“Come here for a moment.”
Jeha beckoned Hereis closer, standing him before him, and further disheveled his clothes. He tugged at the collar until it hung loosely, then untied the belt and haphazardly retied it. He then scrutinized him once more.
“Hmm….”
“Is something the matter?”
“Well….”
Jeha’s voice trailed off as he sighed.
Indeed, his attire suggested he had hastily thrown his clothes back on after shedding them. Yet, given Hereis’s immaculate appearance and inherently pure aura, any semblance of decadence was entirely absent. Jeha reached out both hands again, vigorously ruffled his hair, and then smoothed it down, but he merely looked as if he had just woken from a deep slumber, utterly devoid of any ‘I’ve just done something scandalous!’ vibe.
After a moment of contemplation, Jeha narrowed his eyes, observing Hereis’s pristine, unblemished neck, exposed just beyond his collar. He crooked a finger, prompting Hereis to bend down, then brought his lips to his neck.
“Lord Jeha? …Ugh.”
A low moan escaped Hereis’s lips, which had just begun to utter a questioning sound. A thrill shot down Jeha’s spine as he repeatedly nipped and firmly sucked at the pristine skin of Hereis’s neck. After leaving his marks on both the right and left sides of his neck, Jeha stepped back, only for Hereis to immediately lunge forward, pressing his lips against him once more.
Having just indulged in such a suggestive act on that pristine neck, the urge to kiss him again surged within Jeha like a raging inferno. However, if he gave in now, it was obvious they would be tumbling on the bed until nightfall. As a principled ‘Confucian boy,’ Jeha had no intention of being so easily swayed.
“Now you look rather like a fallen priest.”
Jeha covered Hereis’s mouth with one palm and, with his other hand, waved it through the air, conjuring a small mirror. Hereis, seeing his reflection in the mirror floating in mid-air, touched the distinct red kiss mark emblazoned on his neck.
“What do you think? Doesn’t it look like something… happened to you?”
Jeha asked playfully. Seeing his own mark on that pristine neck filled him with an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
After a moment of tracing the mark on his neck, Hereis lowered his head, attempting to bring his lips to Jeha’s neck. Jeha placed a hand on Hereis’s chest, stopping him.
“…Wouldn’t it be better to leave the same mark on Lord Jeha’s neck?”
Hereis asked, his face betraying a hint of dissatisfaction. Was he vexed at being the only one ‘victimized’? Or perhaps he simply yearned to claim Jeha’s neck in kind?
Whatever the reason, Jeha had no intention of offering his neck to Hereis at that very moment.
Firstly, it was crucial that Hereis, not the Marquis Belgarga, appeared to be the consort. Secondly, Jeha wasn’t confident he could suppress a moan if his neck were to be caressed.
“This is perfect just as it is.”
Jeha smiled sweetly. Then, to prevent Hereis from pressing his lips against him again, he quickly turned and walked towards the door.
*Thud!*
Opening the door, he saw several people standing with their backs to him.
Upon hearing the door open, those who turned around wore varying expressions.
Paimon’s face was impassive, while Zephyr looked somewhat pleased. The two others, presumably Hereis’s attendant priests, glared at Jeha with eyes tinged with resentment and contempt, their eyes reddened.
“The Archbishop must be hungry, so send up lunch….”
Before Jeha could finish his sentence, one of the attendant priests squeezed past him and rushed into the room. He briefly stared at Hereis’s disheveled state, then dropped to his knees, beginning to sob softly.
“Archbishop….”
His soft sobs soon escalated into a wail. The attendant priest standing before Jeha also began to weep, his shoulders shaking. They cried as if Hereis had been forcibly given to Jeha, or even assaulted, expressing profound sorrow. It seemed their objective had been successfully achieved.
Witnessing the scene of his success with his own eyes, Jeha’s confidence in this charade soared. Turning, he approached Hereis, who was currently comforting the priest kneeling and sobbing before him, casting a seemingly benevolent gaze upon the scene. Then, as if to make a point, he lifted Hereis’s chin with his finger.
“Seeing them weep so sorrowfully, it’s almost as if I forcibly defiled the Archbishop, isn’t it? Though I sacrificed myself to let His Eminence taste all the pleasures of the world.”
“Your Excellency, Marquis Belgarga… how can you speak such words in front of them….”
Hereis immediately played along with Jeha’s charade. He wore a troubled expression, his eyes appearing slightly hurt. Jeha felt a sense of exhilaration wash over him as Hereis willingly joined the act. This time, he truly felt like a villainous villain.
“Oh, dear, oh dear. To make such a face, I truly feel like a villain now. How could I possibly feel inclined to provide the vast amounts of food to feed countless commoners, the fabric to clothe them, and the enormous donations to the temple now?”
