Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Pyre Ceremony
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In truth, no matter how much of a tantrum Gray threw after arriving, asking the one inside the Holy Sword for a single lesson had undoubtedly been the right call.
“⋯⋯Is one exchange really enough?”
The response made it clear even before it came.
[More than enough. It’s me we’re talking about, not just anyone. You could tell at a glance how impressive that move of mine was back then.]
“Then, you’re certain Lady Gray will improve from just that?”
[Of course.]
A snort accompanied the reply.
[She’ll grow like wildfire. If only to land a hit on me.]
“Th-That embarrassing memory you dug up—was that part of the plan too?”
[Mm.]
“⋯⋯But isn’t that an embarrassing memory for you as well?”
[I don’t care anymore, so it doesn’t matter.]
“⋯⋯.”
[Feel free to blush all you want, you little punk.]
⋯⋯Another lesson learned.
Ultimate egocentrism allows one to view even one’s past self as detached from the present.
In any case, the Holy Sword was right—it was clearly effective.
Gray, who had clearly been wandering without a proper teacher for so long, had headed to the training grounds with her eyes blazing.
Of course, she had always kept up her routine training like clockwork, but seeing her truly burning with passion like this was a rare sight indeed.
Which meant Carlyle’s movements were now comparatively freer, with fewer immediate confrontations on that front.
Time to catch up on backlog.
First things first.
“How are you feeling?”
“⋯⋯.”
He posed the question, but Rachel, lying in her sickbed, only shot Carlyle a scorching glare.
⋯⋯Carlyle knew full well she had every reason to.
“Let’s see, where should I start explaining?”
“How about starting with the handprint on my neck⋯⋯?”
“That was the Hero.”
“⋯⋯.”
When he said that and abruptly stopped, Rachel blinked as if asking if that was all.
⋯⋯Ah, right.
Getting roughed up by Gray had become so routine that he’d forgotten to elaborate.
“She tends to rough me up a lot when she’s angry.”
“⋯⋯And you just take it all?”
“Hey, I’ve endured far worse.”
A fake cough rose from the Holy Sword.
⋯⋯A perfectly fitting reaction from the one responsible for most of those “far worse” incidents. At least it seemed to have some conscience.
“And that—”
Rachel looked up awkwardly at the area around Carlyle’s crown.
⋯⋯Where a girl with very long black hair was perched, naturally prompting the reaction.
Blackie was grinning cheekily, nibbling at Carlyle’s scalp with playful chomps: nom, nom.
Was it trying to eat his head by biting, or mark it somehow? Wet sensations kept touching and leaving his hair.
Cute, but a bit painful⋯⋯
“There’s this big Pyre Ceremony happening, so I brought her to watch. Kids love that sort of thing, right?”
“You have a daughter⋯⋯?”
“Uh, no. Something like that, though.”
Strictly speaking, she was more terrifying—a being with multiple birthing experiences.
Her offspring were probably still scattered along the far-eastern sea routes even now.
“⋯⋯.”
Rachel’s expression grew even stranger upon hearing Carlyle’s answer.
Beaten by the Hero at every turn, and raising something akin to a daughter.
Hm.
“You must like cheating, Mr. Carlyle?”
“⋯⋯Setting aside why you’d ask that so boldly, how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“No, I just thought you were definitely close with the Hero.”
“Close, yes—but not in the way you’re imagining.”
⋯⋯The Holy Sword let out an even more violent fake cough, but Rachel’s reaction was more intense.
Her eyes widened as she stared straight at Carlyle.
Her mouth even hung slightly open.
“Wow, I really thought so.”
“⋯⋯Pardon?”
“You seem incredibly important to the Hero. I’ve been quite interested in you myself.”
“⋯⋯.”
Come to think of it, yeah.
He’d heard that Rachel herself had asked Theodore and Bellatrix to let her see him first.
⋯⋯When he’d asked about coming from the future or whatever, his heart had nearly stopped.
“Strange.”
Carlyle tilted his head.
“I didn’t realize you were so interested in the Hero, Ms. Rachel.”
“⋯⋯Is there anyone who isn’t interested in the Hero?”
