CHAPTER 65………………….
Owen’s expression froze for an instant.
I stepped inside and slowly took in the room.
A single bed.
A small wooden desk and chair polished from years of use.
A tiny wardrobe that looked like it would be crammed full with just five sets of clothes.
The stone walls exuded chill even in midsummer, and not even a simple carpet covered the floor.
“They said he was frugal… This is beyond frugal—this is abject poverty!”
From what I’d heard while talking with the High Priest, the temple seemed to receive plenty of donations. Couldn’t they take better care of him…?
“Mind if I sit?”
“……”
Owen pressed his lips together, his face stiff.
I shrugged, pulled a chair over, and sat down.
“So, what brings you all the way here?”
“My steward told me the temple wants to build an orphanage on my land. I came to consult with the High Priest about it.”
“…Was it you who donated the site?”
“The temple’s doing a good deed. Who am I to stand in the way? That much, at least, I can gladly give.”
Owen’s expression eased a little.
“Sounds like you’ve already discussed that. Do you have some other business with me, then?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Wh-what business…?”
“Not me—you. You have something to tell me, don’t you? Or am I wrong?”
Owen’s lips sealed shut again. His expression grew cold.
[Lian, you know, right? If you can’t persuade Owen today, he’ll be handed over to us instead.]
[I trust Lord Lian will keep his promise.]
[If you back out later, I swear to hell we both go down together. Gnome, don’t you dare stop me then.]
[…]
The constant telepathy buzzing in my head was driving me insane.
“I get it, so shut up already! You’re confusing me!”
I’d rehearsed this whole conversation, simulated it, memorized my lines—but now I was on the verge of forgetting everything.
I clenched my eyes shut, reopened them, and forced myself to focus.
“Looks like I interrupted. Go ahead and finish what you were doing—I’ll wait.”
At last, after a long silence, Owen’s heavy lips parted.
“…What do you mean?”
“The bandages. Were you about to wrap them, or unwrap them?”
“……”
“Want some help?”
Owen hurriedly twisted his hand behind his back, as though to hide something from me.
“Is your hand alright? The wound looked bad.”
“…I-it’s fine.”
“It sounds like an excuse, but I couldn’t help it. This thing’s… a bit sensitive about my safety.”
“…This thing?”
I nodded toward the scabbard at my waist.
“This.”
“…All I see is a sword.”
“It’s the Ivranche family’s heirloom spirit sword. The spirit inside must have been the one that attacked you.”
“…So that’s why my recovery was so slow.”
Holy power was notoriously ineffective on wounds inflicted by non-human beings.
“So that’s why he was still bandaged—his healing wasn’t complete.”
Just as I thought that and was about to nod, a directive appeared before my eyes.
[Stage 3: (Glare at him) Why did you dare attack me? Do you have a death wish?]
“What? You’re going straight in like that?”
You can’t handle Owen like this! You need to circle slowly, carefully, step by step!
“Damn hack-writer is going to ruin everything…”
Suppressing a sigh, I parroted the directive.
“Why did you dare attack me? Do you have a death wish?”
“……”
“For your information, the spirit sword only reacts to aggression. So, better to be honest.”
Owen remained silent.
Another directive popped up.
[Stage 1: (Smirk faintly) Care to hear what I think?]
[Stage 3: I think you were after my blood. Am I wrong?]
“I think you were after my blood. Am I wrong?”
“…!”
Owen’s eyes flew wide.
[Stage 2: (With interest) Why on earth would a priest need my blood? I wondered and then recalled your last words.]
“A priest needing my blood… Why, I wondered. And then I remembered your last words.”
“M-my… my last words…?”
[Stage 3: (With a cold sneer) ‘I need a dark sorcerer.’ That’s what you said, isn’t it?]
Wait—he really did say that? I thought I misheard!
“‘I need a dark sorcerer.’ That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“…!”
[Stage 3: (Expression ice-cold, smile gone) Don’t tell me you suspect me of being one.]
“You suspect me of being a dark sorcerer?”
The air in the room chilled, goosebumps rising on my skin.
I was swamped with directives, but this wasn’t far off from the conversation I’d planned anyway. I needed to confirm this.
I let a little stiffness slip from my posture.
“That was the conclusion I reached. Now, your turn.”
Finally, Owen lifted his head, glaring straight at me.
“You’re right. I do suspect you. No—more than that. You must be a dark sorcerer.”
“…What?”
I froze at his unexpected words. In that pause, Owen ripped off his bandages.
A hand swollen, red turning to black.
A ring jammed onto his swollen finger.
He thrust it at me for proof.
“Your blood is on this. All I need to do now is check, and we’ll know the truth—whether you’re a dark sorcerer or not.”
I smiled leisurely.
“Go ahead, check.”
“…What?”
“You went so far as to attack me and hide evidence, didn’t you? Then bring out your relic. Now.”
Owen faltered, flustered.
But he soon steadied himself, pulling a wooden case from his desk. Inside lay the rosary given to him by the High Priest when he joined the expedition years ago.
“…Huuu.”
Casting me a nervous glance, Owen drew a deep breath, then touched the bloodied ring to the rosary.
“Don’t change. Please don’t change. If it reacts, this is going to be messy. Please, please stay the same.”
