TBR CH48

Starting from that day, five days had passed without any ripples.

Or perhaps, it wasn’t entirely without ripples. More and more old books piled up in the room as Edwin borrowed the bishop’s authority to enter the kingdom’s archives. He also used some means to find Prince Angelo’s borrowing records.

Summoning demons was not something that left no traces. According to Tal, the demon lord had followed the prince for decades—perhaps traces of its presence had been left behind back then.

Most importantly, he needed to find a way to stop the resurgence of his bloodline.

In Edwin’s past life, he had always paid special attention to matters related to bloodlines. Blood transfusion was an obscure and ancient forbidden technique, and there had never been a recorded successful case. The images that surfaced from the pages were of ghastly white bones.

Edwin was probably the only person in hundreds of years to use this method to erase the influence of his bloodline—a bitterly ironic yet fortunate experiment.

The bishop barely rested at night, flipping through those crumbling, decayed pages one by one. Sometimes, Tal had to cover his eyes when he desperately needed sleep.

The demon’s abilities were quite useful—it made sleep as easy to dismiss as eating.

Tal stood beside Edwin, who had just awakened from a deep sleep. At Edwin’s request, Tal had forcibly woken him up. The bishop’s gray eyes flickered with confusion for only a moment before he hardened into his usual cold demeanor.

He almost never stopped working.

He tried to block magic, to create counteracting forbidden spells, and to find ways to kill demons. As a bishop of the Church of Light, he was granted divine abilities—even as a mere mortal, he dared to think he could defy demons.

If one only looked at these efforts, they would think he was strong-willed and unfazed, not yet pushed to the brink.

But Tal knew it was getting harder for Edwin to pretend that everything was normal.

The demon sat obediently beside Edwin, resting his chin on his hand. Occasionally, the bishop would suddenly lift his gaze to look at him, revealing a rare, broken expression—like a vase covered in cracks. But it would only last for a fleeting moment.

Soon, he would lower his head again, and Tal would pretend not to notice.

Usually, this happened when Edwin was reading about incubi.

The church’s books already spoke of demons with extreme disdain, let alone incubi—creatures so filthy that they had no right to exist under the light.

But Edwin could clearly feel that his incubus bloodline was awakening—bit by bit.

The bishop still buttoned his robes from hem to collar. Beneath layers of heavy clothing, his skin remained pale and was becoming increasingly sensitive—just the slightest touch left large patches of red marks.

His bishop’s robe was embroidered with silver emblems, and on the back, no matter how exquisite the craftsmanship, the stitches still pricked against his skin. For an ordinary person, this would be nothing, but Tal knew that Edwin was probably quite uncomfortable.

Truthfully, he shouldn’t be wearing so much at this stage… But the demon wisely chose not to suggest that.

Edwin was well aware of his own condition.

Which only made him despise himself even more, trying to bury everything beneath proper attire.

Sometimes, Tal would hand Edwin a cup of tea—he had nothing better to do, and he was quite adept at such tasks. Edwin never looked up, merely taking the cup absentmindedly.

Until, on one occasion, the demon accidentally brushed against the back of the bishop’s hand.

The result was that the tea nearly spilled.

Fortunately, the demon was quicker.

Edwin knew that the intense workload and his resistance to reality were making him overly sensitive. He parted his lips slightly in a daze but said nothing, pretending not to care—as if it were just an insignificant accident.

If only he hadn’t stared at the unspilled tea cup until the tea inside went completely cold.

This was a painful, secretive transformation—like shedding his skin.

To the outside world, Edwin remained the noble, untarnished bishop. But inside, he was being broken down and repainted, with no way to stop it.

At least, he hadn’t found a way yet.

This process should have been hidden from everyone, but Tal saw it all.

He was an uninvited guest, yet Edwin’s life had no choice but to open up to him.

During these days, the demon was with him almost every moment.

Edwin had countless fragmented bouts of sleep, and every time he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was those pomegranate-red pupils.

Spending too much time with any creature risked forming a habit.

Edwin tried to hide his discomfort, but he knew he couldn’t fool the sharp-witted demon. He knew Tal could see through his forced composure, yet he never pointed it out.

When Edwin himself could no longer figure out who he was, the demon would smile at him—sweet and cloying, like a blooming rose—and call him, “Dear Bishop.”

It was like an anchor—not a sturdy one, but at least something to momentarily ground him. Edwin didn’t know what it meant or whether it was good or bad.

On the sixth day of his investigation, a spell took effect.

But it wasn’t a spell to stop things from getting worse.

The success of the magic circle only proved one thing:

Edwin’s incubus bloodline had reached a certain level of potency.

