PMEVBO 118

Ever since he escaped that godforsaken tavern at the age of six, Atsula had vowed never to bow his head to anyone again.

One day, when Maacheva heard that bold declaration, he snorted.

‘Stop talking and just repeat after me. ‘I will never speak informally to my superiors again.”’

‘I don’t want to! You should be the one to… Ouch! Damn it, why did you hit me!?’

‘Say it. I will never speak informally to my superiors again.’

‘…I will never speak informally to my superiors again.’

‘You see, my dear? Life isn’t that kind. Do you understand now?’

Maacheva wasn’t wrong. Even though he’d struggled his way up to his current position, there were still two people he had to bow down to.

He didn’t even feel any defiance toward the Pope. But the Cardinal standing right in front of him was a different story.

‘That old man’s still going strong….’

…Fuck, does he plan to live until he’s shitting on the walls?

Atsula bowed his head. No matter how irreverent his inner thoughts were, the polite language flowing from his mouth was smooth.

“May the blessings of the Creator God Debiamas always be with you.”

Cardinal Bechard. The titles attached to that bastard were varied. Among them, the two most widely known were those two.

The youngest cardinal.

The man born with the greatest divine power among the Pope’s bloodline.

The position of cardinal was a lifetime appointment. Only when it became vacant due to death could the one possessing the most divine power take that seat.

Bechard possessed immense divine power, second only to the Pope, and had triumphed in a life-and-death struggle with the previous cardinal, Hadelin. As a result, he was appointed cardinal at the tender age of 14.

There was a lack of information regarding the deaths of Hadelin and her husband, Maacheva.

‘I’ve even suspected that that bastard Bechard might have killed Maacheva…’

Killed by a nobody like that? That’s ridiculous.

You couldn’t kill a clergyman who had manifested divine power with divine power. At best, you could only send them into a state of divine power shock. Besides, without his divine power, Bechard was just a worthless piece of shit.

“Yes, Archbishop Abet, may the blessings of Debiamas be with you as well.”

Bechard replied while fiddling with his own ears, which were covered in piercings. His affected to Read on ne was beyond ridiculous.

Clerics were generally tall and well-built. Even that bastard Lucariel, who was on the slender side, was tall. But Bechard was far more frail and significantly shorter than even Lucariel.

His face was even more of a sight. For a 36-year-old, he looked like he was 16. Perhaps ashamed of his childish appearance, the bastard acted all high and mighty in every way. His hair, slicked back so perfectly it looked like a cow had licked it, and his unnecessarily pompous tone of voice were prime examples.

From the moment he first laid eyes on Bechard, Atsula had consistently looked down on him. But it was only relatively recently that he began to find him repulsive.

‘Just as I thought, what a fucking creepy bastard. He really knows how to flaunt it.’

Under his left eye, on his neck, and on his left index finger. Those were the locations of Bechard’s tattoos.

Atsula knew exactly who had inspired those tattoos. Anyone who had ever seen Lucariel would know.

They were butterflies.

Not only the locations, but even the size and shape ​stolen content​were identical to Lucariel’s, down to the last detail…That madness and obsession were sickening enough to make him want to vomit.

It was common knowledge that Bechard was a butterfly-obsessed nutcase. He kept people at arm’s length and spent his days staring at butterfly specimens, so Atsula thought he was dating a butterfly or something… he never imagined that his maniacal obsession would transfer to a person. And he certainly never imagined it would be Lucariel, whom the Pope had raised with such care.

‘Well, I guess he just liked the butterfly-shaped birthmarks?’

Maybe you have to be born with a butterfly-shaped birthmark to catch that butterfly maniac’s interest.

But it had been six years since Lucariel was imprisoned in Hell. It wouldn’t be strange if he were starting to look for a new object of obsession. Je-in’s face, which resembled Lucariel’s biological father, might just pique that crazy bastard’s interest.

That was why he’d put a hood on him to hide Je-in’s face.

