Failed Possession Chapter-47

## Chapter 47

—

As expected, the house she returned to after about a month was completely empty.

While passing through the front gate and crossing the garden, Elena unknowingly stopped walking.

Was it because she hadn’t been back in so long?
The empty garden felt hollow and unfamiliar.

Standing there blankly, she forced her unmoving feet to step forward.

The moment she opened the door and entered, the living room lights turned on automatically.
Nothing had changed since before she left, yet the unchanged scenery brought her no comfort at all.

Elena stood dazed in the middle of the living room for a long time.

A mansion slightly too large for one person.

From now on, Elena would have to live here alone.

She would wake up every day and eat alone, leave the house without greeting anyone or being greeted.

She would have to clean up the room of someone who would never return, and dispose of the things that could no longer be used.

“…”

These were things she had done naturally until last year.

Yet now, she couldn’t remember at all how she had lived here back then, or what she had felt.

The one she had firmly believed to be her childhood friend, living together with her in this mansion—

was, in truth, a stranger merely wearing her childhood friend’s skin.

In the end, he was a complete stranger who had used her kindness to enjoy a comfortable life here.

What was even more awful was that even after learning all of this—

Elena couldn’t bring herself to hate that possessor unconditionally.

She had thought about it many times.

More than the Yuri she only heard about through letters, whom she couldn’t meet in person—

she liked the Yuri of now more.

The person she had wished she’d gone to see “sooner” was the Yuri of now.

As for what the real Yuri had truly been like—

even Elena didn’t know for certain.

She could remember Yuri from ten years ago at the orphanage, but she knew nothing about the Yuri who had wandered the back alleys after leaving it.

A terrible feeling washed over her.

If only she had been stronger—
if she had killed the Blood Fiend Ghost without Yuri needing to step in—

maybe she would never have learned this truth.

Maybe she could have gone on forever without realizing that the current Yuri wasn’t Yuri, but a possessor.

Maybe she could have continued that half-year of childish “playing house” with him.

Maybe Yuri would have left the mansion anyway, and they could have exchanged letters sometimes, looking forward to their next reunion.

She felt disgust toward herself for even thinking like that.

At the same time, she felt guilty toward the real Yuri, who had already died.

In the end, what devastated Elena wasn’t the fact that the real Yuri had died during the ten years they’d been apart—

but the sense of betrayal toward the possessor she had believed to be Yuri.

And yet, she still couldn’t hate him outright.

In the end, she couldn’t scream at him to “give Yuri’s body back.”

The choice she had made in that moment was separation—

a decision born from turning her eyes away from many things.

If they met again someday—

if these tangled emotions could be tied into a single knot—

could she make a different choice than parting?

Could she leave behind only pure betrayal, call him a liar and a monster, and kill Yuri?

Or—

“…”

Standing blankly in the living room, Elena staggered up the stairs.

In front of the tightly closed door, she unconsciously clutched her chest.

There was trembling and hesitation, but it didn’t last long.

Eventually, she steadied her breathing and opened the door.

The neatly organized room came into view.

Though the door was open, she couldn’t step inside.

“…Ugh.”

Biting her lip, she raised her hand.

—Crackle!

Electricity surged around her as mana resonated.

But in the end, she couldn’t pour magic into this room.

There was no one who would return.
He must not return.
To allow that would be to completely deny the Yuri who had died.

And yet—

even thinking that, she couldn’t destroy this room.

Once again, she chose to turn away and run.

She closed the door and collapsed down in front of it.

“What… am I even trying to do…?”

The electricity faded, but static left her bangs in disarray, covering her eyes.

Swallowing her sorrow and irritation, she pressed them down with her hand.

She thought of the hairpin she had received as a gift.

She hadn’t been able to throw it away—

but she couldn’t bring herself to use it either.

—

—

“Adra Jebani. Estimated Fourth Rank. Uses a sword.
If you want to know the martial arts he uses, you’ll have to pay more.”

The easiest way to contact an information broker was through a back-alley tavern.

Of course, nothing was free.

You paid the tavern owner just for the introduction, and the cost varied wildly depending on the level of information.

“Ah, and just so you know, the martial arts I tell you might not be perfectly accurate. These days, it’s not like people shout out their technique names while fighting. And even if they do, those names are often bait anyway.”