—Now, the bloodline magic could finally proceed.

If he wished, the bishop could find his relatives—strangers he had never met before.

From that day on, five chaotic days had passed.

Those five days had not gone well for Noah.

He began to reflect on his oversight that day. Before that, his strategy had been smooth sailing. When interacting with each target, he had never held back. Those in power—whether rulers or leaders—always ended up utterly devoted to him, so apart from the initial encounters, he never truly considered the significance of their status.

That was why he had never anticipated that after a year and a half of separation, one of his lovers would resort to drastic measures upon seeing him again.

At the core of it, Noah had never loved them. Naturally, he couldn’t understand the pain of being separated from someone one truly loved.

In his past life, Noah had been a con artist, swindling money from people. While he had deceived a few experienced middle-aged professionals, most of his targets were easily fooled students and the elderly.

Now, he leaned against the sofa, his eyes dazedly reflecting the shimmering lights from the room’s crystal lamps. After a long moment, he let out a soft sigh.

The system continued broadcasting prompts in his mind, urging him to take action.

“Shut up,” the Child of Fate said coldly.

His fingers absentmindedly twisted the silky fabric of the sofa cover. Though magic had erased all traces, the lingering panic and thrill still echoed in his heart.

Until the very last moment, the system had been advising him to reject Edward’s advances—to find an excuse and send him away. That way, he might still have made it to his last scheduled rendezvous.

But Noah had refused.

If there was one thing the Holy Son had learned that day, it was this: Before trying to grasp the unknown, one must first hold onto the known.

As expected, after a long-separation spring night, the slight sense of danger that originally surrounded Edward completely dissipated. His lover was exactly as he had imagined—pure and gentle, waiting for him. Even an unexpected encounter led to him actively clinging to Edward’s chest. Wasn’t this something reassuring?

As for that bit of dissatisfaction from before, it became irrelevant once he was satisfied.

In such an atmosphere, Noah’s emotionally persuasive and logically sound request seemed impossible to refuse. Moreover, what the Holy Son said made sense—given his current situation, the Church would soon hold a ritual to summon the God of Light for protection. For safety reasons, meeting daily as expected was no longer realistic.

“My little nightingale…”

It was almost a sweet dilemma. Edward held his waist, unwilling to let go.

Yet Noah couldn’t help but cast his gaze out the window. Since Edward’s visit, thanks to Prince ’s influence, the Holy Knights had been guarding the Holy Son’s residence tightly, ensuring the privacy of their conversation.

The last scheduled visitor was the ruler of the elves—the Dark Elf King, Ansair.

He was not one of the pure elves that the world found easier to accept. Thousands of years ago, elves had already split into two branches: light and dark. In this generation, the dark elves had undeniably gained the upper hand.

On the continent, elves and the Elf Mother Tree held significant power, but they had now been completely tainted by an ominous force. The remaining light elves were forced to flee their homeland and wander.

Upon seeing the Church of Light under strict lockdown, Ansair must have realized that today was not the right time.

And so, he was firmly shut out. According to the system’s report, Ansair had come almost to the doorstep of Noah’s residence, but that was as far as he got.

Guards stood downstairs, and the room was heavily secured—neither sound nor movement could be seen from the outside. People would inform him that the Holy Son was receiving a visitor.

Of course, at that closest moment, Noah did feel a brief jolt of panic. But as the distance grew, he gradually relaxed.

A king who prided himself on nobility would not force his way in. And Noah’s status as the Holy Son provided the perfect cover for his temporary absence.

He could imagine Ansair raising his eyes to the pure white building where the Holy Son resided under the night sky, never suspecting that his lover was entangled with another man, thoroughly making him wear a crown of horns.

He would deal with it later, Noah thought. It was nothing significant—just setting up a reasonable deception.

After all, he was still fortunate.

The chaos of this day was due to his own negligence, but it wouldn’t happen again.

However—

…Perhaps he had spoken too soon.

Learning from his mistakes, Noah spent the next few days carefully staggering the meetings with his difficult targets, pacifying them one by one. But things always turned out to be more chaotic than he had imagined.

Adelaide was stubborn and inflexible—many things had to be explicitly stated before he would understand, yet saying them outright would damage the Holy Son’s image.

Edward was charming yet dangerous—Noah had to meet his demands, act coquettishly, and desperately curb his lover’s growing possessiveness.

As for the Dark Elf King, Ansair… he was by far the most difficult to handle. Not to mention, being shut out on the first day meant Noah had to spend even more effort and time on him.

On top of all this, there was also a rigid old priest, clinging to him like a parasite, scrutinizing his every move and severely restricting his actions.

