Chapter 56: Salvation Church (6)
Chapter 56: Salvation Church (6)
That was blood. When the Count had coughed, she had caught a glimpse of liquid spilling from his mouth.
The only possibilities besides blood were vomit or saliva. But the sound hadn't been right for vomiting, and there had been no discernible color or solid bits. And no one could spit that much saliva, so what remained was...
'The Demon King's curse? Or was his identity discovered and he was attacked?'
If he had been attacked, the interior didn't seem nearly chaotic enough. Had they been trying to resolve the incident quietly, as if nothing had happened, to avoid a commotion?
The Demon King's curse. And his cover being blown.
The former was bad, but the latter was worse. If the two overlapped, it was quite literally the worst-case scenario.
Without any need to deliberate, Lady Rien assumed the absolute worst.
'One must always assume the worst when it comes to protecting one's liege.'
Therefore, the Count had infiltrated the building, been discovered, and faced a mortal crisis. He had barely escaped, but had been wounded in the process, and to make matters worse, the Demon King's curse had struck as well.
And then he had mistaken her for a pursuer and had to run again before he could even catch his breath—
'Why did he go back inside?'
He must not have obtained satisfactory evidence.
'Good heavens. To be unable to give up even when reduced to such a state. As expected of the Count...'
She hastily suppressed her surging emotions. A knight must not lose her composure.
What mattered now was how to respond.
Should she go to the Count, who was presumed to be in poor condition and a worse situation, or should she wait outside?
'If I go in, we might miss each other.'
That would complicate matters further.
But what if the Count was truly in a dire emergency? What if he needed someone's help?
'...Damn it.'
She let out a long, muffled sigh and clutched her head. She was utterly hopeless at these kinds of choices.
That was precisely why the profession of knight, where one only had to follow orders, suited her so extremely well. To think such a trial would befall her now.
As Lady Rien stood at a lifelong crossroads of decision, hesitating and unable to choose, a familiar voice reached her ears, sharpened by tension.
It came from just around the corner, at the entrance of the Salvation Church.
"Summon the guard captain immediately."
"Pardon? What are you suddenly talking about...?"
"Suddenly?"
"..."
It was a voice she had definitely heard before, and yet it was unfamiliar. Was it not the person she was thinking of?
No. The voice was unmistakably that of the woman who had smiled sweetly and shooed her away at the entrance. But the atmosphere was so different that she questioned whether it was the same person.
A voice dripping with such coldness.
As the other party fell silent, apparently flustered, that icy voice continued.
"An intruder got in. And you were still completely unaware of it."
"...!"
"If the opponent hadn't been a hero, your heads wouldn't still be attached to your bodies right now. You would have been replaced for incompetence. Consider yourselves lucky."
A hero!
Lady Rien quietly recoiled in shock.
Her assumption had been correct. The Count's identity had been exposed.
The next words were even more shocking.
"I've already dealt with him myself, so don't make a fuss and just bring me the guard captain. We need to discuss strengthening security."
Dealt with him! That meant the Count had...!
There was nothing more to think about, no reason left to hesitate. Lady Rien turned on her heel and began sprinting toward the spot where Deon had vanished.
'My lord!!'
She failed to register that the woman had said "hero" and not "Deon Hart," or that there was more than one "hero."
Crash!
Having vanished so quickly, one knight who hadn't properly seen which window Deon had entered recklessly vaulted through a visible window with a clatter.
And calamity descended upon the Salvation Church.
It went without saying, but the Salvation Church had a prayer room. A space no one could enter freely, guarded by sentries and off-limits outside certain hours.
Of course, not being able to enter freely only applied to ordinary people. For Cruel, a hero, it was an exception.
Thud.
A small but incongruous sound spread through the space, filled only with silence.
A black-haired man who had dropped down from the ceiling, Cruel, casually surveyed his surroundings. Inorganic green eyes swept the interior.
A space identical to the blueprint. He had arrived correctly.
Recalling the paper in his possession, Cruel quietly lowered his gaze.
It was unfortunate for Deon, but this game had been unfair from the start. Because he himself had started with the blueprints, while Deon had not.
[Here are the blueprints. So finish this game as safely as possible. Surely you can at least manage that?]
[...]
As safely as possible.
There was no mistaking the meaning of those words. Cruel had simply shut his mouth and bowed his head.
But.
Would Deon truly accept the one-sided result of this one-sided game?
He might rage furiously. He might raise suspicions and try to confront him before the Duke. If that happened...
'...'
Cruel's lips tightened as if he had recalled something, and he strode forward. He headed toward the window without hesitation, then extended his hand to the lock.
His hand, which had hesitated as if reluctant to touch it carelessly and lingered nearby, soon began to skillfully disengage it.
"What are you doing?"
"..."
All movement halted in an instant. The hand that had been touching the lock slipped away.
Having quickly confirmed the now completely dismantled lock, Saelin looked back at Cruel's figure and spoke.
Her body, which had tensed up thinking he was an unfamiliar intruder, hadn't fully relaxed, and a stiff voice emerged.
"No, you don't have to answer. It's obvious even without hearing it. You came in through the window, didn't you? Every window in this building was definitely locked, so how you got in... honestly."
She glared at him with sharp eyes.
It was only because they served the same master that she spoke to him so calmly. Otherwise, she would have called the guards long ago.
"I know your objective. What you're after, and where it is."
"..."
"Not that I have any intention of helping you, of course."
Saelin was astute. The moment she grasped the situation, she understood her master's intent.
He had deliberately assigned Cruel a task that could have been easily resolved if he had commanded her. That meant he intended to test him.
