Chapter 52: Salvation Church (2)
Chapter 52: Salvation Church (2)
There was more than one suspicious thing about them.
It might be expected from a cult, but the Salvation Church was different from the countless other cults that had come and gone over the years.
Namely, they started with a level of funding that ordinary people couldn't easily obtain.
And since their starting point was the slums, the amount of money they must have spent back then was practically like pouring water into a bottomless pit.
A rough calculation would yield a sum that would be burdensome even for most noble houses...
'It's not about the money, and the financier didn't make themselves the cult leader to be revered. What the hell is it, really?'
Out of frustration, I threw back the lukewarm tea left in my cup in one go. And immediately regretted it.
Damn it, I drank that tea for nothing. Now I need the bathroom in the middle of a serious situation like this.
I needed to think a little more about the report, but...
'I'll just go to the bathroom first. Then I'll think again...'
"You're planning to go yourself after all, aren't you?"
"Huh?"
I stopped in my tracks toward the door.
What kind of nonsense was that?
While I froze up for a moment, Lady Rien looked at me with oddly reverent eyes and spoke solemnly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand brushing the sword at her waist.
"It's dangerous alone. I'll accompany you."
"Huh? No... uh... uh?"
...And so, I ended up being dragged along before I knew it. Without even being able to go to the bathroom.
Lady Rien marched ahead with shining eyes practically shouting 'I respect you,' opened the door, and stood waiting. How could I possibly say, 'Um, I need the bathroom...' in that situation?
Because of that, I couldn't take any proactive action and just hoped a cultist would show up before we left the mansion, but reality was cruel.
'Shit. That's my luck for you.'
It wasn't that we met no one. There were maids and servants. I even ran into Rememver while going down the stairs.
But our usually so competent butler, acting as if he couldn't see my face that looked like it was being dragged to the slaughterhouse, simply asked, "Are you heading out?" And at Rien's answer that we were going to the slums, he silently handed us two tattered robes and personally saw us off with a calm farewell.
Considering he gave us tattered robes instead of smooth material or clean traveler's robes, he seemed to have a rough idea of what we were up to. But why didn't someone that perceptive notice my expression?
He didn't deliberately ignore it, did he?
"I think we should put on the robes from here."
I'd been walking in a daze and found myself already at the entrance to the slums. Lady Rien, who had led me into a nearby secluded alley, held out that shabby robe.
I stared down at it with bleak eyes, then took it slowly with trembling hands.
'Am I really going through with this?'
You could at least give me time to mentally prepare. Or at least time to go to the bathroom.
If I went in like this, I felt like I'd truly make a mistake of a different kind, so I bit my lip firmly and carefully opened my mouth.
"...Before that, may I stop by somewhere for a moment?"
"Huh? Where..."
"Just over there for a bit... It'll just be a moment, so please don't follow me."
I needed to mentally prepare, and also get rid of the water currently filling my body.
I'd never experienced it personally, but I had witnessed with my own eyes evidence of the stories that when people get too shocked or terrified, they sometimes have an accident in their pants.
It was truly unsightly. I never want to show myself like that. So it's better to take precautions beforehand. No matter how bad the slums are, they probably don't walk around having shit their pants.
...But for some reason, Lady Rien hesitated with an uneasy expression.
"Will you be alright?"
"Yes."
I suppose she was anxious because this was the slums...
Of course I'll be fine. I'm not a child. What, you think I can't even go to the bathroom alone? Besides, you're a woman. What unsightly thing are you trying to see by following me?
I faced Lady Rien with a resolute expression. In contrast to my seemingly composed face, my mind was racing urgently.
Stop dragging this out and just let me go, please. Can't you see how pale my face is? You should catch on immediately.
Afraid she might barge in while I was actually doing my business, I once again firmly told her not to follow and hurriedly dashed to a corner of the alley.
"W-wait...!"
Considering the possibility that Lady Rien might snoop, I turned a couple more corners and finally managed to relieve myself, when suddenly the thought of wanting to just drop everything surged up.
What glory am I expecting to gain that I'm going through all this trouble? I don't even want land; I'm just trying to return a single territory!
If that was all there was to it, I could have given up fairly cleanly, but Cruel is handling this matter, so giving up is nowhere near an option.
'Damn it...'
I straightened my pants and threw on the robe.
Then I came out of the alley and turned a corner, and there, in the middle of the alley that had been empty when I entered, stood someone.
That person seemed to be trying to infiltrate somewhere, too. The shabby robe in his hand supported that guess.
But that person looked somehow familiar. The black hair, and...
The man who had just donned his robe also turned his head this way, as if to identify the source of the presence he felt. Since he hadn't pulled up his hood yet, naturally, our eyes met.
...'Infiltrate somewhere'?
I'll correct myself. That person was apparently trying to infiltrate the Salvation Church as well. No, it's certain.
"You, ugh—"
Since he'd be carrying out the same mission as me.
Cruel Hart.
Even with that hateful being right in front of me, I couldn't express the unpleasant feeling.
Because I was so shocked by the unexpected encounter—
Drip.
"...!"
"Ah, damn it... hack,"
—I ended up coughing up blood.
I'd thought things had been a bit quiet lately, and now it bursts out like this. Damn it.
Not wanting to show an unsightly sight, I covered my mouth first. I stared at the red liquid that soaked my palm and then dripped onto the ground, then lifted my gaze to check on Cruel.
He was watching without a single twitch, watching me—no, precisely, the ground right in front of me that was stained with a pool of blood.
"..."
"..."
