Ch.148EP.37 – The Knight Grew to Hate the Ball (3)

Like a divine revelation, he was certain.

This succubus was the culprit who would ruin the future Dark King.

There wasn’t logical evidence, but watching her, he somehow just knew.

‘This is what a villainess seedling looks like.’

The conscienceless drive to action, the shamelessness.

The selfishness to create another personality just to survive.

And the audacity to casually declare she consumes spiritual energy simply because it’s there, like climbing a mountain because it exists.

Selfish, shameless, and justifying everything she does.

This was precisely the attitude of a villainess commonly found in romance stories.

‘Right now she just has the qualities of a villainess, but if she becomes even more inconsiderate…’

Honestly speaking, she was currently just slightly malicious, at a level that could be dismissed as “mischief.”

But if those malicious traits matured over about five years…

‘A beast would be born.’

This wasn’t merely intuition, but something he’d learned from becoming an instructor and teaching cadets.

Take Trainee No. 1 as an example.

Taechang—from what he’d heard, Trainee No. 1 had originally helped the villainess-version magician chick in her malicious schemes.

If that guy hadn’t met him, he would have become a delinquent just like in the original story.

This meant that having a strict educator to scold inappropriate behavior was a major turning point for cadets, which was why the “Rod of Love” was so important.

‘Of course, I shouldn’t become like those teacher bastards who beat me when I was young because I didn’t give bribes or because I had no parents.’

The Rod of Love is meant for when a student goes astray or becomes disrespectful, not for indiscriminate violence or venting frustration.

That would just be a symbol of lowliness, used to flaunt authority.

So Ihan felt a sense of mission as an educator(?).

‘A person should be human, not a beast.’

Now was the only chance.

The opportunity to turn this ill-mannered thing into a proper person.

You have to reform them when they’re young—adults with hardened minds never change.

That was a lesson he’d learned in life.

“Your name is Judia, right?”

“…Yes.”

“From today, you’re a transfer student at the Academy.”

“What?”

“Also, from today, your position will permanently remain as an intern, and your education will continue until I say it’s over. Remember that.”

“…What?”

“Why do you keep saying ‘what’ when you clearly understood! Answer only once, got it!”

“Yes, yes!”

“…Sigh, looks like I have a lot to teach.”

“???”

Judia still didn’t understand the situation, and she inadvertently became the first intern to receive a “permanent number.”

…As a succubus, this marked the beginning of hardships and trials that would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

*

*

*

Precisely in the afternoon, around lunchtime, Judia, or rather “Pierre,” opened his eyes.

And he…

“…Why didn’t you kill it?”

“?”

“That beast disrespected you. I mean you could have killed it.”

“You… So you do have some sense of shame?”

“!!”

Pierre’s personality was basically like an insensitive man.

Blunt, showing almost no emotion, and cold.

A completely different personality from the shameless, emotionally honest Judia.

Even for a dual personality, seeing such a stark contrast confirmed that succubi were truly unique beings.

“You really hate the darkness, huh?”

“I loathe it to the point of disgust.”

“I see, that explains why you’re looking for any excuse to commit suicide.”

“……”

“Anyway, I’m curious about something. Is that darkness also awake right now?”

“…No. Succubi are nocturnal like vampires. They sleep during the day, and as long as I don’t lose consciousness, it will never wake up.”

“So it’s asleep right now?”

“Yes. However, since we share memories, that beast will know everything we discuss.”

“Hmm, so that’s why you’re embarrassed. Because all your carefully hidden secrets have been exposed.”

“……”

Is this the first time I’ve had such a long conversation with this wooden block?

The thought suddenly occurred to him, as Pierre was being unusually talkative.

It showed how agitated he was.

‘Understandably so.’

From what he’d heard, Pierre’s personality was created to endure torture and experiments in her place.

Having been born into pain, it was natural for him to have such a personality.

His hatred must be clogged up like a lump of tar.

He was somewhat pitiful.

But pity aside…

“How can you use holy power? I thought most mystical races couldn’t use it?”

He asked how two different mystical powers could “coexist” within one person.

It was a case he’d never heard of before.

“…This personality cannot use succubus powers.”

Ihan hadn’t expected an easy answer, but surprisingly, the guy readily revealed the truth.

Perhaps he had accepted his situation, or maybe he was grateful for Ihan beating up the darkness.

“Conversely, the beast cannot use holy power. This is proof that the beast and I are separate people—undeniable evidence of God’s grace and mercy.”

“Hmm.”

…Or was he bragging?

That he was completely separate from the beast?

‘…If so, that’s a bit childish… No, I suppose that’s understandable.’

As Ihan brushed aside the guy’s boasting, he began to understand some things better from listening to him.

Why this wooden block became a priest and joined the fanatically devout Inquisitors.

‘Because holy power proves he’s not a succubus, but a separate person.’

The more he denies and hates being a succubus, the more desperately he wants to prove his devotion…

That intense struggle was somewhat palpable.

…It’s a complex value system, but still understandable.

Therefore…

“You’d do anything filthy to prove that, wouldn’t you? You could never leave the temple. Even if it meant betraying your benefactor.”

“……”

This guy would do anything.

Anything to stay in the temple.

Because as long as he remained there, he believed he could be saved, even if he was just a fabricated personality.

That’s why he was so unlikable.

After all…

“It was Father Rafael who saved you, right?”

“…Yes. I owe much gratitude to the Cardinal. He’s the one who brought me to the temple.”

