MIIS 5

Chapter 5

During my last playthrough of this game, my goal was singular and absolute.

‘No matter what, stop the apocalypse.’

In a dating sim set in a world utterly devoid of hope or dreams, what’s left if you strip away romance?

The answer was right in front of me.

To stop the world’s destruction, I had invested everything into the protagonist Yulia’s abilities. It wasn’t as if I’d done anything particularly special.

‘I just told that naïve Yulia a few truths about the world she’d been turning a blind eye to.’

As a result, Yulia grew stronger—but she also lost her faith in God.

‘And because she couldn’t accept that, she clung to her faith even more fanatically.’

Of course, even then, it still wasn’t enough to stop Azel.

Anyway, if I’d known I would end up possessing this one-time-only “Heretic Inquisitor” playthrough, I would never have made those choices.

But what was done was done, and regret wouldn’t change anything.

‘So I need to figure out how to survive.’

If I let Yulia run wild like this, she’d inevitably provoke Azel again, just like earlier—and we’d all be headed straight for disaster.

If that was the case, then it would be better to draw Yulia’s attention toward me instead.

“What did you just say? That I lost my faith?”

The way she asked in that hollow voice was straight out of a horror movie.

“You want to defeat Azel—the one the world has branded as evil—to prove that your faith never wavered.”

“Shut. Your. Mouth.”

“You already know it, don’t you? That doing this won’t change anything.”

“Didn’t you hear me tell you to shut up?”

Sorry, but I’ve made my living with this mouth.

Telling someone like me to shut up is just cruel.

‘And I haven’t even started yet.’

If anything, I was still being polite out of old sentiment, choosing my words carefully.

But Yulia seemed to be reaching the limit of her patience.

“To slander me with such insolent words… Do you truly not know that no sin is heavier than one committed with a deceitful tongue?”

Her eyes were slightly crazed, her smile twisted—she no longer looked like a heroine at all.

Even the male leads, who had been standing there like background props, watched her with uneasy expressions.

And finally, I prepared to deliver the last counterattack.

“Yulia—”

No, I was about to—

“Enough.”

If Azel hadn’t interrupted.

He stepped in front of me, his expression strangely unreadable.

“Let’s stop wasting time. Our conversation isn’t over yet.”

“Azel.”

I flinched slightly, my face twisting in discomfort, but Yulia didn’t seem willing to back down.

“Don’t interfere.”

“Are you asking because you genuinely don’t know who interfered first?”

But Yulia didn’t get her way.

“Seymour.”

At Azel’s call, his subordinate—who had been quietly observing the situation—moved.

A man dressed in black, blending into the shadows, answered with a smile entirely inappropriate for the situation.

“You called, my lord?”

“Grab her.”

Seymour Cleor.

With Azel’s right-hand man stepping in personally, it was obvious the commotion would end quickly.

“As you command.”

But there was one thing I hadn’t anticipated.

“This might sting a little. Just think of it as a nice nap.”

He was looking at me.

…Huh?

“W-wait a second!”

“Haha!”

The one being seized was me.

‘You bastard!’

And then—darkness.

“Azel! Why would you do something like this?! You’d have to be insane to—!”

“I’ve repeated this dozens of times already, Yulia. How could someone like me not go insane?”

Blink.

‘Was I dreaming?’

It seemed I’d fallen asleep while unconscious.

“Ow! You son of a—!”

As I reflexively pushed myself up, my sore neck throbbed painfully where I’d been struck.

‘Where am I now?’

The bedroom, steeped in an old-fashioned elegance, was unfamiliar—but after a moment, I realized where I was.

This was Azel’s estate.

“I thought you’d throw me into a dungeon or torture chamber.”

“Still, you’re a guest we haven’t had in a while. We couldn’t possibly do that.”

A voice spoke from beside me.

“Have you awakened, honored guest?”

I turned my head in a panic and saw a familiar face.

Seymour.

