#045
A tremendous thwack rang out, enough to drop jaws. Fontpado Madam recoiled in horror, but Catherine stood rooted to the spot, watching the priest turn into a bloody pulp.
It felt strangely familiar. Swap Percival Benedict Parhenrine out for Chezare or Demian Rodria, and nothing would change.
"Ugh! Argh!"
When the priest started whimpering, a nagging worry crept in—what if this went too far? But soon enough, his split, bloodied lips bellowed out.
"I-it's the prince! His Highness the prince!"
A prince? Not Percival, surely. Did he mean Jenan Parhenrine?
Commissioning a luxury liner like the Lilith Ship cost a fortune. Not just the vessel itself, but the opulent furnishings, artwork, and interiors put it in a league of its own. And now, its owner—hailed as the grandest in history—was about to smash gold bars in the middle of the ocean?
"Lies."
「Then hit him harder.」
Percival raised his arm again, and the priest, veins bulging in his neck, screamed.
"I-it's true! He said this is just the beginning!"
"The beginning? Of what?"
Catherine couldn't make sense of it. But Percival and Fontpado Madam's faces darkened even further.
"No way……."
Fontpado Madam's complexion had turned positively earthen. Unable to speak through her rigid expression, Percival grabbed the priest by the hair with a murderous glare instead.
"An archdemon?"
It hit her like a bolt—her mind cleared in an instant.
Beings capable of shaking the world's balance. Dozens of hypotheses existed for summoning them, but no reputable magic scholar ever endorsed them. They were all brutally savage methods.
What they shared in common? The need for a "sacrifice." Usually, a human one.
"We need to find the grand duke, miss. This is no joke. Any way to reach him? Some lovers' signal or something! You two must have that—focus hard, it's urgent. If you love each other, you can sense where the other is, even without seeing them!"
What kind of lovers had this madam known? Catherine was certain she couldn't sense Chezare's whereabouts even blindfolded for a hundred days straight. Unless he was the one seeking her.
Percival, lost in thought, reacted to Fontpado Madam's words.
"The grand duke—Chezare Christopher? If it's him, he'd know already without us saying a word."
Recalling Chezare's true nature lent weight to the claim.
"……But what's this about lovers?"
Percival's narrowed eyes raked over Catherine.
Before she could correct him, Fontpado Madam shrieked.
"Jealousy! This is hilarious! But not the time, Lily Saint Knight."
「Sigh. Auntie’s dramatics are at it again.」
"You know where Prince Jenan is, right? Lead the way. We can't just rely on the grand duke."
Fontpado Madam peeled off her lace gloves with a grave look.
"Huh?"
Percival's face screamed why should I listen to you? His self-centered mindset hadn't budged, no matter the crisis. It was so quintessentially Percival that Catherine couldn't stay silent.
"It's Fontpado Madam."
"……This woman?"
His recognition confirmed her fame among mages.
"A nephilim facing disaster from an archdemon summoning circle. Perfect day to die like a dog."
For all his words, Percival headed straight for Prince Jenan's cabin.
Catherine wondered if she belonged there—her only skill was magic nullification—but nowhere felt safer, so she trailed quietly at the rear.
Prince Jenan's cabin was empty.
"Ahh. Too late after all."
Catherine, hanging back, followed them inside. It was larger and far more lavish than her own.
Now what? Search for him?
She scanned the room for clues on their next move, then turned back to Percival.
"……Percival?"
But the room felt devoid of any presence.
"Madam?"
A closed door. An unfamiliar room. Vanishing presences.
Catherine fumbled in her bag, entranced. Yaong was missing—no rolling around as usual.
What the hell?
Then it happened. The world around her melted into black ink, dissolving.
She steadied her ragged breaths, seeking escape, but the floor blackened too. Like the deep sea, adrift, just as in dreams where she met Chezare.
Minutes passed in a daze. Suddenly, faceless people burst from the pitch darkness.
