Chapter 61: The Duke and the Saintess’s Meeting (3)

The Duke and the Saintess’s Meeting (3)

The master of the mansion, Roselle, entered the estate without any questioning or suspicion, despite bringing along a hooded figure.

Leading Yuria, he headed directly toward the annex.

The annex was close to the entrance and free from the eyes of the servants, making it the perfect place for discretion.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down the corridor to the very last room.

Entering first, he left the door open for Yuria to follow.

It was a small bedroom.

A guest room meant for entertaining distinguished visitors, it was furnished with a lace-adorned bed, a luxurious wooden table with a refined tea set placed upon it, and a deep red rug beneath. A common yet elegant noble’s chamber.

“You may remove your hood now, Saintess.”

Without a word, Yuria removed her hood and hung it on the coat rack.

Roselle took his seat at the table first, and naturally, Yuria sat across from him.

A heavy silence settled between them.

Neither knew where to begin.

Roselle, too, found it difficult to break the silence.

He had never expected to face her like this—not as a saintess, but as a fugitive.

What should he say first?

As someone who had foreseen the future but had remained a bystander, what words should he choose to open this conversation?

To a woman who sat before him like a sinner facing judgment, how could he begin?

He couldn’t decide.

So, a full minute passed.

An awkward and tense minute.

Finally, Roselle took a deep breath and looked at Yuria.

They couldn’t sit like this all night.

From her demeanor, it was clear she wouldn’t speak first unless he did.

So, after careful thought, he spoke.

“…I don’t know if this is the right thing to say in this situation, but you’ve been through a lot, Saintess.”

“What…?”

Yuria’s eyes widened at the unexpected remark.

She looked at him for a brief moment before lowering her gaze again.

To hear someone acknowledge her struggles—

It was something she had once longed for, something she had wished to hear when she believed she had fulfilled her duty.

But now, it felt undeserved.

What good was hardship when it ended in disgraceful escape?

It was neither praiseworthy nor honorable—just futile suffering.

Her lips drooped, lifeless despite his words.

“…What will happen to me now?”

She had come here not by coincidence, but by fate.

Surely, Roselle had a plan for her.

His gaze, piercing and unwavering, seemed to see straight into her soul.

Even without words, she felt as if he already knew everything.

It was a strange sensation.

She hadn’t felt such scrutiny from him when they met in the royal palace, perhaps because of the distance between them.

But here, in this quiet room, it was undeniable.

Roselle let out a quiet sigh.

“…You will return to the Holy Church, confess your sins, and receive your judgment. That is the only path before you.”

Even Roselle could not interfere in the matter of blasphemy.

Even if he wanted to help, there was nothing he could do.

The event had already occurred.

The only way to resolve it was for Yuria to surrender herself.

Fortunately, she nodded, accepting the reality of the situation.

“…I see. You’re not going to ask why I was running away?”

“I already know.”

“…I thought as much.”

There was no way anyone could know about the false prophecy unless Brikal had drunkenly spoken about it.

And while it was possible that Brikal had done just that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Roselle had figured it out in an entirely different way.

“With me, there’s no need for deception or escape.”

“…Thank you.”

“…Pardon?”

Yuria suddenly expressed her gratitude.

Roselle, caught off guard, hesitated.

Seeing his confusion, she gave an awkward smile.

“I heard… you are taking care of Lady Emilia. Thank you. I don’t deserve to say such words, but… I am still grateful.”

“Ah… Yes.”

“Is she… doing well?”

Yuria asked cautiously.

She knew she had no right to ask, but she was desperate to know.

She needed to know.

Roselle let out a sigh, nodding.

Her situation had completely reversed with Emilia’s, making it difficult for him to feel at ease.

“Yes. She has recovered a great deal. Her wounds are gone, and she has even begun to smile again. But… deep inside, the pain remains.”

“…That’s a relief… No, I mean… I am so sorry.”

“There is nothing for you to apologize to me for. I understand your situation. Though your disappearance nearly caused a crisis for the kingdom… Well, in the end, fate has allowed us this meeting, so I will not dwell on it.”

Roselle wasn’t above her.

He wasn’t in a position to scold her as she sat there with her head bowed in shame.

Humans always choose survival.

Some heroes, on the other hand, choose death for the sake of a greater cause.

But Yuria was not a hero.

She was merely a messenger of the Divine Will, a person who conveyed the words of the Holy One.

Expecting her to have the same resolve as a hero was foolish.

And Roselle understood that better than anyone.

With her head still lowered, Yuria spoke.

“Duke.”

“Yes, Saintess?”

“You said you knew about the false prophecy…?”

“Yes.”

