Chapter 142
Even Sion beside him was no longer the flawless figure he had always presented.
“Find a way. Your Holiness.”
The authoritative tone remained, but the sight… it looked fragile, as if he could collapse at any moment.
Of course, that fragile appearance was only possible because of his looks. Without that face, he would have just looked like a beggar.
And then there was Viktor, howling like a beast in front of the coffin.
The Pope felt a dizzying sense of dread.
‘If just one of the doors to that chapel opens, the rest of the mourners attending the funeral mass are packed in!’
For the citizens of the Empire, transcendent beings were like spiritual pillars. If they saw such a divine monster completely broken…
The faith of the Empire’s people would be crushed by fear, and the authority of the Papacy would be shattered.
‘God, grant me the strength to calm these monsters, at least enough to get through the funeral mass safely.’
The Pope prayed desperately, but it was futile. The monsters didn’t care about the mourners.
The Pope regretted it. He should have prayed to God to end the life of his aging servant instead of witnessing this disaster.
When the guests had entered the chapel, everyone had looked sorrowful, grieving in silence.
‘To think the Empire’s only purifier would die so futilely.’
All the past accusations of villainy, blown up by rumors, were forgotten. Not a single one of them had held back tears.
But after the mass began, no mourner cried. Not that they could.
Merely enduring the shocking scene in front of them was overwhelming enough.
Mad transcendent beings tenderly caressing a corpse, begging affection from it—an utterly grotesque sight.
“Odette… we were wrong, so open your eyes.”
They had been the spear of the Empire, the shield of humanity.
No one had ever imagined them collapsing so horrifically.
Most grotesque of all was the Crown Prince.
“Odette, please… wake up. Okay?”
His devastated eyes, red and raw around the sockets and nose, fragile sobs.
Johann had always been strong since awakening as a transcendent at age four. He had long been the Empire’s spiritual pillar.
He had attended countless funeral masses from a young age. Always composed, standing at the front, draping flags over coffins, awarding medals in the face of any tragedy.
Everything related to the Empire’s symbol, absolute justice, noble honor.
“Just open your eyes. I’ll give you the Empire, everything—whatever you want.”
And yet, there he was, losing his composure, sobbing while pressing delicate kisses to a corpse.
For the citizens, this wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was like witnessing a mountain collapse.
Under such circumstances, the funeral mass could hardly proceed properly.
In the end, the Pope awkwardly wrapped up the mass, and the mourners hurriedly left the chapel.
As if fleeing the horrific scene could save them.
Every departing guest regretted their past actions bitterly.
If only they had known how anxious and painful it would be after Odette disappeared, they would never have mocked or laughed at her.
After even the Pope left, only the coffin and three transcendent beings remained in the chapel.
Karl, who had been holding Odette on the way to the chapel, suddenly left for the cliffs as if realizing something the moment they arrived.
In Karl’s eyes, there was no longer despair but a resolute obsession. Some mad certainty that he could reclaim what was his.
As Karl’s overwhelming power disappeared, time finally began to flow over Odette’s corpse.
Sion gazed at the slowly decaying body, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
‘It shone as if it would never die until vengeance was complete…’
Sion recalled those turquoise eyes that had once locked with his. Eyes that captured attention immediately, filled with pride, purpose, and overflowing vitality.
Even the corpse before him now felt like an illusion.
‘No matter how much I hated you, you wouldn’t have died. You would have survived to the end, for revenge.’
Again, he returned to thoughts he had gone over multiple times.
But no matter how firmly he concluded, the body before him was Odette’s corpse.
It was at that moment, as Viktor looked at the decaying corpse, that he spoke in a cracked voice:
“This is strange. This corpse… is it really Odette?”
Sion lifted his head at those words.
“Now that time has started moving, I notice something odd. Damn it. Why didn’t I notice before? Doesn’t it feel like someone… deliberately made a replica?”
