“Wake up, wake up, you fool!”
Late in the morning, as God’s grace brightened the world, Heretic Inquisitor Julius, who had been sleeping lightly, opened his eyes in surprise at the sound of a somewhat familiar voice calling out to him.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a small table and chair, and a woman with brown hair standing nearby.
Last night, the devil, consumed by a longing for love, had fainted while k!ssing him. Upon seeing the devil collapse in his arms, Julius carried her on his back and rushed to Aran at the Church of Telmere. He had hurried to the branch as quickly as he could.
After running tirelessly for who knows how long, the church door he arrived at was just as tightly closed as before. Summoning his strength, Julius imbued his feet with power and shattered the front door, adorned with an angel sculpture, to gain entry.
What had happened last night was enough to unsettle him. Yet, fearing for his wife’s safety, he risked blasphemy by entering the church to nurse her back to health.
Julius woke up in a small, simple room meant for treating the sick. He stared blankly at Cecile, the woman standing against the murky wall beside him. She puffed out her cheeks, expressing her anger with her entire being, as though dissatisfied.
“So? Did it feel good to do that with the devil last night?”
Her jealous and angry tone was so endearing that Julius, the cold-blooded Inquisitor of Lyriam, could not help but pull his wife into his arms.
“What, what? Let go of me! You can’t just—”
She struggled against him, grumbling with the same tone as their daughter, Leira. However, as Julius held her close, she gradually relaxed, her initial resistance softening. She nestled her face into his wide embrace, much like she used to in their earlier days together.
After holding her for a while, Julius gently set Cecile down, stood from the bed, adjusted his clothes, and fixed her with a piercing gaze. His expression became serious as he began questioning her, the way only an inquisitor could.
“Something changed suddenly, and then you reverted just as quickly. What happened yesterday—was that the trigger?”
“Why are you so smug? You were the one who cheated on me with the devil yesterday!”
“What? The devil is part of you—and I would never cheat.”
Cecile began to falter, realizing the absurdity of her own words. She wondered if having two personalities in one body could even be considered infidelity.
Julius, observing her confusion with a serious expression, spoke absentmindedly.
“It’s not infidelity.”
“No, now that I think about it, maybe it is. But then again… I’m not the same person I was before.”
“Am I both your wife and mistress?”
Cecile shuddered at the immoral thought but chuckled, finding it oddly amusing.
Seeing her laugh, Julius frowned and raised his voice.
“My heart beats only for one person—Cecile Lionelta. There’s no way I could fall for a devil or anything else!”
“And you ended up feeling excited about the nightmare?”
“….”
“It’s fine. I’m your wife, Julius, so I’ll allow you to at least hold hands with me—the devil side of me.”
“But no more than that.”
Cecile, granting him permission as though doing him a favor, stood up and adjusted her attire. The black dress she had worn the previous day melted away, replaced by a white blouse and a simple brown skirt, reminiscent of her days in Kente Village.
Now looking more like herself, she stood before Julius, her eyes clear and bright. She smiled warmly at him, and he found himself smiling back.
The once dark and oppressive wall behind her seemed to lighten as the murkiness faded. Cecile, the daughter of Saint Erman, leaned closer and whispered gently to her husband.
“I missed you. Even though I saw you everyday, I prefer being like this again.”
Dark clouds may have spread despair over the earth, but as Saint Telmere once said, all rain eventually stops. The earth would firm once more, the clouds would part, and the clear sky would bring hope to those mired in sorrow.
Julius’s stiff expression softened as the corners of his mouth lifted. The hurt in his heart eased as he gazed at his wife, her gentle smile comforting him. Even the devil within her seemed to relax, a faint warmth filling its presence.
“It is enough as long as you are happy.”
“…What did you just say?”
“Huh? I didn’t say anything.”
Cecil’s expression, as she said that, was innocent.
No, if Krail were here, he would have punched Julius in the back of the head and said something like this:
“Why are you so dense!”
***
“Why is this happening all of a sudden? You were fine until yesterday, but now you suddenly hate me?”
