Chapter 122
“He tried to convert me with food. Called it a test of gluttony. Gave me poisoned dishes, basically.”
So I told just the tiniest sliver of truth.
I couldn’t risk revealing the divine classified info that El was an actual god. Who knows what catastrophe that would trigger?
I added with a sweet smile,
“It looked really good. If it weren’t poisoned, I’d have smuggled some out.”
That part was completely sincere.
Enrique stared at me blankly, his gaze briefly dropping before returning to meet mine.
His eyes narrowed, the skin beneath his lashes softening.
“So when you saw delicious food… you thought of me?”
How did he reach that conclusion?
“Yes, I did.”
That too was the truth.
It had been for solidarity and camaraderie with the prison’s top dogs… and, well…
As I silently ticked through the reasons, his handsome face suddenly leaned in close.
“You know what?”
“I don’t.”
Sensing something off in the air, I instinctively leaned back as I answered.
The distance I gained was instantly closed again.
So close now our noses could’ve brushed, he whispered.
“The reason I chose to work with you.”
“Because you need my ability?”
I held my breath and listed the most probable guesses.
“Well, that too.”
Enrique’s slender fingers slipped between mine and laced tightly together.
Wow. What cold hands.
And why is he suddenly wrapping his hands around mine?
Before I could sort the confusion, his voice melted into me like a spell.
“Whenever I touch you, I just… feel good.”
“Uh…”
His eyes curved like a crescent moon, edges tinged red, and for a moment, my brain stalled.
That line… It was from that one chapter in the original story, the one titled something like ‘Redemption’, the one I bookmarked on sight without even reading further.
“And why does it feel good?”
“Yesterday, I felt weird. When you went to see the Bishop.”
Why? Enrique still wore that gentle smile as he continued.
“I heard you and Johann whispering. Something about Justina actually being a man.”
“Ah, yeah. Bishop El was Justina’s true form.”
He must have overheard our conversation last night while pretending to sleep.
He didn’t seem too surprised by the revelation.
Still lacking a proper answer, I asked again:
“But why does it feel good every time we touch…?”
“Lady Number 49, did you ever kill someone with a purification ability before you gained your own power?”
He kept cutting off my questions to throw his in.
Why am I the one being interrogated like a murderer?
Still, I decided to respond calmly, maintaining both patience and grace.
“No. The abilities I stole were weapon enhancement and hallucinations. And before I got here… I don’t think I ever committed murder? I’m not that bad. Most of them were manslaughter, technically.”
Only two cases, and one of them was an accident, so yeah, mostly.
Strictly speaking, the first one I killed was partially self-defense.
And sure, I may have socially destroyed or half-ruined some people before coming here, but they all deserved it.
Enrique, still holding my hand, gently ran his thumb along the back of it.
“Whenever we touch, I feel… stable. The only person who ever triggered that sort of responsive purification was Justina. Could it be a byproduct of the demon’s power?”
Come to think of it, every time I woke up, Johann and Enrique were snuggled up front and back like bookends.
Waking up sandwiched between two big guys was becoming a pattern.
Is there some instinctual pull toward purification-type abilities?
Enrique mused aloud.
“It feels kinda like Justina’s edification.”
“Haha… You’re not seriously accusing me of murdering the saint, right? She’s very much alive, you know.”
…Been dead for a while, actually.
I sighed and added.
“Besides, my purification ability is more of a passive thing. It’s not that effective.”
Enrique nodded silently.
“Still, if I stay close to you, maybe I won’t need the saint’s edification at all.”
What, is there some cumulative effect I don’t know about?
I felt the soft press of his cheek against the back of my hand.
Resting his face in my palm, Enrique gave a sweet, eye-smiling grin.
“I’d like you to touch me every day.”
I stared in silence at his expression, as pure as a boy’s, soft like a breeze.
Why’d he suddenly go from composed psycho to ethereal soft boy?
And why does his voice sound so suggestive?
“New arrival!”
The clang of iron bars and the guard’s shout snapped me out of it.
So they were replenishing the inmate count to replace the dead ones.
“Finally…”
I spotted someone and couldn’t stop the smile crawling up my lips.
Among the stream of incoming prisoners, bound in chains:
A red-haired, blue-eyed man.
A blonde woman with faint streaks of pink dye still clinging to her roots.
Enoch Mare and Viviana Laurent.
Unlike their triumphant exit, they now looked haggard and shabby.
What swelled in my chest wasn’t rage.
Not betrayal. Not heartbreak. Not even that old ache from when they cheated on me.
No, what filled me now was euphoria. Thrill.
My perfectly-timed chance for revenge had finally arrived.
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