12 O’Clock Marionette

Chapter 22

“…I see.”

Cruello paused for a moment, then wiped his face.

“It’s true that I want to get rid of Morion. But it’s just personal vengeance, nothing more.”

The words hung in the air, edged with a barely-contained storm.

Vengeance.

Is he looking for a price to pay for ruining his life?

It was a natural emotion, one that made sense.

“Intent aside, in the end, it will be a good thing for everyone, wouldn’t it?”

He quickly suppressed his emotions and smiled.

The smile was almost too much like a mask.

“Help me, for the ‘world peace’ darling talked about.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

I needed to control my emotions as well.

“Of course, I’m not asking you to work for free. There are limits to human goodwill, after all.”

“What will you give me?”

“Is the revival of the Pebula faith appealing?”

Revival? That was a card I hadn’t expected.

“To be honest, I found it strange. Even the weakest of faiths have a voice.”

“Hmm.”

“But a priest of the mighty Pebula kept silent and locked away in their mansion.”

Ah, I see now. Before I arrived, Siora must have been interpreted as a persecuted believer.

“I only realized after reading ancient texts. If they were careless, they would’ve turned the current temple into an enemy. It was unavoidable.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s little recorded, so it could easily be turned around. With just a little manipulation—”

“Uh, what are you talking about right now?”

“…You don’t know?”

Cruello blinked slowly.

For the first time, he seemed flustered, and that made me feel uneasy.

What’s going on?

“We watched the puppet show together.”

“The Sacrifice of Moromoro? What’s that about?”

“The evil god in that story…”

Wait a second.

Wait, could it be!?

“…It’s Pebula.”

***

Bam bam bam bam!

Trumpet sounds rang out joyfully.

Then, the red curtains parted, revealing the stage.

[The Puppet Show: The Sacrifice of Moromoro is about to begin!]

Wooden puppets with yarn-covered heads marched out.

The puppet in the back opened its mouth wide and spoke.

[This is the tale of an ancient evil god.]

[The evil god harmed hundreds of people and used them as sacrifices.]

[Only the hero, Moromoro, noticed the evil deeds.]

[The holy war began!]

The puppets began to fight wildly.

They were small and clumsy in their movements, but the sound of metal clashing was vicious.

Finally, one of them emerged victorious.

Wow! The puppet raised its sword high.

[Ah, Moromoro has won! The great hero has driven the evil god’s saint away.]

[But.]

[There are still some remnants left.]

The puppet’s head swiveled around toward us.

The fallen puppets struggled to get up and stared in our direction.

For a moment, their eyes gleamed red.

[We can’t leave them alive, can we?]

Suddenly, the puppets lunged forward.

At the same time, the dream ended.

“Ah!”

I screamed and shot up from my chair.

I had been leaning over a desk in the study, so my body felt stiff, but that wasn’t the important part.

Maybe it was fate that I had this dream.

Cold sweat dripped down my back.

“…Siora?”

A familiar voice came from beside me.

It was Gavotte.

He seemed to have been about to wake me up, as his hand hovered awkwardly in the air.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“Don’t say the word ‘evil.’”

“Why not? Your scream was pretty ‘evil.’”

“Ah! Aah! Aah!”

I grabbed my head and screamed.

Gavotte grimaced and covered his ears, but it didn’t make me feel any better.

I was so upset that I threw myself back onto the desk.

“Ughhh…”

“Why are you like this? Have you lost your mind?”

How could you possibly understand my feelings?

It was just past midnight when I returned, emotionally bruised.

I had tried to brush off the offer, but that wasn’t the only thing I had to deal with.

“The evil god in the puppet show, it was Pebula.”

“That’s impossible!”

“…Now I’m starting to feel scared.”

An evil god?

That’s a denial of the very definition of a god.

If the god was omnipotent and evil, they would be a devil, not a god! Who would call such a being a god?

"By the way, that god is my god."

"Sadly, Sweetpea, The Sacrifice of Moromoro is a play based on a true story."

"Of course, since it's a story from hundreds of years ago, some parts may have been distorted."

"But it's clear that people remember 'Pebula' as an evil god."

I glared resentfully at the sky.

Pebula, what are you doing?

I’m the only believer you have left, and you’re letting me face a trial without even sending a revelation?

You only show up when you need to save furry beasts, and now you pretend not to see? Really?

"I don’t know what you’re doing, but this is the last book."

Without any sympathy, Gavotte handed me a book.

The title was Ancient Beliefs: Hundreds of Names, an ancient theological text.

The sparrow perched on his shoulder chirped loudly.

"Didn’t you return the book yet?"

"It’s not a book, I told you it’s Pianissimo. How many times do I have to say it? It’s a bird that has feelings too—"

Ignoring Gavotte's words, the sparrow quickly flew and landed on my shoulder.

It tilted its little head a few times before rubbing its cheek against mine.

It felt like the winter lynx again.

"Damn, why does it like you so much?"

