---

“Then what principle allows us to drive away a rascal? Is it some kind of curse?”

“Not quite.”

Jinseong didn’t respond to Iarin’s continuous inquiries about the picture, filled with curiosity. After all, there was no point in saying anything when the only thing that would come out was how one could wear a human mask and poke at another’s trauma.

Of course, it was possible to persuade her, but…

Was there really a need to go that far?

As long as the talisman works, that’s all that matters.

‘A half-hearted prophet should not meet me directly.’

Jinseong’s intent to bring the source of someone’s trauma into reality and drive it away wasn’t particularly due to any grudge. He hadn’t been deeply involved before his regression, and even after, it was hardly more than a touch of rudeness.

That level of rudeness was nothing unusual compared to the wealthy he had encountered.

But the reason he used such an extreme method was simple.

Because he wasn’t one to simply listen to reason.

Until the time of the prophecy came, he wasn’t someone who could be persuaded, and if one tried to persuade him, he would probably lash out and create chaos, ultimately seeking out Jinseong no matter what.

Using someone who could control William to restrain him?

There was no one who could control that rascal.

Without a doubt, there wasn’t.

If such a person existed, would the Artua Clan leave that rascal alone?

Regardless of whether he crossed the line or not, they wouldn’t just let him behave in a way that resulted in nothing but negatives.

Agnes?

Agnes was merely someone whom William cared about, not someone who could control him.

The feelings William had for Agnes were not those of desperate love where he would give his everything.

‘Possessiveness.’

Of course, he might have a bit of genuine affection compared to other women.

Jinseong guessed that Agnes was just his type, almost his ideal type.

But whether genuine or not, what did it matter?

He wouldn’t change the way he had loved all this time.

William would use the same methods as always to hold a woman in his arms, and he would believe that to be the truth.

He had always done it that way.

He had succeeded in doing so as well.

So Agnes couldn’t keep William away by mere words.

If anything, it could backfire, not that she could stop him.

What if armed force was employed instead?

That also felt ambiguous.

Since the prophecy was fulfilled in dreams, breaking limbs or ruining his spine might not be a bad idea…

‘But then again, he’s not the type to give up easily.’

Thinking of the rumors Jinseong had heard about William, it seemed unlikely that such an approach would stop him. He would just casually pass by after hiring mercenaries to beat him up, and might even cling to Agnes under the pretense of needing protection because his life was in danger.

Fractures?

That was the same.

Far from restraining him, he would show up with crutches or in a wheelchair, visiting Agnes day after day.

He would display his frail appearance to evoke her pity, thinking to inch closer using that sympathy as leverage.

‘With his obsession with women, he might even see it as a good opportunity.’

Using magic would be easier.

He could make him lose his sanity for a few months, raise his fever so high that he couldn’t visit women, infect him with a parasite to make him too grotesque to go outside, or overstimulate his female hormones so that he couldn’t care about women for a while.

And that’s not all!

If he obtained a rare parasite, he could inflict reproductive issues, significantly weaken his virility, cause kidney stones to instill fear so he couldn’t function properly, or inflame his urethra or testicles for a horrendous daily life.

The cost?

Since it wouldn’t be done directly with black magic, the cost wouldn’t be that great.

Jinseong would just have to insert a parasite or protozoa into William’s body.

After that, the parasite or protozoa would take care of the rest.

There were other methods as well.

He could take advantage of William’s vulnerable state, weakened by the endless malice of ‘Raudkembingur’, making him susceptible to evil spirits and mental magic, rendering him frail through illusions and haunting voices, or even induce schizophrenia to lock him away in a mental hospital. No matter how much of a rascal he was, it wouldn’t be easy for him to escape from such strict boundaries.

Unfortunately, using magic was impossible.

The shaman who cast the curse on William could detect Jinseong’s existence.

He could perceive Jinseong and set up defenses.

‘There’s also the method of simply infecting him with a parasite…’

That method had its own issues as well.

