The instant he finished speaking, Voldemort felt a chill run through his entire body, as though a demon that had just crawled out of hell had fixed him in its sights.
He raised his head stiffly and saw Sean's expression.
Damn it... this brat... Voldemort cursed inwardly.
Sean's face held undisguised curiosity and greed. His eyes gleamed; he was clearly extremely interested in this matter.
Voldemort tried to avoid that greedy gaze, but Sean leaned closer of his own accord.
"What a surprise... a chance to enter the Underworld? Ha, that place is a barren wasteland. Living people die when they enter, and souls sink into oblivion once they go in... So you mean the authority of the Death God gave you an amulet that ensures your safety even if you enter as a Residual Soul?"
That damned sharpness... Voldemort was already beginning to regret cooperating with this brat. He knew too many secrets, and his mind worked far too quickly. He could always seize the crux of the matter at once.
But the Unbreakable Vow had already been made. It would have been fine if Sean did not ask, but once Sean asked, he had no way to refuse him.
Voldemort nodded stiffly. "The authority of the Death God gave me certain privileges, allowing me to remain safe while moving through the Underworld."
"What privileges? Magic? Spells? Or perhaps some kind of magical symbol?" Sean pressed.
Voldemort shook his head. "None of those. It is my... my current form."
"Form?" Sean paused slightly and looked at Voldemort.
He clearly felt like a soul, yet he could touch living things. So this really was brought about by the authority of the Death God. In other words, maintaining this form would allow him to travel safely through the Underworld?
Voldemort knew