12 O’Clock Marionette

Chapter 16

Alright, focus.

I can do this.

“O great and wise Pebula, I humbly ask of you.”

A pure white light unfurls from the depths of my soul.

“Bring a new salvation in the end. Open a new possibility in the conclusion.”

The highest-level spell I can cast.

It was different from anything else I could freely use from the very start.

A massive surge of water, like a waterfall, violently tears through my fragile body, destroying and spilling over.

The body that isn't mine screams in agony, but the flow does not stop.

“Show the path to those immersed in darkness, leading to the light.”

The blinding radiance that violently carved a path finally exploded from the tips of my fingers.

It enveloped the being, whose life was being sculpted against its will.

“One single believer, I ask.”

—Pebula’s 10th commandment: Retrogression.

The pages of the book turn backward.

Back, back, back.

The creatures, whose souls were exploited, whose divine power had been solidifying, regain their freedom as the glass vessel melts away.

The murky green liquid contained inside drips thickly, erasing the magic circle and consuming it.

When the light finally fades, everything at that spot has been restored.

This is the divine power of my god.

The miracle bestowed by the god of stories, Pebula.

...I won, but.

“Huff!”

A 10th commandment, outside the temple?

I should’ve refrained from doing something like this with this fragile body.

“I think I’m going to die...”

I had no strength left to kneel and instead collapsed to the ground.

My whole body screamed, starting from my belly.

‘What the hell? What kind of nonsense am I pulling in someone else’s body?’

To put it simply, it was like a boat meant for ten people was suddenly filled with a thousand, if only for a short time.

It was clear that I would need several days to rest, and the rift between this body and my soul would only worsen.

Was it a mistake?

Maybe I should’ve just crushed the vision.

I shouldn’t have let the emotions of the divine beasts overwhelm me.

Screech.

Suddenly, a sound reached my ears from nearby.

I turned my head, wondering if it was some chick, and saw the Winter Lynx approaching.

Not as a pile of fragmented pieces like a statue, but as a complete being. The baby divine beast nuzzled its cheek against my hand.

It was cold, yet so vivid.

Hmm.

“...Sorry.”

Yeah, maybe I would regret killing it, but I shouldn’t regret saving it.

No matter how much I was a rogue priestess, I had done the right thing.

Even though my body felt like it was on the verge of death, I wasn’t actually dead, so it didn’t matter.

I moved only my fingers and gently petted the divine beast’s back.

“What... did you do?”

A heavy question resonated from above.

It was Cruello.

I wasn’t in the mood for a long conversation right now.

My head was foggy, and my body was too weak, so I gave a short answer.

“I’m not sure.”

“Did you resurrect the dead?”

“Of course not.”

Resurrection? Ridiculous.

What I did, if I had to put it into words:

“I restored its condition. It’s like turning ice back into water. You need all the materials to do it.”

“What’s the difference between that and resurrection?”

“Well, resurrection means dealing with the soul that’s disappeared.”

If I pushed divine power to its limits, maybe resurrection would be possible.

But such miracles aren’t granted to mere believers.

Not even in my original body.

I would have to beg the gods for that, but they wouldn’t do it without a good cause.

“That’s truly the domain of the gods.”

Ah, I can’t take it anymore.

My eyes closed against my will.

Even if I fell asleep here, Cruello would probably take care of things.

Still, knowing he wasn’t on the Elder Council's side made me feel a little at ease.

“Yawn, but why?”

I lifted my blurry gaze and looked at Cruello.

“Is there someone you want to beg for salvation?”

“...No.”

“Then...”

And at that point, as if the light in a lamp was turned off, my consciousness faded.

A pitch-black peace descended.

Cruello muttered, looking down at the sleeping figure.

“I don’t ask the gods for favors.”

Because nothing good ever came from asking them.

He wiped his face with a large hand and then looked down at the small, hostile creature.

The Winter Lynx was bristling its fur and glaring at him.

It was so lifelike that a laugh escaped me.

“It definitely turned into Beatitudo, though.”

Beatitudo.

This item, also called a miracle, was created by materializing divine power, as Siora said.

To be more specific, the material was ancient divine power.

The ancient belief that gods dwelled in all things expanded in various ways, giving rise to ancient gods, divine beasts, and spirits.

Only that primal sanctity could become Beatitudo.

What was created from that became a form of energy that could absurdly increase mana density or perform feats impossible by human strength.

However, even with such an object, it was impossible to bring a divine beast back to life.

That would be another form of death.

Just like a wolf whose skin had already been shed could never be resurrected.

But how?

Can it really not be called resurrection?

The obsessive series of questions kept rising in my mind.

“...Enough.”

Cruello shook his head.

Yeah, I know.

Resurrection is not a human domain.

Siora Bonetti’s actions were so strange that I must’ve mistaken it.

He looked down at Siora again.

He had lured her in to verify whether she really came from the temple.

If she were a priestess, she would react to this magic circle in some way.

