IPVDRF 11

Chapter 11

“Ugh… Lavalé, oh Lavalé…!”

Lavalé, Lavalé—damn that Lavalé!

I clicked my tongue at the mere sound of the name, already tired of hearing it. Come to think of it, I had never properly set up this world, never imagined its religions or anything like that.

I hadn’t even completed the prologue of this story.

And yet somehow, the novel had become reality, vivid and alive before my eyes.

I carefully avoided the archbishop collapsed on the floor and approached Killian.

“So… how did this happen?” I asked.

“Looks like he tried to open the storage room.”

“Figures,” I muttered.

Outside the mansion, traps were so deadly that even a head could fly off at the slightest misstep, but the interior was relatively safe.

Of course, the kitchen had knives and such, but not a single drop of blood had stained the archbishop’s white robes.

“Good thing Killian didn’t stab him with a knife.”

“W-What do you mean by good thing! Look at me! My whole body is tingling, I can’t move a muscle!”

The archbishop lifted his pale, drained face. His jowls clung to his neck and trembled with every shiver.

“Help me up! Your servant can’t seem to understand anything!”

I immediately glared at Killian. He shrugged his broad shoulders, wearing an innocent expression as if he had no idea what was going on.

“If I touch him, I could get electrocuted too.”

“But when you touched the greenhouse door, only you got shocked. The cat was fine, right?”

Both the greenhouse and the food storage had the same electric magic traps. Since it was magic, the current didn’t affect everyone like normal electricity.

So Killian’s excuse didn’t hold water. To watch someone writhe in pain like that and do nothing?

Could it be… a personality disorder?

“I can get up on my own. Look at me—I was fine after that shock.”

Judging by the archbishop’s state, that was definitely not true. Killian, on the other hand, must possess a body far beyond normal limits.

“What are you doing?! Madwoman, help me up!”

“Alright, alright.”

Killian crossed his arms and stayed put. I had no choice but to reach for the archbishop.

At that moment, foaming saliva dribbled from the archbishop’s mouth, who had just experienced what must have been a million volts.

“Actually… maybe I can get up on my own?”

“Ugh! I’m basically a patient!”

I hadn’t possessed this fantasy novel to deal with this nonsense.

The whining archbishop became unbearable, so I reluctantly extended my hand. He grabbed it firmly and wobbled as he sat upright.

“Ugh… I really can’t get up on my own. Young lady, I saw you give that paladin a miraculous potion.”

The archbishop leaned against the wall, panting and wiping his mouth. Then he spread his chubby palm.

“You’ll have to share some of that with me. Am I not injured too?”

“That’s not possible. The potion is limited, and you don’t look too hurt.”

“My internal injuries are worse than I appear! If it weren’t for your cursed house, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all!”

The archbishop refused to back down. He screamed and demanded the potion immediately.

Killian, who had been silently watching the squabble, intervened.

“If you hadn’t meddled with the storage room without knowing better, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. Right?”

“W-What did you say?! Insolent…! Don’t you know I am the pope’s only son?!”

“So that’s why the pope survived the end of the world?”

“Shut your mouth! My father… my father…”

The archbishop broke off, sniffing, and made sure to glance at me, pretending to look pitiful.

What should I do? Should I share the potion? But judging by how he’s blabbering, he looks perfectly fine.

As I hesitated, Killian let out a soft sigh.

“It’s better to just slaughter pigs that don’t understand anything.”

The voice was melodious but loud enough to be heard as he muttered to himself. He rummaged through the kitchen and found a cooking knife as thick as his forearm.

“W-What are you doing…?!”

“Cooking.”

With an innocent tilt of his head, Killian stepped toward the archbishop. The archbishop, cold sweat dripping from his chin, trembled and staggered upright.

“I… I will never forget this humiliation!”

Wait. He could get up on his own! Killian just watched without intervening, yet the archbishop hobbled out of the kitchen, stomping heavily as he went.

The thudding footsteps quickly faded.

“Thanks, Killian. You saved me.”

“No need to mention it.”

Why did I even let that guy into the mansion? If I could throw the archbishop out right now, I would.

I slumped my shoulders and glanced at Killian. The wrong choice was mine, yet he quietly organized the knives.

“By now, everyone else should be washed. They must be starving outside. Should I make something for them?”

Killian had offered to handle all the cooking, but now there were four more mouths to feed.

I opened the storage room and fetched flour, butter, and chicken.

“Killian, you make the cake for me. I’ll handle today’s meal…”

“No. I said I’d cook, remember?”

Feeling guilty, I rolled up my sleeves to prepare a chicken broth. Killian stepped behind me and gently rolled my sleeves back down.

“Marie, you go rest. That’s my condition for living in this mansion.”

“You’re pretending to be kind, but the truth is you just don’t like my cooking, huh?”

Killian simply smiled quietly. No denial at all—it annoyed me.

“I’ll make lots of cake. I’m going to binge today!”

I stomped my foot and left the kitchen. Even though I said it jokingly, Killian would have noticed I was concerned about the others’ portions.

Heehee!

As I held the stair railing and climbed upstairs, the two horses I had left by the front entrance came to greet me.

“You two need to eat too, right?”

While Killian cooked, I took care of the horses. The two large, gentle black-eyed horses obediently followed my awkward handling.

I led them through the back door to the greenhouse and gave them fresh grass. While the horses munched eagerly, I played with the cat that had followed us.

After a while, one of the horses nudged me with its head, so I returned to the mansion with all the animals.

“How long did that take?”

Back in the kitchen, Killian was skillfully stirring a pot. His broad back in a lace apron looked oddly perfect.

I stared blankly for a moment and then spoke.

“Oh, I just remembered—you said you know my father, right?”

“…I did.”

Even as he concentrated on cooking, he slowly turned to me. That guy, somehow, even used my hairpin to fix his bangs.

But with a handsome face, anything looks good. I ignored the flower-shaped hairpin and asked:

“What’s your connection? Were you close?”

“Not really. I just received his help a few times.”

As always, Killian avoided explaining much about Count Artur. To outsiders, I was clearly the count’s only daughter.

Yet he didn’t tell me anything about my deceased father. Something about it felt off. I felt like I was hitting a wall I couldn’t break through.