When the Bitter Runs Out, the Sweet Arrives (4)

That's right. There's nothing to lose by getting cozy with the imperial family.

The truth was, the Skeleton ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠King's eyes were chuckling away, heh heh heh, as he met the Emperor.

It couldn't be helped.

House Eshua, the family this body belonged to, was apparently a fabulously wealthy ducal house — but so what? That was the family's money, not his money, wasn't it? Just as a fox digs nine burrows, the Skeleton King had always been the type to prepare several escape routes for the sake of his own safety.

And besides, this family had been suspect from the very start.

A fake wet nurse attached to the child of a ducal house? Since when was that normal?

On top of that, his family hadn't come looking for him once, all this time.

Which means there's a chance I was an abandoned child.

Which, in turn, meant he might not be able to expect a single coin from them. With that in mind, he had resolved to play the innocent little Saint and charm the Emperor into his corner—

And this bastard had the audacity to gum up someone else's plans!

"You must not be deceived by that child of the demon race, Your Majesty. Can a child who wields magic truly be a Saint?"

Just as expected, the bishop's words sent a ripple of commotion through the temple.

"The young lord used magic?!"

They were practically ready to kill him!

Which made sense — the priests here were hardly ignorant of what magic meant within the Holy Empire.

Magic is the power of the demon race!

To priests whose minds conjured up demons at the mere word "magic," the revelation was bound to shake them to their core.

But the Emperor, far from alarmed, merely looked at the bishop with visible displeasure.

"You of all people know better than anyone that magic is not the sole province of the demon race."

The bishop, who had been bowing his head politely as if to say of course, naturally, shot the Skeleton King a guarded look.

"Which is all the more reason we must be certain. Magic and holy arts are natural enemies of one another. With a child already all but confirmed as the Saint, this one could well be an assassin who has come to kill her."

At that, the Emperor let out a strange, hollow laugh and regarded the bishop.

"A child already confirmed, you say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is still a closely guarded secret, which is why I could not tell you in advance — but the Pope has already handpicked the child of House Berith as the Saint. This one here, the twenty-fifth candidate, wasn't even present at the revelation."

The bishop glared at the Skeleton King — the mighty "twenty-fifth candidate" — with unmistakable hostility.

The Skeleton King raised an eyebrow.

The Saint had already been decided?

Damn it. That makes this a real headache.

Revenge was one thing, but hadn't the holy knights said something when they brought him here?

So if things went badly, forget revenge — he'd vanish without a soul knowing, rat or bird alike.

Of course, the Saint was going to be him.

If this crazy monster of a body isn't the Saint, what is?

On that point alone, he could stake his reputation as the Demon King. He'd gladly wager every hair on this life's head. The fake — that would be whichever brat those people were pushing.

Not that it matters. Those people clearly have no intention of even putting me on the candidate list.

Sure enough, the bishop glared at the Skeleton King as if he were some filthy beast.

"That impostor should be handed over to the Inquisitors."

The Skeleton King only let out a low, derisive laugh. Heh heh heh heh. Yes, of course — the silver-haired young gentleman over there was about to summon the Inquisitors.

No wonder the priests around him, who had been so doting on the Skeleton King, were starting to squeal nervously. There was an old saying about the heresy tribunal: once it had you, it burned your relations to the eighth cousin and back.

And in the holy faction, the Pope is an absolute authority.

If the supreme power had already picked a child, how many clergymen would dare breathe a word of objection? The bishop's logic explained everything — which was, no doubt, why he rounded on those around him.

"Summon an Inquisitor at once!"

The imperial holy knights who had escorted the Skeleton King here immediately closed ranks around him.

"There is no way the young lord is an assassin!"

"We, for our part, felt the power of the divine in him!"

"That's right! He is the vanquisher the gods sent down to destroy that abominable skeleton remnant!"

"To destroy that revolting Skeleton King!"

Ah yes, the revolting one. You're holding him so tight right now you're practically hugging him, you know that?

Still, they're handling it well for holy knights.

They were fending things off on their own, without him needing to lift a finger.

"Th-that's right! We all think the same!"

Oh, and now even the priests were joining in.

But the bishop, looking ever more exasperated, glanced at the Emperor — then fixed the Skeleton King with an even more arrogant stare.

"I would not have troubled Your Majesty's ears with this, but there were also witnesses who say the child emitted demonic energy."

"……!"

The faces of the priests who had been beaming at the Skeleton King wavered at once.

"Truly, demonic energy……?"

"Wait. Don't tell me — is that why?"

"Is that why House Eshua has been keeping him at arm's length?"

The atmosphere turned in an instant, and the shift was anything but benign. The Skeleton King, who normally paid the priests no mind except when milking them for snacks, raised an eyebrow.

