Chapter 148
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 148
Jelly dragged his battered body through the mansion. The sofa where he once lay lazily, wagging his tail as he caught the cookies Evangeline tossed him, was now a collapsed, smoldering wreck. The curtains he had clawed at, pretending to be a real pet, were engulfed in flames.
Spitting out a fresh clot of blood that welled up from his throat, he rescued Daisy and Doline. Just when he thought his work was done, Daisy tried to crawl back into the inferno to find her younger siblings, forcing him to charge back into the mansion.
Jelly met the scorching, sun-like flames with his entire body. ‘They’ loathed fire and water. The raging fire, like an avatar of Rachel, was a flower of holy flame meant to burn them to death. Holy water, the tears shed by Rachel, was a poison that could melt their flesh and drown them.
Humans were such uncivilized creatures, receiving the unconditional love of a god that beings like him could never possess.
But Evangeline was different. Was the sun the only thing that shone in the sky? Though their light had fallen, a light still shone even on this wretched earth.
Had ‘they’ ever felt the gentle warmth crackling from a fireplace instead of a fire that melted skin? Had they ever been anointed with fragrant oils that tickled the nose and soothed the heart, instead of water that burned the body? The sensation of being loved by an absolute being was so special that it was impossible to give up. That was why humans clung so desperately to the Sun Goddess.
And what of sweet names like Jelly or Pudding? The master must think of them as nothing more than sugar candies. There was a reason Flauros had acted so out of character, playing the part of a cat and meowing.
Jelly couldn't bring himself to fawn and bark like that. But he knew what he had to do. Not kill the uncivilized humans, not eat the uncivilized humans—but save them.
Damn it, she cherishes humans far too much. Is Master actually the Sun Goddess? To dare compare a fallen light to the Sun Goddess… The people of the mansion, who believed Evangeline viewed her summons as little more than inanimate objects, would be utterly appalled if they heard his thoughts.
Jelly repeatedly pulled people from the fire until no one was left inside the mansion. In the end, his body was broken beyond repair.
Hena bit her nails as she watched him. Even as his flesh melted away to expose bone, Jelly struggled to save people. Why on earth is that thing saving people?
His handsome, well-defined features had been warped by the fire, and he limped on one foot, likely injured by a collapsing wooden beam. Every step he took left a trail of blood.
If he were human, he would have died long ago from blood loss and pain. The very fact that he was still moving in a state worse than a corpse was proof that he was a demon.
But how strange. To think that he was using that monstrous body to save the people of the mansion… In that moment, Hena felt more like a monster than the demon himself.
Amidst the absolute pandemonium of screams and cries, only Hena remained silent.
“It hurts, my arm! My arm!”
“Olive! Breathe slowly.”
Olive coughed violently, choking on the toxic smoke, while Yago’s eyes turned red as tears streamed down his face. Lantana writhed and screamed from her burns. Having lived with them in the mansion, Hena knew all their names.
“Yulma! Yulma is still inside!”
“Noona, please don't go! You'll get hurt too!”
“Yulma, Yulma…!”
Daisy tried to throw herself back into the flames, crying that a child from her orphanage was still trapped inside.
Because of this… because of this… it felt as if she had become the villain.
But the fleeting emotion was easily rationalized away by the Blessing of Oblivion bestowed by Bishop Marik. Hena led the broken Jelly and the dazed Azazel, who had yet to grasp the situation, and delivered them safely to the Bishop. The exquisite yet vulgar replica had vanished at some point during the chaos. Since many had witnessed ‘Evangeline’ as the culprit, the replica had served its purpose, and Hena felt no lingering regrets.
Jelly pushed his physical limits until he finally collapsed, unable to move. Having lost even the strength to resist, he was handed over to Bishop Marik, who had arrived after being contacted by Hena. The Bishop was delighted, telling Hena she had done a tremendous job.
Hearing those words, Jelly spat venomous curses at her, demanding to know how she dared betray their master and promising to see her in hell.
