Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Chapter 121: _No More Good Cop

"Cecil," Devon pulled a small stool, placing it in front of the sofa on which the intruder was seated.

The latter’s head was lowered, fingers locked in his lap. He was still shaken, avoiding eye contact—a complete shell of a supposed A-Rank Esper.

Devon’s neck snapped to Orion’s room door just then. Ambrose just stepped out, shutting it gently behind him. Then his eyes locked on the S-Rank as he nodded slowly for him to continue.

The room was fully lit up, letting him see every outline on the A-Rank’s features. Every movement his eyes made. Every time he twitched, he was reliving something terrifying.

There was something horribly wrong here. And Devon wanted to find out what—especially since Ambrose couldn’t afford getting too emotionally worked up.

"Cecil... Aka Ghost," Devon went on smoothly, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Care to tell us what you were doing here to begin with?"

Silence.

The man didn’t even make a sound. He just stared blankly at the marble floor, eyes wandering like he was counting as many patterns as he could take in.

Ambrose’s jaw worked but he didn’t interfere. He and Devon had agreed... he’ll put Orion to sleep while the S-Rank got their so-called guest to start talking.

He could sense it anyway. Devon’s growing suspicions. At this point, it would be pointless to try to control the situation or get him to back away.

"You won’t like me repeating myself, Cecil," Devon warned, already raising a hand. Small sparks of yellow flames flickered between each finger.

That finally roused a reaction from the A-Rank, making him jerk back with fear.

Good.

"Start chirping." Devon snapped. "Why were you here and what happened to you?"

Cecil’s throat tightened. He closed his eyes, muttering something incoherent about how he fucked up.

Seeing this, Ambrose felt whatever shred of control he had left slipping away. He dragged his feet, inching forward while Devon seized the man by his collar.

"We aren’t fucking playing games here." He sneered. "You snuck into a suite. Regardless of what you were doing here, there was a kid."

Cecil’s mouth trembled. "I–I didn’t mean to... it was supposed to be simple." He paused, glancing at Ambrose. "He wasn’t supposed to resist. I—"

"The more you speak," Ambrose’s voice was void of emotion, surprising even Devon, "the more tempting the idea of skinning off your lips looks."

He brought a hand to the utility belt around his Hunter uniform. Devon frowned, watching him pull out a dagger—the same A-Rank Frost dagger Viktor gave him.

"Rose?"

By the time the Guide was beside Devon, it was already too late. He lunged, plunging the dagger into the man’s right kneecap.

"Ah—!" Before he could scream, Ambrose covered his mouth, twisting the blade until the sheer magnitude of the pain made even breathing difficult.

Devon’s eyes widened with a mix of alarm and confusion. "What the hell are you doing?" He grabbed Ambrose’s shoulder. "How’s he supposed to answer us through the pain? Orion is in the other room."

"Orion wouldn’t be in the other room if he hadn’t somehow found a way to defend himself." Ambrose shot back, shrugging off his hand. "We’re past the good cop route."

From the moment he picked Orion up and took him into his bedroom, his mind has been taking a sharp descent—down a slippery slope he thought he’d gotten out of.

His son—the little boy he’s been tasked with raising—had been sobbing hard before finally sleeping. Only because he was too spent to shed any more tears.

So no... he didn’t care if he drew a little blood.

Pulling out the dagger, Ambrose grabbed the man by the ear with his other hand. "Listen," he ignored his muffled whimpers as well as Devon’s concerned stare, "if someone sent you, you’d better start driving it into your hollow skull that I’m worse."

"You’re still getting handed over to the higher-ups. So tell me—do you want to do that with your limbs intact or should I stab your other leg?"

Cecil shook his head wildly, his eyes already watering. As Ambrose pulled back completely from him, he let out a shuddering exhale, coughing and clutching his chest.

"G–Guide Han..." he rang in no time. "He sent me to... take Orion."

Devon’s forehead creased but Ambrose was mostly unsurprised.

Of course, Han had something to do with this.

Still, the audacity to send someone after his son was the part he didn’t get. What could’ve been so important for the Guide to even consider that?

"What did he want with the kid?"

"H–He didn’t say."

Ambrose lifted his dagger, pressing out the blood smudged on its glistening surface. He appeared deadly calm on the outside.

But on the inside...

[WARNING: Host’s blood pressure spiking. You’re advised to disengage from any external stressors.]

His fingers had begun shaking, the reality of all he had done within the past few seconds hitting him like a splash of icy cold water. He turned away from the man, avoiding eye contact with Devon.

’Why did I react like that?’ He brushed a hand roughly through his hair.

"And then you," Devon took over fluidly, raising his chin. "Why were you so shaken? What happened that knocked you out?"

Cecil paused, his pupils dilating as if he were told to recount living in hell. He inclined his head away but Devon caught his jaw.

"Ah, ah... you’re doing great. Don’t make this harder than it needs to."

The A-Rank nearly pissed his pants, taking in the form of the Guide with his back facing him now.

Wasn’t this Ambrose Hale? Isn’t he supposed to be a mere C-Rank? Why then did he feel so... horrifying? Like an assassin waiting for the right moment to strike.

"I..." he gulped. "I really don’t know." Devon gripped his jaw harder. "I–I swear, okay?! One second I was staring into the little guy’s eyes, about to grab him. Then... then my powers stopped working. I could’ve sworn the walls... started caving in..."

He stared into Devon’s eyes. "... I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. Before I knew what was happening... everything turned black." He grabbed Devon’s wrist without warning. "I’m... I’m telling the truth. Please—don’t let me see that little boy again. I–I still can’t channel my aether. I–I didn’t want this to happen."

Devon heaved, swerving briefly to Ambrose.

The Guide was silent, his eyes distant as if he was pondering something. He appeared as confused as he was. Yet he simultaneously seemed decisive.

’Han,’ Ambrose thought to himself. ’You’ve really outdone yourself this time...’

His fingers tightened around the dagger.

And this time—he didn’t feel guilty at all.