Chapter 105
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 105
Despite Saraka’s earnest pleas, Bishop Marik tried to bite her tongue off. Saraka reacted instantly, jamming her fingers into the bishop’s mouth to pry it open. She poured the soup down her throat, forcing her to swallow, then gagged her once more.
I’ll have to get rid of the bread.
At this rate, she couldn’t even risk letting her chew. Blood slowly seeped from the deep bite marks on her hand. Saraka sprinkled some of the holy water she’d brought to wash Bishop Marik, using it to heal herself. Her regenerative abilities were exceptionally outstanding—the very reason Bishop Marik had set her eyes on her in the first place.
Not just the bite marks, but even her old burn scars vanished cleanly the moment the holy water touched them. As the blessed liquid washed the wounds away as if they had never existed, Bishop Marik stared intently at Saraka’s hand.
“Oh dear… I can’t even remake the burn marks right now…” Saraka murmured, looking at her smooth fingers with a troubled expression. Fresh flesh had already grown over her thumb where the bishop had bitten down. Normally, she would have thrust her hand into the brazier without a second thought, but the timing was terrible.
Her long-awaited wish was finally in progress; she couldn’t afford to walk around with bandages on her fingers.
“Bishop, I only want to serve you, but it’s quite troubling when you betray my trust like this.” Saraka’s voice was laced with disappointment. “Would it be better to pull out all your teeth so you can never bite again?”
“Mmph… N-mmph…!”
At her words, Bishop Marik shook her head frantically. She begged to be killed, yet she hated the idea of having her teeth pulled. How perplexing. Then again, she likely preferred death to a life of pain, so in a way, her reaction was consistent.
Bishop Marik looked at Saraka as if she were a demon. But how could Saraka, upon whom Goddess Rachel’s holy water worked so perfectly, be a demon? Besides, this was something she had learned from the bishop herself.
“You did the same, didn’t you? You said it would be a nuisance if they bit their tongues and died, so you pulled their teeth first.”
Saraka still remembered the sight of Bishop Marik pulling out her father’s teeth. Of course, she felt no grudge—only gratitude and admiration—so she hadn’t bothered to pull the bishop’s teeth. However, if she continued to be this uncooperative, it was an option worth considering. Perhaps sensing Saraka’s contemplation, Bishop Marik became incredibly docile.
Saraka did her best to soothe the terrified bishop.
“You want to die, don’t you? Just bear with it a little longer.”
Saraka was no heartless demon; she was more than willing to grant Bishop Marik’s wish one day.
“Once I have made your achievements my own, I will kill you then, Bishop.”
That would be the day Saraka became more ‘Bishop Marik’ than the bishop herself. And that day was not far off.
“Until then, you just need to think about what kind of death would make God most forgiving of you.”
Saraka was truly looking forward to it. When that day came, she would no longer be the daughter of a filthy heretic but ‘Bishop Marik’—loved by God and respected by all.
Leaving Bishop Marik in the basement, Saraka climbed the stairs. She returned to her room and slid the bookshelf back into place, hiding the secret entrance. Being underground often made her lose track of time; she had thought night had fallen, but the sun was still high in the sky.
Unable to look directly at the blinding light, Saraka sat by the window and opened a book to pass the time until the evening service. Sunlight warmed her fingertips. She read slowly, and by the time she reached the final sentence, the sun had set. Her body, now devoid of the sun’s warmth, felt incredibly cold. Checking the time, she saw the service was about to begin.
Right on cue, the assistant priest who usually visited would knock, enter, light the candles, and wrap a blanket around her shoulders.
“Bishop Marik… Reading in the dark without lighting the candles again. No matter how much you are favored by Goddess Rachel, you must consider your age. Your eyesight will start to fail soon. You know even holy water can’t cure presbyopia, right? You must take better care of yourself.”
The assistant priest, who had confessed he joined the clergy out of admiration for Bishop Marik, fussed over Saraka like a grandson tending to his grandmother. According to what Bishop Marik had told her, Harut had also been orphaned in the pagan massacre, and the temple had taken him in. The bishop had doted on the boy, likely weighing Harut and Saraka against each other for the position of the next ‘Bishop Marik.’ No other reason would have warranted her interest. However, Harut lacked God’s favor, so he could never be her replacement.
Instead, Harut was appointed as her assistant. Bishop Marik had spoken so much about him that Saraka had spent an entire month memorizing every detail.
Recalling the gentle tone Bishop Marik used when addressing him, Saraka replied, “Priest Harut. You should be saying those words to Bishop Zabaniya, not me.”
“You must be joking. Bishop Zabaniya doesn’t read, so he’s fine. I hate seeing your name even mentioned alongside that old fox.”
“Priest Harut.”
“Did I say something wrong? I dislike the Commander of the Pararos Knights, but I despise Zabaniya even more. He bled Sir Gabriel dry before latching on to you, Bishop Marik.”
