Chapter 100
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 100
When Jeremia regained consciousness, she found herself in an unfamiliar room, just as she had expected. The curtains were drawn so tightly that not a sliver of moonlight could sneak through. Lit by a single small candle, the room was incredibly dark—a deliberate choice to prevent any light from leaking outside.
Jeremia was lying on a bed. Since they had mentioned coming to the Rohanson Mansion, this was likely Evangeline's. A small part of her was impressed; every knight in the city must have been mobilized to find her, yet they had somehow managed to escape the Imperial Castle.
Feeling a cool sensation on her forehead, she realized a maid was dabbing her sweat with a damp cloth. The maid’s features were so striking that, if not for her attire, one might have mistaken her for a noble. Her curly red hair was unbound, and a long, horizontal scar stretched across her neck. Jeremia’s eyes met the maid’s—a woman as bizarrely eccentric as her mistress.
“My lady, the Princess has opened her eyes.”
The maid immediately informed Evangeline of her awakening.
“I’m glad you’re awake.”
Evangeline approached with a candlestick and sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking Jeremia’s face.
“Lady Jeremia. I found a way.”
The devil whispered sweet words.
The cat in Evangeline’s arms began to act cute, drawing her attention. Evangeline stroked it, murmuring that she was helpless against its charms, before speaking again in a nonchalant tone.
“However, it might not be the method you were hoping for, Lady Jeremia.”
“What… what kind of method is it…?” Jeremia’s voice was a hoarse whisper, raw from all her crying and screaming.
“Your body is beyond saving, Lady Jeremia.”
“…What?”
The words that followed shattered Jeremia’s hope. Evangeline continued, her eyes curving into a bright smile.
“It’s a miracle you’re even alive right now. So, we have no choice but to move you to another body.”
Jeremia bit her lip, listening to Evangeline’s explanation. As she had warned, the proposal was something Jeremia could never have conceived of.
Transferring her soul to another body because her own was beyond recovery… If anyone else had heard this, they would have run straight to the Temple to confess. It was a heresy so dangerous that everyone involved would have been burned at the stake.
“…If I transfer, whose body will it be?”
“A body you won’t feel a shred of guilt taking over, Your Highness,” Evangeline said, pointing to a collapsed figure on the floor.
“Azazel…!”
Jeremia spat the knight’s name with burning rage. He was the one who had stabbed her. Her stomach churned violently as the memories flooded back: Tenebrae nonchalantly introducing Azazel as her guard, and the moment he had plunged the blade into her abdomen.
Evangeline had captured him for her. If her intention was to provoke Jeremia’s darker impulses, it was an incredibly effective strategy. A feverish heat rose within her, clouding her reason.
“Have you made your decision?”
It didn’t take long for Jeremia to reach a conclusion. Hadn’t she already decided from the very beginning? To stand against Tenebrae, who had murdered her own family, and Bishop Marik, the mastermind behind it all, she had no choice but to borrow a devil’s hand.
“…Yes. I will make a wish.”
Jeremia glanced at Gabriel. He didn’t so much as blink at the mention of such a wicked method. She had once thought his unwavering gaze was directed toward Goddess Rachel, but as the candlelight flickered, she saw that his eyes were fixed on Evangeline. He had already found the light to pierce his darkness; he no longer needed the sun to shine upon him.
“…I made up my mind after hearing from Sir Gabriel. Even if I have to sell my soul to a devil… no, to you, please…”
Jeremia gazed quietly at Evangeline. That light resembled a star in the night sky. Of all the countless stars in the heavens, the brightest one had fallen to stand by her side.
Clasping her hands as if in prayer, Jeremia closed her eyes and made her wish. The object of her prayer was neither god nor devil, but Evangeline. She wished with all her might, just as Evangeline had instructed. Please, let me reclaim the name Tenebrae stole from me. Let me avenge my father's death. Let me not die like this… Let me breathe once more.
The intense obsession of a dying soul was powerful enough to consume even a resentful devil. The star resonated, working a miracle that breathed life back into Jeremia.
And so, Jeremia woke up once more, this time in the body of Azazel.
* * *
“My body hurts so much. I don’t think I’m going to die… but honestly, it hurts even more than when my stomach was pierced.”
At Jeremia’s complaints while she tested out Azazel’s body, Pudding, who had returned to his cat form, subtly averted his gaze. Ah. It seemed Pudding had already engaged in a rather… physical conversation with Azazel.
“Are you alright?”
Understanding the many layers to my question, Jeremia hesitated, staring at her own corpse lying on the bed before finally nodding.
“It’s enough that I survived, no matter the means. Thank you, Lady Rohanson.”
Jeremia possessed an incredibly strong will. She was someone who had clung to a thread of life that could have snapped at any moment, holding on until she found a way through.
“You held my hand the entire time, didn’t you, Lady Rohanson? You really are a witch, just like the rumors say. But unlike the rumors, you are a kind person.”
Um… I’m not a witch, I’m a villainess. Actually, I’m not even a villainess. Just as I was about to correct her, Jeremia clasped my uninjured hand. For the record, my injured hand had just been treated by Canna, who had wept when she finally discovered the wound.