“Yet you ignored your benefactor and attacked me? Thanks for making me not regret beating you up at all.”

“I… won’t make excuses.”

What an amusing statement.

“It’s not that you won’t make excuses—you have none to make. Let me give you some advice. I don’t care if you commit suicide, believe in fanatics, or betray Father Rafael. To me, both you and the one you call a beast are equally inconsiderate creatures.”

“-!”

Finally, his expression contorted.

Being told that he and the succubus were the same kind must have felt like an unbearable insult.

Yet to a third party, both a succubus and a traitor were equally terrible.

That must be the criminal mindset.

‘One is a seedling of a conscienceless villainess, and the other is a black-haired—no, red-haired beast.’

At this point, I feel sorry for the old priest.

Why did he take in this ungrateful dual-personality case and bring trouble upon himself?

“Does it upset you to be treated the same? Did that sting?”

“……”

“Good, it was meant to. You’re an ungrateful traitor. I have something I want to know.”

“…So that’s what I’m called now?”

“Don’t interrupt. I’m talking about the group that kidnapped you and other mystical races. Do you know what happened to them? I’ve become somewhat interested.”

“……”

Ihan didn’t care how this guy would live from now on.

If he misbehaved while around him, he’d just use the rod then.

And if he caused trouble after becoming independent…

‘I’d use a sword instead of a rod.’

It was that simple.

So his current interest was in those who had kidnapped mystical races.

“…I don’t know the details. It was already ten years ago, and I was very young at the time.”

“Fine, try to recall something. The faces or features of those who experimented on you, or the facility’s structure, anything.”

“…Do people usually ask victims such things?”

“Not to others. But you guys are Inquisitors, right? People who torture others as easily as breathing. It’s fine to ask such questions to people like you.”

“We Inquisitors punish apostates; we’re not madmen.”

Pierre was defending the Inquisitors, seemingly trying to correct Ihan’s misunderstanding…

“Crazy people never realize they’re crazy.”

“……”

“Just tell me what you remember, quickly.”

“…I see now that you should have been an Inquisitor rather than a knight.”

“I’m too soft-hearted for that.”

“……”

…Pierre felt a sense of misery for the first time.

* * *

‘Can’t remember, huh.’

For someone who claimed not to remember much, the guy provided more information than expected.

Whether it was because he was naturally intelligent or a trait of succubi, his memory seemed remarkably good.

Otherwise, it would be quite impressive to recall events from ten years ago so vividly.

‘Sigh, spellcasters are involved in this one too.’

Illegal magicians.

The type Ihan absolutely despised and would mercilessly crush on sight.

Confirming that those who kidnapped mystical races for experiments were such people, Ihan’s mind worked faster than usual, quickly organizing the information Pierre had provided.

‘Rafael raided the illegal magician’s facility, but only Red survived, and the rest died. The illegal magician escaped…’

The important point here was that the spellcaster had escaped and was likely still alive.

If nothing else, those spellcasters were incredibly tenacious when it came to survival.

‘So he looked like this?’

Based on the information from the red-haired traitor, Ihan drew a “composite sketch” himself.

Though crude, it captured all the distinctive features.

It was the only evidence, and while it might seem useless…

Creak.

There was something he could do with just this, and he opened the wardrobe standing alone in his room.

The drawers contained almost no clothes; instead…

Rustle!

An enormous pile of papers.

“…It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

It seemed he hadn’t opened it since becoming an instructor half a year ago.

It was full of “wanted posters” and “newspaper articles,” mostly containing descriptions and information about [Illegal Magicians] or [Slave Traders].

All collected by him personally, though many had become useless now, because…

“Ah, this one’s dead, right? These ones are dead too… This one… Ah, I threw him into a goblin cave? How did I deal with this one again…?”

About one-third of the newspaper and wanted poster contents had been rendered useless by his hand…

He had quite a lot to discard, and Ihan had no choice but to sort through the papers, discarding what needed to be discarded.

Perhaps this was punishment for neglecting to clean regularly?

Rustle, rustle.

But Ihan seriously searched through the materials.

His eyes were exceptionally sharp right now, and after diligently examining the materials for over an hour…

Pause!

“-This is it.”

Ihan stopped at a wanted poster distributed 15 years ago.

It was for an illegal magician whose case was reportedly closed, with a death sentence carried out, but Ihan didn’t believe rumors or newspaper reports unless he had personally witnessed the death.

Spellcasters were like cockroaches—they would somehow revive unless you definitively ended them.

So…

“Trainee!”

Ihan had found what he was looking for.

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Go to the Guild Association right now and tell Simon to find this guy for me.”

“…What? S-Simon? Do you mean Guild Master Simon, that Simon? You want me to ask him for information?”

“Yes, why?”

“…This is insane.”

“What’s the problem?”

“…How can someone like me demand information from the Guild Master!”

“Tell him I sent you.”

“Then you should go yourself, sir!”

“I’m a bit busy right now. Well, if the Guild Association is too difficult, there are other options.”

“Y-you should have said so from the—”

“Would you prefer Galahad or Pendragon?”

“……”

“Which would you prefer?”

“…I’ll just go to the Guild Association. Damn it…!”

“Hey! Watch your mouth!”

Seeing Trainee No. 1 becoming increasingly rough-spoken lately, Ihan sternly rebuked him.

This guy…

‘Why is he becoming more delinquent by the day?’

Perhaps this is why character education is so difficult.

Ihan clicked his tongue at his incompetent trainee.