The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 45: Does It Hurt? Are You Hungry?

Aiwass retraced his steps.He crossed the desolate mountain, waded through the polluted river.

After reaching the abandoned warehouse where stone materials had once been stored, another full half-hour passed…

Only then did the curse arrive.

A sudden wave of discomfort surged from deep within his body.

It was like coming down with a fever: chills wracked his frame, his teeth chattered uncontrollably. His limbs weakened, every breath he exhaled burned, and a stinging pain spread across his skin—the nerves beneath his flesh had begun to suffer the damage of a curse.

It was a familiar sensation.

“…So slow. Just now deciding to show up?”

Aiwass murmured to himself as his pace gradually slowed and grew heavier.

His eyes turned red and swollen, a dull, pounding ache radiating through his skull.

He chuckled dryly to himself. “Feels just like childhood…”

This was the —the same one he had previously expelled from little Aiwass.

And also the very same curse that had once afflicted the young Aiwass himself.

It was on par with the that had made Lulu vomit blood. Slightly weaker than the , but still dangerous.

“…A demonologist skilled in cursecraft.”

Aiwass mentally pinned down the enemy’s identity. “This doesn’t sound like a Stannite.”

Demonologists from Stannite typically specialized in ritual magic, followed by demonology itself.

Cursecraft, however, wasn’t included in official study materials.

Even the demonologist-tolerant Stannite Kingdom didn’t want someone capable of casually cursing their nobles and officials.

And the wasn’t even a particularly useful type of demon.

Low intelligence, limited attack methods—it couldn’t handle complex tasks. Its low energy tier made it unsuitable as a contract partner for power enhancement. Unlike Aiwass, who supplemented his own abilities through a pact with a Shadow Demon, others couldn’t do the same with such low-level demons.

Normally, a demonologist would contract with a demon stronger than themselves. Otherwise, what was the point of selling one’s soul?

—If you’re going to sell your soul to some short-tempered weakling, why not just train a hardworking disciple instead?

This demonologist’s proficiency in cursecraft proved that their level was anything but low—at least upper-second rank, possibly third.

But the demon they’d contracted was clearly weak.

And the fact that they stayed hidden, never attacking directly, meant they were likely not someone skilled in ritual magic like Dazili.

Curse-specialized demonologists were characteristic of the in the East.

In the brutal conflicts over sacred springs and oasis regions, curse-masters who could silently assassinate key enemy figures were considered invaluable assets.

Resource scarcity made complex rituals impractical in the desert—so the study of ritual magic never took off there.

All of this matched the figure working in the shadows, and what Jack the Ripper had said about his master departing Avalon and heading east into the desert.

—A curse-mage from the desert had wandered into Avalon, pledged themselves to a powerful figure, and took payments to curse specific targets—earning money and favors by assassinating on commission. Once he’d earned enough, he fled home.

That, in all likelihood, was the full picture.

…It also implied that the “important figure” was relatively kind-hearted. Despite knowing so many of the curse-mage’s secrets, they didn’t silence him. He was allowed to leave.

Of course, it was also possible he had been silenced—and Jack simply didn’t know it.

The Hook Demon was only one piece of a mature curse system operated by the true mastermind.

He used curses to weaken his targets first, then sent in the Hook Demon to deliver the finishing blow. The Hook Demon was just his means of executing the final act—not his core power.

—No wonder he didn’t bother nurturing the Hook Demon.

He had the knowledge but never did it himself.

Because he didn’t need to.

The demon was merely a tool—that he casually handed off to a newly acquainted student said it all.

Jack the Ripper had cherished the Hook Demon too much. Strengthening it through rituals had only made himself more conspicuous.

After enhancing the demon, Jack had been able to project his own consciousness into it—controlling this dumb but terrifyingly strong and high-damage creature with his own intellect.

But the ritual enhancement itself was risky.

For a curse-mage, was power. As with Sherlock breaking his own curse—once someone knew they were cursed, it lost most of its edge. Every curse had its counter.

The strength of a curse-mage was rooted in secrecy.

“Died of natural causes” was the highest praise.

“…So that’s how my birth parents died.”

Aiwass murmured.

The intensifying fever made his thoughts hazy, but his memories became clearer, lining up.

Judging from the Jack the Ripper incident, the real history likely did contain the same pairing of curse-mage and Hook Demon.

When Aiwass was a child, he had been cursed with the , collapsing into unconsciousness—thus unable to recall what happened afterward.

And yet, for such a vulnerable child to survive that sudden, life-threatening fever—there was only one answer:

Not Julio—but Bishop Mathers.

In the real world, where power wasn’t capped by the constraints of the dreamworld, Julio would’ve been able to contact Mathers.

That would explain why Bishop Mathers treated Aiwass with such extraordinary warmth from the start—even lending him the key to the chapel.

He had claimed it was to repay Professor Moriarty’s help, but the real reason must have been Julio.

At first glance, he had recognized Aiwass as the son of his former student—Julio Alexander.

Aiwass bore clear marks of both and .

He regretted being unable to save his student.

And he was determined not to make the same mistake again—thus vowing to protect Aiwass at all costs.

From this attitude, Aiwass could infer—

Mathers had believed Julio could resolve the crisis, but Julio had failed.

That failure filled him with guilt.

Now, back to the current task—

Their goal was to leave the cathedral and reach .

That name couldn’t be random. And it clearly wasn’t where the curse-mage resided—there was no room there to construct complex ritual platforms.

That meant it must be tied to the deaths of Aiwass’s birth parents.

So after Julio dispelled the curse from Aiwass, he must’ve gone to Law Square for some reason.

And since Aiwass had already lost consciousness, he remembered nothing that followed.

The story afterward probably unfolded just like what was happening now.

The only real difference was that, in the true history, the unrelated ritual participants—those outside Aiwass’s family—were never cursed.

Annie, for example, wasn’t a supernatural of the Path of Beauty in reality.

And there was no mage newsboy.

On Glass Isle, there weren’t supposed to be that many supernatural from different Paths.

Only Aiwass’s family had been cursed.

Maybe one of them was targeted first and killed.

Or maybe all three were cursed at once.

In the end, the sleeping Aiwass was set aside, while the other two lured the enemy away.

That revealed something vital:

The killer had never intended to target Aiwass or his cousin.

That’s why Aiwass survived—and was safely sent to the orphanage.

Which left only one question—

Why did the killer want to murder Aiwass’s parents?

“…Looks like I’ll have to ask in person.”

Aiwass murmured softly.

His downcast eyes grew dark.

“I hadn’t planned to go this far.

“But you’re just too incompetent.

“What a bother. I gave you all this time, and now you decide to curse me, when the ritual’s almost over…”

—Still trying to kill the Bone Idol, are you?

He locked his gaze on the corner of the warehouse.

There, streaks of deep crimson had begun to gather.

The Hook Demon’s twisted red silhouette had partially manifested, grinning at him with killing intent.

All four arms clutched long iron hooks—sharp enough to tear through flesh with ease.

Its body bore signs of frostbite and pale burn marks—the aftermath of a attack.

“Ah, hello there… child.”

Aiwass greeted it politely, completely unafraid or repulsed.

He opened his mouth and asked softly:

“Does it hurt?

“Are you… hungry?”

Before the Hook Demon could fully materialize—before it could move at all—Aiwass moved first.

With a sharp flick, he pulled out a paper cutter—

And in a reverse grip!

—