Chapter 224
Chapter 224
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: The Stalker's Date
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“…You’re going to let me go home?”
“Yes, of course.”
“…….”
Had I heard that right? I stared blankly at him, then at Foster.
This stalker was saying he’d send me straight home.
No blood drawn, no torture, no imprisonment. No outrageous demands, no turning me into Pleroma. Not that I wanted that, of course. But…
‘He’s the guy who asked for a handshake with bare hands, stole everything from my house, and sent me a thousand notes. This isn’t how he should be acting.’
I’d braced myself for the worst treatment like with Abraham, even prepared to become a blood supplier like with Asman.
Yet here I was, able to go home by 5 a.m.
Was this the moment a chance for escape presented itself? No—the enemy was offering to escort me all the way home himself.
It was such unprecedented treatment that I was at a loss for words. I’d never met anyone with such a jarring gap between reputation and reality; it left me speechless.
Reading something in my expression, he said brightly,
“You want to stay with me longer!”
“No? Get real.”
“Got it.”
I slowly met his blue eyes.
This was the guy? The one I’d vowed to punch on sight—and even though he was skilled enough that neither of us had landed a solid hit earlier—I’d planned to throw him in a cell. Ironically, of all the enemies I’d faced, he was treating me the most humanely.
Of course, that didn’t erase his crimes. If there was no room to use him, I’d deal with him as originally planned.
It just didn’t make sense.
“Why are you treating me like this?”
The quiet question slipped out like a mutter.
He blinked, seemingly caught off guard by it.
“Then how should I treat you?”
“…….”
Good point.
It made me feel like the crazy one.
I shook my head and started to wave him off when he stepped in front of me, face hardening.
“I even sang for you. Don’t know the song? ‘You’re the one I love the most~’ That’s it, right?”
“…….”
“I’ve sent you tons of notes. I said I wanted to hold your hand. I said I wanted to mix your mana with mine. I said I wanted eyes the same color as yours. I clearly said I wished you could use my mana.”
His rapid-fire words drilled into my ears, sending chills down my spine.
He was crazy, alright. It made my earlier confusion seem foolish; I almost laughed at the absurdity.
He grabbed my arm tightly, his voice growing eerie.
“I’ve said from the start, right up to now, that I like you. What did you think my words meant?”
At that moment, the other Pleroma froze in place, staring at him in shock. He was radiating something close to murderous vitriol.
Of course it didn’t ring true. That he’d sent all that in genuine positivity?
Thanks for confirming he’s nuts again.
I turned away, giving him another look of contempt.
Then he rushed up from behind and seized my arm.
“Ah, sorry. I’m sorry…. Where do you think you’re going when you don’t even know the layout here?”
I’d cast myself as the submissive one, so why did it feel like he was turning the tables? Still, with the drug still in effect, I looked at his face and sighed.
‘Fine.’
It had turned out just as I’d thought earlier. Not exactly as expected, but maybe that was for the best.
There were still plenty of mysteries, and until I located his artifact—or figured out his connections to others—I had no intention of passing up this opportunity.
It’d be great if he played nice until then. I pulled out my watch, opened it, and looked at him again.
“…I have to stay with you until five, right? Where to now?”
“…!”
He blinked, then realized what I meant and gaped.
* * *
I scowled at the fork thrust toward me.
Leaning back, I averted my eyes from the meat he offered and took a sip of wine.
“Let’s just go our separate ways.”
“To describe a simple meal like that….”
Did he have to shove food in my mouth too?
We were in a restaurant in the Pleroma world. Soft orchestra music played over white tablecloths on numerous round tables—the kind frequented by this era’s upper crust.
And my companion was trying to feed me by hand, without a shred of decorum.
I set down my glass and asked with a smile,
“You’ve never dated, have you.”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“O~ How’d you know?”
“How could I not? You’re trying to cram your entire bucket list from one to two hundred into one seat. Pace yourself.”
He rolled his eyes, nodded as if something hit home. He didn’t even know the term “bucket list,” but he got it intuitively.
I clicked my tongue softly and finished my meal.
I was always the one targeting others; seeing someone target me was a novel experience.
The problem was my heart racing while my brain stayed ice-cold.
It was similar to how I felt facing the crown prince. The fact that he was someone I had to eliminate never changed.
Abraham would eventually leave on his own if I waited, and sometimes even moved in profitable ways, so he was tolerable for now. But this guy had too many unknowns.
Of course, compared to Abraham, his crimes weren’t that heinous. Had he beaten me till I passed out? Hammered my hands? Pulled my nails? Dunked my head in water…?
“…….”
No, he hadn’t.
My vision blurred. Thinking that far, I frowned slightly.
Something had been off in my thoughts for a while. Like my standards had gotten twisted somewhere.
Right on cue, the stalker snapped his fingers in front of me.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong with me.”
“You’re just sitting there.”
He pointed to the knife and fork.
I shrugged and popped some meat in my mouth.
He glanced around and whispered,
“Lots of people here.”
