Memories of Notre Dame Cathedral
Thud. Thud. Thud. It wasn't that he had misheard. The one-eyed man judged that his ears were functioning normally. Thud. Thud. Thud. Who the hell could it be?
The Saintess and the Hero were under the Pope's direct surveillance. If they had taken even a single step out of the bedroom, the Pope would have already blocked them. He would have contacted me as well. But it also made no sense for the Pope to be the one knocking. If it were the Pope, he would have used the crystal ball to contact them directly first.
Then who on earth is knocking? Without the Pope's permission, no one in the cathedral was allowed near the First Discipline Chamber. Thud. Thud. Thud. The knocking continued even as he thought.
"Tsk. Interrupted at the best part." The one-eyed man looked down at Sirmiia pinned beneath him and issued a stern warning. "Miss, don't try anything funny. There isn't a single person in this cathedral our hands can't reach. Of course, if you want to experience the thrill of losing your virginity, feel free to scream or do whatever. I won't care."
Regardless of the warning, Sirmiia had already lost all will to resist. Drugged and subjected to every kind of mental assault from the one-eyed man on top of the pleasure, her self-esteem had plummeted far beyond its limit, tumbling off a cliff. Like any other woman, she was gripped by a vague terror and couldn't even dream of rebelling.
"Sel. You can keep going. I'll go out."
"No, Ian. No need to go out. It's better to just chase them away." Sel—that is, the one-eyed man—replied.
"Who is it! I am Sel, the Inquisitor directly under the Holy See. I am currently interrogating a sinner. If you don't want to be punished, get lost right now!"
The knocking stopped.
As expected. The title of Inquisitor was truly useful in moments like this. Because of his status as a direct subordinate of the Holy See, people were easily intimidated and didn't dare to act recklessly.
"I don't know who it was, but it must have just been a prank—"
Thud. Thud. Thud.
If there had been a sound effect for Sel's forehead at that moment, it would probably have been a sharp crack. His face flushed red like a ripe persimmon. Sel pulled out of Sirmiia, threw on his clothes, and approached the iron door.
"Who the hell is it!" he shouted, flinging the door open. Standing there was a figure he could never have imagined.
"Ahem… Commander Julius? What brings you here?"
Julius silently peered inside the iron door. His eyes fell upon the nun's habit scattered across the floor. Sel noticed his gaze and naturally shifted his posture to cover the clothes. However, he couldn't erase that disgusting smell.
"…From now on, I will be monitoring this place."
Sel widened his eyes and asked, "What? What do you mean? The First Discipline Chamber is a place I have already been entrusted to manage by His Holiness the Pope. The sinner here is extremely dangerous, so as an Inquisitor, I must—"
Julius cut him off and spoke in a low voice, like a warning. "I will say it once more. From now on, I will be monitoring this place."
Sel barely managed to swallow the "Yes" that almost escaped his lips. Even someone like Sel couldn't withstand Julius's overwhelming presence. But it wounded his pride deeply, and the humiliation burned. Sel's face flushed red with anger. Tension crackled between them, as if they might draw swords at any moment. In the end, it was Sel who backed down first. His emotions had run wild without knowing his place, but fortunately, his reason knew its limits all too well. Attacking Julius here would only result in his own death. Even if he fought alongside Ian, he wouldn't last ten seconds. Julius Caesar, Commander of the Cathedral Knights. Swordsmanship instructor to the previous Hero. The hero who protected the Gallia Kingdom from the Demon King's Fourth Legion. The knight who single-handedly slew Atium of Longing, one of the former Four Heavenly Kings. Facing a living legend like him was nothing short of suicide. So Sel swallowed his anger and quietly stepped aside for Julius.
"Ian, let's go."
"…Yeah. Got it, Sel."
Just before leaving the discipline chamber, Sel muttered a small warning as he passed Julius. "I will report this matter directly to His Holiness the Pope."
"Do as you like."
Julius replied indifferently and entered the chamber, closing the door behind him. The first thing that caught his eye was Sirmiia hurriedly putting on her nun's habit.
"You… No. Sirmiia."
"…Commander, why are you here? Do you want to violate me too?"
At Sirmiia's words, Julius frowned in displeasure and shouted, "That's not it!"
Startled by Julius's loud voice, Sirmiia shrank back, her eyes welling with tears. "D-don't get angry, please. I'm sorry…"
She trembled anxiously, her face filled with terror.
"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get angry. I just didn't want you to see me as the same as them. I'm truly sorry."
But despite Julius's sincere apology, Sirmiia eventually burst into tears. Her self-esteem, once shattered, kept plummeting endlessly without knowing its depths.
