Chapter 135 – The Saintess and Her Guardian (13)

Ｒｅａ​ｄ ｏｎ Ｋａ​ｔＲｅａｄｉｎｇ​Ｃａｆｅ

Just when Cecilia thought she could finally perform a miracle, she found herself facing yet another ordeal.

The longer she prayed, the more her legs cramped. Holding her hands together in front of her nose made her shoulders ache. And as if that weren’t enough, drowsiness swept over her like a wave, disrupting her focus.

Cecilia stopped praying and slumped against the headboard of the bed.

Even though all she had done was pray quietly, she felt as though her mind and body were withering away.

“Angel, how do I pray properly?”

Her halo pulsed faintly in response.

[I will incline my ear to your words. Truly seek. Cry out fervently.]

More cryptic nonsense.

The angel’s answer only chipped away further at Cecilia’s enthusiasm.

“Mister, wake up. I know you’re faking it.”

“…….”

Hearing his voice might have given her strength, but no such miracle occurred.

Instead, his corpse-like pallor only made her more anxious.

Was he… dead?

She thought about checking his breathing, but the memory of the fangs from her dream made her hesitate.

Whenever Cecilia found herself in trouble, he had always been the one to save her. Maybe this time, too…?

But that would be the real miracle.

She had always been the one relying on him—now it was her turn to save him. She knew she had to perform a miracle, but not knowing how was driving her insane.

Truly, truly, I say unto thee: Pray. Without faith, no true fruit shall be borne. Upon faith, love shall blossom. Upon love, devotion shall bear fruit.’

Cecilia mulled over the angel’s words.

She understood the part about praying. That much was clear.

But how did love blossom upon faith? How did devotion bear fruit upon love? To Cecilia, who had only ever doodled in scripture to pass time during boring sermons, these phrases were unfamiliar and incomprehensible.

She had stormed out yesterday, declaring she’d perform the miracle herself… but now, even that felt impossible.

If she could just avoid trembling in front of that scarred man, it would be a miracle in itself.

Without the angel’s power, Cecilia was just an ordinary seventeen-year-old girl.

Even when she had tried to unleash holy power against the paladins, the angel had obeyed her. So why couldn’t it attack the witch?

Shouldn’t it be the opposite—able to attack the witch but not the paladins? The more she thought about it, the less sense it made.

Why does the witch want to eat him?

Why him, of all people?

He always reeked of bachelor stench and rarely washed, making him far from an appealing meal.

There had to be another reason…

Maybe he had been caught ogling the witch’s chest and got cursed for it?

That seemed plausible.

“Mister, did you… flirt with the witch and end up like this? If that’s the case, forget about miracles, I’ll let you rot.”

“…….”

“You had a perfectly good Saintess waiting for you, and you still got distracted? Really?”

Cecilia lifted her head from the headboard and glared at him accusingly.

Pray.

If she wanted to interrogate him, she first had to perform a miracle, and for that, she needed to pray.

So Cecilia knelt again, clasped her hands together, and prayed.

‘Mister, I won’t let you become witch food… If anyone’s gonna eat you, it’s me!’

Forget about God. Forget about miracles.

Unlike her usual prayers, this time, she poured everything into calling out to him in her heart. That was her true prayer.

‘If even this doesn’t work, I’m dunking this halo in sewage.’

She screwed her eyes shut so hard her face twisted.

 

---

 

[Drink the blood.]

Gray was tormented by the whispers of the demon. He wasn’t dead yet, but he wasn’t exactly alive either.

No matter how hard he tried to block it out, the demon’s voice echoed in his ears. Wherever he looked, strands of crimson hair, like spiderwebs, stretched endlessly around him.

“A dream…?”

Gray immediately realized he was dreaming. If this were reality, he wouldn’t be in Cecilia’s bedroom.

“Or… did I die and go to hell…? I wasn’t that sinful.”

Especially since the one lying in bed wasn’t Cecilia—but a demon.

He tried to recall his last memories.

He had desperately tried to survive, confessing to the demon… before being bitten. The demon’s fangs were sharper than he’d expected, and he’d lost consciousness immediately.

Maybe dying would’ve been better.

Having witnessed the fates of those bitten by demons before, Gray wasn’t thrilled with his current situation.

His refusal to leave Cecilia behind had led him to the worst possible outcome.

“Not coming in? Quite the self-control for someone who claimed to adore me.”

The demon fluttered the sheets, beckoning him—completely naked. Under normal circumstances, Gray would’ve considered this a windfall and jumped right in. But this was a demon.