“Yeah.”
“Wish there was somewhere quieter. Shame…. This is the only place we could go.”
The Pleroma world wasn’t that small—why only here?
Fishing for info, I asked,
“By the way, I remember the opera schedule being packed earlier. What’s up with that? Opening multiple theaters so frequently is new.”
In this era, every play or opera by a somewhat famous playwright or singer got reviews in the next day’s papers, with critiques buzzing in salons and clubs everywhere.
It was a popular art form, sure, but that dense schedule was still surprising.
In short, it was odd enough to merit note.
“Ah, more frequent than outside? We don’t do it every time, and not everywhere.”
He sipped his wine and smiled.
“This area’s the meeting hub of our world. One day here is one hour out there. For now, anyway.”
“…….”
“When time stretches like this, you perform more, play more. Who knows when it’ll change.”
He looked at me with eager eyes, so I averted mine and thought.
‘He knows I’m Nicolaus and spills this anyway.’
Nicolaus Ernst was currently Pleroma’s top priority target. No telling what bounty was on my head.
Blinded by love, so he doesn’t care? Or since I don’t look like Nicolaus now, it doesn’t hit home?
Either way, good info. Thanks.
As Strauchi and the Catacombs had revealed, it proved cracks in their world. A day here equaling an hour outside meant time flowed slower.
‘Nothing’s improved since last year.’
Their poor state explained their desperate external chaos.
Separately, it was a major issue, yet these folks partied on.
“Why the huge time discrepancy?”
“Our power’s lacking. But it’ll be fixed soon.”
“Fixed?”
He smiled at my words.
He speared a piece of meat with his fork. Blood pooled on the plate.
“…Thus says the Lord of Hosts: Behold, I send My messenger, and he will prepare the way before Me. And the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to His temple; even the messenger of the covenant, whom you delight in—behold, He shall come.”
“…….”
“A revelation for our world. The new Lord coming in the new age will save us.”
From Malachi.
I almost scoffed but smiled and asked,
“The messenger of the covenant you await is coming here, and soon…? Based on what? ‘The new Lord in the new age’? Messiahs saving the faithful—every cult says that, regardless of religion.”
“Fair take. We’re heretics to them.”
He didn’t mind the label, his blue eyes gleaming.
“The Vatican’s wrong. The messenger we awaited is already here, so the Lord we seek will soon come to His temple.”
“…….”
Already here?
His firm faith and nonsense made my head spin.
Whatever. What did I expect from people twisting scripture to kill and drain blood.
The rest of the meal passed quieter than expected.
When cognac for digestion arrived, I asked my scheming companion,
“What’s your rank?”
Figured he held some bishopric or monsignorial post somewhere.
Caught off guard, he pondered, then smiled.
“I’ll tell you later.”
‘Bishop, probably.’
I just smiled.
As if he’d tell me later. Who does he think I am?
Too strong to overpower alone. Ainsidel-level.
Meeting these kinds nonstop was odd. Past the small fry phase, huh.
After dinner, he dragged me to a café by the river.
More like an outdoor ballroom with light refreshments. Popular with well-off commoners—places Luca and I had never visited.
Not being of this era, I had no aversion. Instead…
“We should’ve come here before dinner.”
Dance right after eating?
I gave a hollow laugh; he grinned back.
“You two were so tense~ Thought dancing might loosen things up, but I’d cramp before eating. Better melt the ice with wine first.”
The song ended; new music started.
He offered his hand.
“Shall we?”
Really going all out.
So thinking, I took it.
He looked fully human, but who knew inside—worried he’d botch steps and I’d suddenly want to go home. Fortunately, he didn’t.
Instead, he said something that made me want to leave another way.
“Everyone should know we’re dating. Shame I can’t announce it….”
His voice sounded hollow.
I laughed incredulously.
“Obviously. We’re not dating, so no announcing.”
“Haha, you can do it right but are cold only to me.”
I didn’t reply.
Exactly— I could do it right but chose not to. The drug’s impulses warred with my restraint every moment. One wrong word, and he’d think he’d won.
Figuring no good response from me, he changed topics.
“Fun. Vision’s so much lower—feels fresh. Almost 20cm shorter than my real height. The world looks so different by viewpoint…. Or weirder that most see it from one height forever.”
“Earth being round surprise you too?”
“You hate me….”
“As if. Build some tolerance.”
“Lovers don’t say that.”
What fantasy was this?
I held back. Instead, closer to the truth:
“What you’ve done to me didn’t feel like love. More like malice. So why do you think you like me?”
“Not think—I do. You’re the only one in the world who can rival me.”
What about evidence?
Darkness closed in as I pondered. Was this guy a magic maniac in another sense?
“Then anyone would do. That’s not love—it’s camaraderie between friendly rivals. Broadly love, sure? So fix your head and go our ways. Not bad.”
“That so?”
He ignored my leisure words, kept dancing as the song changed.
I didn’t think he truly loved me.
Just mistaking some weird feeling for love.
