TBR CH49

The Vatican’s carriage stood out among the many others, with its pure white dome lined with golden decorations.

Following the guidance of the palace guards, Tal circled to the back and parked the carriage before nimbly jumping down.

Naturally, coachmen were not permitted inside the palace and had to wait here until their masters finished their visits, at which point someone would come ahead to notify them to prepare the carriage.

This place was filled with coachmen serving various noble families, making it, unsurprisingly, the most enthusiastic gossip exchange hub in the entire royal city.

Of course, the Holy See’s coachmen were often volunteers rather than professionals, and they typically disdained making friends with the others. Tal had just stepped down when he heard someone whistle and call him “the new face from the Holy See” with a tone that was both mocking and a little envious.

The demon shrugged.

It took him only fifteen minutes to make the people here start seeing him as someone easy to get along with—unlike those aloof individuals from before. For Tal, this was effortless.

As long as he followed their conversations, occasionally echoed a sentiment, and now and then complained about the workload—even without revealing any useful information—soon enough, the crowd would start treating him as one of their own.

And then, gathering a wealth of fresh intelligence would be the easiest thing in the world.

Until, suddenly, the lively chatter came to an abrupt halt.

Following their gazes toward the door, Tal wasn’t surprised to see a palace attendant dressed in lavish court attire, with even a dyed feather tucked into his hat.

It was actually rather ridiculous—but no one laughed.

With a self-important tone, the man shrilly announced his order:

“The bishop’s carriage must be prepared. Who is the coachman? Step forward immediately.”

There was something about him that made people uncomfortable.

Tal stepped out from the crowd, inexplicably smiling—a sly smile, the kind that came when he smelled danger.

There was no way Edwin could be coming out at this moment. It had barely been any time at all.

Of course, this thought had no solid basis. If Tal were just an ordinary coachman, he wouldn’t know the bishop’s itinerary today and would naively assume everything was proceeding as usual.

The attendant frowned at this seemingly unremarkable coachman, confused and displeased by his inexplicable laughter.

But it wasn’t worth commenting on, so he simply turned and instructed Tal to follow him.

There was quite a distance from the waiting area to the gate, and clearly, this wasn’t the same route as before. When Tal casually pointed this out, the man claimed the original path was now occupied by nobles and that they couldn’t afford to barge in, making it necessary to take a smaller side route instead.

The path was silent and deserted, with a turn up ahead.

That turn reeked of malice.

Tal pretended not to notice anything, not altering his pace or pressing any more curious questions to provoke the attendant.

And when the man saw Tal—as expected—get knocked unconscious the moment he turned the corner, he finally exhaled in relief.

He couldn’t afford to mess up the prince’s orders.

Just ahead, in a small building, an expert in disguise was waiting.

From here on, the process was simple: drag the coachman inside and have the expert mimic his appearance to perfection, allowing him to take Tal’s place in the bishop’s carriage—ensuring that nothing would go wrong.

The attendant waited patiently for a while.

Before long, a man walked out of the building. Incredibly, he looked exactly like the original coachman.

It was an impressive feat, enough to win over any observer. The attendant respectfully addressed him:

“Master…”

The “master” lifted his eyes lazily and gave a confident, knowing smile, nodding slightly.

“The body inside—I’ve already dealt with it.”

Prince Angelo truly had an extensive network. The attendant knew that this person was not only skilled in disguise but also an experienced assassin. He looked at him with reverence, sensing a lingering aura of bloodshed in his eyes.

Still, he had to confirm:

“You remember, of course, that your task is to bring him to…”

“If your plan proceeds as expected, naturally—”

The man elegantly bowed to him. “But in the worst-case scenario, please ensure your people are ready.”

“Yes, yes.”

Sweat beaded on the attendant’s forehead. “Please wait here. I will inform you as soon as there is an update.”

Tal was Tal. Since he was not actually Edwin’s real coachman, he was certainly not the real assassin either.

Though, what he was doing wasn’t all that different.

Edwin had made many speculations, but he hadn’t foreseen that Prince Angelo would target the coachman.

However, the demon bore the protective magic Edwin had cast on him, so he wasn’t truly vulnerable to a single strike.

But since things were taking an interesting turn, he simply went along with it—adopting yet another grand and legitimate new identity.

In reality, Edwin had stayed in the palace far longer than expected.

Due to their soul contract, Tal could sense how his situation was unfolding—whether for better or worse.

Right now, as the sun dipped close to the horizon, strange smoke was rising from the palace, shimmering with a rippling purple glow in the evening light.

The bishop’s situation was dire.

