

If he could have arrived directly where Jane was by forcing his way through the world’s cracks, he would never have chosen this option. But once merged into the world, one couldn’t separate already mixed water. That’s why Liam Moore had to accept that contract. Like water evaporating to form clouds and falling again as rain, he needed to live his life following the natural order, not defying time’s preferences, to properly meet Jane.

And so, Liam Moore had lived a nearly immortal life for just over a hundred years since 1871. Still belonging to the human category, he would bleed when stabbed and suffer through illness for a while when sick.

And slowly grew weary. Having to live until a predetermined end tormented him. Sometimes he would sleep for long periods without eating or drinking, then barely wake up to trim his wildly overgrown hair. Only to sigh upon realizing barely a month had passed since he’d fallen asleep. He became as lifeless and brittle as the time he’d endured.

Liam was a man who had aged only inside, maintaining a glossy shell.

After meeting Jane that Christmas, Liam realized for the first time in ages that he now belonged to the flow of time. The memory of groaning every morning in his late twenties at a body that felt different from yesterday. The sensation of ‘aging’ that immortality had stolen from Liam was slowly reviving.

Now Liam Moore was finally feeling truly alive. Ironically, it was in the face of mortal danger. The 19th century, overflowing with curses, monsters, incidents, and accidents—that nostalgia was making him feel young again.

Somehow, it felt similar to when he had been waiting for Jane.

“I need to get out of here, yes.”

Liam muttered to himself. It was almost like a pledge. Having already realized this was a dream, all that remained was finding a way out.

Lucita would shake this off and escape quickly. His mental fortitude wasn’t so weak as to easily fall prey to such spells. The same would go for Saint-Germain. Ian too, being well-versed in spells and curses, would soon realize the situation.

Liam clicked his tongue lightly. At times like this, the absence of magical power was especially frustrating. With a fragile body unable to use any magic, he could neither protect nor fight. To face beings far beyond ordinary humans, one couldn’t remain human. Wasn’t that something he knew best?

At any rate, he currently lacked the power to escape this place on his own. Liam Moore decided to first check how far this hallucination extended.

* * *

Amusingly, the fake Liam seemed to already know my reaction, as he stopped speaking after saying, “You need to stay here.”

By now, the surroundings had transformed into the view of a beautiful mansion. Had I not been aware I was in a cultist stronghold, it would have been quite a sight to behold. I stared at the man before me.

The illusion of fake Liam was remarkably detailed. Perhaps that was natural, being based on my memories. But ‘you’? From a man who had never addressed me that way.

I approached Liam Moore and grabbed his collar. Still, there was no resistance. This confirmed my suspicion: his goal was to keep me trapped here to buy time.

Though I didn’t know why, frankly, I didn’t want to ask. Giving such creatures a chance to speak would be the most foolish thing to do. It’s better to uproot and burn society’s cancerous elements.

I declared,

“I’m getting out of here.”

The fake Liam quietly watched me. My grip on his collar had him bent awkwardly at the waist.

“Even if you try to stop me, what can you do? Think you can win?”

“…”

“I’m going to get out, resolve this situation, and make sure you can never again sacrifice young people’s lives to satisfy greedy old men.”

‘Liam Moore’ sighed slowly. His dark eyes showed no emotion, as if all his earlier clumsy and careless expressions had been an act.

I quietly tightened my grip on his collar, and simultaneously, the man raised his hand.

“Acting is quite difficult, isn’t it?”

It was an antiquated manner of speech that belonged in a Shakespearean play.

Just as I felt an inexplicable twisting in my gut, I watched the scenery slowly change from the tip of his raised hand.

Weeds and shrubs began growing abundantly everywhere. The mansion’s exterior had at least been neat until now, but even that was no longer visible. No, this must be the true appearance that had been hidden.

The man wearing Liam’s shell was gradually changing as well.

“…You!”

Empty eyes, pale face, a skinhead without a single visible hair. His neatly worn suit followed a fashion from very long ago. It looked like something worn in medieval Italy.

A cold chill crept across the floor. Seeing that detestable face, I felt an urge to draw my weapon and stab him immediately. This man had brutally murdered countless people and indirectly contributed to innumerable deaths. The thought made my stomach turn.

“You should not have tracked the Watchers of Huntington.”

The man murmured this while sitting in a chair covered in plant stems. With a slight gesture from him, another chair appeared near me. Though I didn’t want to sit, I knew my wishes mattered little here. Since being forcibly seated by him would be worse than death, I sat down with an exaggerated thump in protest.

“Those cultists who collect slush funds for you?”

“Let’s call it a part of a greater cause.”

“Was Turner one of them?”

The man nodded. Perhaps due to his pitch-black eyes whose light couldn’t be discerned, he appeared completely lifeless.

Before coming here, I had guessed that this man I saw in my hallucination might also have been a victim of the brain leeches, but I was wrong. He didn’t emit any fishy smell at all. Just an unpleasant feeling, a subtle discomfort that made me keep adjusting my position, continuously gnawing at my bones. It felt like my mind was being eroded.

“To be frank, Mr. Turner was more strong-willed than expected. Once he got a taste of money, he couldn’t easily give it up. Humans are weaker by nature than they think—when people worship them and bring them money, they tend to become proud… They forget who granted them that power and grow arrogant…”

I blinked at the man’s words.

Earlier, Liam and Ian had speculated that Turner was a member of the Watchers of Huntington, or the Brothers of Huntington, and that the cultists learned of his death through a spell that forces related members to commit suicide when their group faces exposure. But the man’s words now sounded different. As if they had intended to dispose of Turner for finding him unsatisfactory.

“Brain leeches are better surveillance tools than you might think, young lady. Above all, they can steal their host’s vision… I had already used them to observe everything from Mr. Turner living brazenly as if he were a cult leader, to him embezzling money meant for Huntington. You were there too. Why would an Asian traveler accompany them to this small village? And with the Company’s agent, no less…”

The Company’s agent. A metaphorical expression indicating he knew much about Liam. By this point, he must have completed his investigation of me as well.

“You’ve been watching all along.”

“Indeed. I have quite many eyes and ears in the village. And one more thing to add—I was the one who revealed the truth to Bradley Miller.”