I figured it was rivalry. His notes weren’t fan mail or typical love letters. They fixated more on mana, mana synthesis, ‘beating me’.
In the end, he mistook competitive urges toward rival-enemy me for love. My conclusion from his letters.
Looking at his face, I said,
“Then a question. Whatever the real feeling, you think you love me—got it. But why send me home on time?”
“…….”
“No dating history, but you want to announce it—yet don’t. With your glove-from-the-water handshake mindset, restraint seems impossible.”
“I wanted to leave an unforgettable memory forever, but I did it properly, healthily.”
Ignoring the nonsense, I said,
“You’ve got an angle. Sending me home isn’t for me, nor hiding our meeting from other Pleroma.”
What angle? Simple.
“Which diocese is targeting me?”
“…….”
Not his group—another Pleroma diocese.
His “protection” meant from other Pleroma.
Keeping me would tip them off, risking attack.
So, keep it subtle.
“You’re too sharp.”
“Doesn’t take sharpness—just thinking it through gives answers.”
“True. It’s your situation.”
He met my eyes.
“Can’t tell you that. But I’ll protect you properly.”
“After protection ends, I stick around like this? Which diocese are you? Am I your group’s victory prize?”
“…….”
I raised my hand per the dance step. But when it was time for his turn, he didn’t spin.
He stood still and said,
“Pentaron opens this weekend. By then, you won’t have those questions.”
“…….”
I smiled.
He believed I’d soon love him deeply.
His hand dug into my wrist. He stomped once; surroundings shifted.
Not spatial magic—teleport.
From dazzling lights to an unfamiliar mansion.
A vast salon space. Through a large central window, a tilted moon and lake.
Back to the window, he met my eyes.
“I’ll never harm you. No intention to torment you like other Pleroma.”
“You already did.”
“Me? Fair to see it that way…. But you know best what other Pleroma would do if they caught you.”
“…….”
“Compared to that, my wants are nothing.”
Echoing my earlier thoughts.
Right—he hadn’t committed crimes against me here, at least.
“I’ll protect you. Or rather, Sir Nicolaus Ernst doesn’t need Pleroma help. I know.”
“…….”
“Instead, a deal. Grant my request, and I’ll be your informant. How’s that?”
“Even if I destroy Pleroma?”
He just smiled.
Betting I’d fall for him, so no such thing.
“You won’t reveal your affiliation or attackers. Yet informant? Funny.”
“I can promise no betrayal. And staying together, you’ll learn naturally— you know that best.”
“Promise. How to trust?”
Wordlessly, he passed me, returned with two vials.
He handed me one with pink liquid, drank the clear one himself.
“I won’t betray you. Satisfied?”
“…….”
His potion mimicked covenant magic.
But no guarantee he wasn’t tricking me. Even papal guarantee, I wouldn’t trust his sanity.
Instead of affirming, I eyed my vial.
“What’s this?”
“Keep it. Want you to drink it later.”
I watched him flop onto a sofa nearby, pocketed it, looked around.
Staying meant more nonsense, no real answers. Find a way to extract info before weird vibes set.
“Lab here, since you fetched elsewhere? Can I see?”
Modern ears might find it odd, but this era’s science-curious nobles often had home labs.
“Sure. It’ll be your house soon anyway.”
“…….”
Felt like regurgitation…
Scowling, I stormed out. Realizing his slip, he grinned awkwardly, led ahead.
His lab resembled any other’s. Nothing special.
‘Check for info, then bail.’
I glanced at the table of vials and powders, opened a drawer.
Rows of finger-sized glass bottles.
He watched amused from behind, pleased by my interest.
“Lots.”
Casually said, then I doubted my eyes.
Drawer corner: white liquid vial. Familiar label.
‘This….’
From Primrose Pass, and Ludovica. Pleroma’s narcotic mana drug, sub for mind control.
Half-lucid state, like this era’s psychiatrists’ hypnosis.
Divine power resists it for me.
‘Hmm.’
Useful.
Time since I drank had passed—they didn’t know my knowledge extent.
“Drugs too?”
“All drugs.”
I paused, murmured low,
“If Nicolaus Ernst did something not-so-righteous, would your fantasy shatter?”
“…Ah~”
He got it late.
Modern law would crush that statement. Personally despised drug addicts.
But for info from divine-immune Pleroma? Decent tool.
“Never.”
“Won’t hate me whatever I say? Unknown stories… if wrong, you might feel repulsed.”
“…No way. Everyone has secrets.”
He held breath, replied in slightly mad tone.
Sounded pleased.
“So, got any?”
“Right beside you.”
“…….”
Smiling at the vial I’d eyed,
“Safe? Outside stuff, or homebrew?”
“Safe, I said. Opioid class.”
Quickened voice.
Likes opioids. Know it’s pure mana drug sans that.
Anyway…
Fell for it nicely. Thanks.
“Bit of a hobby.”
I smiled faintly, turned.
Wide-eyed, his lips twisted slowly.
I picked two vials.
“Want to do it together?”