Mystic Dark Veil

First revenge on pervert

{WARNING - MURDER AND BLOOD SCENES ARE INCLUDED IN THIS CHAPTER WITH ABUSIVE WORDS.}

Hearing the word "blonde," the first person who comes to mind is my dear slave, Lusav. His blonde hair exudes elegance and beauty, despite his status as a slave with an unknown background. I realize I need to delve deeper into his family history. Returning home, I resolve to investigate whether Lusav possesses any magical abilities. However, the prospect is daunting. Magic is deemed taboo, according to Granny's teachings. How can I gather information without raising suspicions?

As I enjoy my omu rice, I ponder my next steps. I'll need to contemplate further once I'm back home.

Throughout dinner, silence reigns as we finish the dishes. Afterwards, I muster the courage to ask the lady to provide me with the names of the men who abused her daughter.

The granny smiled and gestured to the waiter to bring paper and ink. She sensed Helen's extraordinary nature and was intrigued by what actions she might take against those despicable men who had separated her from her daughter. With a knowing look, the old lady swiftly jotted down the names and handed the list to Helen.

A total of four individuals had attempted to harass the old lady and her daughter. The granny provided Helen with detailed descriptions of the perpetrators and their current whereabouts. Among them were two village elders, an elderly doctor, and a nearby baker, all of whom continued to live comfortably without remorse.

With a soft yet chilling tone, Helen assured the granny, "The sinners will face the consequences of their chosen fate, My Lady."

After dinner, Helen bid the granny goodnight and retreated to her room. As midnight approached, she transformed into her assassin's attire—a sleek ensemble of black leather pants and top, complemented by a fox mask. With her hair tied back, she moved silently through the night, armed with her weapon of choice.

Descending from her window, Helen embarked on her mission with determination. She had meticulously memorized every detail of her targets. Her first stop was the village head's residence, intending to instill fear in the hearts of the remaining three perpetrators.

Despite the lax security, Helen navigated the village head's sprawling mansion, marked by opulent décor and extravagant furnishings. As she searched each room, she noted the stark contrast between the lavish surroundings and the cold, modest chamber where the village head's wife slept.

Continuing her search, Helen finally entered a room that, while unlocked, bore the signs of the village head's personal quarters. The room exuded luxury, adorned with gold-plated decorations and portraits of the village head himself. With measured steps, Helen approached the bed, ready to confront the man responsible for the suffering inflicted upon the old lady and her daughter.

In the tranquil darkness of the room, a man in his sixties slumbered peacefully in his bed, accompanied by a woman in her twenties-a beautiful mistress, not his wife, as Helen quickly discerned. With a concoction of potent plants, Helen had prepared a drug capable of rendering any man unconscious with a mere whiff. Applying it to the village head, she watched as he succumbed to its effects, his body collapsing in a heap.

Utilizing her strength honed through rigorous workouts, Helen effortlessly hoisted the unconscious man onto her shoulders and carried him out into the silent streets. Arriving at a secluded spot, she unceremoniously deposited him on the ground, his form now vulnerable and exposed.
With swift and deliberate movements, Helen stripped the village head of his clothing and, wielding her knife, etched a damning word onto his forehead: "pervert." Blood welled from the wound as Helen used her elemental power to sear the mark, ensuring it would never fade.

Unfazed by the sight of blood or the cries of pain, Helen knew that the drug she had administered would not dull the man's suffering. Despite his agony, he remained immobilized and voiceless, a captive audience to Helen's wrath.
With a chilling smile and eyes ablaze with vengeance, Helen delivered her cold, calculated message to the man, her words dripping with contempt. She punctuated her warning by driving her knife into his right hand, a visceral reminder of his transgressions against innocent children.

Leaving the man to languish in his torment, naked and bleeding in the darkness, Helen departed, her resolve unshaken. For her, justice was not a concept to be debated but a force to be wielded against those who preyed upon the vulnerable.