Ah, look at that. Dying to expose someone's private information left and right, are we?

Was that why? Because he drank his soy milk quietly like a good little baby, they thought he had no eyes of his own? Any trace of the patience and manners of a ten-year office worker had been tossed into the trash the moment he'd spent a year as a skeleton. If he'd had his old temper, this would've been settled already — but this was the interior of a temple.

That guy is a priest of the Holy See.

Right. He was a Demon King. Swallow the temper, Isaac.

I am an innocent little Saint… a Saint like an angel who forgives all things……

But right at that moment—

No. Hold on a second.

The face of the would-be baby angel twisted, in the span of a heartbeat, into something positively satanic.

Berith?

Why did that name sound so familiar? Where had he heard it before? Where—

Right on cue, the Emperor gave a short, scornful laugh.

"The Pope names a child of his own house as the Saint. Isn't that a selection so transparent it's almost endearing?"

The Skeleton King's face contorted.

Right. The Pope! He'd deliberately tried to forget those people, but of course — every Pope in history had carried the surname Berith.

In other words, House Berith was the exalted priestly lineage that had produced the supreme authority known as the Pope for generations. Which meant—

The "confirmed Saint" is the Pope's little grandkid?

So the Pope is pushing his own bloodline for the Saint's mantle?

The Skeleton King grabbed the back of his neck, hands flailing. Honestly, he could understand the situation. After all, the Saintess had appeared hundreds of years ago and her position was long settled — but the Saint was a newly emerging mantle, and depending on circumstances, the one who bore it could grow even greater than the Pope himself.

Of course it felt safer to have one's own brood hold it! Fine, understandable, the greed made sense. But—

The Pope is a Berith… and the Saint is a Berith too……

Son of a— can't you people at least take turns?!

Am I supposed to spend my brand-new reincarnation choking down soy milk and dying young because of you bastards?!

"Come to think of it, I heard something while interrogating a demon recently. The Skeleton King, seized by the gods, has ordered every last demon to kill the Saint."

And now the bastard's straight-up lying?!

I never gave any such order!

Also, that Skeleton King? He's right here!

The Skeleton King glared daggers at the bishop. The bishop, utterly indifferent, bowed his head as if asking for the audience's patience.

"A base creature that attacked the gods only to be subdued by a single finger. Having realized what an insignificant worm it is next to the divine, it must now be thrashing about in desperation, trying to snuff out the Saint — the messenger of the gods."

What did you just say, you son of a—?

Who got subdued by one finger? Who?

And "the mighty gods"? Those cowards who'd lose any actual contest of strength, so they just hide inside their barriers all day!

And why would I kill the Saint? I AM the Saint! Can't you see this hair color? It's the rarest shade in the entire Holy Empire!

"Granted, that is indeed a rare and remarkable shade — but precisely because it is so impossibly rare, I suspect it was created by magic. Clearly the scheme was to craft a candidate designed to charm everyone, and place it beside the true Saint."

Damn it! Even I couldn't make a hair color this good!

"Even as a bishop, I can sense demonic energy from this child."

Demonic energy? What demonic energy, you frost-bitten—?!

The very first thing he did after building his magic core was conceal his demonic energy!

Noticing it while he wasn't even casting a spell? That would require someone at least 9th Tier — an archmage-class, or a Pope-class capable of facing down the Demon King himself.

But what was that?

'A blind nobody trying to lecture ME?'

And wait — didn't this bastard skip the formal appraisal entirely in the first place?

Liar!

"And so we will dispose of this fake child ourselves."

The Skeleton King, snugly cradled in the bishop's arms, bristled with fury.

Damn it, are you going to put me down or not? And where do you think your hand is — that's my ass you're patting!

"There, there. So you don't cry after all. Now, someone fetch the Inquisitors, quickly."

The flustered imperial knights barred his way.

"How dare you! You would send the heir of House Eshua to the Inquisitors?!"

"You cannot take the young lord!"

Simultaneously, the bishop glared at the knights as if to ask what business they had raising their voices.

"I am well aware that you hold House Eshua in reverence — but where do you find the audacity to run those mouths so freely? Are you truly disputing the order of the Pope's own proxy?"

When the knights faltered, the bishop flashed a thin smile and turned to apologize to the Emperor.

"Children who should have received even the most basic etiquette training at the Holy See… I beg Your Majesty's forgiveness for the insolent disturbance."

The Emperor, not even pretending to listen, said only this:

"I hear a high-ranking mage made a move over that child."

"……!"

At the Emperor's remark, the bishop flinched. He had received that report as well. Judging by the traces of <Blood Absorption> magic at the scene — the investigation was still ongoing, but it appeared the black mage infamous across the entire continent, the <Black Angel>, had stirred upon glimpsing this child.

