DC:The dark merchant

Chapter 5: The Cursed Bloodline

The car ride was long and silent.

The dim city lights gradually gave way to the well-maintained streets of Gotham's elite district, where old money resided in their ivory towers, far removed from the filth of the lower city.

After what felt like half an hour, we arrived at our destination—a grand estate surrounded by towering iron gates. The sheer size of the mansion spoke volumes of its owner's wealth and influence.

As the car approached the entrance, the guards stationed by the gate moved efficiently, scanning the vehicle before allowing passage. With a mechanical whir, the wrought iron gates groaned open, revealing a vast, immaculately maintained garden.

I watched through the tinted window as maids and butlers meticulously tended to the grounds, trimming hedges, watering the flower beds, and raking fallen leaves.

Hmph. A household of this size… That would require an extensive staff. No ordinary millionaire could afford this.

The car came to a slow halt at the main entrance, where a line of uniformed staff awaited our arrival. Janet stepped out first, and I followed, taking in the sheer grandeur of the mansion before me.

A Victorian masterpiece.

Its pristine white walls stood tall beneath the moonlight, lined with intricate carvings that whispered of old wealth and power. Marble pillars supported the balcony above, and two massive oak doors—adorned with golden embellishments—marked the entrance.

A maid stepped forward, opening the door with a bow.

"Welcome home, Lady Janet," she greeted with practiced elegance. Her gaze briefly flickered to me but remained expressionless.

Janet offered a small nod in response and strode inside.

I followed suit.

The moment I stepped in, I was met with an overwhelming sense of grandeur.

The hall was enormous.

A magnificent crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, refracting light in every direction. The floor was polished marble, reflecting our figures like a mirror. Twin staircases curved along the sides of the hall, leading to the upper floors, where golden railings gleamed under the dim glow of wall sconces.

I exhaled softly.

This level of wealth… Even among Gotham's elite, this is absurd.

Janet, however, paid it no mind. She moved with urgency, her heels clicking against the marble as she ascended the stairs.

I followed in silence.

We walked through a long corridor lined with paintings—portraits of generations of aristocrats. Their faces, despite being immortalized in art, carried the same cold, detached expressions.

After a few turns, Janet finally stopped before a heavy oak door.

For the first time since we arrived, I saw hesitation in her eyes.

Her hand hovered just above the handle, fingers trembling slightly.

She took a breath. Swallowed.

Then, she knocked.

A shuffling sound came from the other side before the door creaked open.

An elderly butler stood before us, his aged face carrying a quiet understanding. His uniform was immaculate, a testament to his years of unwavering service.

"Lady Janet," he greeted softly. "Do you wish to see your father?"

"Yes… I need to see him," she answered, her voice quieter than before.

The butler's expression darkened slightly. "My lady… You know he is resting. The medicine has only just—"

"Please," Janet interrupted, her voice laced with desperation. "It's urgent."

A moment of silence.

The butler studied her for a long second, then exhaled.

"…Very well."

He stepped aside, allowing us in.

As I entered, my gaze immediately landed on the massive king-sized bed in the center of the dimly lit room.

There, lying beneath a thick blanket, was Joseph Langford.

His golden hair, now dulled with age, fell in soft waves across his forehead. A well-groomed beard framed his strong jawline, but his skin was unnaturally pale. Even in his sleep, his face was strained, as if trapped in a never-ending nightmare.

A powerful presence radiated from him—one that felt oddly familiar.

Homo Magi.

I glanced at Janet.

Now that I thought about it, the energy I sensed from her earlier was the same.

So that's why I felt drawn to it.

Janet moved toward the bed, looking down at her father with quiet sorrow.

"…This is my father, Joseph," she murmured.

I nodded.

Without another word, I stepped closer and hovered my hand just above his forehead.

A faint purple glow emanated from my palm. The air shifted, charged with arcane energy.

"System. Use Analysis."

[Analysis Commencing…]

A soft hum filled the air as my magic probed his body, weaving through his mana pathways, tracing the source of his affliction.

[Results: Severe case of curse detected.]

[The patient has been afflicted by a powerful malediction, fueled by an external medium—A Demon's Soul.]

[Solution: Extraction of the demonic entity. Immediate intervention recommended.]

I narrowed my eyes.

A demonic curse?

Tch. As I thought.

I slowly withdrew my hand, fingers curling slightly as I processed the information.

"Can you… help him?" Janet's voice broke the silence.

I glanced at her.

Her eyes held something I rarely saw in this world.

Hope.

I exhaled softly.

"Yes," I answered. "But it is not as simple as giving him medicine."

Janet's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I turned my gaze back to Joseph.

"This is no illness," I stated. "Your father has been cursed—and not by ordinary magic. This affliction is being sustained by an external force. A demon's soul is acting as the medium."

Janet's face paled. "A… demon?"

I nodded. "If left alone, it will continue to fester, consuming his life force bit by bit."

She clenched her fists. "Then… what do we do?"

I met her gaze, my expression unreadable.

"…We remove it," I said simply.

"How?"

I smirked faintly, letting my magic flicker around my fingertips.

"Through force."

The air in the room shifted.

For a moment, the atmosphere darkened, the very shadows in the corners of the room seeming to stir.

Janet's breath hitched, her body instinctively tensing.

The old butler, who had remained silent all this time, now gripped his cane tightly, his gaze locked onto me with newfound wariness.

"…Can it be done?" he finally spoke.

I chuckled softly.

"My dear butler," I murmured, my emerald eyes flickering to crimson for a brief second.

"Did you truly believe I would come here if it couldn't?"

To Be Continued…