Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Defying the Senior Interrogator
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After stashing the items away for a moment, I headed straight outside.
The gatekeeper's attitude from earlier had been bothering me, and too much time had passed since we'd entered this place.
Sure enough, as I stepped out of the warehouse, the gatekeeper was hovering around Seraphina.
"Heh heh, come on, say something. Like a damn doll, huh? Won't even answer?"
He was twirling strands of her blue hair around his finger, letting out a disgusting chuckle.
But Seraphina simply stood there like a wall, her unfocused eyes fixed straight ahead.
That silence seemed to stoke the gatekeeper's sadism, as his hand gradually slid brazenly toward her shoulder and beyond.
I couldn't stand by and watch any longer.
"Take your hand off."
My low voice echoed through the silent corridor.
The gatekeeper jerked back in shock, and when he met my murderous glare, he froze solid.
"I-Ian, sir! Th-that's not..."
"Touch my things one more time, and I'll make sure you're specially added to the heretic list. Director Damian will be thrilled to see his record improve."
At my razor-sharp warning, the gatekeeper's face drained to ashen gray in an instant.
He couldn't even muster an excuse before scurrying back to his post and bowing his head.
Fearing a heretic interrogator more than a saintess—this place was utterly insane.
I gave Seraphina a quick once-over, then moved on as if nothing had happened.
"Let's go, Seraphina."
She followed silently behind me.
But she seemed bothered by the items I was carrying, as I felt a persistent gaze on my back.
A moment later, a flat, emotionless voice broke the silence.
"May I ask a question, Ian?"
"Go ahead."
"The warehouse contained several magic artifacts with clear mana signatures. Low-grade, perhaps, but undeniably valuable. However..."
Her violet eyes lingered briefly on the jet-black stiletto in my hand before shifting to the silver pendant.
"This pendant shows extremely low mana levels, resembling a crude everyday tool suited for commoners. What reason would you have for choosing something so inefficient, when you value efficiency above all?"
Numbers and efficiency.
It was a question straight out of someone neutered of self by the Church and raised solely as a tool.
I gave a wry smile and placed it in her palm.
"This is yours. Take it."
She set the pendant in her palm and stared down at it blankly for a long while.
A roughly finished piece, marked by the clear wear of time.
The faint warmth from my hand still lingered on it.
Part of me hoped she might recognize something in this object.
But reality was cruel.
"...I see. Understood."
A moment later, she nodded calmly.
"During training at the Papal Court, priests were taught to clearly mark their owned tools with their superior's insignia. Leather collars or iron chains were common, but a pendant would make an excellent marker as well."
There wasn't a trace of hatred or resentment in her voice.
Even as she watched my expression darken, Seraphina continued her mechanical deduction based on fragments of the past.
"It must have some kind of magic I can't detect embedded in it. If it contains pain spells or mind control magic internally, it would be a highly rational tool for managing me."
The dispassionate recollections spilling from her lips were miserably pathetic.
To her, the gift I'd given was just another shackle to bind her.
"That's not what it's for."
My voice came out rougher than intended.
I couldn't let any more self-deprecating words pour from her mouth.
Seraphina tilted her head quizzically and looked up at me.
"How you use what I give you is your freedom. But one thing is certain: I'll never use it to hurt or oppress you."
Instead of agreeing, she furrowed her brow ever so slightly.
"I don't understand. Failing to fully control possessions reduces management efficiency, doesn't it?"
"That's the kind of thing pathetic scum do when they treat humans like tools."
I stared straight into her eyes and drove the point home.
"Here's one command for you: Never let anyone touch your body however they please. Whether it's me, claiming to be your master, or the Pope who ruined you—it doesn't matter."
Seraphina's eyes shook violently.
She seemed confused by this unprecedented type of order.
"But... I was taught that even my body belongs to the Church. Mission efficiency comes before my well-being. Is this part of training to foster autonomy?"
"Yes. Education. Very important education."
I hurried onward, leaving Seraphina behind as she swallowed her lingering doubts with a bitter smile.
It was time to see Elena.
But we hadn't taken more than a few steps when heavy footsteps from the end of the corridor forced us to halt.
"Well, well. Look who it is—the mighty interrogator graces us."
The man blocking our path at the corridor's end was Senior Interrogator Roderick.
The real power player who handled all the dirty backroom dealings under Senior Interrogator Vargas.
In the original story, assigned as Elena's handler, he'd secretly extracted her divine power and sold it on the black market, only to be executed for it.
Armored in heavy plate that swallowed the corridor's light, he shoved his face right up to mine.
A nauseating stench of booze and blood hit me full force.
"Ian. Hand over management of Saintess Elena. That's no job for a blood-clot newbie like you. Be good and pass it over now—maybe you'll get some scraps."
The man from the original story who'd been assigned as Elena's handler, extracted and sold her divine power, and gotten executed for it stood before me.
Roderick's eyes gleamed with blatant mockery and greed.
Before I could even part my lips to reply.
