Blood streamed violently from every holes of Seojin's body.
Particularly, from his eyes, nose, and ears as his scream tore through the room. Frothy red foam slid down his chin.
"M-my lord! Are you alright?!"
Iria frantically reached out, but she stopped herself from a healing spell.
In this world, casting divine or restorative magic at the wrong moment during an ascension failure could cause a violent clash of energies, in which could hasten his death instead of preventing it.
For the first time since Seojin had known her thanks to the memories he had inherited, Iria's flawless composure shattered.
"My lord…"
Thump, thump.
The sound of his own heartbeat pounded like thunder inside his eardrums.
Seojin tightly clutched his chest, his breathing ragged as he forced his mind to override the agony.
'Inhale. Exhale. Slow and steady.'
As his respiration stabilized, the blinding pain gradually receded into a dull ache.
'Black hands and black chains. My suspicion was correct…'
His jaw tightened as he wiped the blood from his lip.
Being labeled the sole genetic failure of the Hart bloodline had never made any sense, and there had to be an external variable at play. In this case, it was…
"A curse."
The word felt incredibly heavy.
The novel briefly touched upon this topic, a form of forbidden black magic designed to sever a genius's path to ascendancy.
It required an immense and horrific price from the caster, but the exact mechanics was left vague by the author.
Little was known about such dark arts, beyond terrifying rumors of hidden cults scattered across the continent.
"Pardon, my lord. If my hearing was did not fail me, have you said the word 'curse'?"
"Indeed. There is a curse taking root in my heart."
Seojin's vision blurred. He wasn't sure if it was from the sudden blood loss or the dried blood sticking to his eyelashes.
Iria fell dead silent. To any sane person in this continent, the mere idea was impossible.
After all, who would dare target the youngest child of the Hart household?
Everyone knew the terrifying wrath of the Archduke.
As the sole 'Apex Swordsman' of the continent, even the King of the Kingdom of Valen walked on eggshells around him.
Truth be told, the only entity capable of shielding themselves from the Archduke's vengeance would be one of the other three Great Houses, specifically, the one harboring the continent's sole 'Apex Mage.'
"That is not possible, my lord. A curse? No one on this continent would dare attempt such a foolish—"
"Leviathan."
"…!!"
Thwack!
Iria violently pushed herself back from Seojin, stumbling backward until her shoulders struck the pristine wall.
The color were drained from her face, and a thin sheen of cold sweat broke out at her temples.
Seojin noted her extreme reaction but kept his expression neutral. Inside, he was thinking about the origin of the curse.
'Strange. In the novel, Leviathan was dormat for about six centuries, and was supposed to remain that way for the next seven years. This timeline doesn't match up.'
But in his calculation, he had overlooked a critical detail.
"F-forgive my reaction, my lord."
Iria lowered her head.
"I was entirely unprepared to hear that name, but I presume you are far more shaken than I am. I apologize."
"...I don't mind."
"In spite of that, are you certain the curse in your heart is tied to Envy? It is not because I am doubting you, but my lord, a curse tied to one of the Seven Cardinals is not an ordinary malediction."
"Oh."
Seojin blinked, the question catching him off-guard.
He had blurted out something only a 'reader' of the novel would know. In this world, all knowledge regarding the Seven Cardinals had long been systematically purged by the Holy Empire.
The mere possession of records mentioning them warranted immediate execution.
"I… I'm not entirely certain."
Seojin rubbed the back of his head and gave a small laugh.
"It simply popped into my head for some reason. But the curse itself is real. Black hands literally ripped the ring apart at the final second."
Iria didn't respond, and an awkward silence stretched between them for a full minute.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Iria finally opened her mouth to break the tension.
"My lord—"
Growl!
Seojin's stomach growled.
Though he could go for two days without food, he still clutched his stomach as if he'd been stabbed.
'Perfect timing.'
This was a good chance to escape this awkward situation!
"Iria. I'm hungry."
"At once, my lord. I shall prepare the dinner immediately."
Relieved to have a distraction, Iria quickly gathered her composure and walked toward the door.
Step, step.
"Ah. Warm water and a fresh towel have already been set out in your bathroom, my lord. Please cleanse the blood off your body first."
"Aight."
Creak.
The door closed shut.
Seojin then let out a long and exhausted sigh, letting himself collapse on the floor.
"Whew. That was way too close."
He sat there for a full minute, waiting for his racing pulse to calm down before finally stepping into the adjoining bathroom.
The luxurious bathtub was already filled of warm water. But first, he rinsed the blood off with a quick shower and let himself sink in the tub.
After a while, he grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and looked up into the vanity mirror.
The eyes staring back at him were a bit pathetic. They looked exactly like a teenager who had just been caught hiding their phone under the blanket past bedtime.
Slap!
Seojin slapped both his cheeks, cupping them together.
"...Get a grip, you fudger."
The pain instantly grounded him back to reality. He then ran a damp hand through his messy hair, his mind analyzing his options to break the seal on his heart.
"Damn it. I have absolutely no clue what to do next. There isn't a single known purification method available right now, except for the blood responsible of this curse."
Despite the utterly hopeless situation, a smirk tugged at his lips.
"Leviathan…"
That smirk twisted into a chuckle, and that chuckle grew into laughter, and that laughter turned into a borderline psychotic laughter echoed off the bathroom tiles.
To anyone watching, he looked like a man who had completely lost his sanity.
After a long moment, the laughter finally subsided into a weary groan.
"...I'm definitely losing it."
Then again, he could no longer blame the original Seven Hart for being a fragile snd useless bastard.
The real villain of this damnable body wasn't Seven himself, rather, it was the sadistic author who wrote this plot.
Since it didn't look like he'd be waking up back on Earth anytime soon, thus he decided it was about time to actually live out the new reality presented before him.
"Seven Hart…"
Seojin stared intensely at his reflection in the vanity mirror.
"Fudge. What a lame name."