Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: The Bishop's Folly
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‘Soon, Theodrad.’
It started as a joke, but now she felt a spark of defiance.
She wanted to keep their current dynamic while making Theodrad see her as a woman.
No more holding back his instincts—she wanted to see him lose control and rampage on his own.
Not calculated moves born of fear, but raw, impulsive actions driven by pure instinct.
She had no idea when it would happen, but the day they finally tangled together wasn’t far off.
‘He can’t resist forever.’
In the past, if he’d tried to take her right then and there, she would’ve killed him on the spot. But now, she figured she could cut him some slack.
If Theodrad ever lost his reason and tried to ravage her, it’d be pretty entertaining.
And if he crossed that line without even realizing it, their old promise would shatter—and she wouldn’t have to hold back anymore.
The elf smiled bitterly at the memory, peeled herself from the door, and strode down the corridor.
Her heels clicked sharply as she walked, but then she suddenly tilted her head.
‘What was that afternoon task I had to handle today?’
Even if it was all an act, she was Theodrad’s slave, so she planned to play the part properly. Problem was, she couldn’t recall what Harvid had assigned.
Harvid gathered the servants and slaves every morning to hand out tasks—even now, bedridden with a cold, he hadn’t skipped it. But the elf had always let the instructions go in one ear and out the other, too busy watching butterflies flit through the central garden to pay attention.
‘Eh… whatever.’
A slave’s chores were limited anyway.
Mostly cleaning the mansion or watering the flowers in the front yard. Anything along those lines would do.
With that thought, she took a few steps forward. Then, from around the corner of the corridor, a familiar figure emerged.
A man in pristine white priestly robes, a blue stole draped around his neck—Leviham.
“Uh, could we have a word?”
Her brows furrowed. A word? Who was asking whom here?
“Out of my way.”
But Leviham didn’t budge.
He stood his ground, eyes burning with some strange conviction. It was infuriating.
“You’re no slave, are you? It’s not exactly honorable, but I overheard your conversation in the office.”
“And?”
“I’ve concluded that Family Head Theodrad is blackmailing you over some weakness. Am I correct?”
Why was this guy acting like this?
She’d warned him not to do anything reckless, but here he was, eavesdropping and jumping to bizarre conclusions.
‘Is he begging to die?’
Wondering if he was suicidal, she fixed him with a cold stare. Leviham pressed on, deadly serious.
“I’ll help you.”
Help who? Her?
It was so ridiculous her eyes widened. Leviham nodded gravely in response.
“I may not look it, but I’m a bishop overseeing an entire parish. I can take your story straight to church headquarters. That should put an end to Family Head Theodrad’s blackmail.”
“Ha…”
“In exchange, tell me about the wicked schemes Family Head Theodrad has against our church. And his ties to the witches. Share that intel, and I swear on the name of the Light God Karathias to protect you.”
What a pain. No, it went beyond annoying—it was outright grating.
Should she turn him into the same mess as that inquisitor from before? As she mulled it over, a flicker of interest stirred in her chest.
‘This could…’
She might be able to use this priest to mess with Theodrad a bit.
She’d been irritated that he’d talked up “severe punishment” only to fizzle out on the whipping. Using the holy man as a pawn for some quick fun suddenly appealed.
“Fine.”
The elf met Leviham’s gaze and flashed a mischievous smile.
“Lay out your plan.”
*
It took about five minutes after the elf left the office for me to finally steady my breathing. Whatever magic had bound me finally dissipated.
I fumbled with the brooch at my throat, gulped down a desperate breath, and clutched my forehead. A chill spiderwebbed down my spine without warning, and my head throbbed.
It was because her parting words—laden with meaning—had burned themselves into my brain. I could still feel the vivid sensation of her hand caressing my lower belly.
—*The place to vent your lust, Master, is right here.*
…On second thought, it wasn’t meaningful at all.
She’d just been coyly telling me to fuck her next time we played.
*‘If you don’t obey, who knows what’ll happen…’*
I didn’t even want to imagine it. Did that mean I really had to sleep with the elf?
A groan slipped through my gritted teeth, pressing down on me like a weight.
