Memories of Notre Dame Cathedral
Life always forces moments of choice. That holds true not only for human lives, but for demon lives as well. And the fact that I now found myself wearing a nun's habit—something I'd never even come into contact with in my seventy-six years—was also part of that choice.
How had I ended up in a nun's habit? When I thought about it, the answer was simple. I'd simply swallowed my pride and called for the knight commander. Well, "called" was generous—it was more like I'd screamed. Still, since the commander arrived quickly, maybe it counted as a proper summons. Or not.
I asked the knight commander to bring Angelica again. Of course, there was the minor incident where he caught me in nothing but my underwear. Since I wasn't a woman, I didn't shriek or make a fuss. I simply smiled lightly and bit his arm.
"What the hell are you doing, demon wench? Let go!"
"I'm not a demon wench. I have a perfectly normal name—Sirmiia."
"Who cares! You're not cleared yet, demon wench."
He forced a steel gag into my mouth as he spoke. So that's his preference? Disgusting taste. Well, none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that I'd finally escaped my underwear and gotten into the nun's habit.
"Why am I feeling proud about this?"
A wave of self-loathing washed over me. Just hours ago I'd been one of the highest-ranking officers in the Demon Realm. Now I was some girl getting excited over wearing a nun's habit.
"Maybe I should just walk around naked..."
The sage time hit me out of nowhere. So even a female body can experience this, huh. A new discovery. Of course, I put the habit on anyway. I'd spent dozens of repetitions memorizing Angelica's instructions—it would've been a waste not to use them. Besides, it was objectively pretty, and it suited me.
Time passed quickly—or perhaps I was simply lazy. Either way, dozens of days had already slipped by since I'd been locked in the cathedral's reeducation room. Yet I still hadn't been interrogated. The Pope had insisted on conducting the questioning himself, but the old man showed no sign of coming. He was probably waiting for the hero's baptism ceremony to finish.
According to Demon Realm intelligence, the hero's baptism consisted of three parts: receiving the Pope's blessing, passing the trials to be granted the holy sword, and finally receiving God's blessing. Only after all three were complete would someone be recognized as the true hero. That meant the Pope couldn't come interrogate me until the hero finished the trials. The ugly old man had to actively support the hero's test.
Heroes and saints were chosen directly by God. Commoners already viewed them as God's proxies, and their authority was equal to—or even greater than—the Pope's. Remembering the first day I'd been teleported here, the relationship between the saint and the Pope had seemed extremely strained. The perverted old man had probably committed some corruption. Now he was trying to bring the hero into his faction to keep the saint in check.
"Mmph..."
When will I ever get out of here? The confinement was suffocating, but worse was the mental exhaustion. A cathedral mage cleaned me once a day with magic, yet I wanted a real bath. Magic could keep the body clean, but it did nothing for the mind.
Even now, my hair kept getting in the way. It had grown long enough over the past few days to stick to my lips and eyes. I needed to fix it. When I looked in the mirror, a cold-faced girl with a furrowed brow stared back. She was still beautiful—no matter how many times I saw her. A face that could heal just by looking at it. If the Demon King had made an example of someone like her, maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way. Still, the fact that it was me was infuriating.
The steel gag I wore at all times except during meals stood out starkly in the reflection.
"Mmph."
What am I even doing here... My second round of sage time. Maybe I'd be stuck with sage time for the rest of my life. Being one of the Four Heavenly Kings yet getting captured so stupidly by humans already damaged my pride, but becoming a worthless human woman was the real stress. I'd only realized it the day before—my body was no longer demonic. It was purely human. I didn't know how he'd done it, but Demian had swapped my top-grade body overflowing with demonic energy for a low-grade human woman's body. Not a single trace of demonic energy remained.
No wonder the saint never noticed I was a demon. Could this even be called a demon anymore? Maybe I should just call myself human. I'd always been an extremely positive demon, but even I found this situation unbearable. Being born male, living as a lifelong virgin, then becoming a woman—it was too tragic. My overflowing demonic energy, my large and magnificent horns, my solid muscles—all gone. All that remained was pale skin and unnecessarily soft breasts. Was this what a demon's life amounted to?
Today, too, my killing intent toward Demian increased by one stack. I'll make you regret turning me into this, Demian. I'll kill you painfully. Definitely.
