Ch#88
"This body is wrong."
Yeremia pieced together the words from the sporadic voices filtering through her fading consciousness. He was calculating how much time she had left before death. The cold voice delivered its diagnosis: no hope for Yeremia.
'I'm going to die?'
Her breath caught in her throat. Yeremia gasped, denying the fact of her impending death.
"I, I don't want to die...."
Never before had she begged so desperately to be spared, forgetting the dignity drilled into her as a princess. Her obsession with life reduced her to this servile state.
Miserable and suffocated by the sharp air pressing down vividly, Yeremia thrashed about. But her body on the brink of death refused to obey, her hands merely flailing in the air.
Then, someone grasped her hand.
'Who is it?'
Who would hold the hand of Yeremia, abandoned by her sister and even by God? With great effort, she opened her eyes.
Between her barely parted eyelids, she saw nothing but a pure white angel.
Silver threads sparkling under the moonlight piercing the night. Beneath them sat a porcelain face.
Yeremia realized the angel's name was Evangeline. It was strange that she couldn't remember the appearance of Evangeline Rohanson, whom she had encountered only once at the banquet hall. How could she forget the moment her lifelong standards of beauty were rewritten?
She had mistaken her for an angel because her features were sculpted too perfectly. What God created always had flaws. Evangeline embodied the human ideal, flawless.
Evangeline smiled faintly at Yeremia. It was beautiful yet ominous. Gazing upon one who moved by her own will without God's gift of life felt blasphemous.
"Do you want to survive?"
"...Even holding the devil's hand?"
Yet it was Yeremia who had summoned the devil. The devil's skin was cold like glass, but a faint warmth touched her from the fingertips caressing her.
'Lady Rohanson....'
Was the devil being so gentle to tempt a human?
Yeremia closed her eyes. Knowing it might be the end, the last sight before her eyelids shut was the galaxy adorning the night sky. A particularly clear voice pierced her blurring mind.
"If you don't want to die, hold on until I find a way to save you."
Evangeline noticed Yeremia's resignation and rebuked her. She was right. It would be a shame to fade away after summoning the devil.
"Let's go to the Rohanson Mansion."
Yeremia knew that when she opened her eyes again, it would be there.
As expected, when Yeremia regained consciousness, she was in an unfamiliar room. The tightly drawn curtains didn't even allow moonlight to peek inside. The room relied on a single small candle, kept deliberately dim to prevent any light from leaking out.
Yeremia lay on the bed. Since they had gone to the Rohanson Mansion, it must be Evangeline's bed. She marveled quietly at how they had escaped the palace with all the imperial knights mobilized to search for her.
Her forehead felt cool—a single maid was wiping away her sweat with a damp cloth. Her striking features might have made one mistake her for nobility if not for her attire. Instead of neatly tying back her red curly hair, it hung loose, and a long horizontal scar ran across her neck. Their eyes met with the owner's eccentric maid, who matched her perfectly.
"Miss. The Princess has opened her eyes."
The maid immediately informed her owner that Yeremia had awakened.
"Glad she regained consciousness so quickly."
Evangeline approached with a candlestick and sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked Yeremia's face.
"Yeremia-nim. I found a way."
The devil spoke sweet words.
The cat in Evangeline's arms acted cute and stole her hand back. Evangeline stroked it indulgently before casually adding,</