“…Why me? Why did he do that to me?”

A sorrowful question.

Why had this happened to her?

It didn’t matter how Roselle knew about the false prophecy.

What mattered was whether he knew why it had happened.

Why had she been made to bear this burden?

The king is the highest authority in the kingdom. Whatever he desires, he takes. Whatever he seeks, he obtains.

So why would such an absolute ruler resort to forcing a false prophecy?

No matter how much she thought about it, Yuria couldn’t find an answer.

She was desperate to understand.

It couldn’t simply be madness—if he had truly lost his mind, he would have risked losing everything he possessed. Who would willingly commit such an act of self-destruction?

She didn’t want to believe it.

She refused to accept that her life had been ruined, thrown into chaos, simply because of one man’s reckless, insane decision.

Roselle spoke without hesitation.

It was time to reveal the truth.

If they were to navigate through this turbulent era, the truth was necessary.

“…If someone wished to plunge the kingdom into chaos, then it would be possible.”

“The king… why…?”

“The king himself wouldn’t think that way.”

“What…?”

Her confusion only deepened.

Yuria swallowed hard, staring at Roselle.

As expected, he knew something.

And when he finally spoke again, she began to understand.

She realized why the scent of death clung so heavily to the bedridden Brikal.

She understood why he had issued a false prophecy, as if he bore a deep personal grudge against Emilia, even at the cost of throwing the entire kingdom into disorder.

Now, she finally grasped the reason behind everything.

“…The Demon King, Hellok.”

“The Demon King…?”

“He has not been destroyed.”

“What…? W-What…?!”

Yuria’s hollow gray eyes widened in horror, her parched lips parting as if to scream.

That overwhelming stench of death.

His increasingly erratic, frenzied actions.

His obsession with crushing the hero, as if driven by personal hatred.

It all suddenly made sense.

The scent that clung to Brikal—it was Hellok’s scent.

She couldn’t believe it.

No, historically, there had never been a case where a defeated Demon King returned.

And most of all—

Before her divine power faded, she had felt the Demon King’s immense power dissipate.

After that, her divine strength had gradually diminished.

Yuria’s pupils trembled violently.

Yet Roselle’s gaze remained calm, like the still surface of a spring pond.

“T-That’s impossible…! There’s no record of a Demon King ever returning!”

“It is not a resurrection. He simply has not been completely destroyed.”

“What…? B-But I felt his power vanish…!”

“Hellok is a master of retreat. He excels at concealment and hibernation. Unlike previous Demon Kings, he possesses a cunning that sets him apart.”

“No, no… then… we must kill Brikal immediately—!”

Roselle firmly shook his head.

If it were an ordinary Demon King, that would have been the correct course of action.

If he had taken a host, they could simply drive a holy sword through his heart and burn the body, eradicating every last trace.

But Hellok could not be destroyed so easily.

If they recklessly killed his host, he would simply slip into another vessel, lying dormant for years, slowly corrupting his new body.

In other words, Hellok was currently burrowing deeper into Brikal’s mind and body, gradually taking control.

And given that Brikal had already been left in a near-death state by Duvel’s attack, the process was likely accelerating.

If they killed Brikal now, Hellok would only retreat into another host and bide his time, gathering strength once more.

That meant the only way to defeat him was to wait until he had fully synchronized with his host.

Only then could they strike—eliminating him completely, not just the body he inhabited.

And that required sealing magic.

Roselle was already preparing for that.

He couldn’t save everyone, but he was doing everything in his power to save the kingdom.

“It cannot be done. Not yet.”

“W-Why…?”

“Hellok’s cunning must not be underestimated. If we act rashly, he may escape again—and this time, we might never be able to find him.

“And if he resurfaces after gathering more strength, I cannot guarantee the kingdom’s survival.”

“T-Then… the false prophecy…”

“His influence over Brikal is not yet absolute. It was not entirely Hellok’s will, but rather a mix of Brikal’s own nature and Hellok’s resentment that led to that outcome.”

The revelation was staggering.

Yuria sat frozen, her wide eyes refusing to blink.

It was so unbelievable, so absurd, that it felt like a cruel joke.

So Hellok had been lurking inside Brikal all along, orchestrating this entire disaster from within.

He had not yet gained full control—only nudging Brikal’s destructive instincts in certain directions.

But even that much was enough to cause chaos.

There had never been anything like this in history.

Yuria instinctively leaned back, her body recoiling as she stared at Roselle in a mix of awe and terror.

She had to know.

And yet, she was afraid to ask.

How did he know?

Even she, a saintess, a messenger of the Divine, had not realized this truth.

So how could he?

“…W-Who… Who are you, Duke…?”