Ch#72
“Preparation is complete.”
Azazel, having finished the stage setup as requested, suddenly appeared before Saraka. Right on cue, Saraka had also changed into the outfit Azazel had prepared.
She donned black clothes and buttoned them all the way up, then pulled on a veil. From head to toe, everything was bound in cloth, with only hands resembling those of an elderly person exposed. The lower face that briefly appeared when enjoying tea or snacks was marked with burn scars as well, so it was only natural for onlookers to take Saraka for Bishop Marik.
Saraka called out to Azazel in a voice she had refined her entire life to be indistinguishable from Bishop Marik's.
“Sir Astaroth, shall we be off?”
“Yes, Bishop.”
From Saraka emerged the dignified voice of a middle-aged woman. Her tone, word choice, habits, and mannerisms were all identical to Bishop Marik's. It was a flawless impersonation that would impress even a demon. Azazel quietly marveled to himself: It really seems like Bishop Marik herself has possessed her.
