Chapter 147
Chapter: 147
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 147
>Chapter Title: The Eve (2)
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The birthday celebration was now just one day away.
Morres had been stuck in the Pearl Palace all morning for a belated formal attire fitting. The last-minute changes to everything from the fabric to the design had delayed the final adjustments far beyond schedule.
“Hmm...”
Morres adjusted his collar and looked in the mirror.
The neat yet ornate formal wear with its intricate details suited him surprisingly well.
He’d always thought Madam Justine only did bold, unconventional designs, but she could craft something this subdued too.
Of course, the color—dull to the point of being nearly black—was largely due to Amelia’s strong input.
“Changing the fabric was an excellent choice. Among all the bright evening gowns, you alone will stand out dramatically.”
The head designer from Salon de Mersie said this as he straightened Morres’s garments.
“By the way, where did the madam go?”
“Something urgent came up, and she had to head back to her hometown for a bit.”
“When’s she coming back?”
“Well, even we don’t really know...”
Morres had originally planned to visit Salon de Mersie himself to meet the madam.
He’d intended to grill her about Seo Iseo’s employment history while he was at it, but somehow that guy had gotten wind of it and slipped away beforehand.
‘Still, having the tailoring team come here is convenient enough.’
In any case, Morres had to attend the main banquet starting tomorrow, which would span a full three days. Even if it seemed like there wasn’t much to do, there were surprisingly many preparations.
He and Amelia at least had it easier.
Tomorrow afternoon featured a grand mass at St. Bastian Church, followed by two days of elaborate, finicky rituals in front of the imperial palace.
Logan and Sisle, having official positions in the Orthodox Church, had to juggle both the events and banquets over all three days.
Wasn’t that schedule too harsh for kids who were still minors?
—Your two siblings overflow with divine power, after all.
Marquis Masain laughed as he addressed Morres’s concern.
Sisle especially had such vast divine power that no one had ever seen her tire from anything.
‘Lucky. So she could train all night for days without issue?’
[The thing you’re jealous of is a bit...]
In any case, the entire imperial palace buzzed with everyone caught up in their own schedules.
“Brother, do you have a moment to talk?”
So that afternoon, Sisle’s sudden visit caught Morres completely off guard.
“Talk?”
“Yeah, it’ll only take a minute.”
Sisle’s face was as impassive as a carved doll, clutching a small booklet to her chest just like last time.
And trailing behind her was...
“Hiss!”
The saintess Seo Iseo, still baring her fangs.
“How long are you planning to keep dragging her around?”
“I have no choice, Brother. If I leave her sight even for a moment, Ms. Seo Iseo gets extreme separation anxiety.”
Was she really treating her like a pet cat?
“What’s Cadmos up to?”
“The former Holy Emperor only shows up around mealtimes, it seems.”
Cadmos, trapped in Seo Iseo’s body, had been behaving himself without issue for days now. He was apparently making the most of his new body after so long.
Thanks to that, Seo Iseo—who hadn’t eaten properly in days—was in an extremely irritable state.
“But do you even have time for this? Did you get your formal wear fitted?”
“No. I have an official position, so I’ll just wear priestly robes. As a saintess who serves the Lord God and must be a model for all priests, I should always shun luxury and remain vigilant.”
“...Huh. Right.”
Morres looked at the youngest of the Holy Emperor’s children with fresh eyes.
Maybe because they were the same age, he couldn’t help comparing her to Chloe.
Unlike Chloe—who was smart beyond her years but still gave off the vibe of a pampered child soaked in love—Sisle seemed unusually mature, like she’d grown up too fast.
Well, if she took pride in her life as a saintess, that was that.
Still, how was a spirited twelve-year-old girl supposed to feel about spending the rest of her life in modest priestly robes, living a life of restraint?
“Let’s have some tea first.”
Sensing the conversation might drag on, Morres led Sisle to the drawing room.
“I don’t think I’ve ever shown you this, Brother.”
Once Bruno the knight captain poured tea in Edith’s stead and left as if it were natural, Sisle placed the small booklet from her bosom on the table and spoke.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a diary where I’ve been jotting down the contents of the book bit by bit.”
Sisle had once come to Morres and confessed that this world was actually the world inside a book.
—I actually read that novel Ms. Seo Iseo talks about when I was little. Ever since, I’ve vaguely suspected this world might be inside a book.
Of course, the Demon King insisted that was impossible.
Something about how a solid main world like Delcross couldn’t be sustained by mere mental imagery from a book.
As Morres pondered, Sisle slid the diary slightly toward him and continued.
“Morres brother. You probably don’t remember, but I’ve actually had prophetic dreams off and on since I was little.”
“...Prophetic dreams?”
“Yeah. I know it’s hard to believe right off the bat...”
“Huh? No. I believe you.”
Morres met Sisle’s clear gray eyes as he replied.
Knowing those eyes—so like the Holy Emperor’s—came from the Cornsheim clan, how could he not believe in her prophetic dreams?
“Hehe. Like before, you say you’ll believe whatever weird thing I spring on you, Brother.”
Sisle let out a small laugh without much change in expression. But Morres’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the faint blush on her cheeks.
Somehow, he was starting to read her poker face.
Receiving Sisle’s expectant gaze, Morres quietly picked up the book.
Flipping to the first page, it was filled with round, childlike handwriting in neat strokes.
—Delcross Chronicles Volume 2. The Saintess’s Fall.
Whoa, hold on. The title aside...
“...Volume 2?”
“Yeah. I actually saw Volume 1 first, but I started recording from Volume 2.”
So probably around the time the saintess’s mark appeared on her body. That’s when the same man began showing up in her dreams, unlike her usual prophetic ones.