And if Cecilia somehow found out he’d slept with a demon…

Whether this was a dream or hell, Gray had no doubt Cecilia would somehow know. So he kept his distance.

“Sorry. That confession was a lie. Desperate times, you know?”

“I already knew you had your eyes on another girl the moment I bit you. A rather cute one, at that.”

The demon waved her hand, and blood surged from the ground, taking the shape of Cecilia. Aside from being entirely crimson, it was her in every detail.

“I can read my thralls’ memories. How much that girl adores you. How much you’ve done for her.”

The demon rose from the bed and slowly approached Gray. For every step she took, he retreated two—until his back hit the wall.

“You have a task. Whether you tear out her throat or that pink haired woman’s—offer a woman’s body to me.”

“Why not do it yourself? This old man is not into biting people. Mind letting this old man go?”

He didn’t understand why such a powerful demon needed him to do this.

“Unfortunately, my body is currently sealed. As much as I’d love to tear that woman apart for taking the Black Knight from me, it’s impossible. And I can’t risk repulsing him by using some smelly man’s body.”

“And if I refuse…?”

“You’re already my thrall—we’re in the same boat now. How disappointing.”

The demon’s hair lashed out, wrapping around Gray in an instant. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web, he could only watch helplessly as it tightened around him.

“This isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

The demon’s whisper sent Gray’s heart into a frenzy. The words burned into his chest like an unbreakable command, carrying pain that felt like letters being carved into his flesh.

Order. Thrall.

Gray fully realized it now—he had become the demon’s thrall. No matter how much he resisted, a single word from her could make him tear into even Cecilia.

“Time is short. For some reason, that woman seems to know about me… If you fail, I’ll destroy your body. So if you want to live, follow your instincts. Drink the blood. Secure a vessel for me.”

[Drink the blood. Drink it. Drink it. Drink it.]

With the demon’s mesmerizing words, horrifying voices echoed all around, gnawing at Gray’s mind.

Thirst surged within him.

If he didn’t drink someone’s blood now, he felt like he’d go mad.

His breathing grew ragged. Something slithered beneath his skin, writhing unnaturally.

‘I can barely hold on thanks to the divine energy protecting me… Ugh. I’m at my limit.’

He recalled the words of a knight who had nearly turned into a monster. He tried to summon divine energy, but his body wouldn’t obey.

“GAAAH—!”

The horror of becoming a monster was too much—even Gray, who had endured countless grave injuries, let out a scream.

The scent of blood filled the air.

Sweet blood.

At the same time, divine energy enveloped Gray’s body.

“Oh? That girl’s quite something. Holy energy… What a tantalizing power.”

The demon released him, retreating slightly.

‘Kid…?’

Gray immediately recognized the source of the holy energy shielding him. It was Cecilia’s—purer and brighter than anyone else’s.

It burned away the encroaching strands of hair, almost as if it had a will of its own, protecting him.

“Go. When the time comes, I’ll create an opportunity for you.”

With the demon’s ominous laughter, Gray’s consciousness flickered out.

“Ugh…”

Gray groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

If this was a dream, he never wanted to have it again.

[Drink the blood.]

Given that the voice still echoed in his head, this might not have been a dream at all.

He tried to sit up, but his body refused to move. The foreign sensation was different from when the demon had ensnared him.

The only things he could move were his eyes.

Gray rolled them, scanning his surroundings.

He had definitely been inside a dungeon, but…

The worn-out room didn’t look like the Holy Capital. The old cross on the wall confirmed this was still the Holy Kingdom.

“Mister…?”

Was he hallucinating?

Gray doubted his ears.

Cecilia’s, who shouldn’t be here, sounded close.

He turned his gaze toward the source.

The first thing he saw was a halo—the mark of a Saintess.

And the Holy Mark nestled in hair even more faded than before.

From beside the bed, a pair of large golden eyes peeked out, meeting his own.

“Mister… you’re awake?”

Not a hallucination. Not an illusion.

It was really Cecilia.

With two pairs of wings on her back, she looked just like the angels depicted in the grand cathedral.

‘Where am I? How did you get here?’

‘What’s happening right now…?’

Gray had a mountain of questions, but he couldn’t speak a single word.

[Drink the blood.]

‘I want to drink.’

Fighting against his instincts, Gray squeezed his eyes shut.

He wanted to lunge at Cecilia, but his body’s immobility prevented the worst-case scenario.

“I—I did it! I performed the miracle!”

While Gray wrestled with his urges, Cecilia cheered, throwing the door open and darting out.