"It likes me because it has feelings too. Obviously."

"Don’t encourage it, Pianissimo."

I opened the book Gavotte gave me and looked through the table of contents.

There was an entry for Recanon, but no mention of Pebula.

I reluctantly opened the Recanon section, but there were only five pages, and there was no mention of Pebula.

It wasn’t just this book; all the theological books I saw in the Count’s library were the same.

How could there be no record of Pebula? What was Cruello reading to make such claims?

"...Was he lying to mess with me?"

That sounds plausible!

Thinking that made me feel better.

No, I’m not saying I’ve become a pervert.

"Who’s messing with you?"

"The Duke."

"I don’t know what the circumstances are, but if that’s the case, it’s 100%. Anyway, this is the last of the ancient theology books."

"Thanks for helping me find it, Gavotte."

"I was just free, so it’s no problem. You, on the other hand, were lying on the desk, clearly much freer than me."

There was a bite to his words.

I had been resting because my heart hurt.

"If you want to learn more, you can go to the Imperial Palace or the temple library."

"No, I’ve already found peace of mind. Don’t add unnecessary options."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Gavotte mumbled with a tone of reluctance, and just then, a knock sounded at the door.

It was Betty who entered the study.

"Ah, Miss Siora, you’re here. Hello, Lord Gavotte."

She greeted us politely and soon held up a vial.

"I found the vial you mentioned last time!"

It was Recanon’s holy water vial.

"Hmm."

I stared at the vial Betty brought over.

It was the holy water given to us by the Recanon Church after the puppet show.

The milky liquid inside the vial...

"It’s the same as before."

It was just holy water.

I had heard that the Elders had framed it, but why was this being treated as poison?

Did someone report it as fake? Or was it swapped out?

Something didn’t sit right.

Just because the ancient church is treated as heretical doesn’t mean that the current temple is going around hunting down heretics.

They just dismiss them legally.

But they would investigate thoroughly... or would they?

I opened the vial's cap to inspect the contents more closely.

And then...

"Ha."

The answer was right there.

***

The short orange hair swayed at the nape of her neck.

The Ninth Elder, Qudil, was nonchalantly reading through some documents.

A post-harvest report—nothing interesting.

Of course.

It was a complete disaster, a mess she had pushed onto Ares and walked away from.

The divine beasts released from the harvest festival were now all taken to the temple and couldn’t be interfered with for a while. And because of that, the temple had been protesting to the Imperial Palace.

If that were all, it wouldn’t be so bad. But an anonymous informant had sent the temple a secret document as well.

The so-called Beatitudo Production Schedule.

Naturally, the temple was in chaos, and Qudil had taken responsibility for the incident.

If it weren’t for that informant...

She squinted, her eyes narrowing with annoyance.

"I swear, it seems like it's that young master. There’s no shortage of people who could secretly take it out."

Julian, who had brought the document to Qudil, responded to her irritation.

"I think so too. It’s easy enough to act like you’ve been brainwashed."

"Right?"

"Look at his actions lately. Acting like a fool over some woman—does it make sense to fall in love at first sight with no context?"

"Ah, that’s right. I heard about that. And I’ve been briefed on her personal details too."

Where did I put it?

Qudil opened a drawer and began rummaging through it.

A few disorganized documents fluttered and fell to the ground.

Well, someone else will clean that up.

After a moment, Qudil found the document she was looking for.

She flipped through the pages, intending to take a look at the woman’s face.

"Oh?"

"Well, suddenly I get it. The young master’s taste is pretty clear now. She’s not just any beauty."

"...Ninth Elder."

"Julian, is she not your type?"

"I..."

Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly.

It was obvious what he was thinking, and Qudil smiled slyly.

"Ah, of course, your type is that stiff one. Wasn’t she 181 cm tall? With her dark brown hair, she looked like some ancient tree."

"..."

"Just kidding, just kidding. You’re getting visibly upset."

Actually, it didn’t matter much.

Whether Cruello was brainwashed or pretending to be—it didn’t change the outcome in the end.

Qudil curled the corners of her lips into a smirk, then lowered her gaze back to the tedious documents.

Ah, this was so annoying... wait, what?

"Did the investigation into Count Bonetti get extended?"

"Yes, it’s related to the Beatitudo case."

"Hahaha, he hasn’t even left the Imperial Palace. Is he really just going to serve time in prison?"

Qudil chuckled carelessly.

It was oddly amusing to see someone unrelated suffer like that.

The last part of the report also amused her.

"Alright, this is being handled smoothly. Let’s aim to extract the sacred relic at the same time."

"I’ll handle the mole planted in the church right away."

"You're good at this, huh?"

Qudil stood up from her seat.

"This time, don’t mess it up."

Stretching lazily, she patted Julian’s shoulder a few times, and his expression grew more tense.

"Go on," Qudil gestured.

Julian bowed his head and left the room.

Staring at the closed door, Qudil smirked.

"A cute fool came from a noble family."