MPBGS 12

Chapter : 12

The idea of Evangeline Rohanson hanging herself was ridiculous.

Perhaps it was because of the strange things he had heard before coming. While gathering information about Evangeline Rohanson, he had heard a priest’s story claiming he had witnessed the dead Evangeline come back to life.

He checked the temple records, but there was no record of Evangeline’s funeral. Later, he went to find the priest who had supposedly conducted the funeral service, but the priest had hanged himself at home.

It was said that he left no suicide note. His house had already been cleared out, so no information could be obtained. All that people nearby knew was that the deceased priest secretly gave sermons to the families of the deceased and embezzled money from the temple.

Gabriel got into the carriage with Raphaella. The carriage began rolling toward the grand temple.

“What about Michel?”

“He still hasn’t regained his senses; he’s just standing in front of the painting. I’m worried he might walk right into it.”

People who had seen Jim Nofedi’s painting reacted in extreme ways. Some, like Gabriel and Raphaella, felt a sense of dread, while others called it an angel and treated it as sacred.

The knight who had previously checked Donau Blue’s body with Gabriel belonged to the latter group. He believed without question that Donau Blue was an angel and stood in a daze before Jim Nofedi’s painting donated to the temple.

The black canvas hanging in the stark white temple could not go unnoticed. Visitors who came to pray at the temple acted as if they had lost their minds when they saw the painting. A few, including Gabriel, suggested that it be removed, but their request was ignored.

To Gabriel, it looked no different than people being possessed by a demon.

“Did you gain anything from it?”

“Gain…?”

Still, he had managed to obtain a small hint from his conversation with Evangeline Rohanson. She had taken not Donau’s corpse but only a piece of paper that copied the pattern. What mattered was not Donau Blue, but that pattern.

“Miss Rohanson said that pattern was a summoning circle.”

“How did she know that?”

“It was originally hers. Donau Blue stole it.”

“Really? Then what does it summon?”

Gabriel recalled their earlier conversation.

“An angel, she said.”

“An angel? Then the paper we found is correct?”

Raphaella shivered and hugged herself.

Donau’s remains at the temple were stored in an urn. There was no need for cremation—the body had already been burnt entirely, crumbling at the slightest touch. During the collection of the ashes, an unusually white piece of paper was discovered.

How had it not burned when the body had been completely incinerated? Evangeline hadn’t even had a trace of soot—wasn’t it remarkably similar?

Piecing together the torn fragments like a puzzle, they restored the summoning circle and found characters with missing parts. Though some fragments were missing, making the original text incomplete, there was one perfectly restored sentence:

“Revere and worship. Welcome the angel of light who shall descend upon the earth.”

“So it really does summon an angel.”

Then what would emerge from that ominous pattern would likely resemble Evangeline Rohanson. It would be terrifying rather than holy, cruel rather than merciful.

“Then could what people say be true? That Donau Blue was blessed?”

“No, that’s impossible. Donau Blue was judged for trying to offer a sacrifice to summon a demon. Let’s keep what we know about the paper to ourselves.”

Raphaella nodded. If the problem was with the pattern, not Donau Blue, then simply dealing with the painting would improve the situation.

A summoning circle… He had heard of something similar.

A summoning circle capable of calling forth something to grant wishes had been popular over ten years ago. Exactly when, Gabriel wasn’t sure—he was still a child then. He had heard that about twenty years ago, sorcerers were captured and purged in large numbers.

He would have to check the records in the library once they returned.

“Raphaella, do you know anything about sorcery…”

He had just begun to ask when the carriage swerved abruptly.

Screech.

The carriage wobbled as if it were going to tip over but managed to regain balance. Outside, they could hear the coachman calming the panicked horses.

“What… what happened? Are you okay, Captain?”

“Are you okay yourself?”

Luckily, the carriage had stabilized, and neither of them was injured.

“You said you could handle horses well!”

“Sorry, sorry. A cat suddenly darted in front of us.”

Raphaella opened the carriage door and jumped out, scolding, while the coachman cowered and bowed.