For a demon, being taken hostage sparked a brief wave of shame. Should I just die? That fellow Flauros would probably tell him to drink holy water and kill himself if he was going to cause trouble for Lady Evangeline. After a moment’s hesitation, Jelly decided to cling to his wretched life just a little longer.
Besides, he was caught while saving people. Wouldn't his insanely strong master come to rescue him? It was a choice based on a groundless but absolutely certain faith.
* * *
Upon receiving the urgent news from Hena, Saraka immediately set off for the Rohanson Mansion, bringing Musetta and her knights along in a hurry.
“Faster,” Saraka urged the coachman.
“Yes, Bishop Marik.”
The letter Hena had sent stated she would frame Evangeline for setting fire to the Rohanson Mansion tonight and requested that Saraka arrest her on that charge. It was painfully obvious where Hena had gotten the idea of purifying the mansion and its household by burning them to ashes. She had taken a page out of Saraka’s own book.
“How hasty.”
Having been interrupted, Saraka was in a foul mood and criticized Hena's rashness.
Saraka had never told her to commit arson. Even without a fire, there were plenty of charges she could use to frame Evangeline. The reason Hena had acted so hastily was undoubtedly her younger sister, Canna.
To obtain information on Evangeline, Saraka had coaxed her close aide, Hena, and planted her as a spy. Thanks to her, Saraka had obtained quite a bit of useful information, such as Azazel's whereabouts and a sample of Evangeline's handwriting. But the name Saraka heard most often was Canna.
Canna, the maid favored by Evangeline Rohanson. That girl was Hena's Achilles' heel.
Saraka had heard that Canna left the mansion after a huge fight with Hena not long ago. With the sister she was obsessively attached to gone, Hena’s anxiety had reached its peak. Perhaps that was why she grew impatient to get her sister back, ultimately taking it upon herself to commit arson without Saraka's instructions.
Or perhaps it was a side effect of the drug Saraka was feeding her. Hena had been half-broken from the moment they first met, and Saraka had only pushed her further. If Azazel had been present, it would have been easier to lure and manipulate her, but since he wasn't, Saraka had to borrow the power of other tools.
The drug worked incredibly well. Since she had also provided holy water, there were no symptoms of addiction. Driven by hallucinations and madness, Hena came to firmly believe that a monster had taken over her sister's body, just as one had taken over Evangeline Rohanson. Saraka had also heard the rumor that Evangeline had come back to life at her own funeral. Thanks to that, brainwashing Hena had been easy.
Of course, to Saraka, whether Evangeline was a demon or not didn't matter. Whatever she was, the only thing that mattered was that she would serve to complete Saraka’s legacy as Bishop Marik. Evangeline had to be purged as the most wicked and heinous of beings. Only then would Bishop Marik's great achievement truly shine.
“Bishop, we have arrived.”
Saraka stepped out of the carriage, escorted by a paladin.
“This is…”
As soon as she arrived, Saraka witnessed the fiercely burning building and the servants gasping for breath, having barely escaped the flames.
Even though many people were still trapped inside the burning mansion, none of the knights asked if they should extinguish the fire. Instead, they surrounded the property as the flames surged violently.
“It looks like not even their bones will remain,” someone remarked in an emotional tone.
Standing behind the paladins, Saraka admired the ecstatic scene, which looked like a slice of hell brought to life. It was a sacred painting depicting the punishment of evil. It would have been even more enjoyable to see with her own eyes; in that moment, she deeply regretted the veil that obscured her vision.
Although she was highly displeased that Hena had acted on her own, seeing such a masterpiece made it all worthwhile.
While Saraka stood by and watched, the one saving the people of the Rohanson Mansion was a man with curly black hair. His face and body looked as if they had been drenched in poison, his skin melted away to reveal raw, red flesh. Having gone in and out of the flames several times, his clothes were scorched, and he was covered in black soot, looking as if he were on the verge of death.
