Translator: Nox

Chapter 23

Solemn? He looks like a total thug at first glance—where do you see solemnity? Jelly sauntered over casually and stopped behind Evangeline. Spotting Daisy mid-conversation with her, it widened its eyes.

“Huh? You?”

Daisy, recognizing Jelly in turn, grew even paler.

“I-I should get going now.”

Daisy backed away anxiously before breaking into a run. Raphaella called out in bewilderment at the sudden flight.

“Sister! We must go together!”

“It's fine! The carriages are right up ahead!”

The line of waiting carriages was just around the corner. Raphaella didn't pursue, figuring there'd be no crucial info from escorting her the short distance.

“She's gone.”

She stepped back to give Evangeline Rohanson and Jelly space for their chat, claiming to guide the way. All her attention stayed behind.

“Who is she? Ah, that girl from earlier? Hm… we helped each other out a bit?”

“No. I actually helped her. Got her out and we escaped together.”

“Handled the aftermath cleanly too.”

Once again, Evangeline's words were inaudible. Though half the conversation was missing, Raphaella unraveled a clue from what she heard.

It was the answer to her earlier question to Uriel, coming from the man.

This man had aided Daisy's escape from the convent. And he was posing as Evangeline's escort.

Evangeline hadn't known of Daisy's existence. Yet Daisy already knew not only Evangeline but the sorcery circle too—enough to recognize Berga Priest's ritual. But the one who helped Daisy escape was this man, Evangeline Rohanson's escort, who hadn't known her.

Was it his unilateral kindness? Then why was he at the convent? At that exact time? How did an outsider get in?

Raphaella's mind spun rapidly, piecing together inferences toward the most logical conclusion.

As Raphaella's thoughts grew more tangled, a commotion erupted behind her. Straining to eavesdrop on Evangeline's talk, she noticed the murmurs first.

“Fire! There's a fire!”

“Knight! Someone come here!”

“No!”

Screams unfit for the serene, holy Grand Temple. Uriel bolted toward it without hesitation. Raphaella moved to follow but paused, glancing at Evangeline and Jelly. What to do with them? Couldn't just leave them.

“Go on ahead.”

Evangeline spoke as if sensing her dilemma. Raphaella nodded and dashed past them. Fire? A fire? An odd sense of déjà vu hit her.

Raphaella ran frantically toward the noise. Only upon arrival did she realize the familiar spot.

People wailed in agony. No one was injured, yet screams sharp as knife wounds burst intermittently. All stared at one spot. Raphaella joined their gaze.

It was a conflagration. The blaze consumed Jim Nofedi's masterpiece depicting Donau Blue. The painting of a post-fire scene reignited in flames.

Relief at no injuries mingled with chills from the people immersed in the painting's torment. Uriel, who arrived first, stared at them blankly too.

Those writhing in pain spotted Raphaella. They crawled on knees, dragged along the floor, staggered on unsteady feet toward her.

“Knight, put out the fire.”

“Knight, the painting's on fire, fire.”

Each pleaded differently, but Raphaella understood all: Extinguish the painting's fire. That was their sole wish.

‘Really?’

Did she really need to? If the painting burned completely, wouldn't they snap out of it?

That hypothesis held her back. Uriel hesitated similarly. Amid their pause, footsteps approached from behind.

Evangeline Rohanson? The thought flashed before long golden hair filled Raphaella's view.

“Michel?”

“Crazy, why is he here? We locked him in his room!”

She tried grabbing the panicking Michel, but people clinging to her legs and arms, begging to extinguish the fire, blocked her.

Seeing his knights' uniform, they begged him too.

“Knight, save the painting!”

Raphaella instinctively knew Michel would comply. He tore the burning painting down barehanded. Flames leaped at his touch, yet instead of extinguishing, they scorched his hand. Madman—wasn't it hot?

Raphaella kicked off those hanging on her. She shook arms free and stomped feet. She hated striking people, but couldn't watch Michel's madness longer.