Seeing that the passengers carried swords, the coachman turned pale. He had feared they might punish him for nearly causing a serious accident. But fortunately, Gabriel was the type who would rather take the hit himself than see someone else get hurt by the carriage. Anyone who had seen a friend crushed by a carriage in childhood would probably think the same.

“It’s fine; neither my subordinate nor I were hurt.”

Gabriel reassured him, and the coachman exhaled in relief. Only then did he realize they were paladins. Seeing the emblem of the Sun God Rahel on Gabriel’s clothing, he quietly praised them, thinking temple knights truly were different.

After Raphaella climbed back in, the carriage slowly resumed its journey.

“Captain… I feel like my heart fell out.”

Raphaella still hadn’t recovered from the shock and was fussing.

Gabriel pondered while listening to her whines. Was it just coincidence that the carriage almost tipped over when the topic of sorcery came up?

Recently, rumors had quietly spread that a mysterious altarpiece had been hung in the temple.

A devoted young woman fainted upon seeing it, claiming she had been visited in a dream by the Sun God. The grand administrator praised it highly and made a donation to the artist. Some said the painting acted as a gatekeeper to filter out unbelievers.

Word of mouth twisted the story into countless exaggerated tales, eventually reaching a secluded monastery on the outskirts of the city.

“When will Father Berga arrive?”

“Who cares? Why are you looking for him? I hope that pervert never comes back.”

“Ah, true. But he went to the grand temple, right? Then he must have seen the painting. I’m just curious if the rumors are true.”

“Fool, do you really think it’s true? How naive.”

The women in religious robes, who had been gossiping while sweeping, quieted as Daisy approached and tried to appear polite.

“Good afternoon, sister.”

“May the sunlight always shine upon you, sister.”

Though their words were polite, they didn’t even nod to Daisy. Daisy silently lowered her head in greeting. Once she passed, they whispered behind her:

“Poor thing. She’ll be the one tormented most when Father Berga comes back, won’t she?”

Once Daisy was out of earshot, the nuns resumed laughing and joking among themselves.

She had to organize the study today, but it had gotten too late. Daisy tried not to listen to the noise behind her and hurried along.

It had already been three weeks since she had fled the Rohanson estate to the monastery.

Escaping the eyes of the monster inhabiting Miss Evangeline’s body, Daisy found the world peaceful and calm.

Monastic life wasn’t so bad. Though she was new and shy, finding it hard to fit in, it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable.

Most of the nuns she had greeted were children of noble families. Such people would serve for God but never bow to commoners, so she was right to ignore them.

“Hey, Daisy!”

Just as she was about to enter the study, someone urgently called from behind.

It was one of the nuns from the group she had just passed, out of breath. They had barely spoken beyond a formal greeting—why were they calling?

Daisy waited as the nun cautiously began to speak, like approaching fragile glass:

“I just heard… Father Berga is returning today. If… if he calls for you tonight, don’t go. Understood?”

Daisy realized that was why she had run over—to warn her. Surprised by the sudden kindness, she nodded.

“Thank you for telling me. I’ll refuse, for sure.”

The only flaw in this otherwise okay monastery was Father Berga.

He had a notorious reputation with women. Rumors said he flirted with newcomers, and Daisy had confirmed it was true.

He held their hands, feigned encouragement, touched their shoulders, and stared intently. Yes—that was the problem. His gaze on Daisy. She, unusually sensitive, couldn’t mistake his intentions.

Since Father Berga could send people to the room, it was best for Daisy to stay in the study tonight and finish organizing it.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Already 2 a.m. She could leave now.

She took a deep breath when she saw a man waiting like a guard in front of the dormitory. Still waiting?

It wasn’t Father Berga but one of his sycophantic subordinates.

“Sister, did you enjoy your night outing?”

“I lost track of time organizing the study. I’m tired, so I’ll go rest now.”

Daisy tried to open the door, but the subordinate blocked it with his hand.

“Before that, Father Berga has something he wishes to tell you. You should listen first.”