Sure enough, the Emperor smiled at the Skeleton King even as he fixed the bishop with a hard stare.

"A mage of such notoriety would hardly stir for something worthless. Then wouldn't that only raise the odds that this child is the true Saint? There has never once been a precedent for anything like this, after all."

"W-well…"

"What do you say? I would advise subjecting this child to another appraisal later on."

The bishop's face twisted from within.

I advise? ADVISE?

That's an order. 'His family is on their way to find him, so do not kill him — do not so much as lay a fingertip on him.'

Sure enough — though he could not let it show, the bishop's gaze toward the Emperor was pure venom.

"I shall obey Your Majesty's command."

As the emboldened knights moved to reclaim the Skeleton King, the bishop's mouth curled into a sly, serpentine smirk.

"Oh, but I nearly forgot. His Holiness the Pope had something to say on the matter. The date of the Crown Prince's investiture ceremony, he declared, shall be decided only after the Saint is revealed."

"—!"

The imperial holy knights had no choice but to doubt their own ears.

That… that despicable—!

There was no mistaking what the bishop was really saying. For generations, the imperial ceremonies had been conducted under the authority of the Pope's rites — the investiture included. In other words:

'Unless they push the Pope's chosen child as Saint, the Holy See will refuse to consecrate the Crown Prince!'

'Emperor and Pope may be at each other's throats, but this crosses a line.'

It was, in effect, blackmail.

Ceremonies or no ceremonies, the succession itself was never in legal doubt. The imperial throne of the Holy Empire was strong, and the Crown Prince was already the lawful heir by statute. But lacking the Pope's rite meant lacking the blessing and sanction of the gods themselves.

And in a theocratic empire that prized the gods above all else, how would that look?

When the imperial knights finally squeezed their eyes shut, the bishop allowed himself a sly curl of the lips.

Yes. Raise the matter of the Crown Prince, and they remember their place.

Certainly, if the Emperor willed it, he could sweep the Holy See away in a single stroke. But in the end, he was still a father.

I can see the fists clenching inside those sleeves — but he can't pour cold water on his own child's future.

Besides, having declared himself the Pope's proxy, the bishop knew the Emperor could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not cross a certain line. This was, after all, the Holy Empire — the land where Pope and Emperor coexisted — yet the truth was that the relationship between the two was shockingly vicious. With the Crown Prince's fate hanging in the balance, the Emperor, of all people, knew better than anyone that this was the moment for both sides to step back.

"Do not concern yourself with this child. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠We will merely be confirming whether he is a demon or not."

"Confirming," my ass. Under the pretense of casting a demon-repelling holy art, the bishop intended to drive straight into the child's vital points.

'And if the child dies — well, the holy art revealed him to be a demon, and that's the end of it. Even the Emperor can't say a word then.'

He had never imagined the Emperor himself would step in, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if anything, it worked in his favor.

"Leave this matter to a professional, not an amateur."

At the bishop's brazen confidence — he knew perfectly well the Emperor could not touch him — the imperial knights ground their teeth in helpless fury.

'That sly, dirty—!'

'Infuriating. If only he didn't hold the Crown Prince as a hostage, we'd have disposed of him ages ago……!'

Every one of them, Emperor and knights alike, longed to kick the bishop down the temple steps. But the bishop, knowing full well that they never could, smiled in triumph.

"I shall cast the exorcism holy art myself. If this child is human, it will do him no harm — and if he is a demon, we strike him down on the spot… KEHAK!!"

The bishop's face went flying.

With a sound no one could believe, the bishop staggered backward. The knights' jaws hit the floor. The Emperor blinked, once.

The bishop. The bishop had just been slapped across the face. By the baby's flailing arm — the Skeleton King's arm!

The Skeleton King, having sent the bishop's face into orbit, flashed his eyes wide open.

'That little bastard, he just doesn't LISTEN!'

'He plays innocent like a newborn, and now — now! — he wants to talk about striking ME down, in front of me?'

"Exorcism holy art? From a blind nobody like you? You think the likes of you can take ME down?"

And then—

"I told you to take your hand off my ass, you damn son of a—!"

The Skeleton King let out a lion's roar.

"Off! Get! It! OOOOFF!"

Silence fell.

It felt as though the bishop's very cheekbones had rattled loose. Slowly, the swaying bishop coughed.

"N-no, that is, I…"

Dazed from the blow, the bishop gathered up the Skeleton King and tried to make his exit anyway. Demon or not — it hardly mattered anymore. All that mattered was eliminating this child with this hair color, this child of House Eshua.

"No, what I mean is, the exorcism holy art will simply— PUHOK!!!"

Crack!

This time, the sound of shattering teeth rang out. And this time, it came wrapped in a brilliant burst of holy light.