Chapter 192: Tightrope Walking (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 192: Tightrope Walking (2)
The lights in the Cardinal’s office at the Congregation of Doctrinal Faith remained on, long after night had fallen.
Marcenus was at work.
He scanned the documents piled in his hands, then briefly lifted his gaze.
Marcenus was waiting for the mysterious nun.
Roman had suggested setting a trap, but Marcenus had a slightly different idea. Before framing her, he wanted to sound out Elize’s true intentions.
She would be a troublesome enemy, but a reassuring ally. Elize’s inexplicable power would surely be a great help in achieving their grand cause.
It might be a waste of time, a troublesome detour.
But Marcenus had sensed it. The look in Elize’s eyes when they had spoken during the day was the same as his own—the look of someone who harbored doubts about the current state of affairs.
He didn’t know her identity or her plans, but he felt their objectives might be the same. He was certain they could be on the same side.
Knock, knock.
See?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a visitor arrived.
He had given orders not to admit anyone at night, so there was only one person it could be.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Elize entered.
She was dressed in the same nun’s habit as she had been during the day.
“It seems you’ve organized your thoughts.”
“Well, something like that.”
Elize’s tone was much lighter now.
She even plopped down on the sofa without asking for permission.
It was a display of disrespect so flagrant she could have been arrested for blasphemy and would have had no defense; it was certainly not how a mere nun should behave before a cardinal. But Marcenus paid it no mind.
Elize got straight to the point.
“I was the one who went through Roman’s research lab and wrecked his laboratory.”
“I see.”
“Just as I thought, you already knew. The Headmistress was in on it too.”
“You could say we are comrades, working to correct this disordered world.”
“Same difference.”
Elize lay down on the sofa.
She propped her legs on the armrest, tapping her foot insolently.
Marcenus’s deep, resonant voice filled the room.
“What is your identity?”
“Before that, you tell me what you people are plotting.”
“It seems you misunderstand. I have nothing more to say unless you remove that mask you’re wearing.”
“A sheep is still a sheep, even in a wolf’s skin.”
“But a shepherd who doesn’t know the truth will see a wolf and drive it away.”
Deciding that further conversation was pointless, Marcenus lowered his gaze back to his documents.
“I can’t reveal my identity right now. I’m under a subjugation spell.”
At that, Marcenus’s eyes shot back up.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Are you aware of the slave trafficking incident that occurred in Harlem?”
Of course he was.
The incident where nuns were trafficked, enraging the faithful.
The Holy Knights had even been dispatched to capture the one known as the Slave Reaper. The fact that no report had come in yet meant they hadn’t found him.
But for Elize to bring up that incident now…
“You?”
“That’s right. That was me. The man known as the Slave Reaper holds my leash, so I can’t carelessly reveal my identity. I came here without him knowing.”
Elize did not trust Karami.
Of course not; he was the man who had made her a slave.
Although she hadn't suffered the shameful fate she had initially feared, feeling any sort of goodwill toward him was another matter entirely.
If anything, his incomprehensible actions only deepened her suspicion.
“Help me escape the Slave Reaper’s grasp. Only then can we decide whether or not we’re getting in the same boat.”
“Is that not a proposal that only benefits you?”
“Is that so? Then I’ll give you one more special piece of information. The Reaper’s Order has appeared recently. He’s their leader.”
“Oh?”
“Wouldn’t dealing with the leader of a heretical cult in public help maintain order?”
She had a point.
The Reaper’s Order was backed by absurd rumors, like a blind person regaining their sight or someone becoming rich overnight.
It wasn’t as if it had no effect on the Order of Balance. Just that afternoon, hadn’t a high-ranking clergyman of the Order helped spread the word of that very cult?
Making an example of the Slave Reaper, who already had a poor public reputation, would certainly help maintain order, just as Elize said.
The minimum balance for a deal had been struck.
Marcenus began to continue the conversation they hadn’t finished that afternoon.
“A topic once came up in a meeting. Why does God not reveal himself? What have we missed? Then we realized. We had no channel through which to communicate with God.”
“A channel?”
“The Saint.”
The Saint.
Elize remembered the priest who had witnessed her power calling her a Saint. But no matter how much she searched, she couldn’t find any information about Saints.
“What exactly is a Saint?”
“A vessel for God. A medium to spread His great voice throughout the world in His stead.”
“Isn’t that just a fantasy?”
Marcenus shook his head firmly.
“There are records. They say that when light and darkness achieve a perfect balance, a mystic power will manifest. Only when one who can contain that mystic power appears will true order finally descend upon this land.”
“…”
“Now do you understand why we are so engrossed in our experiments?”