His soul was struggling violently, plummeting, resisting fiercely.

But things didn’t look good.

Tal began to wonder what exactly had happened. Edwin, it seemed, had launched a single deadly attack with all his remaining strength—only to weaken drastically afterward.

At that moment, the attendant rushed over, flustered:

“Master, it’s time. The bishop is heading toward the palace gate… our people can’t stop him.”

That didn’t sound good.

Tal once again took his seat in the carriage pulled by two fine black horses.

This time, using his demonic senses, he detected something new—something troublesome—hidden among the carriage’s decorations.

It smelled identical to the burning incense inside the palace that had produced that strange smoke.

In front of the palace, there was only this one carriage. The streets, usually bustling with people, were oddly empty.

Then, Edwin emerged.

He looked much better than Tal had imagined.

At first glance, he didn’t seem any different from when he had left in the morning. His appearance was still impeccably neat, and those gray eyes gazed indifferently at the people behind him, who were scrambling to stop him.

Yet none of them dared to get too close.

The bishop’s hand was still resting on the ruby of his staff, exuding a sharp and unmistakable menace.

There was nothing about him that suggested he was fleeing.

Edwin was walking very slowly.

Tal only realized why when the bishop got closer.

It wasn’t out of poise or an intentional display of intimidation.

His actual condition had deteriorated to a truly alarming degree.

Some things could only be seen when one drew near.

The bishop’s black curls were wet, his complexion even paler than usual. He had to exert all his strength just to keep his hands steady and prevent them from trembling.

A carriage was waiting for him at the door.

It was the same one he had taken that morning, with a familiar coachman inside. If he had not been alert enough, he might have thought that everything was already over.

But even if he sensed that something was wrong… this was the only road. He couldn’t walk the streets like this.

“Bishop,” the coachman smiled at him. “Get in.”

Edwin almost raised his hand to release a light magic attack immediately, but he quickly caught a fleeting glimpse of pomegranate-red eyes—he recognized the demon.

Tal knew that the bishop’s taut nerves loosened for just a second before tightening again.

A blade of holy light pressed against his neck.

Tal did not struggle. He knew that Edwin wasn’t trying to harm him, nor could he. This was a show for those watching from the shadows.

“Drive,” the bishop said hoarsely, his voice rough. He forced himself to ignore the strange sensations in his body, but it was useless. Even here, far from the palace, there was no relief at all—

What kind of situation was this? Tal wondered. For the prince, this must be quite a troublesome scenario. hadn’t expected Edwin to be so difficult to deal with, still having the strength to kill—even a trained assassin—at a time like this.

But the prince’s trump card was time, and the transformation was irreversible.

As long as certain accelerated changes continued within Edwin’s body, he would only grow weaker, eventually reaching a point where he would be at anyone’s mercy.

The materials required for this kind of spell could only be found by ancient demons. Even Tal, a god of darkness, had to think for a moment before recalling the existence of this lost incense.

Its scent had no effect on ordinary people. For demons, it even had a strengthening effect, capable of unlocking their hidden potential…

The bishop was not ready to become an incubus.

Yet the awakening of an incubus’s latent power was nearly consuming him from the inside out.

“Edwin,” Tal said. “I have to take you back to the church now. This is their backup plan, meant for the scenario where you still have the strength to resist. And you do seem to still have some. But you have to understand—the situation is dire.”

Edwin bit his lip and weakly closed his eyes, trying to rest for a moment to regain some clarity. But it was impossible.

During the ritual earlier, something had seeped into his body, but only he could smell that cloyingly sweet fragrance. No one else noticed anything…

Prince Angelo had explained:

“This scent can strongly influence a demon’s state, Bishop. I believe today’s exorcism ritual must be based on this.”

So he could not run away—at least, not at that moment.

The bishop also knew that time was the key.

never expected Edwin to construct a completely unforeseen attack array in such a short time.

And the target—Edwin placed his rosewood prayer beads at the center of the array. Enduring the discomfort in his body, he activated it.

A brilliant light erupted.

But the one who was consumed by it was the prince, who had been grinning with sharp, sticky malice.

This was no ordinary array used by the church.

The man whom the prince had prepared to be possessed by a demon curled up on the ground, watching the scene unfold in sheer disbelief.

Edwin swallowed his labored breaths. Using all his strength, he forced out the lord-class demon that had been possessing —even if it was just for a brief moment.

Even a single moment would count as a victory.