The name of the cute woman shivering and hiding behind the sturdy man with her blond hair neatly tied up was Cecil Lionelta. She was the daughter of Saint Erman, favored by the Angel of Death, and the younger sister of the Angel of Death, the “Emperor’s Nightmare.”
She now stared in bewilderment at the Divine Beast, who raised its horn in front of her and threatened her. She held her husband’s back tightly.
“Puh-hee-hing!”
Julius glanced briefly at the unicorn, who was being noisy while emitting white light from its long horn. Wondering what had displeased it so much, he whispered softly: “… I guess I should take care of the unicorn myself today.”
Francis, recalling the image of a mischievous boy running toward him with shining eyes, declaring his desire to roast and eat him as a child, quickly shook his head and began backing away.
The man sighed while watching the ridiculous scene unfold. Suddenly, someone poked him from behind.
“So? Why is the unicorn suddenly acting like that?”
Cecil tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
Julius gently brushed his flowing bangs aside, tucked them behind his ears, and muttered as if speaking to a stranger.
“… Because you are Cecil now.”
“Huh? What does it matter? I was Cecil yesterday too.”
“… Yesterday, you were the Emperor’s Nightmare.”
“Well, sure, but what does that have to do with this?”
Barely suppressing the urge to flee the scene, Lyriam’s strongest inquisitor, and perhaps its most pure-hearted man, forced out his next words with difficulty, “… The devil is a v!rgin, and you are my wife.”
After uttering those words, Julius quickly chased after the mischievous divine beast, which had already bolted.
Meanwhile, Cecil stood frozen, trying to process what he had said.
[Indeed, that is how it appears in the eyes of the divine beast.]
The devil’s calm whisper echoed in her mind.
Cecil’s face turned crimson as she finally understood the unicorn’s conflicted attitude.
“… I’m really going to k!ll you. I’m really going to k!ll you!!!”
Cecil, the wife of Julius and one with the devil, remained an enigma. While the line between their identities had blurred, her human and devilish personalities were still distinct.
The lovely—no, terrifying—wife, determined to teach a lesson to the Divine Beast, who dared to see through her heart, ignited white flames and took off after the two.
“… Hey, kids, when are you going to save me?”
Thus ended the second day in peaceful Aran, where one could only pity Priestess Emily, who was detained in the Countess’s castle.
***
A beautiful canal ran through the heart of the city.
As you strolled along Aran’s famous landmarks, you would come across the Lord’s Castle, standing majestically in the city center.
Count Rotani’s castle, an architectural marvel with its arched structure allowing the canal water to flow beneath, was a supreme treasure that inspired countless artists.
In the middle of this elegant castle, tied tightly with ropes and with a knight’s sword at her neck, sat Emily Ridina. The legendary priestess, whose youthful appearance was the result of resurrection, struggled in her bindings while shouting indignantly at the knights.
“Hey! Do you even know who I am? I’m Emily Ridina! Emily Ridina! Let’s see how this gets resolved later!”
“The church’s special priestess, the immortal Emily, is supposedly a woman over 30. To us, you look like an ordinary, shabby young girl,” one of the knights retorted with a chuckle.
The knights laughed, and Emily, glaring at them blankly, grew furious at the unbearable humiliation.
Her body, which regenerated itself after every death—even reversing aging—was her curse. When she was 25, she had sacrificed herself to save Julius, who had been in danger during one of her reckless escapades. (G: This explains why she was so young and childish when she met baby Cecil.)
Through her recklessness, her carefully cultivated maturity had disappeared, leaving her with a youthful appearance that betrayed her age. Now, Emily was shedding bitter tears of frustration.
“… You lot, I’ve memorized your faces. Francis, once my son Julius gets here, you’ll all regret this!”
The silver-haired priestess screamed with such intensity that one might mistake her for Thalia’s younger sister.
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Check out my other projects: Rehabilitating the Villainess, Pushover Extra Trains the Villainesses, I Picked Up an Amnesiac Witch, Transmigrated as the Butler of a Defeated Heroine, My Summons Are Special