Chapter 47
“How could this be…?”
Cardinal Thomas Begetto felt as though the sky was collapsing as he read through the wide range of reports he had desperately but discreetly gathered over the past few days using every resource at his disposal.
The ones concerning the Saintess were especially hard to believe.
“She did what… with the children’s hearts…?”
Thomas, too, had heard the rumors—whispers that there was something off about the current Saintess.
Of course, they weren’t the kind of gossip spread by merchants or thugs in taverns. Still, few high-ranking clerics in the Vatican would have remained completely ignorant.
“The Saintess…”
Once the Pope personally instructed him to launch a proper internal investigation, Thomas had been relentlessly hit by one shocking truth after another.
“What am I supposed to do now…”
He knew he shouldn’t, but the urge to seize her on the spot, chain her to a rack, and burn her without trial surged within him. But the Vatican didn’t operate like that.
And besides, the healing divine power she wielded was widely accepted as visible proof of divine favor.
If he was going to act, he needed irrefutable evidence. Thomas had commissioned a special investigation from a certain organization he had come across by chance.
“…My role is to uncover sin and correct injustice. I must fulfill my duty without fear.”
When it came to intelligence, dispersing the sources at a reasonable level was better for both efficiency and security.
Now that Bishop Fabricio had left a trail, Thomas had to assign someone trustworthy to monitor his movements.
He thought of a man with a flat, indifferent expression. Just thinking of him gave Thomas peace of mind.
“Yes… I need Sir Karl.”
There was another reason Thomas trusted Karl.The knight himself might not have realized it, but a subtle glow radiated from his body. Normal people couldn’t see it, but Thomas could.
The light Karl emitted wasn’t divine power in the traditional sense, but it was enough to suggest to Thomas that some higher force had cloaked him.
***
“Since Del Maria’s death, the Inquisitors have begun to move in earnest.”
A man in a cardinal’s robe closed his eyes inside a shadowy chamber.
“The incident in Stanmore…”
“That has nothing to do with us.”
Richelieu’s words were loaded with meaning.
He was always ruthless in cutting ties when incidents occurred. The more serious the case, the more thoroughly he severed connections to avoid any trace leading back to him.
“And… Sabrina has left the Vatican again.”
“…Again?”
“Yes.”
“Tch. Assign surveillance. Someone whose face isn’t known. If needed, erase all traces.”
“Understood.”
The room went dark again, and the robed man closed his eyes and brought his hands together in a motion resembling prayer. Yet nothing about it felt remotely sacred.
***
Sabrina, who had left the Vatican under the pretext of tending to the weak and healing the sick, soon disguised herself in a pilgrim’s garb, hiding her face and hair.
She brought along Brother Marco, also disguised as a pilgrim, and rode to a small rural village.
In the solitary guest room provided by the village chief, Sabrina, who had waited wide awake until the quiet pre-dawn hours, slowly stood.
She hadn’t even taken off her cloak. Stepping soundlessly like a stray cat, she left the room.
She moved straight toward the village chief’s room and slowly opened the door.
At the creak of the unoiled hinges, her eyes met those of the village chief, who was still lying in bed.
“You’re a pilgrim, aren’t you? Why are y—ggh!”
With a sickening crack, a hammer the size of a fist crushed the man’s skull as he tried to sit up.
Sabrina calmly stepped over his fallen body, opened the door to the adjacent room, and muttered,
“This was supposed to be the kid’s room, wasn’t it?”
She frowned upon finding it empty. She had eaten a meal with the boy, the chief’s grandson. But now he was gone.
Turning back, she glanced once more at the chief’s body. He lay sprawled across the bedding, eyes still open, bleeding profusely.
What she didn’t see was that under the bed, the child had been hiding, covering his mouth with both hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. He clung to his grandfather’s body, stifling the cries threatening to burst out.
“Maybe he went to the outhouse?”
She murmured and walked off. Moments later, Marco slipped silently into the room.
“S-save me…!—mph!”
“Shh! I’ll buy you time. Climb out the open window and run. Understand?”
Nod!
Once the child had slipped out, Marco made deliberate noise as he walked out of the house.
Flinch!
Standing in front of the doorway was Sabrina, who had just returned.
“Marco… where do you think that brat went?”
“Why did you… to the chief…?”