When clergy of various ranks gathered, they had to greet one another under the leadership of the highest-ranking official. Since only he, as the archbishop, needed to recite the greeting, Je-in just had to stand beside him and maintain the proper posture.

Atsula glanced at Je-in. A moment ago, Je-in’s etiquette movements had seemed somewhat unnatural. Even though in Riel’s Garden, it had been perfect, as if he’d stepped right out of an etiquette manual.

‘Is he nervous?’

…He didn’t seem like the type.

All Atsula had learned from Maacheva was how to treat his superiors. He had never been taught how to treat his subordinates.

‘Well, I suppose he never intended to teach me that in the first place.’

As the Pope’s bloodline grew weaker, the manifestation of divine power started diminishing. Even those born to high-ranking clergy often failed to manifest divine power.

An orphan from the slums, born with the outward appearance of a clergyman but with a lineage so unclear it might as well be nonexistent. The probability of someone like him manifesting divine power was zero.

‘That’s why he only taught me how to treat my superiors.’

While beating the hell out of him.

If one couldn’t manifest divine power, promotion beyond the rank of priest was impossible. A priest was a position meant to serve rather than be served, but unlike his younger brother Aquila, Atsula didn’t have a good temperament. So, Maacheva must have visit our sitefigured that if he didn’t teach him how to treat his superiors, he’d probably stage a mutiny and ruin their lives.

Well, it was a wise decision. …That is, if he hadn’t manifested divine power himself.

Once he became archbishop, Atsula treated his subordinates however he pleased. Lucariel was no exception.

‘I suppose your son isn’t exactly kind-hearted either.’

Atsula tried to kill Lukariel, Maacheva’s son. Although he failed to kill him, he succeeded in turning him into an unparalleled mass murderer and sending him to Hell. What kind of expression would that man wear if he found out that the brat he saved had ruined his son’s life?

‘Serves you right.’

…Yeah, why did he have to die so soon?

Maacheva should have died only after witnessing him manifest his divine power and properly disciplining him. Yes, he should have at least stayed by his side until then.

Because his usual behavior was so cruel, his subordinates all groveled before Atsula. The only one who dared to confront him fearlessly was Lucariel. Now that that bastard was rotting in Hell, Je-in was the only one left.

‘It might be partly because I acted like such an idiot due to his resemblance to Maacheva…’

This was a matter of personality. Je-in didn’t look like the type to be intimidated just because he’d met the Cardinal.

At that moment, Bechard’s gaze turned to Je-in. After slowly looking Je-in from head to toe, Bechard asked Atsula.

“Who’s that next to you?”

“That’s my younger brother, Aquila. He’s been drinking, so he’s not in a state to be seen. But if Your Excellency wishes to see him, I can show you.”

Je-in’s build was similar to Aquila’s, which lent credibility to the claim.

Bechard scowled like a picky child.

“No need for that. Seeing the same face once was enough.”

He knew exactly what kind of pretty face suited Bechard’s tastes. It would be either butterflies or Lucariel. Anyway, he was a sickening little bastard.

‘Just die already.’

If only Bechard would die, the cardinal’s seat would be his. Although it was pitifully small compared to what Bechard possessed, Atsula had the second highest amount of divine power.

‘No. There’s that bastard, Lucariel.’

The last time he checked, Lucariel’s divine power was even greater than Bechard’s. His divine power had increased abnormally due to the Vulcan poison he’d been fed. But since his divine power had run wild and caused the Hayut Massacre, the excess would have dissipated.

‘He was pretty good at controlling his divine power. Judging by that, his original amount probably wasn’t small either…’

But what could a bastard locked up in prison possibly do?

Meanwhile, Bechard entered the Pope’s lounge. Only then did Atsula look at Je-in.

‘It seems this one had business with His Holiness as well…’

Atsula snatched Je-in’s hood off his head. Then his expression froze.

Je-in looked as if all the blood had been drained from his body. His face, which had always been pale, was now whiter than a sheet of paper. His face and neck were drenched in cold sweat, and his breathing was ragged.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you…?!?”