Swish—
Seraphina stepped in front of me like a shadow.
"Interrogator Roderick. Management of Saintess Elena has been formally delegated to Ian by Heretic Interrogation Director Damian."
She stared at him with emotionless eyes and added,
"Your demand directly contradicts the Director's decision and constitutes clear insubordination under Church regulations. This matter will be reported to Director Damian."
For a moment, Roderick's face flushed red then purple.
He let out a disbelieving, hollow laugh before raking his sticky gaze over Seraphina's body.
"Ha! This tool bitch talking back to a priest like me? Think you're something special just 'cause the Papal Court raised you?"
Roderick grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her toward him roughly.
Her head snapped back from the sudden force.
"Hey, what makes you so bold? How's the Director been 'favoring' you every night? That good, huh?"
He spewed vulgar fantasies to vent his inferiority complex.
"Don't worry. Before you go to Elena, I'll inspect every inch of you nice and thorough. Gotta break in a tool when the master's new, right?"
As Roderick reached to tear at her clothes wildly, I stepped forward, radiating cold killing intent.
"You fucking bastard."
The moment I couldn't hold back any longer.
Seraphina squeezed her eyes shut as if enduring pain, but lightly gripped my sleeve and whispered,
"Ian, he's a senior interrogator. Clashing here is unnecessary resource loss. Retreat now and report to the Director later for formal punishment..."
Her voice trembled faintly.
Even in that mechanical tone, worry and fear were mixed in.
Proof that emotions still lingered in her.
I firmly but gently shook off her hand and smirked at Roderick.
"No. Sometimes crushing scum like this outright is the more efficient option."
Crack!
A heavy rupture echoed as Roderick's massive frame bent into a < shape.
My kick had pierced his gut dead-on.
"Guh, hack...!"
Roderick flew wretchedly down the corridor without even screaming, tumbling across the floor.
I gripped the hilt of the Black Iron Stiletto from my pocket and turned to the uneasy Seraphina.
"And Seraphina. Forgot my order already? Don't let anyone touch your body however they want. That's my command. Reports can wait."
I readjusted my grip on the stiletto and fixed my gleaming eyes on the fool who'd dared insult the saintesses.
A moment later, Roderick snapped to his senses after the solar plexus blow sent him sprawling.
Furious, he staggered up and drew the blunt weapon from his belt.
"Y-you... crazy rookie fuck...! Dare touch me?!"
Roderick lurched to his feet, clutching the weapon at his waist.
Scraaaape—
The iron lump, thick as a grown man's thigh, scraped the stone floor with a chilling metallic screech.
"Rebelling against a senior interrogator! I'll kill you! Grind your bones to dust, one by one!"
Red mana surged explosively through Roderick's veins, pressing down heavily on the corridor's air.
His signature trick: spreading mana to bind the opponent's movements.
Assuming the red haze had enveloped the cocky rookie's body, Roderick swung his weapon with all his might.
Boom!
A solid stone wall crumbled like a biscuit.
But he felt no impact through his hands.
'Where's the bastard...?!'
Turning his head, Ian was already a ghost outside his attack range.
"That all you got? Do something worthy of your size."
Ian taunted him with a finger wag.
The look of an adult dealing with a whining child.
That leisure snapped Roderick's reason completely.
"You rat fuck...!"
Consumed by madness, Roderick flailed his weapon wildly.
A storm of red mana filled the corridor, but Ian didn't yield even a thread of his clothing.
Roderick's mana kept slicing air, while Ian's presence slipped beyond his senses.
'My attacks... aren't landing at all...?'
Terror began to well up in Roderick's heart.
He refused to admit it.
A senior interrogator like him, toyed with by a greenhorn of less than a month's tenure.
The only way to quell this fear: pulverize Ian into nothingness.
Ignoring the sensation gnawing at his life force, Roderick squeezed out his last mana and detonated it omnidirectionally.
"Die!!!"
The red mana became a gale, devouring everything.
A strike sealing the entire corridor.
Convinced he'd crushed the rookie's arrogant smirk, Roderick grinned maniacally.
It's over.
The moment that thought crossed his mind—
Ting!
A bizarre metallic ring, and the thick mana armor encasing his body tore apart pathetically.
"......?"
Roderick froze mid-swing, weapon hoisted overhead.
But as he tried to lower his arm, something felt off.
His body wouldn't move.
Not even a fingertip felt like his own.
'What the hell... just happened to me?'
As incomprehensible terror washed over him, Ian's afterimage flickered at the edge of his vision.
Ian had silently landed behind him, sheathing his weapon impassively.
Thud!
In an instant, the world flipped.
Roderick was already sprawled wretchedly on the cold stone floor.
No scream, not even a groan escaped him.
In the silence, only the sound of his weapon clanging against the floor rang in his ears.
As his vision blurred, Ian's voice reached him.
"Don't feel too hard done by. I just sped up your inevitable end, that's all."
In his fading mind, Roderick finally realized.
He'd touched something he absolutely shouldn't have.