Lackey's Seducing Survival Odyssey

Chapter 1498: Talking to Mareth

After leaving the Rosavere company, Lackey moved toward another location.

He changed his clothes, pulling on a hoodie that concealed his figure as he approached a modest house on the outskirts of the city, a forgotten place where few people ever passed by.

This part of the city felt abandoned, as if it had been quietly erased from memory.

Aether stopped and studied the house carefully.

The wooden structure stood calmly beneath the dull sky, old but intact, with almost no neighbouring homes in sight.

He scanned his surroundings again, slower this time. Not a single presence. Only then did he step forward.

This was the house prepared for Lackey.

It had been chosen precisely because it attracted no attention.

An empty house… It served as a delivery point and a transportation hub for his products, in simple terms… It’s a shed!

As he entered, a faint unease lingered in his chest. A full month had passed since his last visit, and too many things could have gone wrong during that time.

This was where Rosavere had been instructed to deliver the goods. A month of absence was more than enough time for some opportunistic thief to stumble upon the place and help themselves.

“I checked this area thoroughly before buying it… but still,” Aether muttered under his breath as he opened the door.

His eyes widened the moment he stepped inside… locking onto the sealed containers resting quietly within, their surfaces layered with dust.

Relief washed over him, followed by a faint smirk. Raising his right hand, he activated his storage and transferred the containers instantly, leaving the room empty once more.

The guns had completed production under Lyirrs’s hands a month ago. All that remained was the attachment of the origin core crystals, yet Aether hesitated… There was something he needed to confirm first, something he could not afford to overlook.

His gaze drifted to his left hand’s empty sleeve. He had already asked Nightfire to prepare spell scrolls for maintaining the illusion, knowing he could not depend on her assistance forever.

Once the illusion wore off, whether naturally or by force, he might need to reapply it immediately.

“Maybe I should take… a succubus illusion ability,” Aether murmured with a contemplative tone. It did not need to be flawless like Nightfire’s, only convincing enough to deceive ordinary eyes and buy him time when needed.

Still, His active skills remained sealed. Even if he took it, he wouldn’t be able to use it… right?

“…Wait,” he said quietly, stopping mid-step as he exited the house. “What if I take it now? Those chains only sealed what I had before, right? Log, am I wrong?”

[Give it a try.]

Aether’s brows knit together slightly. “So.. even you don’t know for sure?”

[😮‍💨 I told you already. This is the first time the Eternal Prison’s chains have ever latched onto someone like this.]

“Then that means your so-called big daddy wasn’t involved,” Aether said with a sharp edge to his tone. “Right?”

[…Who are you referring to?]

“Tsk. That bastard, No.27,” Aether replied, irritation seeping through his calm. “Judging by the way he spoke, it sounded like he had been inside the Eternal Prison before.”

[…]

The Log fell silent.

He snorted quietly.

For now, he pushed that thought away; there were matters that could not wait. His body blurred as he surged forward at an insane speed, heading straight for the teleportation station. The world stretched and folded around him, streets and structures dissolving into streaks of colour.

/Nightfire, did you finish the job?/ Aether asked through their connection.

/Well… I did finish it,/ Nightfire replied, though her voice carried an unusual hesitation that immediately caught his attention.

Aether frowned as his movement slowed slightly. /What happened?/

/It’s just… how should I even explain this?/ Nightfire said, genuine confusion slipping through. /What happened to those other bitches? They looked like they’d been sucked dry of life or something. And… they were staring at Delphine while she slept, all night long. It felt like some creepy, obsessive stalking./

Hearing that, Aether’s steps faltered for the briefest moment. A weak smile tugged at his lips,

/You’d better not ask them anything,/ he muttered. /And more importantly… never ask Delphine about it. I mean it. Fucking EVER!/

/Hmm… what the fuck?/ Nightfire replied, /Did I just sense fear from you? That wasn’t my imagination, was it?/

“…” Aether blinked, his expression stiffening. Had his emotions really leaked through the connection?

And he was really feeling fear?

Damn it!