Seeing no visible weapon, the broker wondered if his customer might be a martial artist—or maybe even a mage.

But the build beneath the robe and the firm muscles on his arms made martial artist far more likely.

“The gang under Adra numbers ten total. Four of them are Third Rank. They call themselves the Angor Eleven Swords—yeah, ridiculous name. They’re holed up in Mount Angor, robbing peddlers and travelers.”

They knew their place well.

They rarely touched martial artists or mages and avoided merchant groups entirely.

Their targets were lone travelers and peddlers.

Eventually their crimes piled up and the guild posted a bounty.

But thanks to their cautious hunting, the bounty on Adra Jebani wasn’t very high.

Considering you had to fight all eleven, it was far too little for the effort.

‘What a funny guy.’

Adra’s martial arts.
The traits of four Third Rank subordinates.
A map marking their hideout.

All of it cost several times more than the bounty itself.

To the broker, this was just a sucker buying unsellable info—but the man’s complete lack of concern for profit felt strange.

“…Revenge, maybe?”

Usually people chasing such unprofitable jobs had personal reasons.

Family killed? Someone close?

The broker asked out of idle curiosity, but got no answer.

“Listen, you look like my little brother, so I’m saying this. If you go alone, you’ll definitely die. Adra’s petty and cowardly, sure—but not weak. Plenty of bounty hunters tried their luck on Mount Angor. Most of them ended up dead.”

“So not all of them died, I suppose?”

“That bastard’s got a great sense for his limits. If he sees someone stronger from afar, he just doesn’t show. The hideout’s marked on the map, but that’s not the only one. If he thinks it’s dangerous, he and his lackeys run to another hideout immediately.”

“…So. How do I look to you?”

Yuri pushed back the hood he’d been wearing and asked.

The broker blinked and examined his face carefully.

Not exactly gentle-looking, but lacking experience.
Early twenties at most.
No scars.
Good build, but not the huge frame of an external-arts master.
No weapon.
And most critically—

no presence whatsoever of someone who had cultivated internal energy.

“…You look weak.”

The broker answered honestly.

“That’s why I’m telling you. Not for money—just goodwill. If you’re alone, at least recruit companions.”

He lowered his voice.

“I’ve got wide connections. Pay enough and I can introduce you to someone strong enough to handle Adra.”

“No thanks.”

Not a little brother—just a sucker, huh.

Yuri replied flatly, pulling out money.

If Adra avoided anyone stronger, then introducing a “strong expert” made no sense anyway.

Just a scheme to squeeze more fees.

“Ah… you’re really gonna die…”

The broker counted the money without much regret.

“Then here’s another suggestion. You look like a martial artist. Forget Adra—how about targeting someone else? Pay enough and I’ll make you a list of opponents more your level.”

“That sounds fairly interesting.”

Yuri answered as he rose from his chair.

“I’ll hear about that slowly after I get back.”

Even Yuri himself wasn’t completely certain how far he could go.

There were several reasons he chose Adra Jebani.

Among the wanted criminals he could track down around this town, Adra had the highest rank.

Ten subordinates. Four of them Third Rank.
And all of them used swords.

Before coming to this town, he had fought a swordsman once.

A bandit. He hadn’t even caught the man’s name. Estimated Second Rank.

The guy had suddenly blocked his path and pointed a sword at him, demanding everything he had.

When Yuri refused, the man swung first.

It wasn’t even a fight.

The sloppy blade couldn’t so much as brush Yuri’s clothes, and the nameless bandit’s head burst from Yuri’s punch.

There hadn’t even been any need to use aura.

It had been his first time fighting a swordsman, but it hadn’t felt like experience at all.

So he chose Adra Jebani.

Estimated Fourth Rank, plus Third Rank subordinates.

The remaining six were, at best, Second Rank—hardly worth worrying about.

He could fight a proper swordsman.
He could experience a one-versus-many melee.

There wasn’t anyone around here who could give Yuri more practical experience than Adra.

It was regrettable that the information fee exceeded Adra’s bounty, but if he killed Adra and looted the hideout, he wouldn’t come out at a loss.

‘They should’ve reached Lutran by now…’

He thought while unfolding the map of Mount Angor.

Ten days had passed since leaving Lagos.

