Chapter 117
Director of the prison? He’s really treating the world like some kind of job experience center.
I clenched my teeth, doing my best to keep my expression neutral.
The former warden was based in the capital and had never once shown their face.
Surely he wouldn’t actually reside on this remote island, right?
When a priest pulled out an old book from a gilded box and handed it to El, his expression twisted like he’d just been handed a piece of filthy trash.
“Hmm. What’s this? Feels like some tissue I used and tossed out a thousand years ago.”
At the bishop’s blasphemous remark toward a sacred scripture steeped in centuries of history, the priest stammered in horror.
“B-Bishop! That’s the Divine Triwiki scripture passed down for thousands of years. Please don’t speak of it like that…”
“Did I really nag this much to make a whole book out of it?”
El flipped open the pages at random and began reading in a tone so disinterested it could’ve killed the atmosphere twice over.
It seemed to be some sort of apocalyptic revelation.
“Foolish humans step into the dominions of five of the Seven Deadly Sins—Greed, Envy, Sloth, Wrath, and Lust—daring to stand against the celestial gods, thus they become kin of evil.”
His tone flat and careless, El’s head began to tilt further as he continued reading.
“On the day the Seven Seals break, the world shall face four ends and return to the primordial universe. The omniscient gods, knowing this, send their agents through dimensional rifts… Wait a second, someone spilled coffee here, I can’t read it. What was it again? I know I wrote it simply, but why’s it phrased so pretentiously?”
He raised the book in irritation, showing the stained page, and the priests behind him gawked with jaws hanging.
Does this god seriously not remember his own revelations?
“Throw it away and make a new one. It’s gross.”
He flung the sacred book behind him like it was trash and continued his twisted sermon.
“To summarize that worn-out nag book, it’s basically a threat: ‘If you don’t live righteously, you’ll get split into four and die.’ Managing beings trained in evil is a hassle, so better to discard failures and start over.”
He sounded like some kind of project manager from hell.
Though I’m not sure that’s exactly what he meant.
“You degenerate scum are already in hell, but if you manage to impress God, maybe you’ll get a second chance.”
El turned his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing with a smile.
Was that directed at me?
Enrique, hands neatly folded, had fallen asleep sitting up, and Johann, whom I thought was still napping, had already risen to a sitting position.
Shading his eyes as if staring across a horizon, he watched El and said:
“You know the bishop? The way he looks at you is off. Feels like he’s saying, ‘Be honored, for I’ve come all this way just to see you.’ Total smug bastard vibe.”
The hell? His animal instincts were basically telepathy at this point. I leaned in and whispered into Johann’s ear.
“Remember how I told you Justina was a crossdresser?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s the real body. Secret double life and all.”
“Huh… so he can even change height and build. The Original Justina was tiny. Like you.”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice seriously.
“Now that I think about it, the Crown Prince and Justina were lovers. I bet the Prince made her crossdress to hide his attraction to men. That’s why he went through with a sham political marriage with a foreign princess. Men can’t make heirs, after all.”
Johann had entered full-on conspiracy theory mode.
Not that I could blame him. It made sense if you didn’t know the truth.
He then eyed me suspiciously, scanning me from head to toe.
“You’re not crossdressing too, are you?”
“How would you even…? Want me to prove it?”
“No need, I believe you. But that bishop guy keeps looking your way. Maybe from a distance he thinks you’re some long-haired dude.”
He said it with such conviction, and yet was completely wrong.
I couldn’t exactly tell him El was an actual god, either.
Knowing Johann’s personality, he’d decide that meant he should just go kill him anyway.
Or rather, that is his usual behavior.
“You look like a woman to me.”
He idly twirled a strand of my pink hair around his finger.
His absinthe eyes turned murky as they narrowed.
That soft crescent smile… so harmless, so innocent.
How does someone who acts like a total punk 90% of the time flash a look like that while using me as a pillow?
I felt… weird.
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