I forced myself to ignore my pounding heart and kept my eyes fixed on the rosary.
When nothing happened, I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Good. Thank god. The blood must’ve been too little to…”
But then—like a cruel joke—the pure-white rosary slowly began to stain black.
“…Shit.”
This wasn’t something I could handwave away.
“I’m screwed…”
No choice. Time to switch to Plan B.
Owen triumphantly thrust the darkening rosary before me, golden eyes gleaming with strange elation.
“See? You’re a dark sorcerer!”
“No.”
“You’d deny it even after the relic changed? Aren’t you ashamed?”
I raised my hand, calming his hysteria.
“Tell me, Owen—have you ever once heard that the Ivranche family possessed a spirit sword?”
“…What?”
“Answer. Have you?”
“…No.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“How should I know?”
“Because for generations, none of us could form a contract with its spirit. We couldn’t wield it. We couldn’t even touch it.”
“…So?”
“So we had to keep it hidden. If word got out, some outsider might form the contract instead.”
“…And why are you telling me this?”
“Think about it. No one could so much as touch this sword. Then how do you think I carry it around?”
“…You’re saying… you’ve contracted with the spirit?”
“That I’m a spirit summoner. That’s my secret. And do you know why I’m telling you this?”
Owen’s face twisted slowly in dawning horror.
“D-don’t tell me… that spirit is…”
“Yes. The spirit of darkness.”
[How dare you, Lian! Comparing our Lulu to those filthy, gloomy creatures? If you’re going to do that, you may as well abandon Lulu!]
[I cannot support you on this one, Lord Lian. You owe Lulu an apology.]
[Kehahahaha, Lulu’s crying now! Getting treated like trash out of nowhere, no wonder! Right, Gnome?]
[…]
Their barrage of telepathic chatter made my head spin.
“Shut up, all of you! We’re at the climax here!”
Suppressing my fury, I delivered the line I’d prepared.
“As you know, relics react not only to the blood of dark sorcerers, but also to the blood of dark spirit summoners. So of course it changed.”
“…!”
Owen’s eyes darted around me, searching, his faith shaken.
“Does his aura really belong to a dark sorcerer…? Or a spirit summoner?”
Owen had never once seen either in his life. Which meant once doubt was sown, his certainty could crumble.
That was his weakness. And it was the gap I’d planned to exploit.
“Looks like it worked. Thank god.”
I was exhausted from the stress, my body heavy, but relief lightened my mood. I had protected Owen.
“Time to wrap this up and…”
Another directive popped.
[Stage 3: (Grave tone) Did you hate me so much you’d slander me like this?]
“Can’t you see he’s in shock? Do this later.”
[Stage 3: (Grave tone) Did you hate me so much you’d slander me like this?]
…Ugh.
“Did you hate me so much you’d slander me like this?”
“……”
[Stage 1: You dare assault a duke of the Empire and then stay silent?]
“…Assault? It was barely a pinprick.”
Still, I was curious why he did it.
“Tell me. Why would a priest, who’s never even met me before, want to kill me?”
“…That’s not it. That’s not it at all…”
Owen shook his head weakly, looking as though he might vanish into dust at any moment.
[Stage 3: (Slam desk and rise abruptly) Do you even realize how serious your crime is? No choice then. If you insist on being uncooperative, I’ll hold the temple responsible!]
“Hack-writer! You’re pushing too hard! Stop it already!”
But the directives didn’t cease.
[Stage 3: (Slam desk and rise abruptly)…]
…And suddenly I had a bad feeling.
Maybe this scene was more important to the story than I’d realized.
“Fine, I’ll play along—but if Owen ends up broken by this, hack-writer, I’ll kill you myself.”
I slammed the desk and shot to my feet.
BANG!
“Do you even realize how serious your crime is? No choice, then. If you insist on being uncooperative, I’ll hold the temple responsible!”
“N-no! The temple is innocent!”
[Stage 3: (Relentlessly) Why did you try to frame me? Who put you up to this? Was it His Highness? Don’t tell me even Professor Rusfell was involved? Speak! Tell the truth, or I’ll burn the temple to the ground!]
“Why did you try to frame me? Who put you up to this? Was it His Highness? Don’t tell me even Professor Rusfell was involved? Speak! Tell the truth, or I’ll burn the temple to the ground!”
Bringing up the temple—and his precious friends—drained all color from Owen’s face.
“N-no! It was me, all me! They know nothing of this!”
“That’s not the answer I want.”
“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you, so please stop!”
Covering his face with trembling hands, Owen began to sob. Between his fingers slipped a broken whisper of prayer.
“O Lord, I have fallen into corruption. I beg You, cast me aside.”
…Wait.
“That’s… the prayer of the apostate.”
Owen had taught me that once. A prayer said only by those who betrayed their god, on the brink of death.
“But why… why would he be reciting that now…?”
Owen pressed his face deeper into his palms, voice sinking into a low, mournful murmur.
“…I just wanted to see Lady Adel again. That’s all.”
“Adel? Adel Helsingten?”
“Yes… that’s right.”
“She’s dead! Calling that an excuse is ridiculous!”
Owen lifted his tear-soaked eyes to meet mine.
“She isn’t dead. We’re going to bring her back.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
Goosebumps erupted across my arms.
