The Freed Slaves Are Obsessed-Chapter 192: Tightrope Walking (2)

The Cardinal's office in the Congregation of Doctrine and Faith remained lit late into the night.

Marcenus was at his desk, sifting through stacks of documents. For now, his focus shifted away from the papers.

He was waiting for a certain enigmatic nun.

Roman had suggested setting a trap, but Marcenus had a slightly different approach in mind. Before fabricating charges, he wanted to test Elise’s true intentions.

Even if she turned out to be an adversary, she could be a formidable ally if swayed to his side. Elise’s mysterious power would undoubtedly serve the greater cause.

This could be a waste of time or a tedious endeavor.

Still, Marcenus couldn’t shake the impression he’d gotten earlier that day. During their conversation, Elise’s eyes had mirrored his own—a gaze filled with skepticism toward the current state of affairs.

He didn’t know her identity or her plans, but he suspected they might share the same goal. He felt certain they could board the same ship.

Knock, knock.

Speak of the devil.

As soon as he thought of her, a guest had arrived.

Since he’d ordered no one else to disturb him tonight, there was only one person it could be.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Elise entered, still wearing her nun’s habit from earlier in the day.

“It seems you’ve made up your mind.”

“Well, more or less.”

Elise’s tone was noticeably more casual. Without waiting for permission, she flopped onto the sofa.

Such insolence, bordering on blasphemy, would have gotten any ordinary nun dragged away in chains for disrespecting a Cardinal. Yet Marcenus didn’t seem to mind.

Elise got straight to the point.

“I broke into Roman’s lab and destroyed his research facility. That was me.”

“I see.”

“So you already knew. The abbess was in on it, too.”

“She’s what one might call an ally in restoring chaotic order.”

“Same difference.”

Elise sprawled out on the sofa, lazily draping her legs over the armrest, rocking them idly.

Marcenus’s deep, resonant voice filled the room.

“Who exactly are you?”

“Before that, why don’t you tell me what you and your people are plotting?”

“You seem to misunderstand. If you won’t remove the mask you’re wearing, there’s nothing more to discuss.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing is still just a sheep.”

“A shepherd ignorant of the truth might mistake the wolf for a sheep and cast it out.”

Deeming the conversation pointless, Marcenus dropped his gaze back to the documents on his desk.

“I can’t reveal my true identity right now. I’m bound by a spell of servitude.”

Marcenus’s attention snapped back to her.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Are you familiar with the slave trade incident in Haarlem?”

Of course, he was. It had caused outrage among the faithful when nuns were trafficked.

The Holy Knights had even been dispatched to apprehend the so-called Slave Reaper. No report had been submitted yet, which meant they’d failed to capture him.

The fact that Elise had brought it up now...

“Are you saying you’re...?”

“Yes, that was me. The Slave Reaper holds my leash, so I can’t freely reveal who I am. Coming here was something I did behind his back.”

Elise didn’t trust Karami.

He was, after all, the man who had enslaved her.

While he hadn’t subjected her to the humiliation she’d feared as a woman, that didn’t mean she felt any affection toward him.

If anything, his incomprehensible behavior only made him seem more suspicious.

“Help me escape from the Slave Reaper’s grasp. Then we can decide whether to be «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» allies or not.”

“That seems like a proposal that only benefits you.”

“Does it? Then let me sweeten the deal. Recently, the Reaper Church has been making appearances, and he’s their leader.”

“Ho?”

“If you deal with the cult leader publicly, it’ll help maintain order, won’t it?”

She wasn’t wrong.

The Reaper Church had been spreading absurd rumors about miraculous healings, sudden wealth, and other such nonsense.

Its influence wasn’t negligible, even within the Holy Kingdom. Earlier that day, a high-ranking clergyman had even assisted in their proselytizing.

Removing the notorious Slave Reaper as a public example would indeed help restore order, as Elise suggested.

The scales for negotiation had reached a minimal balance.

Marcenus picked up where their earlier conversation had left off.

“There was a discussion during a council meeting once. Why does God remain unseen? What have we overlooked? Then it dawned on me—we lacked a vessel to communicate with God.”

“A vessel?”

“A Saint.”

A Saint.

Elise recalled a priest who had once called her a Saint after witnessing her powers. But no matter how much she searched, she had found no information about Saints.

“What exactly is a Saint?”

“A vessel for the divine. A medium to deliver God’s voice to the world.”

“Isn’t that just a fantasy?”

Marcenus shook his head firmly.

“There are records. When light and darkness achieve perfect balance, the Divine Mystery will manifest. Only then will true order descend upon this world.”

“......”

“Now do you understand why we’ve been so consumed by these experiments?”

