Chapter 8
When you go around performing purification prayers, citizens sometimes thank you by offering money or jewelry.
I always refused, saying I wasn’t allowed to accept such things, but it seemed the other senior priestesses and holy knights quietly pocketed them anyway.
So even exorcisms came with tips.
What a truly astonishing worldview.
Anyway, since I went on purification prayers so often, I managed to save up a fair amount of money.
The funds for escape were ready.
All that was left was to shake off the one holy knight who followed me every time I went out—whether he was there to watch me or protect me, I couldn’t tell.
But today’s purification prayer must have been especially dangerous, because the High Priestess herself personally warned me to be careful.
The problem was that the holy knight accompanying me today was an exceptionally irritating one.
Mikhail Severino, Captain of the Holy Knights.
The man who had stood beside me at my very first execution by burning.
The bastard who had branded me a witch and dragged me away.
Since it was a past only I remembered, he greeted me with a perfectly polite face.
“Pleased to meet you. Saint Shuhana. I am Mikhail Severino, Captain of the Holy Knights.”
“Yes, hello. Captain. I am Saint Shuhana.”
Tilting my head innocently, I asked,
“Are you accompanying me on today’s purification prayer, Captain?”
“Yes. My usual duty is to track down impure energies and execute witches, but today, at the High Priestess’s special request, I have come to protect you, Saint Shuhana.”
“My goodness, for someone entrusted with such an important task to spare time for me—it’s truly an honor. I should offer a prayer of thanks when I return.”
Sevel—no.
Severino, completely unaware of my inner thoughts, continued his explanation in a businesslike tone.
“Saint Shuhana, the mansion you are headed to is filled with evil spirits. Civilian access has been completely prohibited starting from the entrance of the alley. In the past, other priestesses entered that mansion to purify it and were bewitched by the evil spirits, meeting unfortunate ends.”
“Unfortunate ends…?”
I clasped my hands over my mouth, trembling as if frightened.
With a hardened expression, Severino said,
“A priestess bewitched by evil spirits meets only death. Once ensnared, there is no return.”
“…Am I going to die today?”
“It means that if you feel any malicious presence during the purification prayer, you should flee immediately.”
He smiled as if trying to reassure me, but from the perspective of someone who had already been accused by him of being a witch and killed, it wasn’t very comforting.
Yes, I know.
I know very well how little hesitation you have when killing people.
Still, I forced myself to look brave and said cheerfully,
“Knowing that Captain Severino of the Holy Knights will be guarding my back makes me feel so reassured.”
Severino gave no response.
So I stopped talking as well.
The place Severino led me to was the very mansion where I had slept for the first time after leaving the temple.
A massive estate with dark green exterior walls, standing tall amid long stretches of empty land on either side.
The garden grass still gleamed, as if the place were meticulously maintained.
And this place is supposedly full of evil spirits?
When I slept here, I didn’t hear a single ghost munching on rice husks.
Honestly, whatever Mondalla or One-Dalla you people believe in seems way scarier, you idiots.
As always, muttering curses in my head instead of prayers, I casually stopped in front of the mansion.
“Sir Severino.”
“Yes?”
With a solemn expression, I said,
“I will go in alone.”
“…That won’t be possible.”
“No. There’s no one who could replace you at your post. And if something happens while we’re inside together, how would you stop it? Sir Severino… I ask that you stop me, if it comes to that.”
I smiled gently, like a devout and courageous saint prepared to face death.
Perhaps agreeing with me, Severino raised no further objections.
Yes!
If Severino didn’t enter the mansion with me, escaping would be much easier.
While he stood guard at the front, ready to cut down a ‘mad saint,’ I could slip out through the back door and run.
Just as I was thinking that, Severino whispered quietly,
“If you become tainted by evil spirits, I will have no choice but to execute you. Please come out before that happens.”
He sure says things about killing people very tenderly.
I looked up at him.
“That won’t happen. The great and radiant Mondalla is with me.”
Fortunately, Severino waited outside the mansion’s outer fence.
It wasn’t much different from the last time I entered alone.
As if welcoming me, the door opened and closed automatically.
The fireplace was still burning, and the sofa still looked inviting.
Nothing—absolutely nothing—happened.
It couldn’t have been safer.
I went straight up to the second floor and into a room.
I opened the wardrobe, changed into clothes suitable for disguise, then walked to the back door connected to the kitchen and carefully opened it.
Up to this point, everything was going according to plan.
Except for the man standing there, as if he had been waiting for me.
Raphael Winters.
My heart nearly stopped at the sight of this completely unexpected presence.
A gasp almost escaped my lips—but a large hand in a black glove clamped over my mouth.
Why was this man here?
With empty, hollow eyes, he slowly drew a sword from his chest.
The cold blue edge of Raphael’s blade crept closer and closer before my eyes.
With ruby-red eyes, Raphael slowly scanned me from head to toe.
You’re smiling?
Is it funny to you, watching me struggle to survive, you insane protagonist bastard?
The anger that had grown inside me through countless deaths ignited like a wildfire.
Do you know how many times I died because of your regressions?
Do you know how many times I was burned at the stake?
I clenched my fists, trembling violently.
My whole body shook, unable to calm down, overwhelmed by fury.
Repeated regressions drive people mad.
No matter what kind of desperate circus you put on, repeating regressions will make anyone insane.
Gritting my teeth, I glared at him as if I wanted to kill him.
The blade was flashing right in front of me, but maybe because I had died so many times, I wasn’t very afraid.
Raphael seemed to notice that too.
In a very small voice, as if mocking me, he whispered,
“As expected, you do not fear death.”
You’ve got my mouth covered, but you’re free to give your reviews?
Why don’t you just give me five stars and add me to your favorites while you’re at it?
“If you scream, you die. Saint.”
Without lowering the sword aimed at me, Raphael removed only the hand covering my mouth.
The moment my mouth was free, I snapped at him,
“What could possibly interest you about a worthless saint who does nothing but stay in the temple? If you kill me, the holy knight who came with me will target you.”
“Killing a mad saint who broke free of a curse and ran out the back door—what’s so wrong with that?”
Ah.
The records I had seen in the document archive flashed through my mind.
Some saints had been beaten to death for ‘abandoning God,’ but quite a few were simply found as corpses.
At least in this world, saints were people you could kill without consequence.
After all, you could just say, ‘She was being controlled by evil spirits.’
What a damn untouchable class of sainthood.
Grinding my teeth, I stared at Raphael and asked,
“What is it you want to know?”
“…So what I saw at the temple wasn’t a hallucination.”
What is wrong with the way this bastard talks?
He won’t say what he saw at the temple, and he won’t say what he’s curious about either.
If you’re going to start a conversation with a complete stranger, at least begin with “Hello.”
My number one target of resentment is the author who wrote this with a cleaver, and number two is this rude idiot who keeps regressing without even knowing why.