"Hic… Sob, hic… I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
The line she had unconsciously drawn as a man—not to cry like a girl—had broken, and Sirmiia could no longer hold back the flood of emotions. Julius seemed quite flustered at the sight of her crying. But his hesitation didn't last long. His expression hardened as if sensing something was wrong, and he approached Sirmiia. Though Sirmiia thought the Commander would never do such a thing, her body instinctively shrank back as he drew near.
Julius felt something unsettling. As always, his superhuman senses had detected an anomaly. To him, the change in Sirmiia's emotions seemed too unnatural. Though he hadn't seen her for even a month, he wasn't ignorant of her personality. It was shameful to admit, but he had seen many people suffer far worse at the Pope's hands. Considering her strong will, this level of change didn't make sense. Something felt deeply off.
What is it? What on earth could it be?
Julius grabbed Sirmiia's shoulders. At the sudden touch of his hands, Sirmiia trembled even more violently than before.
"I'm sorry… I was wrong. I was wrong…"
Hmm… I think I have a rough idea now.
Still holding Sirmiia's shoulders, Julius began reciting a prayer. "Lord, in this place I pray as Your son. Give us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change. Give us the courage to change the things we can. Give us the wisdom to know the difference."
As the prayer of faith began, Sirmiia started trembling like a madwoman and burst into tears. She looked as if she were possessed by a demon from some ghost story.
"Save me? Save me. Save me? Save me. Lord, have mercy upon us."
"Quite the tenacious one. I wonder who cast this."
First-grade Holy Magic: Purification.
"Save me. Save m—"
When the purification ended, Sirmiia stopped abruptly, like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Sirmiia… As I thought, you were under a curse-type spell. I don't know who cast it, but it was a top-tier curse. It seems to be a curse that gradually alters one's personality and creates another self."
There was no reply.
"The caster put up a bit of a smokescreen, so I couldn't confirm it properly, but I did sense a trace of demonic energy. Who exactly cursed you?"
Sirmiia stared blankly into the air like an empty can.
"Sirmiia, what's wrong? Don't tell me the curse is still—"
"A… A… A… Kyaaaaaaaah!"
"Sirmiia!"
"Hic… Damn it. Ack! Ugh… Sob, ugh, urgh…"
The flustered Commander was saying something, but none of it reached her ears. Along with the sensation of something draining away, a flood of emotions—pain, disgust, anger, fear, pleasure, sadness—observed from a third-person perspective came rushing in all at once. Among them, the hardest to endure was the sadness. In all her seventy-six years as a demon, had there ever been a day when controlling her emotions was this difficult? Her heart felt like it was being torn apart in the vortex of emotions.
"Kyaaaaaaaah! Damn it. Sob… Hic, sob…"
Even as she screamed, the tears that suddenly burst forth choked her. Was she going to suffocate to death like this? The thought was so idiotic that it showed just how unbearable it was. Just as she wondered if it would be easier to die like this, the Commander wrapped his arms around her head and pulled her into his embrace.
"…What? Sob, hic… Commander. Hic, were we… this close? Hic, I guess I'm showing… Hic, a bit of weakness. Hic, and you're over forty… Hic, an old man at that."
"Just… please shut up."
She had been about to tease him more, but at the Commander's genuinely annoyed expression, she quietly fell silent. Of course, the sobbing continued. Still, being held like this strangely made her heart calm down little by little. She cried in the Commander's arms for another two hours after that, only managing to calm down as dawn began to break.
"Have you calmed down?"
"I was fine from the start. Why are you spouting nonsense on your own? Have you gone senile?"
"Hearing you talk nonsense, I guess you've calmed down."
"…That's enough. Why did you come here?"
It was true that her personality had gradually changed due to the curse, just as the Commander said, but enduring this damn experience with a clear mind would have been difficult too. If it had been the twenty-six-year-old Olga instead of the seventy-six-year-old Olga, the moment the curse was lifted and the emotions flooded in, her mind would have been crushed under the pressure. She would have become nothing more than an empty shell. No, even without the curse, if she had been twenty-six, she would have been panting in pleasure the moment the drug was injected. Age really was the best. Setting that aside, she felt deeply grateful to the Commander for lifting the curse. Thanks to him, she hadn't created even more dark history. Or had she already made enough? Well, whatever. Only a few people had seen it anyway. And… the curse was obviously cast by that ugly bastard, right? Since when had it been there…
"It's nothing special. I just forgot to give you the veil along with the nun's habit. That's the only reason I came. I took care of the curse while I was at it. Don't forget the veil when you wear the nun's habit from now on. Well then, I'll be going."
As he grabbed the door handle, he turned his head to look at her. "And… refrain from running away for now. A pursuit team will be after you. They're veterans. Even I would have trouble escaping from them. I'll handle the Pope and the Inquisitor myself, so I'd like you to wait for now. Rest well."
"?"
Julius handed her the veil, said what he had to say, and left the discipline chamber as if fleeing.
"What the…"