Chapter 556: The Tongue (Part 2)
“Are you perhaps... afraid of Miss Jane?”
The unexpected remark from Oliver caused the man to frown instinctively.
For a nobleman of Gallos, to be asked such a humiliating question...
However, reacting with anger would only be admitting it as truth. The man, aware of the surrounding gazes, forced a neutral expression, as if to prove he was unaffected by the words of a lowly Black Magician.
“...I don’t understand what you’re suddenly implying. Why would I be afraid of a lady? I was merely curious about how you two met—”
“—It’s because you tend to be fearful.”
Oliver spoke with an indecipherable tone.
“...Fearful?”
“Yes, fear. People who are aggressive or cruel... It might sound contradictory, but in fact, such people are often the most fearful. Aggression and cruelty are just defense mechanisms to hide that fear.”
Oliver spoke based on his own experiences.
Though he had encountered many types of people—disciples of the Joseph Family, gang members from the back alleys, magicians—all were fundamentally the same.
They hid their fear and weakness behind a facade of cruelty, like a beast puffing itself up to appear larger.
As he spoke, Oliver looked the man straight in the eye, and the man returned his gaze, looking into Oliver’s unfathomable eyes.
In that moment, the man felt a strange, unpleasant sensation, as though his very thoughts were being laid bare by Oliver.
Was that why? The man, who had been well-trained in Gallos’s social circles, found his usually composed face and voice beginning to waver.
“...I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I fear a lady?”
“Who knows? I wonder about that myself. Why are you afraid?”
Oliver’s question, as if stating a fact, felt unsettling.
“...Haha, I simply find it remarkable that she possesses such excellent skills, despite being a woman—”
“—Ah, so that’s it.”
Oliver tilted his head as if he’d just grasped something.
“You envy Miss Jane’s abilities... and fear them, too.”
“...”
The man’s poker face faltered. Oliver had hit the mark.
“But it’s strange. I can understand envying her abilities, but I don’t quite see why you would be afraid of them.”
Oliver brushed his cheek and chin with his left hand.
“Typically, fear arises from some form of physical or mental threat.”
Oliver’s hand swept through the air as he spoke.
“I’m curious—how exactly do Miss Jane’s abilities threaten you?”
As he finished his words, Oliver stepped closer to the man.
The man felt an instinctive urge to retreat, but meeting Oliver’s piercing gaze, he found himself unable to move, like a mouse frozen before a snake.
Oliver continued to stare at the man, who felt as though those impenetrable eyes were dissecting his very essence, layer by layer.
Utterly powerless, fearful, and humiliated.
As Oliver looked upon him, the man heard him speak.
“...You seem to carry great pride in your status as a noble, but, at the same time, an anxiety seems to linger within you. It’s visible.”
The truth.
“Yes, Gallos has significant tension between the nobility and the commoners... But that’s not the only reason, is it?”
Another truth.
“The true reason you feel anxious lies within yourself. It’s an internal matter, not caused by external factors. It’s simply... yourself.”
And yet another truth.
In an astonishing and terrifying manner, Oliver could see every detail hidden deep within the man’s mind with just a glance.
One reason for this was, of course, the marked improvement in Oliver’s vision. But another was the shadow puppet show he’d seen from the Sleeping Princess, which had allowed him to glimpse various emotions and memories of people, greatly enhancing his understanding of emotions.
However, the primary factor was Oliver’s own will. It was not just a matter of reading others' emotions but of stripping away every defense to examine the hidden depths. It was a willful disregard for the other’s dignity and intentions.
Oliver went on.
“It’s fascinating. You’re proud of your noble status, yet you can’t even trust yourself. Do you think of yourself as... incompetent?”
“...”
“Now, that makes sense.”
“...Stop.”
“You see Miss Jane as a threat, something to be feared. Watching someone with talents and abilities you don’t have must be painful... I understand that well.”
Oliver recalled Duncan’s memories and feelings, indirectly sensed through Filgaret.
“...Shut up.”
“It may not cause any physical harm, but mentally, it’s devastating. In severe cases, one might even begin to question their own worth... So, that’s why you fear Miss Jane. Though I can’t help but wonder why she, in particular, stirs such—”
“I told you to shut up!!”
The man, unable to bear Oliver’s probing of his personal vulnerabilities, finally erupted, shouting uncontrollably.
His patience had worn thin.
The shout was so loud that those nearby turned to look, witnessing the man’s face flushed as though he were laid bare, his eyes damp with shame, his expression openly displaying his emotions. He was even struggling to breathe properly.
A testament to the fact that Oliver had spoken nothing but the truth.
Yet the man no longer had the presence of mind to worry about such things; after forcing himself to catch his breath, he waved his hand angrily and yelled at Oliver.
“Y-You...! How dare a lowly Black Magician speak to me like that?! What could you possibly know about me?!”
From deep within, the man shouted as if he had been violated in a place no one should touch.
But Oliver remained calm.
“I apologize if I’ve caused offense. However, Black Magicians can perceive emotions, so I know... With someone like you, it’s even easier.”
Watching the scene unfold, Jane flinched.
Oliver, given his personality, occasionally made remarks that could seem indifferent, but he had never shown malice before.
Malice intended to degrade and trample on others.
