BDKHC 25

~Chapter 25~

“You, you, you.”

Each time Esther’s pudgy little finger pointed at someone, emotions shifted—some faces lit up, others dropped in disappointment.

Banshee’s shoulders slumped when the finger didn’t land on her.

Everyone began to turn away—until Esther’s sausage-like finger slowly moved to the side.

“And you.”

Banshee lifted her head, eyes wide.

“M-me?”

“Yup.”

A red exclamation mark? Esther liked it.

She nodded and turned, as Denver and Shiphon started organizing the crowd like usual.

Esther skipped into the annex’s parlor on the first floor.

“Number 30, this way.”

Those not selected went home. Banshee followed Shiphon carefully into the annex.

“From here, it’s one at a time.”

Denver lined up four people at the entrance, then began letting them in one by one.

Some came out smiling. Others looked stunned.

Banshee waited nervously for her turn.

When the third person exited, it was finally her time.

“You may go in. Just a warning—any harmful or disrespectful behavior toward the young miss will be punished. And… let’s just say the punishment won’t be very human.”

Denver smiled as he opened the door.

Banshee, hands clutched tightly together, stepped in cautiously.

The parlor had an old table and a worn red sofa. Though aged, it was well-maintained and polished.

In the middle of the couch sat a small girl, legs swinging.

Banshee blinked in surprise.

She’d heard all the rumors—“the idiot,” “the discarded bastard”—but this was her first time seeing the girl up close.

‘She’s smaller and more fragile than I thought.’

Her innocent expression didn’t match the cruel rumors at all.

‘Ah, I really want to quit this and kill Migael Enoch and destroy the human world.’

Esther’s golden eyes, slightly lowered, snapped toward Banshee.

Thinking about all the cruel things she’d said before, Banshee’s face turned red with shame.

‘She looks even younger than my baby brother.’

And yet, she’d come here to ask this child for help.

Banshee lowered her gaze, unable to bear the clear, innocent stare.

‘Why isn’t she coming closer? I can’t read from this far. Hurry up—I want to eat a cream puff.’

Esther rubbed her eyes and spoke.

“Why aren’t you coming?”

“Ah…”

Her voice was young and uncertain—far younger than expected.

Banshee, overwhelmed by shame and guilt, burst into tears.

“…Sniff… No, it’s fine. I’ll… just go.”

Esther’s mouth dropped open.

As she stood, the red exclamation mark was still glowing over Banshee’s head.

Now, however, a white one appeared next to it too.

‘My prey!’

And it had become even tastier.

“W-where are you going?”

“I’m not worthy of your help…”

“You are! I picked you!”

Why wouldn’t she be worthy?

Esther had saved her for last precisely because she was the “big fish”—the one with the most work.

No way was she letting this go.

Esther hurried forward and grabbed the hem of Banshee’s skirt.

The moment she did, the exclamation marks turned into a parchment that appeared before her eyes.

[Strange Curse]

Banshee was an orphan, adopted into a warm, loving household and raised as a devout follower of Armos.

Her father worked at a small factory, and her mother did chores to help out. Though not rich, they shared everything and lived happily.

About a year ago, Banshee’s father became ill with a mysterious condition. For the last three months, he has remained unconscious, awaiting death.

His body has transformed unnaturally—doctors were horrified. Some said he was cursed. Others claimed a demon had possessed him. Some even said it was contagious.

It began when he said his legs felt strange. Banshee bought him good herbs—but his legs hardened like a turtle shell.

The hardened area spread—legs, thighs, waist, chest, arms, neck. Now even his face is covered.

When the shell covers his whole body, he will die.

Banshee has searched everywhere and prayed to Armos. But nothing worked.

When her father dies, Banshee will fall. Even if she must abandon her god.**

Esther blinked after reading the whole red parchment.

‘A god?’

So Armos was this empire’s god. She didn’t remember hearing the name before.

‘Is that what they call Migael Enoch now?’

She didn’t recall that nickname.

But the turtle shell-like transformation… it wasn’t something she could easily fix.

‘Red ones really are tricky.’

If she didn’t know the answer, she couldn’t help.

She’d only known about albinism by chance.

But something about this condition felt familiar…

‘Where have I seen this before?’

The déjà vu meant she had definitely encountered it before.

But she’d lived far too long.

Even if she looked like a child now, with her past lives and wandering soul combined, she’d lived over a thousand years.

‘I can’t remember everything—even if I’m a genius.’

Then she noticed something else in the parchment.

‘She’s willing to abandon her god?’

Not bad. Actually—great.

To draw divine power, gods needed believers.

The more faith, the stronger they became.

So, taking away believers was a good way to weaken those annoying gods.

‘Should I just let her suffer?’

Esther folded her arms and thought hard.

‘It’s a shame to waste a red one…’

Surely this maid wasn’t the only one in dire need.

“Are you really going to leave?”

Esther gently let go of her skirt and asked.

If Banshee said yes, she wouldn’t stop her again.

Red exclamation or not, tormenting gods was always fun.

“I… um…”

Banshee stared at her crumpled skirt.

After a long silence, her face still red, she finally spoke.

“Miss… I know it’s shameless, but… can you please help my father?”

Esther looked up.

“…”

Her eyes must have shown hesitation, because Banshee’s own eyes filled again.

“If you want anything, I’ll get it. Whatever it is. My father is special to me.”

“Special?”

“Yes. He’s… very special.”

She touched her skirt and slowly spoke.

“I… I was abandoned by my birth parents long ago. He found me on the streets, starving, and raised me with love alongside my adoptive mother.”

“He treated me no differently than my brother. He was strict, kind, and always honest. I can’t believe he’s dying like this. If I could take his illness myself, I would—gladly.”

Her sincerity was heartbreaking.

Esther blinked slowly.

Suddenly, a memory rose up like a vision—

“Oh, child. You’re hurt. If you’ve got nowhere to go, come eat and rest at my home.”

SMACK!

“Don’t touch me.”

“Haha… Save your pride while you can. If you stay here, you’ll get beaten to death. Is that really what you want?”

That old memory, like a ghost, made Esther stop breathing.