If she had any goodwill toward him, that would be one thing, but unfortunately, she belonged to the camp that was wary of Cruel.
"His Grace the Duke probably means to test you. And I intend to faithfully uphold his will. Any truly necessary information would have been handed over to you long ago, so there's no need for me to help."
"..."
"The fact that I haven't called the guards just now is the maximum consideration I can offer, so don't cause a pointless ruckus—just do your business quietly and leave. Ah, and make sure you lock that window again. I need to go have a word with the guard captain."
She had heard that Deon Hart had received the same mission.
If they were willing to permit the intrusion of Cruel, a straightforward warrior type, they would be even less able to catch Deon Hart with his agile movements.
Perhaps that was only natural considering they were heroes, but Saelin had no intention of taking it lying down with her eyes wide open. She hurriedly left the room.
In the space that fell silent again, Cruel stared blankly at the door she had exited through, then turned his back. He didn't even glance at the window lock.
He vaulted up onto the dais and meticulously examined the floor, then abruptly yanked aside the purple curtain behind it. A bare white wall with nothing on it was revealed.
'...According to the blueprints, this prayer room was the most suspicious.'
Had it been a misjudgment?
The Duke had given him the blueprints, but they were not complete. They were abridged blueprints, with secret spaces not marked at all.
The Duke had only provided the bare minimum of information and had offered no support whatsoever beyond that.
Well, that was what made it a 'test,' he supposed.
In any case, if it wasn't here, he would have to go back to the beginning and investigate again. Just as Cruel thought that and released the curtain, turning around—
- Rumble.
He heard the sound of a window opening.
He swiftly caught the noise and hid behind the curtain. Almost simultaneously, someone entered.
The space I entered was a rather sacred-looking room. No, should I even call it a room?
Rows of long wooden chairs. A dais stood at the front. Marble floors that looked too expensive to believe this was the slums, and clean white walls.
Moreover, the purple curtain draped mysteriously in harmony with this backdrop gave me a sense of—absurdly enough—holiness and mystery.
'Looks like a prayer room...'
The room was larger than I expected. I slowly scanned my surroundings, then soon headed for the most conspicuous thing: the dais.
I was about to lean on the chest-high dais and climb up when I spotted a staircase in the corner and walked up it demurely. My body was precious, after all.
'Not much to see, considering.'
Having quickly lost interest, I now focused on the oddly draped curtain.
I understood it being around windows, but it was a bit surprising that a curtain hung on the wall behind the dais, where there were no windows. Sure, a bare white wall would look plain without it and couldn't create this mysterious atmosphere, but this was the slums, right?
It felt a bit out of place, as if following the aristocratic way of thinking, hanging curtains as decoration on a bare wall.
'Or could there actually be a window behind this?'
All I could see between the curtains was the wall, though.
I quietly grasped the curtain. I meant to pull it back, but unfortunately, my action didn't achieve its purpose.
Because I heard multiple footsteps from outside the door.
Oh, uh, what do I do?! Where do I hide?
My damn homing instinct chose this exact moment to kick in. Even though there was a curtain right next to me, I panicked and went down from the dais to hide behind the curtain beside the window I had entered through.
I realized my idiotic action about three seconds later.
'...What the hell did I just do.'
I felt like banging my head against the wall. But then the door burst open, and I had no choice but to hold my breath and freeze.
Through the gap in the curtains, I saw about twenty people. Familiar faces were mixed among them.
There was definitely the girl named Siia, who had spoken to me, and the boy named Paul, who had glared at me.
So this was that prayer room?
"Now, let us pray for salvation once more today."
The people each sat on the wooden chairs, and a man in priest's robes who had brought them stepped onto the dais and opened a book.
It had a rather high-quality cover.
'What's this, they even have a bible? They've thought of everything, huh.'
The guy started reading from the book. The contents, which I had been somewhat looking forward to, were as plausible and boring as any scripture tended to be.
'...And it's long, too.'
Did it really have to mimic that as well? Those people over there closing their eyes and praying—were they actually sleeping, not praying?
...That one guy, did his head just drop? Don't tell me he actually was.
How many times did I muffle a yawn? My legs were gradually getting so numb it was unbearable, and just when I felt like this was getting genuinely dangerous, the priest's words mercifully ended.
The guy closed the book and smiled brightly.
"Now that I think about it, we had another devout believer join us today, didn't we? Most of you are already aware, but I will briefly explain for the newly added believer."
"...?"
"Starting today, we will not simply end with prayers here, but plan to inform you in more detail about true 'salvation.'"
Salvation? It was salvation, what more detailed explanation was there to give?
I instinctively sensed this would be very important and pricked up my ears.
The guy who had definitely said he would explain briefly talked for longer than I expected. It was even a summarizable topic!
In the end, he just wanted to say 'salvation is real,' didn't he? Rememver's scolding disguised as nagging would be shorter than this!
"You will all receive a separate explanation in a room that only devout believers may enter."
Ah, that last line wasn't said by the priest. It was spoken by a woman who opened the door and entered with perfect timing, as if it had been rehearsed.
At the appearance of one of the few faces I recognized, I widened my eyes for a moment.
'...A familiar face. That's the woman from earlier, right?'
The woman who had pulled back my robe hood.
Given that no one, not even the speaking priest, stopped her from barging in, she seemed to be in a higher position than I thought.
As she quickened her pace and climbed onto the dais, the priest quietly stepped back. A natural changing of roles.
The woman placed her hand on the wall between the curtains behind the dais.
It was an incredibly natural action, barely noticeable, but the result was anything but natural.
'Huh? Huh? Wait, what is that?!'