“So you used innocent, powerless children as test subjects for that?”
“When balancing scales, one must remove the impurities little by little. The sacrifice of the few for the good of the many is how the world changes.”
Elize fell silent.
Was she, then, supposed to be this Saint?
She was, without a doubt, the single successful subject born from countless trials and errors.
But Elize knew nothing of this mystic power Marcenus spoke of. She had never even felt it.
“So if the experiment succeeds, you can manifest this mystic power?”
Marcenus raised a hand, cutting her off.
“This is as much as I can tell you with the information you’ve provided. I pray that next time, you come with the proper qualifications.”
Marcenus went back to scanning his documents.
Elize bit her lip in displeasure, but his gaze, once averted, did not return.
To hear anything more, she had to do something about Karami first.
*
Life in the ultra-luxurious inn was peaceful.
I could eat all the soft bread, delicious soup, and high-quality meat I wanted. The bed was plush, and the view was pristine.
Thanks to the complete lack of fine dust, a clear sky always greeted me.
Everything was satisfactory.
Except for the fact that my housemate was an old man.
I consider myself an early riser, but Antonius always woke up earlier than me. When I went out to the living room in the morning, I would find him praying.
He would be neatly dressed in a beige tunic—frayed and clearly mended, unbecoming of a Pope—kneeling on one knee on the floor.
As he held a cross and offered his prayers, a gentle radiance, as if responding to his loyalty to God, would fill the room.
Antonius himself was living faith, and wherever he was became the Holy Kingdom. The solemn, pious atmosphere was so overwhelming that I didn’t dare disturb him.
He doesn’t react even if I poke him.
In the end, I had no choice but to wait until he was finished.
“Lord, forgive this weak servant, and hold my heart so that it may not waver…”
The confessional-like prayer ended, and the light subsided before vanishing completely. I helped Antonius to his feet as he struggled to stand, leaning on his staff.
“Heh, doing something so out of character for you.”
“That’s a bad habit of yours. When someone helps you, ‘thank you’ should come first.”
“If you had lived your life diligently, those words might have come out first, you brat.”
“Being suspicious of people is a sickness too, you know.”
Antonius grumbled but didn’t refuse my support.
“Are you planning to promote that bizarre cult again today?”
“Unfortunately, I plan to rest today. As expected, the location is the problem, so it’s had no effect. Not that I had high hopes, anyway.”
The current number of believers in the Church of the Grim Reaper was about nine thousand.
Out of all of them, had I managed to convert even one person myself?
Probably not.
It seemed that even with my skills, persuading the faithful in the Holy Kingdom was difficult.
Fortunately, thanks to the guys out there proselytizing and using my name somewhere in the world, it seemed I would hit ten thousand without doing anything. So I decided not to waste my energy.
“Besides, if I keep this up here, I think I’ll really get arrested.”
“I doubt it. It’s too late to lie low now, you brat.”
“Huh?”
Antonius glanced out the window.
I could hear a commotion from outside.
Peeking my head out, I saw Holy Knights surrounding the inn.
“He’s on the third floor of this building! Surround it completely so not even a single rat can escape!”
The third floor was my floor.
There were other guests, of course, but an ominous feeling began to creep over me. Negative premonitions are never wrong.
I gave Antonius a nod.
“Old man, farewell. It’s been a short time, and I can’t say it was a pleasure to meet you.”
“Hmph, you insolent whelp. They’re here for you, not me.”
“What are you talking about? What have I done wrong? They’re here for you. Stop denying reality.”
“If they were here to escort me, priests and nuns would have come to politely receive me, not storm the place with drawn swords.”
“Ah?”
“If you have committed a sin, you must receive your punishment.”
Antonius cackled and hid himself inside the wardrobe.
Immediately after.
CRASH!
“Slave Reaper! You are under arrest for the trafficking of nuns. Do not resist and surrender peacefully!”
The Holy Knights stormed in with murderous intent.
In an instant, they surrounded me and forced me to my knees. By the time I came to my senses, my wrists were tightly bound with rope.
“Wait a minute. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not the Slave Reaper.”
“Don’t deny it! We received a tip that you are the Slave Reaper! Black hair, black eyes, and that detestable face. It’s definitely you!”
What’s with the detestable face?
That’s discrimination based on looks.
But the fact that they knew my features so perfectly meant this wasn’t a simple suspicion. Someone had snitched on me.
Who?
Did Elize tell them?
But if she did, and I retaliated, her life would be just as fucked. There was no way Elize, who valued her own safety above all else, would make such a reckless gamble.
The most logical explanation was that someone who was at the black market in Harlem had come all the way to Kassilon.
I have the worst luck.
The whole world is out to get me.