The only things that remained intact were his two eyes.
His strange golden eyes flashed fiercely as they recognized the outsider enjoying the spectacle. The man ushered the younger servants behind him, as if protecting them from Saraka's gaze. How dare a demon pretend to protect humans.
If she hadn't learned his identity from Hena beforehand, she might have forgotten that this man, who seemed so surprisingly warm-hearted, was a devil defying the Sun Goddess.
The sight of a demon saving lives was a farce. Unable to overcome her displeasure, Saraka stepped onto the grounds of the Rohanson Mansion.
Since the master was absent, no one stopped her. The Sun Goddess's believers remaining in the mansion thought Bishop Marik had personally come to save them from the fire, and they clasped their hands and prayed toward her. From among the crowd, Hena emerged.
“…Bishop.”
The loyal knights blocked Saraka's path and pointed their swords at Hena, but stepped aside at Saraka's gesture. Even so, they did not lower their weapons, ready to strike off Hena's head the moment the command was given. It was a blind obedience that paid no heed to the fact that their opponent was merely a young girl.
Considering how many lives the knights had taken lately, adding one more to the pile of sacrificed corpses wouldn't tip the scales. Besides, when such murder was absolved of guilt in the name of God and even elevated the honor of the temple, what was there to hesitate about?
Therefore, Saraka’s attention was not on the knights, but on the maid with a sword at her throat. Hena reached out to grab the hem of Saraka's robe.
“Bishop Marik, I have something to tell you. I am… I’m Evangeline Rohanson's maid, Hena Greenwood.”
At the mention of her connection to Evangeline, the knights' eyes grew even sharper. Few among them did not harbor hostility toward the woman accused of assassinating the Crown Prince and tarnishing the temple's honor by bewitching Gabriel, the Commander of the Pararos Knights. Moreover, the rumors circulating about Evangeline were incredibly toxic.
“There is no need to listen to what Lady Rohanson's maid has to say.”
“No. I will hear her out,” Saraka said, gesturing for Hena to speak. “Yes, sister.”
With so many eyes on them, Saraka knelt down beside her, playing the part of a merciful believer.
“Bishop, the floor is dirty!”
The knights tried to stop her, but they also looked on with respect at the Bishop who would lower herself for a mere maid. Saraka was highly pleased by their gazes.
“Bishop… the fire… I set the fire…” Hena stammered, beginning her confession. Her voice was so quiet that only Saraka could hear it. In truth, she didn’t want anyone else to know.
Saraka wanted to mock her. Look at her, terrified that someone might get hurt and have blood on her hands, even after betraying her master and setting the fire herself. Saraka couldn't stop a smile from touching her lips.
She whispered in Hena's ear.
“You did very well.”
Amusement seeped into her voice, but the half-crazed maid did not notice.
“Really? Was I of help to you, Bishop, and to the Sun Goddess?” Hena looked at Saraka pleadingly.
Saraka knew exactly what answer Hena wanted. Sometimes, those who participated in the pagan massacres would have nightmares and lose sleep. Overcome with guilt, they would come to her and confess their sins.
Every time, Saraka responded with consistent kindness. The reason they suffered was because they thought they had killed humans. But heretics were filthy things that should not be treated as human.
To agonize so weakly was merely a sign of insufficient faith. The consolation of the merciful Bishop Marik, the darling of the Sun Goddess, penetrated such people deeply. Once consoled, they no longer cared about the deaths of heretics.
Saraka comforted the maid. Hena had to testify, so she couldn't look like she had lost her mind.
Bishop Marik took her time, choosing only the sweet words Hena wanted to hear.
“As faithfully as you follow Lady Rachel, Lady Hena, Canna's sins will be lightened.”
So do not be afraid of sinning.
At Saraka's words, Hena felt a great sense of relief.
While Saraka was holding and comforting Hena, a nuisance arrived.
“Bishop, the Pararos Knights have arrived.”