'The daughter can't hold a candle to Viscountess Orleans.'
'Nonsense. Magic nullification alone makes her a success.'
A noble-looking couple peeked at Catherine over champagne flutes, malice seeping from their blurred faces.
'That's why it's such a waste. Born with that luck, yet no magic talent? Useless.'
'True. Seems timid too, always watching her step. Only her face takes after her brilliant mage mother.'
As their voices faded, a tall woman strode from the opposite side.
'Idiots.'
Though faceless, Catherine knew from the fluid gait. It was her birth mother.
Mother approached the nobles and slapped them without hesitation. The cowering pair faded away.
'Don't listen to trash like that, Catherine. You're finer than anything I've made.'
A pale hand stroked her hair, as if to say it didn't matter.
'But ignoring nonsense and seeing the truth are different. I told you, didn't I? Never let anyone look down on you.'
Was this a memory? Or illusion?
Catherine shook her head instinctively.
"……But it's true I have no magic talent."
'If you only trust your eyes, you'll never reach higher. You must see farther, Catherine.'
Mother faded, and another figure appeared in the void—a man slumped in a chair, nursing a drink. He turned, meeting her gaze. His mangled, blackened face was unreadable.
'Come here. Stop standing there pitying me—come and look me in the eye.'
Entranced, Catherine approached. The voice was achingly familiar.
'I won't even say imitate me, but don't end up like your mother, even if it kills you.'
Father.
'That woman's a monster. No such thing as love in her. You, me, this whole house—we're just props for her family play-acting.'
Her birth father slurred on, soaked in booze, regret and self-loathing thick in his broken voice.
'What you need is freedom, Catherine. Tied to her, you'll never claim anything for yourself.'
When was this day? When did Father say this?
'Go to Panya instead.'
With that, her vision snapped off.
The crumbling world jolted her awake. It felt like plummeting into the depths, but her eyes opened to a familiar blue canopy.
"Hah, hah……"
Gasping, she scanned around. Not Prince Jenan's room—this was her cabin.
A 'dream'?
She snatched the desk clock. Gears ticked loudly. The date in the center……
Four days since boarding the Lilith Ship. The same as yesterday.
"……All of that was a dream?"
Catherine rushed to the mirror. Her foreign disguise remained intact.
「Yawn. Catherine's sleeping in today. Not even pretty, but sleeps like a rock! 」
「No wonder mornings were killer.」
Yaong and Fontpado Madam's chat matched her memory exactly.
Yaong's reply should be……
"Auntie, enough with the waterworks—one day at a time."
「Auntie, enough with the waterworks—one day at a time.」
Yaong flicked its tail in surprise.
「Huh?」
Calm down, Catherine. Logically, those memories couldn't all be dreams. Since boarding, her dreams had only been meetings with Chezare. And they felt insanely vivid.
She threw on clothes and stepped out. Demian was absent during free time—just like before.
Grabbing a passerby, she asked.
"Excuse me, what day of the trip is it?"
"Day four."
Day four. Meaning the archdemon summoning memories were dreams.
「Huh? What's with you today, Catherine? You look super anxious.」
「Women have off days. Play dumb.」
The confusion only mounted. One person could resolve it.
Chezare.
She turned toward his cabin. Please be there.
"Chezare! Chezare!"
Luck struck—he was entering nearby. He paused at her call, turning back.
"Wa-wait……."
Panting from the sprint, she heard him say.
"I'm right here—take your time."
His usual smooth, calm voice. Why did it unsettle her more?
Chezare pulled her inside. Once her breath steadied in a chair, she got to it.
"I need to talk. Had a weird dream, but it's unnerving—unlike usual……."
"Too long a day to call it a dream, don't you think?"
……Huh?
She blinked, speechless. Her brain lagged, unable to process.
Utterly relaxed, he prepared a teapot and cup. Ruby-red tea poured gracefully into hers.
"Tea first. We've got two days of backlog to catch up on anyway."