Nightfire’s curiosity flared instantly. /Now I’m really interested. You don’t get scared easily. Tell me, what exactly happened?/

Aether sighed, already picturing her expression, knowing full well how relentless she became once her curiosity ignited. He could almost hear her grin through the silence.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” he muttered aloud.

Then, through their connection, he added, /If you’re that desperate to know, ask them yourself. But first, give me the damn spell scrolls. After that, do whatever you want. Deal?/

/Hmm…./

/Nightfire./

/Fine, fine,/ she replied at last. /But you know I’m curious. Darling, why don’t you just tell the truth to this little girl of yours? How about I fuck you all night as a reward? Sounds fair, right?/

/For who?/ Aether shot back, smirking faintly as he shook his head. He could sense her rising lust clearly, unmistakably. /Anyway, come to Sandra’s place as soon as possible. I’ll be there in a minute./

/Sigh… okay~/

Soon enough, Aether reached the teleportation station and vanished in a flash of distorted light.

Within seconds, he arrived in the Naiadae Empire, and moments later, he arrived in the Palace.

He barely had time to take a breath before he was engulfed by his beautiful wives~

One of them cried openly, clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear again, and… of course, it was Aqualina.

The other two tried to maintain their stern composure, as if they were alright and would not cry before him… but it crumbled miserably the moment they wrapped their arms around him, their voices trembling and wet with emotion.

Aether chuckled softly, warmth spreading through his chest. He slowly soothed them, murmuring reassurances and letting them vent their anger, frustration, and relief all at once.

It took hours before their emotions finally settled, their annoyance and fury fading into reluctant calm.

Only then did Aether straighten slightly. His gaze sharpened as he called for the one person he needed most at that moment.

The Royal Magician and Royal Healer of the Empire.

Mareth!

Two figures sat across from one another at a wide table inside a secluded chamber.

Aether fixed his gaze on the old man before him with a stern, unreadable expression.

The old man returned the look only briefly before lowering his eyes. A weak, practised smile formed on his lips as he waited for the Emperor to speak, his posture composed and patient.

Aether finally parted his lips. “It’s our first time meeting like this, isn’t it, Royal Magician and Healer?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Mareth replied steadily.

“I have laid eyes upon you before, during the time when illness claimed your senses and left you unconscious. I was also entrusted with arranging your formal engagement.”

His eyes sharpened slightly as he continued, careful with every word.

“Yet this is the first occasion upon which we stand before one another as Emperor and servant, speaking face to face.” He inclined his head a little deeper. “If it pleases Your Majesty, you may call me Mareth. I am but a humble functionary in your service.”

Aether stared at him without blinking. His fingers tapped softly against the table, slow and rhythmic, each tap measured as if counting something unseen.

Mareth remained calm, waiting patiently for his Emperor to speak again. Not a flicker of impatience crossed his face.

“Interesting,” Aether said at last. “Don’t you think?”

“I beg Your Majesty’s pardon,” Mareth replied slowly, his brows drawing together as though in earnest confusion.

Aether sighed quietly. “Tell me something,” he continued. “You know me, don’t you?”

Mareth frowned faintly, with genuine confusion,

“I am not sure what you mean by that, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Could you explain it to this idiotic servant of yours?”

Suddenly, Aether laughed. “Hah… idiotic?” he repeated, amusement glinting in his eyes. “You really are good with your words.”

Mareth ensured the misunderstanding was his own. It was not that Aether had failed to explain himself, but that Mareth claimed idiocy, shifting blame onto himself to avoid overstepping.

An interesting tactic!

Aether inhaled slowly before lifting his right hand onto the table. A black ring rested on his finger. “I know you made this,” he said calmly. “And you know who has been using it, don’t you?”

Mareth blinked once, his gaze drawn to the ring. He studied it carefully before responding.

“Over many years, this hand has forged countless artifacts in service to Her Majesty,”

Mareth says after a pause.

“Such a ring may well be among them. But I am not certain, Your Majesty. I beg your forgiveness if this old man fails to recall its origin with certainty.”