At Jeha’s words, the attendant priests, seemingly convinced their suspicions were correct, grabbed Hereis’s trousers and began to wail. In their eyes, Hereis would appear as a martyr who willingly sacrificed himself to the Marquis Belgarga to secure food, clothing, and donations for the people.
“Master, did you have a good time?”
Zephyr asked with a beaming smile. His question was akin to pouring oil on the priests’ already simmering fury.
“You villain!”
One of the priests sharply cried out, lunging at Jeha. However, before he could lay a hand on Jeha’s face, he was kicked by Zephyr and sent sprawling to the floor. Jeha worried that Zephyr might have kicked him too hard, but at the same time, he felt a surge of pride, thinking, ‘Finally, I’ve been called a villain!’
“Rather… rather, me…! I’ll take his place…!”
The priest sprawling on the floor whimpered, then tore open his upper garment.
The priest’s rather fair skin was revealed. With his flat chest exposed, he glared at Jeha with eyes burning with indignation, as if offering himself in place of Hereis.
‘Good heavens!’
Feeling as though his eyes had been thoroughly assaulted, Jeha abruptly averted his gaze. And he thought, ‘As expected, I’m not into men after all.’ It was just that Hereis was special.
“Hmph! My mood is quite ruined. I’m hungry, let’s go down to the dining room.”
Jeha brushed off his sleeves and delivered a villainous line. Then, scooping up Kkamangi, who was busy rubbing against his feet, he descended to the first floor, accompanied by Paimon and Zephyr.
The first floor, where they arrived after descending the stairs, was in a state of disarray.
The gaze of everyone seated at their tables turned towards Jeha as he stepped onto the first floor.
One by one, those seated on the first floor rose. They were all priests in white robes and holy knights in shining armor. And, as expected, Benato, dressed in black, was among them.
Jeha surveyed the people who were either glaring at him as if to kill him or staring with contempt, and offered a fresh smile. Then he called out to the innkeeper, who was trembling at the far end of the room.
“Hey, you.”
“…Yes… yes, yes.”
The innkeeper approached hesitantly, his shoulders hunched.
“After a long time stretching my body, I’m starving to death. I’m on the verge of starvation, so bring the meal quickly.”
An palpable aura of malice radiated from each of the priests and holy knights. Had Jeha not possessed the body of a Demon King, he would have fled at top speed, fearing he’d be beaten to death.
“Also, send meals up to the third floor. They’ve had a rough time, so soft food would be best.”
Jeha liberally doused their indignation with more fuel. Then, he calmly took a seat and called out to Benato, the inquisitor, who was standing with the others.
“Lord Benato.”
“…Yes, Your Excellency.”
It took Benato a while to finally open his mouth and respond. Jeha gestured towards the chair opposite him.
“If you haven’t had lunch yet, please join me.”
Benato’s face slightly contorted upon hearing Jeha’s invitation.
“…No, Your Excellency. I’m not hungry.”
Benato politely declined, though with effort. Jeha shrugged and scratched Kkamangi’s nape, who was perched on the table. And, feeling everyone’s gaze, he reveled in the sensation of being a villain.
When the meal arrived, Jeha began to eat diligently, as if he were ravenously hungry. Kkamangi, too, cleverly ate the chunks of meat Jeha occasionally cut for it with relish. Jeha ate his meal deliciously, even amidst the terrifying glares filled with murderous intent, and thought to himself, ‘Indeed, I must have been born with a bit of a villainous disposition.’
It was while he was finishing his meal and cleansing his palate with tea.
“Your Excellency.”
Benato, who had approached unnoticed, spoke. Jeha silently gestured towards the opposite seat. Benato, his expression grave, took his place in the chair across from him.
“Do you have something to say, Lord Benato?”
Jeha asked, a relaxed expression on his face as he held his teacup. Then, as if something just occurred to him, he spoke again.
“Ah, now that I recall, our conversation was interrupted by Archbishop Hereis’s sudden arrival. Would you like to continue that discussion?”
“No, that’s fine. Upon further reflection, I believe I may have overthought it.”
Benato shook his head. Jeha snorted inwardly. It seemed he had realized that trying to find fault with powerful figures wealthy enough to ‘devour’ an archbishop whole would only lead to trouble.
“And most importantly, the identity of the demonic energy emanating from the mountains has already been discovered.”
Jeha paused at Benato’s words. As he looked at him, Benato’s previously rigid expression softened slightly as he continued.
“The holy knights I sent into the mountains immediately upon our arrival have found a witch hidden deep within the peaks.”