I’d steeled myself for it. I knew someday she’d get me. That’s why I’d warned Esili ahead of time.
But I had zero confidence. I couldn’t keep up the “cold-blooded psychopath master” persona she craved through something like sex.
Our sessions so far had relied on words and tools—not my body satisfying her.
Would she even be content with me? The thought terrified me.
*‘…I’ve never done it before.’*
Think about it! She wanted a “cold-blooded psychopath master.”
What if that master got into bed and couldn’t take charge—could only submit?
Not virile. Not capable. Not ruthless. Not a psychopath.
Fail the role, and she’d hate me mid-act for sure. And hating me would mean…
Cold sweat beaded on my skin as I wiped my face.
*‘God… why this trial of all things?’*
Right now, I wanted to be Baynen. I envied that lunatic’s stamina and guts—the kind that bedded orcs.
“How the hell do you pull that off?! Baynen, you bastard!”
I bellowed, and the door flew open. Baynen stormed in, his prickly chin beard making his scowl even sharper.
“Young master!”
“W-wait, that wasn’t aimed at you. Don’t get the wrong idea…”
“What? Anyway, we don’t have time for this!”
What was his deal? He looked panicked.
I straightened up and shot back.
“Calm down and spit it out. Something go down at the mansion?”
“Well, it’s like…”
Baynen scratched his head, frowning irritably before blurting it out.
“The bishop’s bolted.”
“Bolted?”
“Yeah. That elf slave you dote on? A servant saw the bishop grab him and hightail it into the woods nearby.”
“No—why?”
“Beats me. Probably some misunderstanding… But before this blows up, don’t we need to track down the bishop and talk him out of it?”
Baynen was spot on. No clue what possessed him to take the elf, but with her in a foul mood, one wrong move and the bishop was toast.
I’d brought the elf here myself—I couldn’t dodge the blame. I shoved back my chair and barked.
“Tell the servants to grab torches and comb the nearby woods. Prep two horses! Baynen, you’re with me!”
“Yes, young master!”
Baynen dipped his head sharply and bolted.
No time to lose. I threw on my overcoat and rushed out of the office.
“This way, from what I saw on the map…!”
Leviham pushed through the forest at a frantic pace.
The elf trailed behind at a leisurely stroll.
Watching him sweat buckets and stumble was almost pitiful.
*‘What an idiot.’*
Leviham’s plan was straightforward.
Slip out of the mansion without Theodrad noticing, cut through the nearby woods, and hole up in the cathedral.
Once inside, sacred ground rules applied—no matter how mighty the family, they couldn’t touch them. That was Leviham’s gospel.
To the elf, the plan itself held water.
The snag? The elf he’d sworn to protect didn’t need the church’s help one bit.
—*Bishop, we have to run—now!*
She’d made a huge racket escaping the mansion on purpose. Loud enough for the servants to hear, so word would reach Theodrad.
All to poke at him a little.
*‘He knows dragging me to the cathedral would make things messy for him.’*
Anyone but a moron would come after her.
But if Theodrad actually tried dumping her on the church for his own freedom? She’d be livid.
She knew he wasn’t the type to pass the buck, but that nagging “what if” soured her mood anyway.
*‘…He’s late.’*
Watching Leviham flounder in the woods was wearing thin.
She kept glancing back, but no sign of Theodrad. No sounds either—he hadn’t tracked them yet.
The sun was dipping low. She grumbled curtly, and Leviham’s shoulders jerked. He’d taken it personally.
“N-not this way…?”
Pretty weak for the guy who’d just sworn to protect her.
Not that she couldn’t see why. A forest full of lookalike trees threw off anyone’s sense of direction.
And Leviham wasn’t some woodsman scouting game—he was a cathedral priest running masses.
Even pros got lost in unfamiliar turf, let alone this map-glancing amateur.
Keep this up, and she’d be stuck with the dimwit all evening. Irritated, she scowled—then perked her ears at a distant rumble.
*‘That’s…’*
Hooves thundering against the earth, one after another.
The noise swelled louder, until even Leviham caught it.
“No way… They’re already on us?”
*Already?* Did this guy have no shame?
After flailing around the woods forever, he had the gall to whine.