Chapter 140
Heave, heave—the ragged gasps echoed through the air. It was Cardinal Milliord panting heavily. His eyes shook uncontrollably. The cardinal looked down at the chains binding him. After staring at the spotless white chains, he lifted his gaze back to Hailon and muttered in disbelief.
“…Me? You’re calling me a heretic?”
No one answered Milliord’s words. Everyone was too stunned to speak. And Cheshire, too, was screaming inwardly. ‘Argh!’
She had already anticipated that Kierne and Hailon would corner Milliord.
But she never expected Hailon to reveal his own identity.
In the history of the Holy Empire, no Inquisitor had ever publicly disclosed their existence—not even once.
By tradition, the most outstanding and devout among the Holy Knights were selected as Inquisitors.
So, there were often speculations about who the Inquisitor might be, based on their abilities.
But openly declaring one’s identity like this was a violation of the rules.
Though he had caused an unprecedented scandal, Hailon—the instigator himself—remained utterly composed.
So did Daren, positioned right behind him, along with the accompanying Holy Knights and Inquisitors.
Not a single one showed any sign of agitation.
As if they had known the situation all along.
‘The Holy King won’t let this slide.’
The Holy King despised anything that slipped from his control. Why would Hailon risk danger and expose himself like that? As Cheshire pondered this in confusion, her eyes met those blue ones. Eyes so filled with light they seemed almost transparent. The moment she saw the blind devotion in those upright eyes, she realized.
‘It’s because of me.’
The reason for his choice was solely for Cheshire.
No matter how formidable an Inquisitor might be, shrouded in secrecy, they couldn’t wield power effectively.
To lend strength to Cheshire, he had committed an act no Inquisitor before him had ever done.
Milliord, bound by the chains, squeezed his eyes shut.
His cardinal robes were growing damp with the cold sweat pouring out.
Sweat was visibly trickling down his face.
Yet Milliord forced a leisurely facade, letting out a hollow laugh.
“Ha… This is an insult, Sir Hailon. On what grounds are you…”
Of course, his trembling voice rendered it ineffective. Instead of replying, Hailon lightly flicked his finger. The taut chains yanked sharply. The bound Milliord tumbled forward. Naturally forced into a kneeling position, Milliord’s face paled with humiliation.
At that moment, a short, resolute shout rang out.
“Enough!”
Holy King Sionel appeared through the ranks of the Holy Knights.
“How dare you cause such chaos in the sacred Grand Temple, Hailon.”
He hadn’t even bothered to don his usual benevolent expression.
Sionel glared fiercely at Hailon.
At the Holy King’s appearance, Milliord’s face lit up with joy.
He seemed utterly convinced that the Holy King would save him.
“Cardinal Milliord has borrowed the power of black magic. Having confirmed his sin, as Inquisitor, I am merely passing judgment.”
“I’m innocent!”
As Hailon stated the charges impassively, Milliord shot back vehemently.
“I can explain everything. I swear on the name of God.” Sionel pressed his lips tightly together, narrowing his wrinkled eyes into slits.
His gaze slowly shifted back and forth between Milliord and Hailon.
The Grand Temple fell into a tense, heavy silence. No one dared open their mouth rashly.
“Um…”
A small, clear voice resonated through the quiet space. Cheshire, cradled in Kierne’s arms, raised one hand sparklingly high. “I have something to say.”
At her bold action, people stared with wide, rounded eyes.
Cheshire extended her short finger with a snap.
All eyes followed her finger, landing on Milliord.
“That uncle brought a monster here.”
Milliord’s expression went blank as he was precisely pointed out.
Surrounded by people looking down at him, he half-lost his soul, his lips merely twitching.
Then, with a face that looked utterly foolish, he echoed back.
“…Me?”
It was just the words of a young child, but everyone had witnessed the miracles Cheshire had performed.
It was a statement that could not be ignored.
Like ripples spreading from a stone tossed into water, murmurs began to ripple outward. Kierne let out a light sigh and stroked Cheshire’s head.
“I’ll speak on behalf of the child.”
His subtly glowing red eyes were sly.
His low, commanding voice drew everyone’s attention.
“Cardinal Milliord used heretical power—black magic, no less, which defies God—to ensure the candidate he supported would win the Little Saints’ Prayer Assembly. There is evidence that he attempted to hire black mages from the underworld.”
Kierne glared coldly at the cardinal as he spoke.
“The master of the underworld has personally vouched for it, so there could be no more certain proof.”
It was exactly the same line Milliord had used when siccing the impostor father on Kierne.
“Furthermore.”
Kierne kindly enumerated Milliord’s crimes one by one.
“He even brought a monster into Hilderd’s sanctuary. As Count Basilian, I will submit evidence that Cardinal Milliord transported a monster from the Black Forest.”
With one arm holding Cheshire and the other placed over his heart, Kierne declared.
“I swear on the name of God that all of this is true.”
He swore on God’s name just like Cardinal Milliord had,
But the oath of a black mage who didn’t believe in God carried no more weight than a feather.
Yet to those unaware that Kierne was a black mage, it would feel like a profoundly solemn vow.
Leaving Kierne to his convincingly devout expression, Cheshire stared intently at Sionel.
…
The furrow between Sionel’s brows deepened even further.
He knew Kierne’s accusations were false.
After all, the Holy King himself was likely involved in most of what Milliord had done.
The reason for staging this play, where truth and lies were blatantly clear, was simple. Because they knew what choice the Holy King would make. ‘We’re giving him a chance to pin the monster incident on someone else.’ It was a tempting bait, bundling all the dirty flaws together to offload them.
Dangling such delectable prey before him, Cheshire barely swallowed the giggles that kept trying to escape.
After a long silence, Sionel murmured slowly.
“…Oh, God.”
As if suppressing surging emotions, the Holy King clasped his hands in prayer, briefly touching them to his forehead before releasing them.
“To think that you were the one who brought a monster into Hilderd…!”
His grief-stricken cry cleaved through the Grand Temple.
“My trust in our decades together blinded me. This is all my failing.”
Fully exposing the pain of betrayal by a trusted ally, he shed hot tears.
Others watching the scene also welled up with tears, following the Holy King’s lead.
Short prayers of “Oh, God” echoed here and there. Seeing the Holy King transform into the perfect victim, Milliord blinked dazedly.
Frozen like a statue, he slowly looked around.
Those who once looked up to him now gazed down with eyes full of contempt.
Struck as if by lightning, Milliord shuddered and roared.
“W-Why! I’ve committed no crime but loyalty in fulfilling Your Holiness’s will!”
He was uttering the most truthful words among all gathered here. But if no one believed him, even truth became a lie. “Hailon.”
Sionel commanded firmly.
“Take this man to the heresy interrogation chamber at once.”
Milliord let out a beast-like scream.
He writhed and crawled to Kierne’s feet.
With bloodshot eyes bulging and veins throbbing in his neck, he shouted.
“Me, tampering with monsters! And, gasp, vouching from the underworld master—aren’t you afraid of divine punishment! How dare you swear on God’s name and spout such lies…!”
Bound by chains, he wriggled pathetically like a worm, bellowing with rage.
Kierne regarded him indifferently, then placed Cheshire on his shoulder. Kneeling on one knee, he met Milliord’s eyes. “How can you say such things, Lord Milliord?”
Feigning a sorrowful expression, Kierne whispered softly, for his ears only.
“Not everything I said is a lie. One part is true.”
Slyly, his long eyes curved with secrecy.
“I’m the master.”