“So that’s why you used innocent, powerless children as test subjects?”

“When adjusting the balance of the scales, you remove impurities bit by bit. Sacrificing the few for the greater good—that’s how the world changes.”

Elise fell silent.

Did that mean she was supposed to be a Saint?

She was certainly the sole result of countless failed experiments.

Yet Elise had no knowledge of the Divine Mystery Marcenus spoke of. She’d never felt its presence.

“Would the experiments truly succeed in manifesting the Mystery?”

Marcenus raised a hand, cutting her off.

“This is all I can share based on the information you’ve given me. I pray that you return next time with the qualifications to continue this conversation.”

Marcenus returned to his documents.

Elise bit her lip in frustration, but his gaze didn’t waver.

To uncover more, she would have to deal with Karami first.

*****

Life in a Luxurious Inn is Peaceful

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Soft bread, delicious soup, and high-quality meat—all you can eat. The bed is plush, and the view is impeccable.

Even the air is clean, free of the slightest hint of dust, with the clear sky always welcoming me.

Everything is perfect.

Except for the fact that my roommate is an old man.

I’m an early riser, but Antonius always wakes up before me. When I step into the living room in the morning, I often find him deep in prayer.

Wearing a beige tunic so worn and patched that it seems ill-fitting for a pope, he kneels with one leg to the ground, holding a cross as he prays.

As if answering his devotion to God, a gentle radiance fills the room.

Antonius himself is living faith incarnate. Wherever he is becomes a sanctuary, and the solemn atmosphere naturally compels me not to interrupt.

"Even if I tried to bother him, he wouldn’t react anyway."

In the end, I had no choice but to wait until he finished.

"Lord, forgive this weak servant and keep my heart steadfast..."

As his confessional prayer ended, the light subsided and disappeared. Supporting himself with his staff, Antonius slowly rose, and I stepped forward to assist him.

"Click, click. Doing things that don’t suit you, huh?"

"That’s an illness. When someone helps you, you say 'thank you' first."

"If you’d lived a more virtuous life, you’d have said it first, brat."

"Mistrusting people is an illness too, you know."

Though Antonius grumbled, he didn’t refuse my help.

"Are you planning to promote that bizarre church of yours again today?"

"Unfortunately, I plan to rest today. Given the place, it’s completely ineffective. Not that I expected much to begin with."

The current number of followers of the Reaper Church is around 9,000.

How many of those did I personally convert? Probably none.

Despite my skills, persuading devout believers in the Holy Kingdom seems to be an impossible task.

Thankfully, somewhere out there, people are using my name to recruit new followers, so the count will likely reach 10,000 without me lifting a finger. That’s why I decided not to waste my energy.

"Doing more here would probably get me arrested for real."

"Hmph. It’s too late to be cautious now, brat."

"Excuse me?"

Antonius glanced out the window. Outside, a commotion was growing louder.

Peeking out cautiously, I saw the paladins surrounding the inn.

"Third floor! Don’t let a single rat escape! Surround the place thoroughly!"

The third floor... where I am. Other guests are on this floor too, but an ominous feeling creeps over me. Negative thoughts never fail to prove right.

I tilted my head toward Antonius.

"Old man, farewell. It wasn’t nice meeting you, even for a short time."

"Hmph, you insolent wretch. They’re not here for me; they’re here for you."

"What are you talking about? What could I have possibly done wrong? They’re here for you. Stop avoiding reality."

"If they were here for me, they would have politely sent priests and nuns to escort me, not stormed in with swords drawn."

"Ah?"

"If you’ve sinned, then face the consequences."

With a click of his tongue and a mocking laugh, Antonius slipped into the wardrobe.

And then—

Bang!

"Slave Reaper! You’re under arrest for charges of trafficking nuns. Surrender quietly and don’t resist!"

The paladins barged in with menacing force.

In an instant, they surrounded me and forced me to my knees. By the time I came to my senses, my wrists were tightly bound with rope.

"Wait a moment. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not the Slave Reaper."

"Don’t deny it! We’ve received reports identifying you as the Slave Reaper—black hair, black eyes, and that unpleasant face. There’s no mistake!"

Unpleasant face?

That’s facial discrimination.

But considering how accurately they described me, this wasn’t just a baseless suspicion. Someone must have tipped them off about my identity.

"Who was it?"

Was it Elise?

That would make no sense. If I counterattacked, Elise’s life would be ruined too. Elise values her safety above all else; there’s no way she’d gamble recklessly like that.

The most reasonable explanation was that someone from the black market in Haarlem had followed me all the way to Kassilon.

Unlucky as hell.

The whole world seems determined to screw me over.