The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound

Chapter 280: Something Money Can’t Buy (2)

“If I were to give you the opportunity to talk to your daughter?”

“…!”

“Then what can you give me in return?”

At Vikir’s words, Damian’s eyes widened. A daughter he never forgot, even in his dreams. If he could have another chance to talk to her, what price wouldn’t a father be willing to pay?

“Well, if my daughter wakes up. If, by any chance, that is possible, I will never be angry with her again. I will make sure she knows that I love her unconditionally. I will respect whatever choices she makes and offer forgiveness to her…”

“No. What can you give to me?”

Vikir cut off Damian’s heartfelt confession sharply. There was no obligation here to listen to the regrets of an incompetent father who was not even a devotee.

“…”

Damian’s expression momentarily froze, then returned. He had encountered countless relatives who pleaded with him to borrow money, whether for investments, offering interest, delaying debt repayment, or claiming family members were ill.

But each time, Damian thought, “What can I do about it?” It was their problem, not his. To make a deal, you had to convince the other party, and the essential requirement in that process was persuading them that the deal was mutually beneficial, not reciting a sob story on the weaker side.

Through numerous pragmatic deals, Damian finally regained his true stance.

“If you restore my daughter to her original state… I can give you anything within my reach.”

Damian said it without a hint of hesitation. It seemed like a resolve that had been forged a long time ago.

However, Vikir shook his head.

“I didn’t say I would return her to her original state.”

“…?”

“I said I would make it possible for you to talk to her.”

In an instant, an uneasy look crossed Damian’s face.

“Surely, you’re not suggesting something like killing me and my daughter so that our souls can converse, right?”

“That could be one way.”

“…Hey.”

“But it’s not a solution. Above all, if you’re dissatisfied with the result, there’s no refund, isn’t there?”

Vikir stood up from his seat and turned towards the fluttering curtains.

When Damian hesitated to rise, Vikir was already gone.

But he left behind a piece of advice.

“Dying is not atonement; it’s just escape. Face your responsibility until the end.”

Only a dull voice, resonating as if directly within the mind, echoed around the ears.

* * *

Exactly one month later, Vikir found Damian’s mansion. At the outer edges of strict defenses, there were subtle openings. Venturing through one of those gaps, Vikir saw Damian standing nervously in the depths of the mansion.

He was spinning in place, holding a pocket watch like a perplexed rabbit. Finally, Damian, upon spotting Vikir, spoke in a restrained voice, “You’re late.”

“This is as fast as it gets,” replied Vikir, in his Night Hound costume.

Brief greetings were exchanged. Vikir followed Damian’s guidance to the deep bedroom in the annex. Soon, a large and plush bed came into view. The room was filled with candles that regulated temperature, humidity, and emitted soothing scents, creating a serene atmosphere.

A woman lay there, her eyes closed. She had disheveled white hair that seemed ethereal. Clear skin, large eyes, and long eyelashes adorned her face. Juliet, Damian’s illegitimate daughter. Once considered the genius girl closest to becoming the next head of the family.

Vikir silently observed Juliet’s face. “I feel like I’ve seen this face somewhere,” he thought, momentarily pondering where he had encountered her.

“Is it necessary to stare so intently at the face of a sleeping lady, a crucial part of waking my daughter?” Damian asked anxiously from the side.

Vikir took his gaze away from Juliet’s face. “You can come out now.”

Gradually, Vikir lifted his coat, revealing someone inside. It was Pomeranian.

Damian looked at Pomeranian with a bewildered expression. “Who is she? Looks young.”

“She’s the sorcerer who will summon your daughter. Stay quiet if you want to talk to her,” Vikir dismissed Damian’s numerous questions with apparent annoyance.

Finally, Vikir and Pomeranian stood at eye level with the bed and Juliet.

After staring at Juliet for a while, Pomeranian, who seemed to be contemplating, spoke up. “This sister. No soul.”

Damian was startled. “Wha—No soul!? What does that mean!?”

“Yeah… no soul. In another place.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Speak more clearly, kid!”

As if ready to kneel at any moment, Damian matched Pomeranian’s eye level. Vikir intervened and translated, “Your daughter has become a wandering spirit. She roams around, not able to go to either the living or the afterlife, thinking she’s dead.”

“Spir—What does that mean?”

“Her body is alive, but her soul is wandering elsewhere, believing she’s dead,” Vikir explained, glancing at Pomeranian.

“Since the wandering spirit believes it’s dead, it can’t move on to the afterlife. In some cases, it might even mistakenly think it’s still alive,” Vikir explained.

“What, what do we do then?” Damian asked anxiously.

“What can we do? That’s why you summoned a sorcerer,” Vikir replied, patting Pomeranian’s head.

“Hey, can you summon her soul here? Preferably in a visible form,” Vikir asked Pomeranian.

“Yeah… if I use the wood Uncle gave me last time, I can do it!” Pomeranian cheerfully replied.