“Michel! Snap out of it! Let it go!”

The painting burned relentlessly. Barely half remained. Michel's skin charred red; embers caught his clothes. At this rate, he'd burn with it. Dragging the clinging masses, Raphaella advanced.

“What is this situation?”

A strikingly clear voice rang from behind. It whispered like a corpse in her ear. Heat faded into chills. Something enormous loomed, gazing intently at her back.

Evangeline Rohanson crossed the hellscape leisurely. Those clinging to Raphaella gaped at her, their groans and pained screams halting like lies.

Frozen, souls seemingly ensnared, they stared only at Evangeline, letting her reach Michel unhindered.

Michel, clutching the painting, looked up at her. In that instant, Raphaella witnessed another zealot born.

A figure of pure white, sole color the blazing red eyes matching the painting's flames. What did Michel see in those eyes? Longing, shock, awe, rapture—no adjective could dismiss his emotions.

Evangeline twitched a finger; Jelly, reading it perfectly, presented the Holy Water. Evangeline Rohanson uncorked a bottle and poured on Michel.

One bottle, two—the flames ceased only after many.

The blaze that seemed to devour Michel extinguished easily. In the silence, only dripping water sounded. Michel was a soaked rat. Water droplets beaded on limp hair ends, falling to the floor.

Drenched in Holy Water, blinking blankly, Michel soon collapsed from exhaustion.

“Sir Michel!”

Uriel rushed to catch the fallen man. His closed eyes in unconsciousness looked unusually serene.

Evangeline snatched the painting fragment he'd clutched. Nearly consumed, only the sorcery circle remained.

Evangeline tossed the soggy paper scrap to Jelly.

“Here.”

Watching Jelly catch it deftly made the scene feel surreal.

The others remained dazed. If they'd cried or raged as before, it wouldn't feel so unreal.

“Poured Holy Water on him, so no separate treatment needed.”

Evangeline, standing composed alone, stated haughtily.

***

Whoa… are romance-fantasy folks' morals and ethics for real? I'm drained, like my whole body's essence is gone.

Suddenly Uriel bolted off, and Raphaella shot me these eager eyes wanting to follow, so I said go ahead—and they sprinted full speed.

No matter how fast Uriel and Raphaella ran, we couldn't catch up, so we walked the direction Jelly indicated. Werewolves are canines after all—noses like no other.

Exhausted but trudging on, we found an absurd scene.

Instead of aiding the burning man, everyone's just gawking? Thought they were bystanders filming with phones for social media instead of calling help. Wait, you don't even have phones!

Last time Donau's house burned, they all gathered to watch; now a man's on fire and they just spectate? No ethics at all!

“What is this situation?”

Seriously, what? What's going on? Fire! And it's spreading to a person! Emergency! Where's a fire extinguisher? Oh, none here probably.

Water then—where's water? Recall a fountain in the temple's outer garden. Scanning around, spotted Jelly with water bottles. Eureka!

Gestured urgently; snatched a Holy Water bottle from Jelly. Uncorked and poured. Wished it'd gush, but narrow mouth dribbled. Like a stream! Irritated, gestured again; Jelly smartly handed an open one.

About six bottles later, flames died. Good thing it's not regular water—extinguishing power rocks.

Whoa… close call. Tension melted away. The man engulfed in fire moments ago gazed at me, now damp. Wait… drenched? Total drowned rat. Soaked, he looked pitiful. S-sorry! But better wet than burned, right?

“Sir Michel!”

Guess not. Uriel barely caught him as he fainted. Raphaella glared like I was a thug. Hey, I put out the fire—why the hate? Even Jelly looked hurt, so I averted my eyes quietly.

So unfair. Did nothing wrong, treated like a criminal—might as well act shameless. Think I just poured water? Holy Water!

“Poured Holy Water on him, so no separate treatment needed.”