Just how much leeway had Bishop Marik given him for Harut to become so insolent? When Saraka remained silent, Harut realized he had crossed a line and quickly changed the subject.
“Where did Sir Azazel go?”
Harut looked around, gauging her reaction. He seemed puzzled by the absence of the knight who was normally glued to Bishop Marik’s side.
“I have sent him on a brief errand.”
It was still too early to announce his death. Brightening at the news of Azazel’s absence, Harut pleaded with her.
“Then please allow me to escort you to the service today.”
“I would appreciate that.”
Because of the veil pressed tightly over her face, Bishop Marik always required a companion at night. Saraka’s vision was excellent and she needed no support, but she accepted Harut’s arm to reinforce the illusion.
“Ah, by the way, there seems to be an unusually large number of paladins at the service today. Is there a reason?” Harut asked as they walked past rows of flickering candles.
Wondering if the real bishop had never explained it to him, Saraka offered an answer.
“Today’s service is the final one the paladins attend before they begin wiping out the enemy in earnest.”
“Pardon?”
“It is a gathering to seek God’s forgiveness and permission in advance, before they go to slaughter the heretics.”
Harut was speechless. Bishop Marik had told her that Harut was faint-hearted and couldn’t even bear to look at a painting of someone bleeding. That was why he could never be her replacement.
“…Bishop. If they truly receive forgiveness in advance, does killing heretics not count as a sin?”
At Harut’s foolish question, Saraka answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Priest Harut. As I always say, heretics are not human. Therefore, it is something that doesn’t even require forgiveness in the first place.”
Thus, it was only right that her parents had been slaughtered.
*
The funerals for the Crown Prince and Tenebrae were over. The Emperor, who had postponed the proceedings until the assassin was found, had received Tenebrae’s body and held a joint funeral for the father and daughter.
“To hold a funeral for a patricidal child… His Majesty is indeed incredibly magnanimous.”
Of course, this didn’t mean the case was closed. The question was how Tenebrae had managed to kill the Crown Prince. Knights were now thoroughly searching her room, leaving no stone unturned.
“Oh, there’s something here.”
Moving the bed and inspecting the floor revealed a small gap. A hand reached into the crevice, and a floorboard lifted away. Inside lay a worn ancient tome, a bundle of letters, and the carcass of a dead rat.
“…Ugh.”
The knight groaned in disgust. He had thought the rat had simply crawled into the gap and died, but when he flipped it over, he saw its belly had been sliced open and crudely stitched back together. It was clearly the work of human hands—no, it was clear that the room’s owner, Tenebrae, had intentionally hidden the dead rat here.
When they cut the stitches, black hair that looked human and clipped fingernails spilled out. Though they were merely discarded hair and nails, the fact that they had been stuffed inside a carcass made them feel deeply eerie, like severed body parts.
The knight held back a wave of nausea, picturing Princess Tenebrae meticulously stitching the rat’s belly closed, and went to report to his superior. Although the source of the parts remained unknown, the discovery of a grimoire and items that could be considered tools of sorcery made it clear: Princess Tenebrae had fallen into pagan worship.
“Dame Musetta. A grimoire was discovered in Tenebrae’s room.”
“…I see.”
Tenebrae had already been stripped of her imperial status, so the title of princess was no longer fitting. Still, Musetta had almost snapped at her subordinate to address Tenebrae properly.
“What a disgrace to the imperial family.”
“No wonder she was always so gloomy. I knew she had a dark side.”
While the others cursed Tenebrae, Musetta remained silent. Seeing her listless attitude, the knights under her command whispered among themselves.
“Why is Dame Musetta so downcast?”
“Isn’t it because she wasn’t much help in finding His Highness’s assassin? Dame Musetta’s loyalty is extraordinary, after all.”
“True. That makes sense.”
The speculative whispers behind her were loud enough to hear, but Musetta paid them no mind. In truth, she didn’t have the energy to care.
As the Crown Prince’s guard, Musetta had been tasked with investigating his death—a personal consideration from the Emperor. Ever since the Crown Prince was found hanging from the banquet hall’s chandelier, she had thrown herself into the search day and night, imagining the moment she would find the culprit and slaughter them under imperial command.
There was Evangeline Rohanson, locked in the dungeon as a suspect for bringing a weapon, being drenched in blood, and having the ominous aura of Bishop Marik about her.
And there was Bishop Marik herself, whom they were investigating based on circumstantial evidence, even though she hadn’t been in the banquet hall.
But then, the culprit had simply appeared.
The Emperor had publicly announced that Princess Tenebrae had assassinated the Crown Prince. At dawn the very next day, Tenebrae—for whom a wanted order had been issued, dead or alive—was brought back as a corpse. With that, Musetta’s morale was not just low; it was completely shattered.
“Well, they say the Commander of the Pararos Knights was the one who took the credit. No wonder Dame Musetta is displeased.”
At the mention of Gabriel, Musetta’s fists clenched.