The unexpected name that came up:

“Pebula...”

It was a faint echo from ancient theology.

Could such a massive force still reside in a forgotten god?

The more I thought, the more complicated it became, but there was a strange clarity to it.

The Elder Council and the temple weren’t the ones behind this.

It felt oddly refreshing to have all the assumptions I had held for granted shattered.

Snap.

Finally, the Winter Lynx mustered enough courage to pounce.

It bit down hard on Cruello’s hand, seemingly trying to defeat him, but it didn’t even cause a tickle.

With just a flick of his finger, the young divine beast fell into a deep sleep.

Since it was still a cub, its resistance to magic was probably weak.

Cruello slowly surveyed the other divine beasts who were beginning to wake up.

“Well...”

“I’ve already reported this to the temple. They’ll handle it from here.”

Cruello opened a gate connecting to another space.

The one who had held Siora in their arms disappeared through the portal.

It was right after that when the temple's knights burst in.

***

I slowly lifted my eyelids.

The first thing I saw was the dark blue darkness of the ceiling.

I muttered in confusion.

“This feels like déjà vu.”

Is that... my voice?

Did I have iron in my throat or something? I was startled even after speaking.

Could it be that I died again and woke up in a new body?

If that’s true, does that mean the world has already perished?

“Are you awake, Miss?”

A chilling voice echoed from right beside me.

A ghost!

“Ahhh!”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it in the direction of the sound. There was a soft thud as it hit something.

Did I hit? Someone?

Cautiously turning my head, I saw a familiar face.

“B-Betty?”

“Yes, Miss Siora. I’m Betty Flocks.”

“What are you doing there, without even turning on the lights?”

“I didn’t want to disturb your sleep, Miss. Shall I turn the lights on?”

“Turn them on quickly.”

Soon, the room brightened.

Betty tidied her hair, which had become disheveled from being hit by the pillow.

Seeing her pale face, I cringed and quickly apologized.

“I thought you were a ghost.”

“There are no such things as ghosts, Miss.”

“There are.”

“A banshee is not a ghost; it’s a monster.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about a banshee... Never mind, why are you here?”

“Since you were unwell, your personal maid should stay by your side.”

“You’re my personal maid?”

No wonder it was always Betty coming to me lately.

I hadn’t realized until now, but this was a rather obvious setup.

If it wasn’t for nursing, it was clearly for surveillance, and with that thought, my guilt faded away.

“How did you get in?”

“I came in with His Grace the Duke.”

“Ugh.”

“They said you caught a cold from the cold wind, and I didn’t expect you to sleep for two whole days.”

So that was the excuse.

It was just the side effects of using too much divine power in someone else’s body... Wait a second.

“I slept for two days?”

“Actually, it’s been 47 hours, 3 minutes, and 18 seconds.”

“Ugh...”

“A priest came by and said your body is fine. I’ll go bring some food now.”

I watched Betty leave, still in a daze.

I knew using too much divine power wasn’t good, but why did the backlash feel so much worse this time?

I felt even worse now.

A cold chill crept up on me, so I grabbed the blanket and wrapped myself tightly.

Was the last time I was this sick when I was with Amy?

When I lived with Viga... I don’t think I had time to be sick because I was so busy.

I was the only one working in that massive mansion.

Wasn’t this a form of possession? Was that all Cruello wanted—to trap me in the same mansion as him?

I glanced up at the sky, and just as I did, thunder rumbled.

Quickly, I lowered my gaze.

Pebula, I didn’t say anything!

***

I ended up sick for another week.

I had a fever, lost energy, and felt weak in various ways.

It was the increasing rift between my body and soul, but fortunately, I began to recover.

And today...

“Good morning, Miss Siora. You’re looking better today.”

Betty greeted me cheerfully.

“Yeah, I think I’m almost better.”

“That’s good to hear.”

I smiled and greeted her back.

And then—thud!

A pile of invitation cards crashed down in front of me.

How did she even carry all this? I was curious about Betty’s strength.

I recalled past memories and asked:

“Guests from the party?”

“No.”

“Then...?”

“Since His Grace the Duke carried you here, we’ve been receiving a lot of invitations.”

Hmm. I blinked, not quite understanding.

Did she want me to comment on what it felt like to be carried by the Duke of White Desert?

How wide was his chest or something like that?

A fan club for the dark Cruello?

“After the puppet theater, the Bonetti family hasn’t been attacked for corruption either.”

“Betty, you’re bold.”

“I occasionally get criticized for making blunt remarks. But I know Miss Siora will keep it a secret.”

Is this her way of showing trust, or is she trying to play me since I have no connections?

The tangled web of Siora Bonetti’s thoughts led to plans for future revenge.

“There’s a rumor going around that His Grace has fallen for Miss Siora.”

I choked, coughing.

Wait, that really worked?

I wanted to show them the marriage contract I had hidden in my bedroom.

What would they say if I showed them the divorce clause?

No, maybe they would think that’s proof of love.