First, he had to penetrate the Artua Clan’s ironclad security.

Thus, stirring up trauma was the best approach.

Efficient and effective.

Moreover, this was beneficial not only for Jinseong but for William as well.

No bones would break, his body wouldn’t be covered in colorful bruises, he could walk about healthily, endure no horrible pain, and he wouldn’t suffer from a high fever without aftereffects.

Just a brief mental agony would suffice.

Isn’t that such a trivial matter?

‘A method where everyone is happy.’

William would be fine without injury.

The witches would be glad not to encounter the rascal.

Iserin and Iarin would rejoice that their close witches were at peace.

And Jinseong would be glad not to raise the alarm to the unknown shaman.

‘Though the last time I saw the divination, it might have been brushed off, if things continue to intertwine, that’s another story.’

While an encounter once could be dismissed as coincidence, two or three repetitions would surely become inevitable.

The shaman who cursed William must have recognized Jinseong’s presence.

Since he had touched the fortune through divination.

But it was unlikely he gave it much thought.

Fortune can be sought from any shaman wandering the streets.

Of course, compared to diviners who focus on divination, the accuracy and depth of such a divination would undoubtedly differ greatly, but most shamans can perform at least some decent divination.

Thus, when Jinseong performed divination, William’s whims could easily be construed as just that. Or, given a certain level of information, it could be assumed he had divination with a shaman who was involved with a woman William was pursuing.

But what if Jinseong continued to get entangled with William?

The shaman who cursed William would surely grow suspicious of Jinseong’s existence. What is that thing that sticks to me like a thorn on my palate and bothers me?

If that happens, that shaman would inevitably set up defenses that he wouldn’t have otherwise.

Defenses against the same shaman.

And when that shaman sets up defenses, seeing his ‘face’ becomes difficult.

The cost would certainly be much greater than when nothing was set up, and if luck ran out, he might not even get to see his face or engage in conversation.

Jinseong did not want that.

To pay a price without needing to and then end up paying a huge cost for something that should have been free?

Why would he ever do such a foolish thing?

To Jinseong, William was nothing but a useless existence.

A human with far greater value as a sacrifice rather than as a human being. Dying would be better for him.

Thus, there was no reason for him to show William any mercy.

He only needed William to perform the role of a conduit properly.

A conduit to help Jinseong and the unknown shaman meet.

“It’s best to make the sculpture as quickly as possible. Even if it’s clumsy, just make it fast.”

* * *

Jinseong had a premonition.

That rascal would soon crash into the mansion.

Typically, when a person feels threatened or terrified, they regain their senses.

One might amp up their instinct to leave descendants, or they could keep a rationality nearby to alleviate their negative feelings. Or perhaps they might be scheming to endure the threat and fear while utilizing the “shaky bridge effect” to lure others in.

Jinseong thought that William would follow this tendency.

No, he was certain.

He was someone who would adhere to his instincts without resisting them, living a life swayed by them.

A rascal close to a beast that could speak human language.

Sadly, Jinseong’s premonition was spot on.

William burst into a panic over his bad dream, claiming he needed to meet the ‘savior’ and created a ruckus over the phone, showing up at the mansion despite Agnes’s protests.

Moreover, he even slapped a protesting manager, barking at the mansion’s guards.

“Do these bastards even know who I am? If I want to go, I go! What’s with the block? Contact? What does that matter? Do you not know me? I’m William! William of the Artua Clan! The great prophet! Get out of my way?! Hey, keep those guard bastards from coming within 2 meters! Got it?!”

His attitude was more akin to a thug than a guest.

More like a thug coming to collect a debt from a borrower.

As if he believed he was a great man who deserved to be treated well by the owner of this mansion.

With that ridiculously rude demeanor, William stepped into the mansion…

“And what the hell is this?”

Barely a moment after stepping in, he clearly witnessed it.

The awkward sculpture of Santa Claus and Rudolph.

The trauma that had persistently haunted his nightmares.

‘The Christmas!’

 

---