Chapter 22
The prisoner’s only remaining light-brown eye twisted slightly. Seeing that, the man was about to say something else when blood-smeared lips moved first.
“…Vulgar.”
The voice was not loud, yet it carried a quiet firmness. It was the first time Hill heard her father, Raban, speak.
The sound was dry and thin, like a riverbed gone barren, yet within it lingered something difficult to name—something like dignity. A nobility that torture and cruelty had failed to break.
Just hearing that familiar voice made her heart tremble. Still gasping from the aftershocks of pleasure, Hill burst into fresh tears.
Father… ah, Father…
You, who once shone with kindness and earned the reverence of many, how did you end up like this?
“So even this doesn’t make the illustrious Minister Raban so much as blink.”
The man didn’t rage or strike. Instead, he smiled as if he’d expected it, loosening the hold that restrained Hill. Her feet finally touched the floor, and she staggered briefly before hurriedly gathering her clothes to cover her exposed body.
“Then again. How could someone so cold-hearted hesitate to order his own daughter’s death?”
…Ah. So that was it.
Leaning weakly against the arm wrapped around her, Hill bit her lip. Of course. Of course it was so. The man had said he’d captured the mastermind. Then, the only one imprisoned here was her father. That meant the culprit could only be him.
Father. Her father.
Even knowing the truth, she felt no hatred toward him for ordering the assassination. Instead, sorrow and pity flooded her. She wanted to reach out to touch his gaunt cheek, but the distance between them was too great.
As she stood there, doing nothing but crying and staring at the father who had lost an eye and an arm, the man having licked clean every trace of fluid from his finger spoke in a flat, businesslike tone.
“You remember the terms of the pact we made when I helped your daughter escape.”
“……”
“I upheld my end. I’d like to hear why you chose to break the rules, Father-in-law.”
“…It was worth doing.”
Raban answered briefly, then coughed dryly before continuing.
“My life was already… in your hands.”
Torture me. Kill me. Do as you wish.
His remaining eye held no fear, no hesitation, only resolve. Watching it closely, the man’s lips curved into a new smile.
“How grim.”
He shook his head, an arm still around Hill’s shoulders.
“How could I possibly take my only father-in-law’s life?”
A chill crept along her skin. The sense of impending disaster tightened Hill’s chest. It was one that was rarely wrong. She instinctively reached out to stop him, but…
“Bring it in.”
As if expecting it, the man caught her wrist and issued the quiet order. A door beside the furnace creaked open.
Clang—clang.
Heavy metal scraped against the floor, the sound reverberating ominously. From beyond the darkness, something massive began to move.
A few breaths later—
A gigantic snow-mountain wolf stepped into the flickering light, its body covered in ashen fur. Chains bound each leg, yet its presence alone radiated overwhelming menace.
When the man extended a hand, the wolf shook off its leash and started forward, the iron shackles scraping along the ground. It stopped just beside them, growling low.
Without hesitation, the man removed a leather pouch from the wolf’s neck.
Inside was a glass vial filled with a cloudy liquid.
“Do you know how snow-mountain wolves mate, Father-in-law?”
No one answered. He hadn’t expected one.
“When in heat, the female releases a powerful scent to lure males. Driven mad by it, the males mount her relentlessly for days without rest.”
He tilted the vial slightly, the light shattered against the glass.
“Since you’ve seen your daughter’s most intimate parts, wouldn’t it be fair for a father to bare his own?”
Fixing his gaze on the viscous liquid, the man smiled, teeth showing.
“I’m very curious what expression you’ll wear once a wolf’s c**k is buried in your rear.”
With a flick of his finger, the lock on the iron cage tore free. The door swung open, and Raban—still shackled—was dragged out like a dog.
The man propped Raban against the bars with a motion of his hand, then slashed downward. The ragged cloth tore away with ease.
Raban’s emaciated body was laid bare—his darkened g******s, the torn flesh of his b******s.
The man looked at him with empty eyes, then beckoned again. The glass vial slowly lifted into the air.
“This was harvested with great difficulty from a female snow-mountain wolf in heat.”
“……”
“It’s said to have aphrodisiac effects as well, so perhaps it won’t be an entirely unpleasant experience.”
Offering the mockery with impeccable politeness, the man blinked. The stopper sealing the vial quivered, on the verge of popping free.
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