His green eyes, which had been on the ground, slowly rose upward and lingered on my mouth.
I immediately lowered my head. Damn, I was so embarrassed I couldn't even lift my face.
Of all the reasons to cough up blood, just from being 'startled.' That alone was mortifying enough to kill me, and now it had to be right in front of that bastard of all people.
Standing around like this would only waste time, so I hastened to push past him and get out of the alley, when someone with a familiar silhouette hesitantly peeked out from behind him.
"My lord, I'm sorry. I just couldn't help but worry... so..."
Lady Rien, having spotted me, seemed to trail off mid-sentence before finally shutting her mouth.
Her gaze flicked between me and Cruel standing in front of me.
As I watched her hand stealthily creep toward the sword at her waist, seemingly interpreting the situation in some way, I thought blankly:
'—Well, at least I'm really glad she didn't find me while I was doing my business.'
* * *
I had covered my mouth with my hand, but I couldn't hide the blood seeping between my fingers.
Looking at the blood soaking the ground and Deon Hart's hand stained red, Knight Commander Rien Rainer inwardly regretted it.
'I shouldn't have just let him go.'
Why had she overlooked the fact that she was the only one to escort Count Hart?
Thinking back, the signs had been clear.
His pale face, his trembling hands, the cold sweat and firmly bitten lip as if holding back pain, plus— the uncharacteristic behavior of hurrying into an alley as if to hide something.
The Demon King's curse had activated.
'I'm unfit to be a knight.'
Since her eyes weren't just for decoration, she had known his condition wasn't good.
That was why, when he said he'd step aside for a moment, she had asked once out of concern.
[Are you alright?]
[Yes.]
His resolute answer and the expression telling her absolutely not to follow had made it impossible to go against his wishes, and sending him off without a fuss had been a mistake.
Contrary to the rumors circulating in the world, Count Hart was a kind-hearted person who disliked causing others worry.
Of course, in combat he showed another side of himself that was quite cruel and provided considerable shock... but that was only limited to 'combat.'
His usual self was far too soft, and kind.
This time was proof. If he lacked information, he could have simply ordered someone to investigate again. But instead, he said he'd check it himself and unhesitatingly set foot in this filthy place.
Probably the reason he tried to hide his condition was because if he showed himself coughing up blood, he figured they would tell him to go back. He didn't want to cause worry, and he also wanted to conduct the investigation.
So how could she not be concerned?
'However...'
She shifted her gaze to the man standing in front of Count Hart.
Who was he? Since she could only see his back from her position, she couldn't properly identify him, but judging by the Count's expression, it didn't seem to be a friendly relationship.
Could he be an assassin who had been waiting for an opportunity? One trying to attack the Count now that he was weakened?
But it was rare for an assassin to reveal themselves so openly.
'...So he already attempted once.'
Even if he was weakened by the curse, the Count was a hero. He wouldn't have allowed an attack easily.
It made sense: the attack failed because the Count's skill was considerable, and then they entered a standoff.
'First, I need to subdue that one.'
Neglecting the Count's condition and safety was an unforgivable mistake, but failing to do her job because she was caught up in the shock was an even greater sin.
She was a knight. A knight who must protect the Count.
Rien, having quickly regained her composure, slowly placed her hand on her sword.
As if sensing something suspicious, the opponent, who had belatedly pulled up his robe's hood, turned his body and looked this way.
The moment she felt his hidden gaze touch her, Rien immediately drew her sword and charged at him.
Clang!!
A fierce sound rang out.
* * *
Cruel, with his sword locked against hers, silently scanned the opponent's face. Even though it was a sudden attack, he was unshaken.
A familiar face. She was the commander of the knight order under Deon, wasn't she?
She swung her sword at him without hesitation. Clang! The harsh sound rang in his ears again.
Having not earned the title of 'hero' for nothing, Cruel skillfully blocked the attacks while using those green eyes that Deon so despised to examine the two of them once.
'So this is a mission after all.'
He had already heard that Deon had been given the same mission as him.
So the Duke's voice telling him not to lose echoed in his head again. At the same time, his expanded mission did too.
He'd known in his head, but he never dreamed he'd run into him this soon. He'd been so surprised when their eyes met.
There was no way he wouldn't recognize him.
Pale skin and red eyes were not common. With such clear evidence on display, wouldn't it be rather laughable if he didn't notice just because his older brother had thrown on a shabby robe?
His fluster at the unexpected encounter was brief; the stray thoughts were short-lived. Deon, unable to suppress his agitation, had coughed up blood.
—Was that because of his innate physical condition, or because of the Demon King's curse?
He was a younger brother who had been physically weak since birth. If a curse was added on top of that body, how much lifespan did he have left?
He didn't know for sure, but it couldn't be long.
"..."
Studying the blood heavily staining the corner of Deon's mouth with a terribly indifferent expression, Cruel thought:
'That kid shouldn't be involved in this mission.'
He could overlook other things, but this one he had to prevent.
Had one arm not been enough?
While Cruel was worrying whether he should put out another commission, there was not the slightest hint of suspicion from him that Deon had been 'cursed.'
Of course he didn't, because he had clearly seen it.
The strange black brand engraved on Deon's collarbone, at the boundary with his neck.
As was typical of those who knew of the brand's existence, Cruel also believed that it was eating away at Deon's body and lifespan.
'So, just until what little lifespan he has left runs out.'
He just had to endure until then.
Repeating that to himself, Cruel fixed his gaze on Deon.
His green eyes, devoid of any life, were sunken calmly and directed solely at one person.