He wore a half-mask that hid his face properly, sitting at a desk humming a tune as he scribbled away with a quill pen.
And every time, right before the dream ended, he’d proudly show what he’d written to Sisle.
It was an exciting novel set in real Delcross.
“I’d read a little each time I had one of those dreams, and over two years, I finished Volume 1.”
The title of that first Delcross Chronicles volume she read was *The Young Wolf of the North*.
Orden Sigsmund was the protagonist—a gripping tale of him capturing sea beasts in the demonic realm, growing stronger, and eventually dominating the continent’s martial tournaments.
“A story about that brute Orden? Sounds boring just hearing about it.”
“If Brother ever read even the Wolf Knights’ battle with the Glacier Troll, you’d never say that. The descriptions were so vivid, like watching the fight right in front of you. The knights caught that massive troll by forming a double encirclement and driving it up the slope where it was weak to downhill...”
Sisle waved her hands, mimicking Orden’s final strike from the book.
“The protagonist goes ‘whoosh’ like this toward the troll’s neck.”
“...!”
Morres’s eyes flashed for a moment.
“Sisle, hold on!”
“Huh?”
Wait, that move just now—it felt exactly like part of the Banahas Third Form with aura properly woven in?
“When did you even start aura training?”
“...What?”
Sisle’s eyes went wide.
Aura training? Me?
“What are you talking about?”
“But that move just now!”
“Oh, that was just me imagining a move from the book. I’ve never actually learned swordsmanship or any training techniques.”
“...”
“This one move just stuck with me so vividly and was so impressive that I’d do it now and then whenever I thought of it.”
Morres’s jaw dropped.
What? Where did this talent pop up from?
Even if it was just one move, unconsciously replicating Banahas aura weaving from something she read in a book?
He’d always thought her unusually active aura was just because her overflowing divine power made her body excessively healthy.
‘But if it’s actually layers of aura unconsciously built up in her dantian...’
Plus, for aura to properly flow out through a motion meant she had at least three layers stacked!
“Anyway, that’s not what’s important right now, Brother.”
No, it seems pretty damn important!
With that kind of natural martial talent and inexhaustible stamina, and you’re just wasting it on volunteer work?!
“Focus. This is a serious matter involving you, me, and Ms. Seo Iseo.”
Dismissing Morres’s inner outburst as mere attention deficit, Sisle pressed on.
“Anyway, at the end of Volume 1, Young Lord Orden conquers all the martial tournaments and arrives at the imperial capital. Then the dimension-crossing heroine, Ms. Seo Iseo, appears, and Volume 1 ends.”
It happened when Sisle had just turned nine.
Duke Sigsmund’s heir was making a name as the north’s prodigy swordsman, and rumors spread of his entry into a foreign martial tournament. Sisle, solidifying her position as saintess just as in the novel, thought little of it and assumed it was a variant of her prophetic dream.
Not long after Volume 1 ended, the man in the dream reappeared.
The half-masked man smiled brightly at Sisle and showed her the title of his new book he’d just started writing: Delcross Chronicles Volume 2.
*The Saintess’s Fall...!*
The girl was shocked.
If the story followed the subtitle, that new chronicle was essentially prophesying her own downfall.
Waking up in cold sweat that day, Sisle began transcribing the book’s contents from her dream into the diary. As detailed as possible, not skipping a single story beat.
The plot went roughly like this.
The true reincarnation of Saint Grazia, the heroine, appears, and Sisle—stripped of her saintess mark—faces massive condemnation from the Orthodox Church and the capital’s faithful.
—It’s the Lord God’s punishment! The saintess has fallen and lost her qualifications! She must have colluded with demons!
The little girl struggled to restore her reputation, but things inexplicably spiraled worse each time.
Repeated coincidences bred resentment in Sisle, and her actions in turn sparked more vicious misunderstandings—a vicious cycle.
The developments were so contrived in their malice toward one character that it strained belief.
—Why do you persecute me so?
In the end, the kind heroine Seo Iseo tearfully pleads.
—I truly never imagined Your Holiness would stoop so low.
The earnest protagonist Orden gazes at her with deep contempt.
—Confine yourself in solitude for the time being.
The fallen black curtain Holy Emperor commands in a chilling voice.
With every word she read, Sisle felt her breath constrict more—like sinking into inescapable quicksand the moment one foot slipped in.
She couldn’t imagine herself ever going that far, but as the dreams persisted, she couldn’t even assure herself she wouldn’t become that person.
Those harrowing dreams of her ruin lasted about two years. The young girl lost her smile and trembled with growing anxiety.
And in the long-awaited final page, Sisle meets her end at the hands of the Lord God’s proxy.
“After reading that chapter, I couldn’t face His Majesty properly for a while.”
“...”
Morres flipped through the diary with a rigid expression to the infamous final page of Volume 2.
Sure enough, the heavily pressed handwriting—shaking in places with what looked like tear stains—told the tale.
“I told you before, Brother. With Ms. Seo Iseo actually appearing before me, I went beyond trusting the book’s contents—I realized this place really is a world inside a book.”
Sisle continued in a calm voice that sounded all the more pained for it.
“The bigger problem comes after my death, Brother. Since last year, I’ve been reading Delcross Chronicles Volume 3.”
Morres checked the next page, filled with neat handwriting.
—Delcross Chronicles Volume 3. The Executor of the End.
It described the fallen Holy Emperor summoning high demons via the saintess’s corpse—Delcross’s greatest and worst crisis in full swing.
“Haha.”
A low chuckle escaped.
Sisle looked up curiously, then flinched.
Morres was baring his teeth in a feral grin.
“Sigurt Sigursson, you son of a bitch...!”