“It’s been far too long since I drank fresh blood… Way too long. I can’t drink it freely at the Vatican.”
He had heard rumors, seen traces, even understood implications— But he had never seen it with his own eyes until now.
“Set it on fire.”
“…What?”
“Set the house on fire. We need to clean this up.”
Marco assumed the child had gotten far enough by now. Soon, the house was engulfed in flames.
“Marco, don’t do this again. If I have to train a new servant from scratch, it’s a pain.”
There was no time to dwell on the fact that she had just referred to him, a monk, as a servant. Marco nodded without realizing it, his mind frayed to the brink.
Does she know I helped the child escape…?
“Follow me. Unless you want to die here.”
They left the burning house. Sabrina mounted her horse without hesitation, and Marco climbed up, drenched in cold sweat.
Sabrina didn’t rush. She let the horse trot slowly. After several minutes of silence, she finally spoke.
“That Free Knight who’s helping Isabel right now.”
“…They call him the Knight of the Lighthouse.”
“Knight of the Lighthouse? What kind of ridiculous title is that?”
“…It’s his alias, used in stories.”
“Really? What a joke. A lighthouse keeper turned knight.”
She looked amused.
“I hear he’s been running around stirring things up with Isabel?”
“Yes…”
“Hmph.”
She snorted and gestured toward a thicket.
“Look over there. Why’s that bush trembling all by itself?”
She pointed with her finger and smacked her lips. Marco, overcome by a creeping unease, couldn’t stop himself.
“God will not forgive this…”
“God?”
She laughed maniacally.
“There’s no such thing.”
“…!”
Marco’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“What are you—!”
“Watch closely.”
Sabrina stepped into the thicket and reached out—grabbing a small child by the throat.
It was that boy.
“G-ghhk…!”
His face turned beet red from lack of air.
“P-please… don’t…!”
“Shh… It’ll be over soon.”
As the child gasped and thrashed, a radiant light enveloped her other hand. She drove it straight into the left side of the child’s chest.
“…!”
Marco was left speechless. The Saintess pulled out the child's heart and, lifting her head, drank the blood dripping from it.
“Bleaargh!”
Marco, unable to take it, vomited.
Meanwhile, Sabrina giggled as she drank the blood.
“See, Marco? Your so-called god still hasn’t said a word. Maybe He’s already dead?”
The light surrounding her made her look divine. But the image was monstrous.
“….”
Marco, now slumped on the ground, watched the horrific scene with gritted teeth and bowed head.
“…Do you think you’re the first demon to walk this earth? Or the last? I won’t fear you. You, too, are just one of many who’ve died and will die. I will not be afraid. I won’t be swayed by evil words. Never…”
But his clenched fists still trembled with fear and revulsion.
***
After accepting the Pope’s commission, Karl followed Thomas’ request and headed with Isabel toward the merchant group managed by Bishop Fabricio. Throughout the journey, there was only one topic of conversation.
“Then the root of the problem within the Order must be either the Saintess… or that Cardinal Richelieu. Perhaps both. They’re both the highest-ranking clergy, aren’t they?”
“If anyone is confirmed to have sinned, I will see them executed.”
Karl hadn’t expected such harsh words from Isabel. He had thought her absolutely loyal to the Order.
“You’re surprised I said that?”
“….”
Karl gave a quiet nod.
“I serve God, not the organization of the Order. If God is truly still watching…”
Her voice was faint.
“If you believe, He won’t turn away. That’s what I think.”
“….”
Karl had never experienced a miracle on Earth. Even things that defied understanding usually turned out to have a scientific explanation. That was the world, the era, he had come from.
Yet, many on Earth had still believed in God. Faith was something beyond logic. Karl had no intention of interfering in that realm.
“For now, it’s best to focus on one thing.”
“…Thank you.”
Isabel bowed her head.
The two of them approached the city of Bracano, where Bishop Fabricio’s merchant group was staying.
Just as they reached the city’s gates, another pair—seemingly a man and woman pilgrim—arrived at the gate from the opposite direction.
The four reached the entrance almost simultaneously.
The stench of blood is thick.
Karl turned toward the source and met eyes as clear and serene as a still lake.
In that moment, the woman’s eyes curved gracefully.
She was smiling. But what Karl instinctively sensed in that smile was a madness on the verge of explosion.