Coming here had taken half a month because they stopped here and there along the way—but going back would’ve been different.

Yuri let out a long sigh and folded the map.

If he wanted to climb Mount Angor before sunset, he had to move now.

—

—

“So your disciple reached Fifth Rank?”

Even after so long, Chuk Shin-do hadn’t changed at all.

His hair still stood upright, he still wore a white outfit covered in meaningless characters with a jacket thrown over it, and the **Demon-Guiding Orb** rested at his feet.

No one knew exactly what commission he’d taken from the Ascad family, but it had been two years since he last returned to Lutran.

There had been no word of him in that time—people had even wondered if he’d died—but this crazy possessor had once again entered Lutran by walking through the air, performing tricks with the Demon-Guiding Orb.

“Fifth Rank at twenty-two. Incredible talent. She’s really not a possessor?”

Chuk Shin-do lifted his teacup close to his nose and gently swirled it.

He savored the fragrant aroma before turning his gaze.

“Mmm~ Thor. Your tea brewing has truly reached a realm now. You could be called a master of tea ceremony. But aren’t you neglecting more important training while obsessing over tea?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Lacy glared at him openly, irritation plain on her face.

“And I told you I’m not Thor.”

“Hahaha! Why deny the nickname? It’s not like you did anything embarrassing as Thor—aside from acting like some uptight scholar.”

“Up… tight scholar? What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t say things I don’t understand. And I’m really not Thor.”

“Then what was your nickname?”

“I’m not telling. Anyway, I’m not Thor. My name is Lacy Yuzuha.”

She snapped back and strode forward, snatching the teacup from his hand.

“And I’ve never neglected my training. I just don’t obsess over raising my rank blindly.”

“Still, it’s been two years and you’re only Fifth Rank. Isn’t that too slow? Maybe because you stay holed up in the tower and avoid real combat?”

“I get enough real combat when I need it. And I can reach Sixth Rank anytime. I just choose not to.”

“Why?”

“There’s still more to dig into with Fifth Rank magic. Before moving up, I want to fully understand everything at this level.”

The perspective of Sixth Rank and Fifth Rank were completely different.

Rather than rushing upward, Lacy wanted to see everything she could at her current level first.

“You chose the wrong magic tower.”

Orca, sitting opposite Chuk Shin-do, chuckled.

“If you’re obsessed with fully understanding magic before advancing, you should’ve gone to Lucionel Tower. There’s no bigger freak about spell perfection than old man Arsen.”

“I told you many times—I just preferred Dercia Tower’s magic.”

“What an honor. Still, I wish you’d hurry up and reach Sixth Rank.”

“Elena’s working hard enough in my place, isn’t she?”

“Elena Heinderga.”

Chuk Shin-do, stroking his chin, spoke.

“So. Your disciple. She’s really not a possessor?”

Elena Heinderga’s reputation had recently spread beyond Lutran.

She’d already been famous as Dercia’s prodigy for reaching Fourth Rank at twenty—but Fifth Rank at twenty-two was unprecedented.

“Elena is not a possessor.”

Orca smiled faintly.

Two years ago, she’d had three disciple candidates. Lacy withdrew herself, Arist was expelled.

Elena became her only disciple.

“Elena reached Fifth Rank… not just because she has talent comparable to a possessor, but because of her thirst—and madness—for magic and power.”

“So there was some trigger?”

Chuk Shin-do’s eyes lit up with interest.

“Interesting. I saw your disciple briefly two years ago, but honestly she didn’t catch my attention much.”

“That’s because your attention was on someone else back then.”

“Ah, right. That’s true.”

Clap.

He smacked his palms together and nodded.

“His name was Yuri, right?”

Chuk Shin-do rarely remembered the names of people weaker than himself.

But he remembered that young man who was something like Fist Wolf’s disciple.

Because he thought the name was worth remembering.

His internal energy had been lacking, but his “eyes” and talent were real.
It would take time, but he had overflowing potential.

“Is that guy still in Lutran?”

“No. Yuri left Rutran two years ago.”

“He left? Why?”

Chuk Shin-do retrieved the teacup Lacy had taken using telekinesis and brought it to his lips.

“Not certain… but it seems he was a possessor.”

Ssshhh—

Tea poured from Chuk Shin-do’s mouth like a waterfall.

—