Episode 27
I’m doomed.
Faced with the current state of the world drenched in darkness, I despaired.
I must really be doomed this time.
‘I shouldn’t have gone to borrow the holy relic.’
Even though Ian had shown no reaction to the silver cross I usually carried, I had foolishly assumed this newly blessed item would be fine too.
After all, everyone in the clergy knew how to perform a basic blessing.
I never imagined Ian would be able to distinguish whose blessing it was.
There hadn’t been a single description of that in the novel!
Besides, Ian Brighton was still only fifteen.
‘The divine revelation isn’t for another few years, and he’s been calm for the last three.’
The demon hadn’t stirred. No noticeable incidents had occurred.
No one had been hurt or killed in any event tied to Ian.
That’s why I let my guard down. Fine, I admit it—it was irresponsible complacency.
I thought, “Maybe Ian is still holding onto his humanity.”
That the presence of the demon might’ve weakened a bit.
I thought that… so carelessly.
‘Humanity, my ass. A demon is still a demon.’
Where is Ian Brighton?
He’d disappeared into the darkness that engulfed the entire study.
How do I find him?
The shadows crawling out from the darkness kept grabbing at my ankles, making it nearly impossible to take even a single step.
Whispers and giggles mixed and buzzed in my ears.
I tightly gripped the silver cross hanging around my neck.
“Get out of the way! I have to find Ian!”
Calm down, Sissi. Think. There must be a way out.
This happened to Cecil, too.
In The Sacred War of Heaven and Hell, how did Cecil overcome this darkness?
A prayer…
Wait, wait. There has to be something a regular person could do too.
A candle.
“If you ever feel trapped in darkness, make even the smallest light.”
Cecil placed a candle in the hands of a terrified servant and said,
“That light will guide you out. So long as your will isn’t consumed by fear.”
I dropped to my knees and crawled forward. Something that felt like books bumped against my legs.
This darkness only blocks sight; it doesn’t distort the room’s layout.
It doesn’t erase physical objects.
‘I just need to find where the candles are kept.’
On the desk beneath the window.
There’s a box of matches in the left drawer.
Still crawling on my knees, I slowly made my way toward the window.
“Sissi, come play with us.”
“Sissi, don’t leave. Stay here.”
“Sissi, you said you liked us. Don’t try to run. Stay with us.”
“Sissi, we like you too. We’ll be kind to you.”
The countless whispers tried to pull me in, but I ignored them and focused on my sense of direction.
Eventually, human will triumphed.
‘A desk!’
I reached out and found the candleholder on what seemed to be a desk.
With my other hand, I opened the drawer and fumbled around until I found the matchbox.
Once I held it, the object faintly revealed its outline—just needed to strike it now.
“Ian is angry. You came back reeking of the one who killed him.”
Their voices were harder to ignore than before.
“Ian hates that knight who smells like lilies.”
“He loathes him.”
“He wants to kill him.”
“Ian wants you to love only him.”
“If you grow fond of the lily-scented knight… of ‘Cecilia’… Ian will be consumed with rage.”
“You belong to Ian.”
“You’re Ian’s only one.”
“Don’t betray him.”
“So don’t do it, Sissi.”
I clenched my teeth and struck a match.
That damned shadow knocked it out of my hand five times at least.
“Don’t light the candle.”
Through gritted teeth, I whispered,
“That just proves this is the way out. You’re this desperate to stop me.”
The shadows didn’t reply. Just repeated themselves:
“Don’t light the candle.”
Fwoosh.
A soft sound as flame bloomed.
A tiny light cutting through the darkness.
I quickly brought the flame to the candle’s wick.
As it lit, the shadows receded little by little.
Finally, I could faintly see the floor and my surroundings.
The shadow that had wrapped around my ankles squirmed restlessly but couldn’t get close anymore.
I never imagined just one candle could be this effective.
Gritting my teeth, I followed the light, using the wall to guide me.
What’s happening outside the study? Where is Ian Brighton?
What the hell happened? This is the first time I’ve seen the demon exert this much power.