“…Colonel Koenig. You seem very tired too. You might want to deny the fact that she’s dead—but”
“Damn it. Your Highness, it’s real, even if it sounds crazy. Look carefully! Even the locket she had is… different from when Odette had it!”
Viktor reached toward Odette’s neck, grabbed the locket, and broke its chain.
Then he showed it to Sion and Johann.
It had been given to her by him. If she faced death, it would summon Sion.
At the time of giving it, Sion could never have imagined that he himself would become that ‘deathly crisis.’
“Something crucial is missing. Normally, when I use my power here, I can faintly feel… something like God’s power.”
Viktor’s voice had grown firm.
“Odette might still be alive.”
His eyes filled with conviction and joy.
Johann didn’t dismiss the words either. It seemed he had sensed something too.
‘Yes. That’s right! Odette couldn’t have died without finishing her revenge.’
In Sion’s mind, the assumption “she might be alive” quickly turned into a certainty that she was alive.
“If that’s true, then I’ll search the entire Empire—”
Tears wiped away, Johann’s expression hardened as if he were ready to stake everything on that one thread of hope. But Sion grabbed his arm.
“No. Your Highness.”
His cracked voice, trembling arms.
Sion didn’t even know why his arms shook—was it extreme fear or extreme joy?
“If she’s alive… she must come to us on her own. We cannot go to her first.”
Even to his own ears, it sounded unpleasant. The voice clung to a messy longing to go find Odette immediately, despite the words.
“We must wait as quietly as possible for her to come herself.”
Viktor, not Johann, answered Sion harshly.
“Of course. Don’t even think about searching for Odette, Sion. You almost killed her once. Only I can find her.”
“Viktor. Move, and I’ll throw you to the ground.”
“As a scared little pup, Your Highness should stay here. I must see with my own eyes that Odette is alive.”
Viktor stormed out of the chapel. Johann followed him, seemingly trying to stop him.
As Sion rose to support Johann, he caught his reflection in the chapel window.
A sight that forced him to pause—a pitifully wretched appearance.
‘If Odette is alive… and she sees me like this if she returns…’
He wished she would pity him, forgive him for having fallen apart after losing her…
‘At least I need to look like a man. Not this pathetic mess.’
Just then, a foreign scent of roses wafted through the chapel.
“Is this… the site of Lady Odette’s funeral mass?”
Sion spun his head, and a girl with pink hair stood at the entrance.
“I wanted to attend the funeral mass too.”
His pupils widened. He realized something in that moment.
“In six months, my purification won’t be necessary.”
Odette had predicted the arrival of that from the start.
The reason she left three months earlier than the six months she had mentioned during their dealings, leaving her revenge unfinished, was connected to the early arrival of that.
Hope—no, the madness pretending to be hope—sparked in Sion’s devastated eyes.
This pink-haired presence confirmed Odette was alive.
For the first time, Sion was grateful his power was useless. Waiting blindly was something he could handle.
He would gladly wait until Odette returned for her revenge.
But Sion never anticipated…
That Odette wouldn’t return for two years.
Even if other transcendent beings searched frantically, they wouldn’t find a trace of her.
Sion wanted to find her more than anyone but endured it with superhuman patience.
Yet his fundamental nature hadn’t changed. One used to control and violence, he wouldn’t enjoy such obedient waiting.
It was only a desperate struggle not to be hated when she returned.
Odette would surely return.
Perhaps she would.
Perhaps she wouldn’t.
Or maybe she had truly died.
Sion, reading through the count’s documents as usual, covered his face with his palm, now soaked with tears.
Two years tortured by hope. He had reached his limit.
For two years, he hadn’t slept properly even once, obsessing over Odette’s return.
Please, Odette. I’m just waiting here for you to come.
Do you not hate me anymore? Do you not even resent me? Then what is the meaning of this waiting?
Sion’s obsession with Odette had matured pathologically, suppressed as it was.
He thought of her everywhere, even saw visions of her anywhere.
But visions were just visions. Odette gave no solace to his desperation.