He had to coax one while appeasing another. Though each of his targets favored him, their ways of expressing affection—considering they were all villains of this world—were almost too much for Noah to endure.

Amidst the commotion, the Holy Son barely managed to restore balance, pacifying each of them.

It took a lot of time, but the outcome was satisfactory—he successfully convinced every target not to visit the Church without his invitation.

Although this was still a far cry from his original plan of getting them to leave the royal city entirely, they had all, coincidentally, decided to stay here a little longer.

Perhaps they still harbored the hope of seeing him again.

For now, Noah couldn’t dissuade them from that idea.

Furthermore, despite all his careful planning, it was impossible to remain completely unnoticed. He often felt the old priest’s sharp gaze piercing through him, as if he had seen through everything. That look was like a ticking time bomb, convincing Noah that he needed to act first.

But all of that would have to wait until after the upcoming ritual.

The second baptism of the God of Light was imminent.

The Church had already prepared a sacred relic to summon the deity. The God would descend upon the Church’s heart, bathed in an unprecedented dawn, to observe His most favored believer.

Noah knew he had to seize this opportunity.

Change is a process, but accumulation always leads to transformation.

So when Tal saw Edwin hurriedly step into the room after morning prayers, he initially thought something was wrong with the other’s health again.

Then, he silently received a look from the Archbishop—not one of impending collapse, but of facing a looming blade.

“This is urgent,” Edwin said. “The Pope has ordered me to go to the palace immediately.”

The palace did not truly belong to the puppet emperor—it was largely controlled by Prince Angelo.

In other words, the attack had begun.

Edwin nodded and explained, “The prince claims that traces of demonic activity have been found in the palace, so the Church’s representatives must investigate.”

Tal couldn’t help but laugh, earning a warning glance from the Archbishop. The young demon begrudgingly suppressed his smile, but there was still a hint of amusement in his voice:

“I thought demons had long made themselves at home in the palace—”

After all, Prince Angelo had already signed a contract with a demon, yet he still managed to use such an excuse. That was quite the added bonus.

But Edwin had no choice—this was an unquestionable command. No matter the private relations between the royal family and the Church, once Prince Angelo turned this into a city-wide spectacle, Edwin had to take responsibility.

“Tal,” Edwin hesitated, “you can’t enter the palace.”

Demons could easily recognize each other’s auras. Though Tal was skilled at concealment, Edwin doubted that a low-ranked demon could remain undetected before a demon lord.

Another issue was that Tal couldn’t stray too far from him—otherwise, both their soul strengths would weaken.

Tal obediently nodded.

This wasn’t an easy problem to solve, but it could be dealt with later.

As he considered their options, Edwin was gathering the necessary tools. The holy artifacts, gleaming with gentle radiance, were deadly weapons against any demon weaker than Edwin.

As the Archbishop of the Church of Light’s headquarters, Edwin had climbed the ranks through sheer ability. He was only twenty years old, meaning he could wield the power of Light to its fullest potential.

Theoretically, Tal should have been easily exorcised by the Archbishop.

Yet in reality, this deceitful demon was now foolishly worried about him:

“Edwin, are you sure… you can still handle it?”

He didn’t specify, but his meaning was clear.

The Archbishop unconsciously tightened the silver clasp at his collar. He seemed lost in thought for a few seconds before extending his hand.

“Touch me.”

“…What?”

Tal knew better than anyone how intolerant Edwin had been of physical contact lately. Even a light touch nearly made him spill a cup of scalding tea on himself.

So he quickly understood Edwin’s intent.

Tentatively, the demon intertwined his slender fingers with the Archbishop’s. Edwin seemed to tremble slightly at first, the skin beneath Tal’s fingertips tensing for a moment before he forcibly smoothed it out with sheer will.

Then, Tal tightened his grip, letting his touch travel up to Edwin’s wrist, just shy of the heavy robes.

This time, Edwin didn’t shake.

He simply allowed the heat of an unnatural touch to settle on his skin, forcing himself to suppress the tension and discomfort.

He had to learn this.

Only newborn incubi feared mere touch. But he was an Archbishop—restrained and disciplined.

He understood that his reaction was mostly psychological rather than physical.

This was desensitization therapy.

Edwin didn’t know what awaited him in the palace, but it certainly wasn’t anything good.

This person? Their rationality truly remained at a terrifying level.

Tal was forced to maintain the hand-holding gesture with a hint of amusement, as Edwin showed no intention of letting go, while the bishop—remarkably—continued sorting through the things he was taking with him with his other hand, without releasing Tal.