The very bastard who had knocked me out and delivered me here. And for some reason, his expression looked… sly.

“By the way, were you referring to me when you said ‘that son of a bitch’?”

Apparently, he’d heard everything.

“……”

“……”

A dreadful silence fell between us, and I desperately searched for something to say.

“…I had a nightmare.”

“Oh dear.”

Despite his flat response, clearly devoid of sympathy, Seymour’s lips curved upward.

‘Haha… is there a restart option?’

In the Azel route, there’s one character you encounter even more often than Azel himself.

That character is Seymour.

Which is why players knew him well.

This guy is—quite simply—

‘A lunatic.’

A lunatic. In a way entirely different from Azel.

— That psycho killed someone because the carpet was clean but they dropped cookie crumbs on it.

— Wow, sounds totally justified. I got killed once because the sky looked ominously red.

— But I didn’t even eat the cookie?

— ……???

So what were the odds I’d survive after cursing him out in my sleep?

‘Mom… I’m going.’

Once I accepted it, my mind oddly calmed.

As the word death flickered before my eyes, I quietly prepared for my next life—

When Seymour suddenly smiled brightly.

‘So the last face I see before dying is that handsome-but-perverted freak? My life really is tragic.’

But surprisingly, instead of killing me, Seymour stepped back.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Seymour Cleor, the loyal servant of my lord.”

“Nice to meet you… Seymour.”

I soon learned why.

“My lord is waiting for you.”

Azel had spared my life.

“How long has it been since I passed out?”

“You enjoyed a perfectly timed nap.”

“So, about half a day.”

Hearing the guy who knocked me out keep calling it a ‘nap’ just made me more annoyed.

Still, I gained important information. If half a day had passed, then my background had surely been thoroughly investigated.

“What about Yulia’s group—no, what happened in the plaza?”

“It was handled cleanly, so you needn’t worry.”

It seemed Yulia’s group was still alive.

…Well. Probably.

A sliver of unease crept in, but there was no way to confirm it.

“…Let’s go.”

“Then I shall escort you.”

Having confirmed the urgent matters, it was time to meet the final boss.

They weren’t the type to give me time to mentally prepare, so I stood up immediately.

“Ah.”

When the door opened, the hallway beyond looked like a scene from a masterpiece painting.

Bathed in the gentle afternoon sunlight, the pristine white corridor gleamed brilliantly, its walls lined with golden decorations and exquisite portraits.

Seeing a place I’d viewed countless times through a monitor now spread out before my eyes felt strangely unreal.

“Guest?”

It seemed I’d zoned out without realizing it; Seymour’s curious voice snapped me back.

‘Idiot.’

As I began walking, only the soft sound of my low heels echoed through the corridor. Seymour’s steps made no sound at all—unsurprising for a former assassin.

“Is he… in the room at the end of the third floor right now?”

I deliberately added hesitation to the question, and the smile on Seymour’s lips deepened.

“Yes. He is waiting for you there.”

This question was intentional.

Whenever Azel’s thoughts grew tangled, he sought out the room at the end of the third floor—a habit known only to a handful of close confidants, Seymour included.

I voiced it to imply that I knew even such intimate details about him.

‘Every little thing like this will become precious foreshadowing.’

And all of it would reach Azel’s ears through Seymour.

They were suspicious of me.

‘Honestly, it would be stranger if they believed me right away.’

So from this moment on, I had to prove my existence—who “I” am—every single step of the way.

“How did you know my lord favors the room at the end of the third floor?”

“He doesn’t.”

“…?”

“He doesn’t like that room.”

“….”

“How could anyone like a place that feels like a grave?”

That wasn’t difficult for me at all.

Against the backdrop of a wide window, a man stood with his back to me.

His silhouette was pitch-black.

As if sunk in depression, as if drowned in ennui.

He stood there silently, motionless—like a corpse in a coffin.

“Were you waiting?”

Waiting only for me.