Rachel stuck out her tongue slightly as she picked up the thread.
“Well, it might seem a bit odd from your perspective. It’s not like I have any particular intentions—”
“I believe you.”
Carlyle looked down at one of Rachel’s legs, now replaced by a prosthetic.
If he couldn’t trust someone who’d ended up like this trying to protect him, wouldn’t that make him the strange one?
Rachel’s face visibly relaxed at his response.
“⋯⋯That’s a relief.”
“A relief?”
“Yes. Honestly, I knew from the moment we met that you didn’t quite trust me.”
“⋯⋯.”
Yeah, that was true.
Carlyle gave a wry smile and shook his head.
“How can we fight together if I can’t trust even those who’ve battled alongside me?”
He didn’t know the source of her abilities.
But the precognitive powers she’d shown were real.
She’d been tremendously helpful in thwarting the capital’s collapse, especially regarding demon matters.
“⋯⋯Here’s to working well together going forward.”
As he extended his hand, Rachel smiled faintly and clasped it.
“Likewise.”
It was their mutual acceptance as comrades.
And as they shook hands.
Blackie suddenly turned her gaze toward them, showing interest.
She slid down a bit from her perch on Carlyle’s head and thrust her face toward Rachel.
“⋯⋯Huh, Mr. Carlyle?”
“That’s unusual. She normally ignores everyone else.”
What was it—had she socialized a little?
As that thought crossed his mind, Blackie sniffed at Rachel’s hand: sniff, sniff.
And then.
“-!”
If Carlyle hadn’t yanked Blackie back in alarm, it would’ve been disastrous.
A sharp chomp rang out where Rachel’s hand had been.
Given Blackie’s specs, it could’ve severed a wrist clean off without issue.
Rachel’s face drained of color at the motion—blatantly hostile, utterly unlike her playful nibbles at Carlyle’s head.
“⋯⋯What’s wrong with you—?!”
Carlyle scolded her in shock, but Blackie bared her teeth and growled, heedless.
If he hadn’t gripped her shoulders with all his might, she might’ve lunged to deliver a blow to Rachel.
Rachel across from them flinched in terror⋯⋯
‘⋯⋯Hasn’t this happened before?’
He recalled it happening with the Pohen Margrave.
Blackie had always been hostile toward everyone but Carlyle, but never this intensely.
Her rush at Rachel exuded enmity far beyond even her previous lunge at Lair.
“See you later, Ms. Rachel!”
In the end, Carlyle had no choice but to flee the sickroom with Blackie still on his head.
◆
At that moment, in the imperial palace’s underground prison.
Viscount Cornelius sat quietly, tending to Alistair, who still hadn’t regained consciousness.
Down here, there was nothing but idle time, but lately, she at least had someone to chat with occasionally—a small mercy.
‘⋯⋯The Hero was cute, wasn’t she—’
She recalled the girl who occasionally descended to the cell, infusing Alistair with demonic energy.
Strictly speaking, the girl was an archenemy of the disabled masses. Yet after sitting and talking at length, affection had grown.
Her immature way of not even realizing her own feelings endeared her.
Had they met as non-enemies, they might’ve been close sisters.
Of course.
“-Ah, you’ve come.”
⋯⋯Cornelius knew better than anyone that could never be.
Failed demons were always disposed of, one way or another.
Especially with ‘that one’ in the palace now—no way they’d overlook such a failure.
Cornelius’s compound eyes locked onto the figure across the prison.
She faced the one who infiltrated this deepest underground prison of the palace with ease.
“I’ve been waiting for when you’d arrive.”
Summoning demons into the palace.
Devising the capital’s collapse.
⋯⋯Overseeing the ‘follow-up plan’ afterward—all stemmed from this person’s groundwork.
The enemy within humanity, poisoning the empire’s core.
“⋯⋯Mother.”
Cornelius smiled wistfully.
“-Did the Duke of Flies approve?”
No reply came.
‘Sorry, Hero.’
Cornelius gently closed Alistair’s eyes.
‘Guess I can’t give more love advice.’
And then.
The sound of flesh grinding into mince echoed silently through the cell.
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