Pudding glared fiercely at Jeremia, but then, as if finally remembering that the soul inside Azazel’s shell was the young princess, he snorted and looked away.
“Why is it so disgusting to see him acting so innocent in Astaroth’s body?” Jelly muttered, seeming to understand Pudding’s feelings completely. Both of them were clearly struggling to reconcile the person they saw with the soul they knew was inside.
Shoving the two of them aside as they kept picking fights with Jeremia, I asked the question that had been on my mind.
“Lady Jeremia, could you tell us what happened? Why were you being hunted instead of the wanted Princess Tenebrae?”
Jeremia glanced between Gabriel and me, then nodded.
“Yes. Since Lady Rohanson and Sir Gabriel saved me, you certainly have the right to know.”
And so, Jeremia’s story began, starting from the night of the banquet where the Crown Prince was assassinated. We heard everything, from Tenebrae tricking her into swapping necklaces to the fact that Azazel, the man who dealt the fatal wound, was Bishop Marik’s personal guard. It was a tragedy that had unfolded in just a few days.
“And that is how my name was stolen, and I ended up losing my body as well,” Jeremia concluded, trying to sound nonchalant.
My conscience pricked slightly, since I had played a part in her losing her body by transferring her soul. No, wait. It wasn’t my fault; it was Bishop Marik’s.
It wasn’t even surprising to learn that Bishop Marik was the mastermind who had framed Jeremia and orchestrated my imprisonment.
“Thank you, Lady Rohanson.”
The voice of the young girl who had intentionally bumped into me to smear blood on my clothes was still vivid in my mind.
“Since wicked things are involved, I suppose I may interfere now.”
“Isn’t that right, my lady?”
So was the voice of Bishop Marik, who had pointedly asked me that question while gesturing to my spell circle, which had been drawn so conspicuously at the scene.
At this point, I was certain that the sword I had gifted being identical to the one plunged into the Crown Prince’s body was also Bishop Marik’s doing.
Both Jeremia and I had been played beautifully. If her schemes were this brilliant, she wasn’t just a mastermind—she was practically the final boss. A final boss in a RoFan novel? Seriously? Usually, the “mastermind” turns out to be the protagonist’s father or the male lead. But the final boss of our world is a benevolent nun. Isn’t there some kind of mistake here?
Once Jeremia finished her explanation, Gabriel spoke.
“I apologize, Lady Jeremia, but it would be best to let your original body be discovered by the Emperor. That way, Bishop Marik and Lady Tenebrae won’t suspect that you survived.”
Though Jeremia couldn’t tear her eyes from her original body, her gaze filled with lingering attachment, she quietly nodded. She had put herself down as dense for failing to see Tenebrae’s true intentions, but she was quick to grasp the situation. In my opinion, Jeremia wasn’t dense at all; she had simply trusted people too much, and that was why she couldn’t avoid this tragedy.
Perhaps recalling the events made her sad, but tears welled up in Jeremia’s—no, Azazel’s—eyes. Watching a fully grown man tear up like a child left me with complicated feelings. Now I understood why Pudding and Jelly had been picking fights.
That is Jeremia, that is Jeremia… she is still a young princess… I was busy repeating this to myself when, thankfully, Gabriel changed the subject. Nice timing. Azazel—no, Jeremia—hurriedly rubbed her eyes, wiping away the moisture as if she had never been on the verge of tears.
“Before that, I believe we need to organize our thoughts. I also have something to convey to Lady Evangeline.”
Fortunately, the night was long, leaving us plenty of time.
Gabriel took some paper from Canna and began to scribble something. Jeremia’s eyes sparkled as she watched the black marks appear, trying her best to guess what the drawing was. Seeing her like that, she really was just a child.
“A dog with an axe stuck in its back?”
“It is a lion bearing the sun.”
It was the simplified emblem of the Temple. Anyone else would have accused her of blasphemy for that guess. Then again, wishing for a devil to save her was already a massive act of blasphemy in itself.
“This is a person wrapped in bandages, right?”
“It is a dragon coiled around a sword.”
“No way. Isn’t this spiky part the hair?”
“It is a crown.”
The dragon coiled around a sword was the Imperial family’s crest. If even the Princess couldn’t recognize it, you could imagine how terrible his drawing was.
“Ah! This one is too easy. An earthworm?”
Even to me, the wavy line looked exactly like a squiggly earthworm.
“It is a serpent.”
If it was a serpent, it must represent Azazel. With every guess wrong, it was Jeremia’s utter defeat.
“Just one last time…”
Feeling indignant, Jeremia stubbornly clung to the game. Seeing her so childishly absorbed in guessing was much better than watching her try so hard to act fine earlier. Gabriel seemed to share the sentiment, as he didn’t spoil the fun and quickly sketched something else. It looked remarkably similar to a keyhole. Having seen his other drawings, I could hazard a guess. That must be a person.
Remembering how bizarre the answers always were, Jeremia offered an unconventional guess.
“An arrowhead hitting an apple?”
Gabriel, who had corrected her instantly before, hesitated for a moment.
“…It is you, Lady Jeremia.”