“Aaah! I won! I did it, I did it!”
The brown-haired woman, who had just placed down all the cards in her hands, basked in her victory as she looked around at the Countess and the Inquisitor.
Her sharp nose twitched, and her eyes—holding both the aura of a bright girl and the charm of a seductive temptress—expressed her joy as innocently as a child’s. She then glanced at the blond-haired man sitting next to her.
Julius Tapnel’s only wife, Cecil Lionelta.
A woman crying out in triumph amidst the dark clouds looming over Aran.
[… You don’t really have to do this, do you?]
The devil’s voice whispered anxiously in her mind, but those whispers held no meaning for her now as she reveled in the afterglow of her victory.
The important thing was that she could now ask Julius to grant her one wish.
“What should I do, what should I do?”
If Krail had seen this, he would have thought of Leira—a sight that would have sent shivers down his spine.
Watching Cecil shrug her shoulders in anticipation of the gift she was about to receive, one couldn’t help but smile at her innocence.
—Boom!
Julius, who had been watching her with a look of exhaustion, slowly stood up from his seat when he heard a loud roar from outside the lord’s castle.
“It looks like the situation is over. I suppose I should go see Priestess Emily.”
The heretic inquisitor bowed his head to the Count and his wife, who sighed in relief upon hearing that their plan had been safely thwarted. Without so much as a glance back, he attempted to leave the room—only to be stopped by someone pulling at his sleeve.
“Where are you going?”
“… If the heretics have been wiped out, and the ‘Ascension’ plan has failed, there’s no reason for me to stay here any longer.”
Julius shook his head and narrowed his eyes at his wife before turning away once more, intent on leaving.
“Where are you going? Wishes should be granted.”
Cold.
Cecil’s voice could be summed up in just that one word.
As he slowly turned his head to look at her, he was met with an expressionless face.
No—when he looked closer into her eyes, he glimpsed the terrifying being within, struggling to contain its wild desires.
“… Do you really need to make a wish now?”
“Isn’t it obvious? What if I decide on something different later?”
Her small mouth opened as she spoke clearly, her expression resembling that of Lionelta—the Angel of Death—as her name suggested.
Cecil’s aura grew increasingly intense.
As Julius observed her and tried to think of a clever way out of this situation, an idea suddenly flashed in his mind.
“I am Inquisitor Julius Tapnel, a man who always keeps his promises.”
[So there was no need to rush. Shouldn’t wishes be chosen carefully?]
A voice burrowed into her ear like a snake teasing its tongue.
After hearing those words from the foolish high-ranking devil, she was completely taken aback.
“… Prudence, yes, there is nothing wrong with being cautious. If possible, in a place with a good atmosphere where you can never refuse….”
Julius, who glanced for a moment at the woman muttering with her head down, as if lost in her own world, let out a small sigh that no one could hear and hurried out of there.
Although they always tried to stay close to each other, it was a good thing that they quietly separated when working.
The heretic inquisitor’s uniform grazed his skin.
Feeling the texture of the luxurious fabric of his uniform, he walked forward, following the flames faintly spreading from his hands.
Coming out of the reception room, he walked silently down the blue hallway, reminiscent of water, without even looking at it, and arrived at the back door of the Lord’s Castle.
It was a door with the image of Tapnel, the angel of faith, engraved on it, as if to declare that he was a faithful member of the Telmere Church.
Julius, who was staring distantly at the angel sculpture glaring at him as if scolding him, slowly moved his hand, pulled the handle, and stepped outside.
Tapnel’s eyes remained fixed on him until the last moment the door opened.
The representative of the faithful angel pretended not to notice that gaze until the very end.
***
—Shoo!
As soon as he stepped out of Lord’s Castle, rain poured violently onto the ground, as if the dark clouds were releasing all the gloom they contained.
Slat. Slat.
A steady rhythm echoed from his luxurious shoes.
A rat living in the gutter hurriedly crawled up from the underground water supply, scurrying around to avoid the rain soaking its body.
What caught the eye of the small creature, busy looking around, was a massive giant.
The blond-haired giant walked silently through the rain, his expression unchanged.
Is that monster stupid?
The rat tilted its head at the sight of the man running through the downpour without even trying to avoid it. Then, losing interest in the heretic inquisitor, it squeezed itself among the nearby trash and curled up its small body.
—Shoo!
The rain showed no signs of stopping, hammering the ground mercilessly with heavy drops.
The sun of the main deity, merciful even to small creatures, still showed no sign of rising.
***
“Hrmm! Sir Julius, what do you want to know?”
“I heard that priests of the Telmere Church died in this incident. How many were killed exactly?”
“…When we arrived at the scene, there were a total of thirty-two dead. It was a shame.”
“… I heard something interesting from Priestess Emily.”
“Interesting? What do you mean?”
“They say this sound came from the mouth of a devil in the form of a girl, and the priests of the Aran branch number thirty-three in total.”
“… There were thirty-two priests who came to Aran from the Church of Telmere…”
The face of the knight tilting his head, as if unable to understand, came to mind.
The words of a devil, who speaks only the truth, were different from the words of a sincere knight.
So, did the knight lie?
Thinking this, Julius subtly and implicitly questioned Count Rotani.
“There were a total of thirty-two priests in Aran.”
No one had lied. So why were these two statements different?
“That devil thought I was a priestess of the Aran Church.”
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