“The reason a wedding dress is pure white is to highlight the bride’s purity.”
“This is your first time hearing that? Where did you pick up such an idea, my wife?”
The short-haired man with blonde hair, shining like molten gold, hugged her from behind.
After struggling briefly in frustration, the brown-haired woman cleared her throat.
“I overheard it while visiting the bakery. The local ladies like to say things like that,” Cecil replied, her cheeks puffing slightly, clearly upset.
Julius chuckled, planting a k!ss on her cheek.
His playful sigh caused a funny sound that made Cecil finally pull away from his embrace.
“Again! You’re always joking around. Try being serious for once, idiot!”
Julius’s expression shifted as he watched her, now visibly irritated. His mischievous smile hinted at something hidden.
“Are you planning something again? Just tell me! What if I drop the baby?”
“No… I just feel bad we couldn’t have a grand wedding… Anyway, I have something for you.”
Scratching the back of his head, he pulled a small box from behind the sofa and tossed it to her.
“Phew, where did you learn to talk like that? You sound like an old man, hehehe.”
Cecil giggled softly, teasing Julius as she fiddled with the box.
As he turned away, feigning embarrassment, she carefully opened it.
Inside was a small locket. When she opened it slightly, she found a finely detailed portrait of herself.
“Wow, wow! What is this? Where did you get it? It’s so pretty!”
Julius smiled as he watched his innocent wife running around with her gift. But after a moment of happiness, he got up and headed toward the door.
“…Where are you going?”
“Ah… Krail called me for a drink.”
“Hmm…did you suddenly get a revelation from heaven?”
With that the atmosphere went through a sudden shift, caused by the smell of something burnt lingering in the air.
There was a charred object on the table asserting its presence.
Cecil glanced sideways at it.
That evening, Julius had to satisfy his hunger with something akin to soot—potato soup.
***
Special Heretic Inquisitor Krail Raynell was reading a book for the first time in ages. Ever since his days studying theology under Priest Brukin as a prospective inquisitor, the mere scent of books had made him uneasy.
For the first time in a long while, Krail felt as though he had returned to his diligent study days. He flipped through the pages of an old book but soon paused.
The pages were filled with tiny letters and seemingly meaningless illustrations. Frowning at the unclear text, he leaned in and read slowly.
“The Emperor’s Nightmare…”
It was the part where the devil’s alias and name were granted to Cecil’s body, yet no matter how much he read, the meaning seemed to slip through his mind. Though the words were right in front of him, they felt as though they were seeping out of him.
A shiver ran down his spine, unsettling goosebumps forming as he twisted his body in discomfort. But he continued to read.
“Five hundred years ago, an Emperor who rode across the world on a single horse, bringing all nations to their knees, was felled by a single devil. The devil, described in the First Scripture, drained the land’s and people’s fortune with every breath, hoarding that luck for itself. The Emperor’s lands eventually withered, his people starved, and his life ended when he fell from the horse he’d ridden all his life, breaking his neck.”
Despite his discomfort, Krail found the book’s content gripping, especially considering the connection to his friend’s wife.
His fingers tapped nervously on the desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The librarian in charge of the forbidden section glanced over, rolling his eyes.
As Krail read further, his attention caught on a particular passage.
“Unlike other high-ranking devils, the Emperor’s Nightmare has not committed any further killings since that incident five hundred years ago.”
“Huh…” Krail muttered as he closed the book and stretched his legs.
As expected from what the saint had told him, this Nightmare seemed rather calm compared to other high-ranking devils. The guilt weighing on his heart lightened slightly.
Walking out of the library, Krail thought back to the day he first encountered the Nightmare.
[Cecil… exchange her body for a deal with me.]
[…And what could I gain from just a human body?]
[This is no ordinary woman. Her name is Cecile Lionelta.]
[She is the wife of the renowned inquisitor. So?]
[I offer you her body.]
[Hehehe, this will be fun. Something I’ve never experienced before… I accept that offer, foolish servant of Rom.]
The Nightmare giggled, wrapping itself around Cecil’s body in a shroud of black energy.
Krail, watching the scene unfold, asked the devil one last question.
[If you win this bet, what happens to Julius?]
[He’ll live happily with his wife… until his death.]
[In a nightmare from which he will never awaken.]
Krail hastened his steps, realizing he had spent more time in the library than expected. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a c!garette. The box was light—nearly empty.
He lit the c!garette with a small flame, the crackling sound filling the air as he took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the breeze.
Turning his gaze toward the direction the smoke traveled, he saw a small figure—a young blonde woman puffing out her cheeks in frustration as she wandered around in front of the church.
When she noticed him, she waved.
“Ugh…”
Krail sensed her irritation. With a flick of his fingers, the smoke trailing toward her stopped mid-air, disappearing into a pure white flame.
He discarded the c!garette, stamping it out with his shoe.
The memory of getting scolded on his son’s birthday for failing to prepare a gift came to mind. Though a little late, Krail thought to himself, his child would receive a wonderful present this winter.
As he pictured Julius and Cecil in Kente Village, he walked toward their child.
[Eternal lies are no different from the truth.]
A phrase Krail had kept close to his heart since his theology studies.
***
Later that evening, Julius resolved to be more honest with himself as he spent some time gazing at the night sky.
He returned home to the sight of Cecil sprawled on the floor, having tripped over the threshold.
The earlier tension vanished as Julius burst into laughter, seeing Cecil holding her nose like a fool.
Moments later, Julius, watching Cecil, who now had a red nose, picked up the fallen shopping bag and made his way to the storeroom.
The cold, bleak room—constructed by a former saint blessed by the Angel of Punishment—now looked no different than any normal home. After storing the bag, he returned to the living room and collapsed on the sofa.
Cecil’s frustrated voice echoed in his ears. The sound, strangely comforting, lulled him into relaxation as his body grew heavy with exhaustion.
That night, for the first time in five years, Julius had the most pleasant dream.
He dreamt of days when Cecil would nag him for drinking too much.
***
The morning that broke his peaceful sleep carried a pungent, ominous smell from the kitchen. The stench of something rotten, almost like an evil spell, jolted Julius awake.
He stumbled groggily toward the source, his heart sparking with dread, only to be met with a horrific sight.
“Ah… you’re awake? I figured you’d be hungry, and breakfast just happened to be ready! It’s waiting for you over there.”
Cecil, in an apron with her sleeves rolled up, stirred a ladle through a bubbling pot.
Julius locked eyes with the floating head of a fish in the pot.
‘Dear Lord, is this even food fit for humans?’ he thought.
worst then the real one maybe