Chapter 12
An illusion of Evangeline Rohanson hanging? It wasn’t even amusing.
Perhaps it was due to the strange rumor he’d heard before coming. While gathering information on Evangeline Rohanson, he’d heard a priest’s account of witnessing the dead Evangeline come back to life.
He checked the temple records, but there was no entry on Evangeline’s funeral. When he tracked down the priest who’d supposedly handled a belated funeral service, the man had already hanged himself at home.
There was no suicide note. The house had already been cleared out, yielding no information. He only heard from neighbors that the dead priest had secretly preached to the families of suicides while embezzling temple funds on the sly.
Gabriel boarded the carriage with Raphaella. It began rolling toward the Grand Temple.
“What about Michel?”
“He’s still out of it, just standing in front of the painting. I’m worried he might walk right into it.”
People’s reactions to Jim Nofedi’s painting were polarized. Some, like Gabriel and Raphaella, found it ominous, while others revered it as an angel and deemed it holy.
The knight who’d checked Donau Blue’s corpse with Gabriel was the latter. He blindly believed Donau Blue was an angel and stood dazed before the donated painting in the temple.
The black canvas hanging in the pristine white temple was impossible to miss. Visitors coming to pray gawked at it, some losing their minds. Despite suggestions from Gabriel and a few others to remove it, they were ignored.
To Gabriel, they looked no different from those bewitched by a demon.
“Did you find anything?”
“Find anything….”
Still, he’d gleaned a small hint from his conversation with Evangeline Rohanson. She’d taken only the copied paper of the pattern, not Donau’s corpse. The key wasn’t Donau Blue, but that pattern.
“Lady Rohanson said the pattern is a Summoning Circle.”
“How did she know that?”
“Apparently it was hers originally. Donau Blue stole it.”
“Really? So what does it summon?”
Gabriel briefly recalled their recent conversation.
“She said an angel.”
“An angel? Then the paper we found is right on.”
Raphaella shuddered and rubbed her arms as if chilled.
Donau’s remains in the temple annex were kept in an urn. No need for cremation—her whole body had burned, crumbling at a touch. While gathering the ashes, they found an oddly white scrap of paper.
Bones incinerated, yet how did a mere scrap survive? It was eerily like Evangeline, who emerged unscathed from the fire, claiming no soot.
They pieced together the shredded fragments like a puzzle, revealing the pattern called a Summoning Circle and garbled text. Missing pieces prevented reading the full original, but one sentence was perfectly restored.
Worship with reverence. Welcome the angel of light descending to earth as it turns the ground.
“Looks like it summons an angel, at least.”
Then what emerged from that ominous pattern would resemble Evangeline Rohanson. Holy? No, foreboding. Merciful? No, cruel.
“So the rumors are true? That Donau Blue was blessed?”
“No way. First, Donau Blue tried to sacrifice someone to summon a demon and got judged for it. And we’ll keep that paper our secret.”
Raphaella nodded. If the problem was the pattern, not Donau Blue, removing the painting would advance things.
A Summoning Circle…. He’d heard of something similar.
If it summoned something that granted wishes, such spells had been rampant over a decade ago. When exactly? Gabriel had been young, so unsure. Around twenty years ago, they’d rounded up sorcerers and purged them en masse, he recalled.
He’d need to check library records on returning.
“Raphaella. Have you heard of sorcery….”
Just as he asked in case she knew, the carriage swerved sharply.
Screech.
The teetering carriage barely steadied and stopped. Outside, the coachman soothed the excited horse.
“W-what? Commander, you okay?”
“Are you alright?”
Fortunately, it stabilized quickly—no injuries.
“Hey! Don’t you control your horse?”
“Sorry, so sorry. A cat suddenly darted out.”
Raphaella flung open the door to complain; the coachman bowed frantically.
Seeing their swords, his face paled, fearing a scolding or worse for nearly causing harm. Over a mere cat, not even a person—just trample it, obviously.
But luckily, Gabriel was the type who’d rather injure himself than hit anyone from a carriage. Anyone who’d seen a friend crushed before their eyes as a child would think like him.
“We’re both unharmed, so it’s fine.”
Only after Gabriel reassured him did the coachman sigh in relief. Lifting his head from groveling, he noticed they were holy knights. Spotting the Sun God Rahel emblem on Gabriel’s clothes, he inwardly praised temple knights as different.
After Raphaella accepted the apology and remounted, the carriage slowly resumed.
“Commander. My heart nearly fell out.”
Raphaella fussed, shock lingering.
Gabriel pondered amid her whining. Coincidence that it nearly overturned right when he mentioned sorcery?
***
Rumors had quietly spread of a bizarre holy painting hung in the temple recently.
A devout lady fainted before it and dreamed of receiving the Sun God; the high priest praised it highly and gave the painter a thank offering; it’s the gatekeeper filtering unbelievers.
Rumors bloated through word-of-mouth.
They stretched to the remote convent outside the capital.
“When’s Berga Priest coming?”
“Who knows? Why’s that pervert coming? Hope he never shows.”
“Yeah, true. But he went to the Grand Temple. So he saw that holy painting? Wonder if the rumors are true.”
“Idiot, of course not. So naive.”
Nuns in habits sweeping gossiped until spotting Daisy approaching, then toned down and acted prim.
“Good afternoon, sisters.”
“May the sun’s light always shine on you, sister.”
Polite words, but no nod toward Daisy. She bowed silently, pretending not to notice. As she passed, whispers resumed behind.
“Poor thing. She’ll suffer most when Berga Priest arrives?”
The nuns laughed and joked once Daisy was far enough.
She’d meant to tidy the study today but was too late. Daisy hurried, ignoring the noise.
It’d been three weeks since fleeing Rohanson Mansion to the convent.
Free from the monster borrowing Lady Evangeline’s body and its staring eyes, the world felt peaceful.
Convent life wasn’t bad. New and shy, she was an outsider, but not uncomfortable.
The nuns she’d just greeted were mostly noble daughters. They’d serve God but not bow to commoners. Best not to mingle anyway.
“Hey, Daisy!”
About to enter the study, someone urgently called from behind.
A nun from the earlier group panted. They’d only exchanged formal greetings—why call her?
As Daisy waited, the other spoke cautiously, like facing fragile glass.
“Just heard Berga Priest is back today. If he calls you tonight… don’t go. Got it?”
She’d run to warn her. Surprised by the sudden kindness, Daisy nodded.
“Thanks for telling me. I’ll definitely refuse.”
One flaw in this decent convent: Berga Priest.
He was notorious for womanizing. Rumors swirled of him harassing new nuns, and Daisy had experienced it—true.
Grabbing hands under pretense of encouragement, stroking shoulders. Staring intently. Yes, that gaze. Her sensitized eyes knew he looked at her that way.
He could send for her, so better stay in the study overnight while tidying.
Then the clock ticked to 2 a.m. Seeing the study wall clock, Daisy figured it was safe to return and rose.
At the dorm entrance, a man waited like a lookout. She inhaled sharply. Still waiting?
Not Berga Priest, but one of his fawning monk cronies stuck to his side.
“Sister. Enjoy your night stroll?”
“Lost track tidying the study. I’m tired—heading to bed.”
Daisy reached for the door, but the monk pressed it shut from behind.
“First, Berga Priest has a message. Hear it?”