But this time, Jane could clearly sense something different. She felt a malevolence in Oliver, even as she tried to think of him in a favorable light.
A deliberate intent to wound.
Jane felt uncertain about what was happening, but the truth was, even Oliver himself didn’t fully understand his own motivations.
Maybe he was simply tired. The search for the Flesh Chef’s Legacy had taken a toll, and he hadn’t had time to fully recover from the journey.
And now, here was a man approaching him with malice, trying to meddle with Jane... For some reason, it made Oliver want to do this.
Even a courteous puppet couldn’t stand it, and Oliver, who despised this man, wanted to expose the most sensitive, vulnerable parts of his heart and humiliate him thoroughly.
Though he knew it wasn’t right, it felt as though the urge was becoming harder and harder to resist.
The man, deeply wounded by Oliver’s malice, gritted his teeth, looking as though he had been dealt a grievous blow.
“A... person like me...?”
“Yes.”
The instant response shattered the man’s composure.
“This lowly Black Magician...!! You...!! Mentioning some woman from a brothel and thinking you can lecture me, a nobleman—”
“—You seem to show an especially strong aversion when referring to those women.”
Oliver observed with detached calm, showing no hint of empathy as he had earlier. Instead, he probed into the man’s innermost thoughts, stabbing precisely at his weakest points.
It seemed he’d struck a nerve again, as the man flinched, a flicker of fear in his eyes, as though some deeply buried truth had been exposed.
Oliver spoke again.
“Is it perhaps... about your mother—”
Thmp.
Just as Oliver began to speak again, someone gently covered his mouth.
It was Jane.
...
Oliver turned his head to see the hand covering his mouth.
And at the end of that hand was Jane, her eyes meeting his.
“...”
Oliver looked at Jane silently, taken aback by her unexpected action, and Jane, in turn, gazed at him without a word.
“...”
Without speaking, she conveyed something to Oliver through her eyes and emotions, gently shaking her head, urging him to stop.
With concern for him.
Oliver looked back at her, wordless, and he soon realized the many people around them, all staring at him.
Only a few minutes ago, he’d felt as though he had blended in here, yet now, everyone was watching him with suspicion, fear, and other negative emotions.
He had a sense of what had gone wrong.
It must have been due to his conversation with the man. The fatigue and slight irritation that had led to him losing control during their exchange.
As Oliver grasped the gravity of his misstep, he realized too late that he was here not on his own but with Milieu, and that he’d even mentioned being friends with Jane.
At that moment, he was suddenly jolted back by the sound of a staff member announcing loudly.
“The Chancellor of Gallos and Archpriest, His Excellency Armand, has arrived!!”
The announcement echoed even louder than when Oliver and Milieu had arrived.
But the change wasn’t just in the staff’s voice. The reaction among the nobles in the party hall shifted as well.
When Oliver and Milieu had entered, the nobles had regarded them with a mix of curiosity, calculation, prejudice, caution, and arrogance, each assessing them on their own terms. But now, everyone was collectively turning their attention toward the main entrance.
They adjusted their clothes, straightened their postures—a clear sign of respect.
It wasn’t surprising. Known as a former paladin, Archpriest Armand effectively governed Gallos on behalf of the royal family, standing as the second most powerful figure in the nation and a prominent figure within the Church of Pater.
Such reactions were only natural.
Not that it evoked any particular feeling in Oliver.
“I’m sorry.”
Instead, he was more focused on Jane, who, despite stopping his mistake, was apologizing as if she’d done something wrong.
But, there was an order to things.
Instead of apologizing to Jane, Oliver turned to the Archpriest, who was now approaching, and prepared to receive him properly.
Looking around, he saw not only the invited nobles but also the paladins stationed throughout the party, all ready to greet Archpriest Armand with genuine respect, inside and out.
The only difference between them and the nobles was that their respect was sincere.
“...Where is the Iron-masked Holy Knight?”
Through his Black Magician’s vision, Oliver scanned the building’s interior.
He could remember the unique emotional imprint of each individual, like fingerprints, but currently, the Iron-masked Holy Knight he’d encountered in the forest was nowhere within the mansion.
“Wasn’t the Iron-masked Holy Knight supposed to attend?”
Screeeech.
While Oliver was lost in thought, the grand doors of the mansion opened, and a man in his forties walked in.
With a broad forehead, large eyes, and a distinguished mustache, he radiated an aura of warmth yet possessed the broad shoulders and impressive height befitting a former paladin, with intense life energy and holy power.
Surpassing even the paladins accompanying him.
Some onlookers marveled at his commanding presence, among them some of Milieu’s bosses.
Even the big players in Gallos’s underworld rarely had the chance to see someone of his stature, the Chancellor and Archpriest of Gallos, in person.
Oliver was equally astonished, though for a different reason.
What surprised Oliver was none other than the fact that Archpriest Armand shared the same emotional energy and life force as the Iron-masked Holy Knight.
Yes, the Iron-masked Holy Knight was, in fact, Armand.
“Mr. Dave.”
As the nobles approached Archpriest Armand to kiss his hand and greet him, a paladin silently appeared behind Oliver, whispering quietly.
Sensing the paladin’s emotions, Oliver responded with silence.
The paladin spoke again.
“Please follow me. There’s someone who wishes to meet you.”
Oliver nodded wordlessly. He had a good idea of who it was.