Soon, she closed her eyes and began drawing upon mana. Born with the aptitude of a black magician, Pomeranian had honed her skills further during her time in Baskerville, using black magic to resurrect dead mice and bugs.

Moreover, behind Pomeranian, a black aura rose, taking the shape of a tree. The Ghost Tree, the mythical artifact Vikir got from the Sword tomb.

“It seems to be finally working,” Vikir nodded.

The Ghost Tree rooted in Pomeranian’s imagination responded to her talents and abilities, causing branches and leaves to shake.

“At that time, it had a form, but now it seems formless,” remarked Decarabia, who had finally revealed itself after a while.

Vikir shoved the creature back into his chest and refocused on Pomeranian.

Then, Pomeranian’s fingertips began gathering black mana.

Whether it was a ghost or a wandering spirit, if it had to do with the soul, she could exert control.

The branches, leaves, and roots of the Ghost Tree extended, reaching far away to call the wandering spirit here. Soon, everyone witnessed a translucent entity appearing before them.

“Huh? Where is this?” Juliet, the tragic heroine, appeared.

“Da-daughter!?” Damian, who had been about to jump up from his seat, froze momentarily.

“Oh? What brought him here? Seems like sister brought him as well,” Pomeranian giggled.

And then, the sound of magic surrounded them once more.

Juliet, with a bewildered expression, found another soul appearing beside her. It was none other than Romeo.

* * *

[…So that’s how it happened.]

Juliet nodded her head. Having heard the entire situation from Damian, she looked down at her own body lying on the bed.

A body quietly breathing. But having lost love and soul, living was no longer truly living.

Damian, kneeling in front of Juliet, shed tears. “I was wrong, my daughter. Never forgive this foolish father who, for trivial reasons, ignored your feelings and acted arbitrarily.”

[…Please, Father, get up.]

Juliet reached out her hand. Damian, unknowingly led by her touch, lifted his head.

Next to them, Romeo’s soul stood.

Damian also conveyed deep apologies to him. “There are no words I could say even if I had ten mouths. I’m sorry. I’m an unworthy father.”

Romeo’s eyes widened upon hearing those words. Juliet’s reaction was the same.

[Father! Surely…?]

“Surely where? The two of you are already married. Does my approval matter at all? Nevertheless, I’ve decided to think that way.”

Upon hearing this, tears welled up in Romeo and Juliet’s eyes.

[Thank you, Father. Thank you!]

“N-No… I am thankful. Thankful for you growing up so beautifully. For calling an unworthy father ‘Father.'”

Damian expressed regret and apology with a voice that seemed to break all his internal organs.

Juliet and Romeo nodded, tears streaming down.

The reunion and resolution between father and daughter, father-in-law and son-in-law, were quite emotional, but…

“No time. Quickly, finish your business,” Vikir summarily cut through all of this.

Damian turned his head with a puzzled expression. “W-what do you mean, no time? My daughter’s soul has just returned now!”

“Not her. Him.”

Damian and Juliet’s gaze turned towards Romeo.

[…]

Come to think of it, Romeo had been unable to say anything all this time.

Vikir briefly explained the information conveyed by Pomeranian.

“It seems that the man is completely dead, and the woman is in a position where only half of her is dead. They cannot stay together for a long time. Since she forcibly brought him here, it is now time for him to completely cross over to the afterlife.”

“W-what, what are you saying now! Why are you telling me this only now, when my son-in-law is about to go to the afterlife!”

“Our agreement was only for your daughter’s soul, It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Why does it not matter! My son-in-law is about to go to the afterlife!”

“Why are you complaining to me when you’re the one who killed him?”

Damian could only mumble in response to Vikir’s remark, unable to offer any counterargument. Pomeranian lowered her head.

“You have to go to the afterlife. That’s the way it is. It’s the law.”

As she said that, Romeo’s form was becoming more and more illusionary as time passed. This was different from Juliet, who still possessed a living body.

[…My love. Don’t leave me. Please! I can’t live in this world without you!]

Juliet embraced Romeo, crying bitterly. Damian, once again tearing at his hair, blamed himself.

“Oh, I’ve once again driven them apartt! How selfish and foolish am I!”

Now, Romeo was crossing the door of death to the realm of peace. And he would never be able to return.

However, Juliet, being a living entity, could not follow him.

Juliet and Romeo touched each other’s faces, shedding tears of longing. Meanwhile, Damian deeply regretted his decision which led to the second separation of the lovers.

“I vowed never… never to make my daughter cry again… I swore never to experience the same regret again… Oh, how can I be such a greedy pig.”

Thinking he had hit rock bottom, there was still a basement left. The layers of regret were so deep.

As Damian drowned in the swamp of endless self-blame…

*Thunk!*

A hand touched his shoulder.

Vikir.

He turned to face Damian and spoke.

“It’s time to let her go.”

The only places where a father would hear these words were just two— a wedding hall and a funeral hall.

In a situation where these two seemingly unrelated places were intricately entwined.

“… …. …. ….”

Damian’s pupils were shaking more violently than ever before.