Aether hummed softly, his eyes never leaving Mareth’s face. The old man continued to act as though the ring meant nothing to him, despite Sandra’s telling that Mareth knew exactly who Aether was.

After all, he was the one who had forged it, a ring capable of becoming a mask, altering hair colour, and reshaping identity.

There was no chance Mareth had forgotten it. Not when he had nearly modified the ’X’ Towers themselves.

A mind capable of such work did not simply grow foggy overnight.

Aether nodded inwardly. ’He is good.’

[Yes, he is good.]

Even his Log acknowledged it.

Aether’s expression hardened slightly as his tone shifted, becoming colder, more detached. “Tell me, Mareth,” he said evenly.

“How loyal are you to Sandra?”

Mareth bowed his head without hesitation. His voice was calm, unwavering, and resolute. “Should Empress Marisandra Naiadae command it, this servant would surrender his breath without regret.”

“Hm…” Aether hummed thoughtfully before rising from his chair.

Mareth reacted instinctively, beginning to stand as well, but Aether lifted a hand, silently ordering him to remain seated.

Mareth nodded at once and settled back into his chair. His eyes followed Aether’s movements with faint curiosity, studying the Emperor as he paced slowly behind him.

“Give your life…? ah…” Aether repeated, his tone low and contemplative. “That’s the first time I’ve heard someone say they’re ready to die for her.” His brows furrowed slightly. “This Empire knows exactly how much of a tyrant she can be. And yet, here you are.” His gaze sharpened.

Something didn’t quite add up.

Aether’s eyes glowed faintly as he stopped. “Do you love her, perhaps?” he asked softly. “Is that why you’re willing to lay down your life?” He leaned closer, closing the distance until his face hovered dangerously near Mareth’s.

Mareth shook his head immediately, almost too quickly. “My Heavens…! Please forgive this old man for my poor choice of words,” he said, his voice steady but strained.

“Such thoughts would be an unforgivable transgression. This servant harbours no desires beyond duty.”

His back straightened.

“Her Majesty stands as the sovereign of this Empire. Nothing more, nothing less. Reverence, not affection, binds my loyalty.”

Aether stared at him blankly, searching his face for cracks that never appeared. Without another word, he walked behind Mareth, his footsteps slow and measured. Mareth remained still, waiting, neither turning nor reacting.

“Then what about me?” Aether asked quietly from behind. “Would you lay down your life for me as well?”

Mareth answered without hesitation.

“You are the Emperor who now bears the Throne… this life is likewise yours to command.”

Aether raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He nodded once before placing his right hand firmly on Mareth’s shoulder, fingers pressing down with controlled strength. He leaned in and whispered close to his ear, his voice carrying a dangerous threat.

“Then answer me, my faithful subject,” Aether murmured.

“Where does that loyalty truly come from?”

After all, even earning Drakhair’s loyalty had been no simple task. And yet, this old man claimed such devotion so easily.

Too easily… To the point where he was willing to die for it!

It didn’t make sense.

Aether might have dismissed it as hollow flattery, empty words meant to please a ruler. But there was something unsettling in Mareth’s expression, in the quiet certainty of his voice.

It felt real, frighteningly so.

Either he truly meant it… or Mareth was acting on a level equal to Aether himself.

“Mareth?” Aether called softly.

Mareth flinched, just slightly. It was enough.

Aether’s smirk formed instantly.

Mareth felt Aether’s fingers dig deeper into his shoulder.

He took a careful breath before finally speaking.

“I am… loyal to the Throne itself, Your Majesty,”

Aether’s smirk widened. “Loyal to the Throne?” he echoed. “Then that means you’re not loyal to Sandra herself.”

“Please forgive me—” Mareth began.

“Enough with the fake pleasantries,” Aether cut in coldly. His grip tightened.

“Answer me plainly.” His voice dropped further. “Are you, or are you not, loyal to Sandra?”

Mareth swallowed hard before replying.

“If.. If the one who sits upon the Throne is Marisandra Naiadae, then… Indeed.

This servant’s loyalty rests with her.”

Aether’s smirk deepened.