Although most of their efforts in the past few days had been fruitless, they had found scattered records in some books about how to deal with a lord-class demon. Edwin had gathered the mentioned materials, his lips pressed tightly together, carefully packing them into the bag he carried with him.

If not for Tal, the presence of a lord-class demon would have been impossible for the bishop to detect.

This would become an advantage for them. Perhaps their opponent had not anticipated that he had made some preparations in advance, expecting to crush him with a swift and overwhelming attack.

Then, Edwin’s movements suddenly stopped.

Tal glanced at him innocently, pretending not to be the culprit who had extended a little finger to lightly scratch the bishop’s palm. After all, they had been holding hands for a while—at Edwin’s rate of adaptation, he would soon grow accustomed to Tal’s presence.

The demon wanted to do something fitting for his identity—in other words, cause a little trouble.

The bishop let go of his hand.

Ah, as expected.

Seizing the brief moment of skin contact, Tal used his divine power to take a look at Edwin’s blood. It was now a deep crimson, almost turning into the black that symbolized demons.

Every day before leaving, Edwin took two layers of precautions—one was the demon magic Tal had promised to use to conceal his presence, and the other was the meticulous defensive measures Edwin applied to himself.

At the same time, the bishop carried a vial of bright red blood with him.

This behavior was very much like those refined vampire nobles who had high standards for the quality of blood. But of course, Edwin had prepared it in case he needed to fake part of a crime scene using his own power.

All in all, Tal thought, the bishop was becoming more and more like a proper villain.

And this newly born villain had finally finished preparing everything he needed. He now had to leave for the palace immediately—there was no room for refusal, so he could only face it.

The key issue was how to bring the demon along while preventing him from entering the palace—

“I have an idea.”

Tal said.

A quarter of an hour later, he was sitting on the driver’s seat of a carriage, while Edwin sat inside.

“…I never expected a demon to drive a carriage.”

The bishop stared at the demon’s back for a while, still finding it a little odd. The demon’s posture was practiced, and with his disguise, he looked like a proper coachman.

The first time Tal made him tea, Edwin had worn the same expression.

“Dear bishop,”

The demon’s black hair swayed slightly in the cool breeze, dark and rich. “I can do far more than you imagine—I told you, I excel at disguises, and a disguise must be thorough.”

But the role of a coachman was still too close to humans.

Low-ranking demons had to disguise themselves as coachmen to evade the eyes of higher-ranking demons…

That sounded utterly ridiculous.

“Tal,”

Edwin couldn’t help but speak, though this wasn’t the right time for such a question.

“Before I summoned you, how did you live?”

The carriage stopped in front of the palace. Tal, still in disguise as a coachman, skillfully pulled the reins. The two sleek black horses halted neatly, lifting their hooves without stirring up the slightest dust—this was, after all, the royal palace.

Next, they would part ways for a while.

The bishop would enter, facing an unknown fate.

Tal would wait for Edwin’s return—perhaps something unexpected would happen, but for now, everything still seemed normal.

Edwin hesitated. He had not received an answer.

But in theory, he didn’t really need one. So he should get out of the carriage now.

Tal rarely fell silent before him, but this time, the answer seemed to take too long. Perhaps he was unwilling to speak.

Edwin understood this, yet under the glimmering sky, the “coachman” in the front seat turned back to glance at him. For some reason, the bishop caught a fleeting glimpse of crimson in his well-disguised black eyes—a color almost bewitching.

This question was too personal, Edwin thought. It was as if he wanted to understand the demon’s life.

And a bishop should not think that way.

Was it because they had been too close for too long, leading to an unrealistic sense of familiarity? But when the demon’s rose-scented hand passed over his eyes, casting a shadow, did he—just for a moment—feel a sense of reassurance?

He could only speculate that he would no longer knock over his tea cup.

But weren’t there times when humans wanted to understand demons?

Tal smiled at him—like a fresh rose, beautiful yet mysterious.

“Does Edwin want to know me? I am not like you. My only wish is to live freely.”

“Alright,”

The demon spread his hands, making a helpless gesture, then extended one in a gentlemanly manner:

“Please step out, Bishop. I will wait here for your return.”

Carriages stopping in front of the palace would eventually gather in one place, and the coachmen would converse with each other—Tal would have no chance to wander off. Edwin had already spotted the palace attendants approaching his carriage.

The bishop tightened his grip on his staff, the ruby in his palm emitting a faint warmth.

“See you later.”

It was an ordinary farewell, not an empty blessing. Edwin’s dark boots stepped onto the palace’s marble floor. Step by step, he walked forward, disappearing from the view of the common people.

As if the palace had swallowed him whole.