Something’s gone terribly wrong.
‘Maybe the presence of Saint Cecilia awakened the dormant demon inside Ian.’
But what really stuck in my mind were the whispers from the shadows.
“Ian” hates that knight who smells of lilies.
They treated Ian and the demon as if they were the same.
A small detail, but it bothered me too much to ignore.
He’s only fifteen. There’s still three years until the Ian described in the novel at eighteen.
‘He spent three years with me. We lived peacefully that whole time. Was it all meaningless? Did I not affect him at all?’
A creeping sense of helplessness began to spread through my body.
“Gotcha, Sissi.”
A childlike giggle echoed behind me—and someone blew air at my neck.
The candlelight flickered dangerously.
No, not now! Don’t go out now!
And then—
“—‘Sissi.’”
A familiar, gentle voice brushed against my ear.
I snapped my head up.
A blade cleaved through the darkness.
The shadows screamed and recoiled from the sword’s path.
All the curses and venomous whispers concentrated into one place.
“Die!”
“Begone!”
“Disappear!”
The voices sounded just like Ian’s.
Which made it all the more revolting. I didn’t want the shadows mimicking Ian’s voice like that.
“In a situation like this, to stay calm and light a candle first… you’re very wise.”
There he stood—radiant in the darkness, cloaked in the scent of lilies.
The pure white knight looked right at me.
“Take my hand.”
Of course. He’s the protagonist, after all.
Even makes his entrance in the most dramatic way possible.
I felt like crying, just a little.
“What about the people in the mansion?”
“Luckily, the mansion had just received a holy relic. The steward here is quite a wise man. He lit frankincense in advance and evacuated everyone within its reach. They’re safe from the mental influence of the shadows and darkness.”
How far ahead does that steward think?
And what exactly did the duchess write in that letter instructing him to prepare for today?
“Thank goodness…”
“Now, the only person left to rescue is you. So, here—”
Cecil extended his hand to me again.
“Take it.”
I caught my breath for a moment.
“What happens if I take your hand?”
Not the time for such sentimental questions.
“There’s more than one person who needs saving.”
Cecil’s blue eyes darkened.
“Sissi. I’m sorry, but—”
“He’s my young master.”
“He is…”
“My. Young. Master.”
Cecil fell silent.
And I realized: he knows. He’s figured it out.
That Ian isn’t normal.
‘Well, considering everything, it’d be hard not to figure it out by now.’
But now wasn’t the time to wallow.
The cat was out of the bag. Since Cecil had learned about Ian three years ahead of schedule, I had to act to prevent the worst.
The duchess had recently written that she’d be bringing the family to visit Ian here soon.
We couldn’t let the family’s happiness shatter before it even began.
And more importantly…
I wasn’t about to let my job go down the drain.
“There’s no trace of demonic brainwashing… Remarkably so.”
Wait—he already checked?
“Can you see everything with those eyes of yours?”
“I can discern those who carry darkness. But you… you’re entirely clean. Strangely so.”
“I-I see.”
“sissi, do you love your young master?”
I was speechless for a moment. It wasn’t an easy question to answer.
After a pause that wasn’t long but wasn’t short either, I gave a faint nod.
“Of course… he’s still that young master, but there were good parts too. Good times, for sure. And I don’t think that was some demon’s trick. I believe his human side exists. I really do.”
It sounded almost like a plea.
So please… let him go just this once, Mr. Protagonist.
Just this once—please ignore everything.
A brief silence followed my desperate wish.
And then, predictably, Cecil broke it.
“You trust him.”
Cecil murmured calmly.
“Then I will trust you, who trusts him. Sissi, let’s save your ‘young mas—’”
But his sentence never finished.
Not because of any external force.
He simply stopped out of pure shock—after seeing something.
And for some reason, it all felt terribly familiar.
Just like when I talked to the duke three years ago.
The same widened eyes in front of me.
And then—
Ian Brighton crashed through the darkness and pulled me into his arms.
Just like that day, three years ago.