I was radiating a gloomy aura when the door creaked open. I turned reflexively and saw the Pope entering through the only door.
What? Is it finally interrogation time? It was pathetic how relieved I felt at the prospect of being questioned. The hero's baptism must have ended. Only the Pope, the saint, and about four holy knights entered the room. Where's the commander? His absence left me oddly disappointed.
During my confinement, I'd grown quite close to the knight commander. He visited the reeducation room often, but the biggest reason was that he was the easiest to tease. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, but he was actually forty-three. He'd reached the transcendent realm at twenty-eight, and his body had frozen at around twenty-five. He was an incredible genius. Still, once I learned his real age, I started calling him "uncle" whenever I could. He hated it. The other nuns who brought my meals could call him "Sir Uncle" without issue, but when I said it, he scowled. Lately I'd stopped, worried he'd actually get angry, and just called him "commander."
But that wasn't important right now. The commander wasn't here. Neither was the hero. The hero was probably resting after finishing the baptism. I considered attempting an escape. Without the hero and the commander, I could kill everyone and flee. The Pope's personal knights might chase me afterward, but I'd deal with that when the time came.
I carefully gathered mana in my hands. Honestly, something like a mana restraint meant nothing to me. If I poured in enough mana, it would break easily. The problem was the cathedral's barrier—it made controlling mana extremely difficult. I had to use three or four times my usual concentration. Still, without the hero and the knight commander, even a sword would have been enough.
I'll manifest a sword and cut them down the moment they approach, then escape. The thought had barely formed when the hero stepped over the threshold, following the knights inside.
Right. Never mind. A swift surrender. A judgment worthy of one of the Four Heavenly Kings. It might look cowardly, but it couldn't be helped. Heroes were dangerous no matter the era. Even the former Demon King—a monster who'd once single-handedly slaughtered thousands of knights on the front lines ten years ago—hadn't been able to stop one. We'd thought the war between the human and demon realms would finally end in the Demon Realm's victory. But it hadn't. Even that monster had perished alongside the hero. Heroes were unpredictable monsters, perhaps even more dangerous than Demon Kings.
"Hero, it's only been a short while since your baptism. You should rest."
"No, Your Holiness. Protecting you and the saint takes priority."
"Oh my..." The saint blushed with obvious delight.
"Hoho. This generation's hero truly possesses an outstanding sense of justice."
The Pope laughed as if proud, but his rotten fish eyes weren't smiling at all. Just looking at him twisted my mood. He felt like a creature whose outside and inside didn't match. Many races opposed demons, but humans were the hardest to understand.
"Remove the gag."
"Mmph... ugh, haah—"
"Sit."
The knights brought in a table and chairs. The Pope sat across from me, the hero stood behind him, and the saint positioned herself behind the hero. Because of the hero's height, the saint's body was hidden from view. What a heart-fluttering height difference.
The Pope, who'd been chatting pleasantly with the hero, suddenly wiped the smile from his face and lowered his voice.
"Are you a demon?"
I had to answer quickly and carefully. If they discovered I was a demon, I'd be killed immediately. I scanned my surroundings. Any mana tools? None. Holy relics? None. Detectable mana nearby? No. Nothing unusual. I finished my assessment and opened my mouth.
"I'm human."
"Hmm..." The Pope stared at me. I won't lose. I stared back. After ten seconds of eye contact, the Pope leaned back in his chair and changed the question.
"Why did you infiltrate the cathedral?"
The cathedral was the pinnacle of the Holy See's barrier system, protected by the highest-grade spell—Ultimately Protective Shield. On top of that, the hero's baptism ceremony had been underway. I couldn't even imagine how many layers of protective barriers they'd stacked. Even the Demon King probably couldn't break through. How did I know all this? Demon Realm intelligence was the best in the world. Countless demon spies had already infiltrated the human realm. Ah, now that I thought about it, this was dangerous. Demian might come looking for me. If he finds me... Only a horrifying future came to mind. I'd probably be pinned beneath him every night, unable to put up even token resistance. The thought alone made bile rise in my throat. Well, the human-demon war would probably break out before he dragged me back to the Demon Realm, but that was no longer my decision to make. Either way, I'd already anticipated the Pope's question. I had a prepared excuse.