An even more serious crime?

The Saintess’s torment spread like a plague—not unlike the online witch hunts of Black’s past life.

Though the Church eventually quelled the storm,the damage was done.

Kristine’s spirit—once unshakable—cracked.

And that first fracturewould snowball into total collapse.

But Black knew the truth.

This “accident” was no coincidence.

The widow’s rage? Staged.

Every tear? Calculated.

Demeter’s cult had planted this seed of doubt—to make the Saintess question her own worth.

In the game, this scene was a few lines of text—distant, abstract.

But now—watching Kristine shattered by lies,branded a hypocrite by the very people she’d fed and healed—

Black’s chest burned with fury.

God loves mankind… but mankind rarely loves God back.

He’d hoped to avoid Chapter 1’s chaos—but he needed Kristine’s help.

If he walked away now,he’d be worse than the mob.

So be it.

He took a breath—then pitched his voice, shrill and theatrical:

“I SMELL A PLOT! SOMEONE POISONED THOSE KIDS ON PURPOSE!”

The words detonated like a cannon.

Silence crashed down.

Every eye—knights, orphans, nobles, even the black carriage—locked onto him.

Pascal jolted in the carriage.

“Him?!”

His shock was so profound, his usually stoic master turned to him:

“Who?”

“Black—the pirate.

I thought Jörmungandr devoured him.”

Pascal’s mind raced back:

—the Wilton brawl, where he’d wanted to recruit Black,

—the dragon’s maw, swallowing Black whole,

—the empty sea, where everyone assumed he’d drowned.

Inside the carriage, the woman’s voice brightened:

“Oh? The little pirate who knew Jörmungandr’s secret and vanished into its soul-space?”

“Precisely,” Pascal confirmed.

“Risen from the dead… intriguing.”

She parted the curtain, eyes gleaming as she watched Black stride forward.

Black shoved past his guards,marching into the mob’s heart.

“Open your eyes!” he boomed.

“This isn’t bias—it’s a setup!

Someone poisoned those kids to frame the Saintess!”

The crowd erupted:

“Poison?!”

“Who is this guy?!”

“Saintess fanboy, stirring trouble!”

But Kristine, Irena, and Jianye?

Frozen in shock.

Black?!

They’d watched him vanish into Jörmungandr’s jaws.

Only Little Jinzi and Alice returned.

For three months, they’d mourned him as dead—

Irena starving herself in grief,

Kristine failing every divination to find him.

Now—he stood there, smug as ever,alive and loud.

Irena beamed, waving wildly—

My only friend is BACK!

Kristine’s tears slowed, a fragile smile breaking through—

He’s alive… the stars lied.

Jianye just narrowed her eyes,

Of course he survived. What is he hiding?

But before they could speak—

a voice shrieked:

“LIES! The boy died of FOOD POISONING!”

“Who’d poison children?!”

Black grinned—

right on cue.

He pointed at the widow,voice like a judge’s gavel:

“SHE DID IT!”

GASP!

“A mother kill her own child?!”

“He’s mad!”

The widow scrambled up, face pale,then screamed, spittle flying:

“I’D NEVER HARM MY SON!”

“You’re the Saintess’s DOG—trying to cover her crimes!”

The mob howled in agreement.

Even the Knight Captain stepped forward, sword half-drawn:

“Prisoner! You’re already condemned—speak again, and I’ll add slander to your sentence!”

Black just laughed—a cold, sharp sound.

“Slander?What if I have PROOF?Would that earn me a reduced sentence?”