Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Chapter 20 Interview [II]

The air in the Questioning Hall was thick, almost suffocating, as a stern feminine voice cut it like a knife."Before anything else, know you're in the presence of the Seven. We will ask you a hundred and one things, and you will answer quickly and clearly."

I barely had the time to nod as another voice followed, this one old and worn like dry leaves of late autumn:

"You will refer to us as Venerables. You will not summon any Cards unless instructed. You will speak only when spoken to, ask permission if you must. Lastly, you will not reveal any questions we ask of you to anyone outside this room. Trust me, child. We will know and you will be thrown out of Ascent."

A softer, warmer voice of another woman came next. Her tone was bright as the sun on a chilly winter morning, feeling as if it didn't belong in this place:

"On that topic, who is the young lady with you?"

I inclined my head slightly, my voice calm and measured. "She's my Shadow, Venerable."

The question was a formality. They knew. They had known before I ever set foot in this room. It was all written in my application – everything in order, everything in place.

"Right," the warm voice murmured.

And then the weight of their attention shifted, pressing against the space where Juliana stood.

"Show us the mark," came a command from the same resonant voice as before.

Juliana uncomfortably shifted from one foot to another. Then she stepped forward.

Her fingers moved slowly, lowering her sheer top and unbuttoning the upper end of her blouse just enough to reveal the sigil etched into her skin.

It was an intricate mark, drawn from some kind of crimson ink on the right side of her clavicle.

It looked like an inverted 'y' with an 's' entwined in the middle of it.

It was a Blood Mark.

My Blood Mark.

Drawn from my blood.

It was what gave me power over her.

With a single thought, I could wake the BloodWorm that slept within her chest and force it to tighten its curl around her heart like a vice.

The Seven turned their gaze back to me, and the weight of it settled over me like a heavy cloak.

"Activate it," one of them said, their voice neither old nor young, neither masculine nor feminine – just a plain, unremarkable sound with no defining quality.

I let out a quiet sigh. I knew this was inevitable. I didn't want to give Juliana another reason to hate me. At least not more than she already did.

But there was no escaping it.

I lifted my hand, focusing on the sigil, feeling the connection between us pulse to life. It was simple, like flexing a muscle, like moving your hand with a thought.

The effects were immediate. Juliana flinched ever so slightly.

She tried to remain still, tried to keep her face calm, but I noticed the tremor in her hands, the sharp intake of breath.

And then, despite her best efforts, a small, pained sound escaped her lips — a yelp, barely audible, but filled with excruciating agony.

The BloodWorm was an Infant Spirit. It was the weakest of its kind, the lowest on the food chain. A fragile, red thing, thin and flat like a tapeworm.

It fed on blood like a parasite. But it was a useful parasite.

When put into a deep slumber with some alchemical potions, it could be implanted into a person's body, coiled around their heart like a noose.

A noble's blood, mine in this case, would then be used to inscribe the sigil on the person's flesh – a mark that could rouse the sleeping spirit and command it to crush the slave's heart.

There were more details to it but I never cared much about them.

The magic behind it was complex, but the effect was simple enough. It obeyed me. That was all I needed to know.

Juliana's jaw tightened as a strained cry escaped her lips, "Arghh!"

Her pale face was twisted in pain, but it was her eyes that caught my attention. Beneath the agony, I saw it.

I saw fear in her eyes.

It was buried deep, a flicker she tried to hide, but it was there. She was scared, and rightly so.

The sensation of something alien tightening around your heart – squeezing, slowly at first, until it hurt, until it felt like it would burst your heart – was enough to scare anyone.

And knowing that there was nothing you could do about it? That feeling of helplessness would plant seeds of fear in anyone.

Fear that would later sprout into hatred.

Every time I used the BloodWorm on her in the past, I had watched Juliana's resentment for me grow. A little more each time.

Even now, when she knew I had no choice but to prove the sigil's authenticity to the Venerables, that hatred still simmered beneath the surface.

Her body bent forward, her breath ragged, her eyes full of pain and fear – and just behind all that, she was seething with unadulterated fury.

I won't lie. I hated that look. I hated what I was doing to her. But I needed her to hate me more. Desperately so.

Only then would she make haste to accomplish her goal.

Only in her desperation would she make mistakes.

Mistakes that I would ruthlessly punish.

"That's enough," came the voice of the stern woman. I released my focus on the Blood Mark, and the tension ebbed.

Juliana gasped, her hands trembling as she clutched her chest. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her lips quivered as she struggled to steady her breath.

It took her a moment before she composed herself again.

She straightened her blouse, brushing her hands over the fabric as if wiping away the pain. Her face was calm once more, but her eyes… her eyes were dark, like a storm churning in an ocean.

The silence in the hall was broken by the booming voice from before.

"Let us begin now that that's settled. I will go first. We'll start with the fundamentals of war strategies and politics."

Without giving me a chance to steady myself, the voice continued, commanding and authoritative as ever:

"Imagine you are a governor with limited troops and supplies. The north is hit by famine, while the south of your territory faces imminent invasion. What will you do?"

Just like that, the interview begin.

My response came swiftly, almost instinctively. "I will fortify defenses in the south and send grain to the north. I will also talk to the nobles, offering incentives to ensure their support."

A quick retort followed. "How do you prevent the nobles from rebelling?"

"By exploiting their greed," I answered as if it were obvious. "I will offer tax breaks and grant lands for their cooperation."

A brief pause ensued, as if my answers were being weighed and analyzed. "Next."

The next voice, gravelly and tough, spoke steadily. "You command a small force at a mountain pass. Your men are outnumbered three to one. How do you hold your position?"

I considered the question, formulating my answer. "I will place snipers on the cliffs and set traps to slow the enemy. Since I have the higher ground, I will crush them using the mountain itself. I will funnel their forces and strike them from above."

"And if they have aerial troops?" came the immediate counter.

I paused,

A question that cannot be answered.

I could sense the unspoken challenge.

They wanted to test me. To see how I would respond when faced with a question that eluded all common sense.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and smiled a polite smile. "No one truly knows how it happens. But surely you didn't ask this question merely to receive a conventional answer, did you, Venerable?"

The shadows were silent. The absence of a reply was almost deafening.

They had clearly noticed what I was doing.

Until now, I was playing it safe. I was giving them standard responses without daring to add my own thoughts or beliefs into the mix.

I was giving them textbook answers… like a parrot.

But they sought something more – something that would reveal my thought process.

So, I decided to offer that insight.

"While the exact reasons behind a Portal's appearance is a mystery, there are many theories." I said, my voice controlled and my smile widening. "The theory that I support is that…"

I paused, allowing the words to linger in the air.

Allowing the pause to stretch dramatically.

Then when I finally answered, the whole Questioning Hall erupted into a cacophony of chaotic sounds.

"A portal opens when mass death occurs."