According to ’s plan, the bishop’s power should have already been severely weakened by now. He shouldn’t have been able to pull off such an attack—

Edwin raised his eyes and looked at him deeply. There was none of the confusion or fragility that had anticipated. Instead, his gaze was as solid as ice. His inorganic gray pupils shifted slightly, locking onto the prince, who had just suffered the attack.

But still, it wasn’t enough.

After all, a human could not truly stand against a demon.

The wounds inflicted on the lord-class demon would only enrage it further after a brief moment of stillness. Edwin knew that his best option now was to leave as quickly as possible.

So he began his retreat.

But, as expected, ’s preparations did not end there.

“Well then,” the demon’s tone was almost casual. His carriage had traveled unhindered through the Holy See’s domain, stopping beneath the White Tower where the bishop resided, without encountering any obstacles.

“Now, you could choose to kill me—if, that is, I were truly one of ’s agents. But upstairs, in your room, someone is waiting for you. And within the church… there are other infiltrators.”

“Besides… let’s be honest, Edwin—you know you need someone by your side right now.”

Incubi had a scent, and Edwin knew it.

The first time he had smelled it on himself was two days ago. Tal had helped him suppress the overwhelming fragrance, which refused to dissipate.

But now, even a demon’s illusions couldn’t hide the intense aroma seeping from his body. It was like a mark—

Thirteen years of suppression had finally backfired on him completely.

Even though he only had half the bloodline, the nature of this hedonistic race had been repressed for so long that it retaliated with full force.

At this moment, Edwin unconsciously pressed his fingers against his silver buttons.

Yet, what he thought of wasn’t fastening them tighter.

His clothes… they were almost unbearable.

Following the curve of the button, Edwin tugged his garment slightly away from his body, loosening the fabric so it wouldn’t cling to his skin and leave too many traces.

Even at this point…

Tal stepped down from the carriage first, extending a hand to the bishop—only to notice that Edwin’s left hand was clenched into a fist, refusing to open. His nails had already dug deep into his palm.

Realizing Tal’s gaze, Edwin vaguely became aware of what he was doing.

His overheated mind could barely process anything, yet he had still instinctively kept his grip closed. Now, he slowly unfurled his fingers.

In his palm lay a small scrap of black fabric, stained with splotches of color.

A piece of the lord-class demon’s robe.

“Wow,” Tal genuinely exclaimed. “Impressive trophy.”

This would be very useful.

And clutched tightly in his other hand was a small silver cross.

Its sharp edges had already cut into his skin, perhaps helping him stay just a fraction more lucid.

Even at the very last moment, Tal thought, Edwin still had the strength to fight back.

The deadliest weapon was hidden in the palm of his hand.

The bishop clearly no longer had room to react to these evaluations. He walked with a bit of a stagger, and Tal tried to support him. When the demon’s knuckles touched Edwin, his whole body instinctively tensed.

But there was no better option. And Tal—at the very least, his scent was familiar. It reminded Edwin of an earlier time when the demon had obediently let him hold his hand to help him adapt.

This association made things unfold in a familiar way, something Edwin could barely tolerate.

If there were people upstairs, they would already have seen the usually composed and self-restrained archbishop weakly leaning against another person. It would seem like everything was going according to plan.

That was also why, when Tal pushed open the door for the bishop, they saw the assassin inside step toward them with a sinister smile—

The lingering scent of roses in the room slightly masked Edwin’s presence.

The demon gave the human a beautiful smile, as if affirming his judgment. This made the assassin even more at ease as he walked toward Edwin, almost about to touch him.

Edwin, eyes closed, reached out his hand. A corner of the cross in his palm peeked out, and along its edge, a blade sharp enough to slit a throat extended.

The blade, condensed from holy light, slashed across the assassin’s neck.

He didn’t even have time to react before he fell to the ground, clutching his throat and making a gurgling sound. The supposedly weakened bishop, who had been leaning entirely on the coachman, had somehow launched this attack.

“So filthy.”

The bishop opened his gray eyes, now thick with mist, and murmured as he stared at the corpse on the ground.

He needed to lean on Tal, yet he also couldn’t bear being touched by him.

“Edwin,”

The demon warned him again, “If you’re still hoping to suppress this on your own… I can tell you clearly, it won’t work. But I can help you find someone cleaner—”

“…No.”

Tal finally felt a bit helpless. Edwin’s current state was the textbook case of an incubus in need of appeasement. If this continued, he would lose his reason and temporarily fall completely into his overwhelming desires.

To put it bluntly, didn’t actually care whether the person he arranged for Edwin would be killed in his loss of control. That wasn’t important.

What mattered was that a rampaging Edwin would leave the White Tower of his own accord.

That would only make things worse and delight his enemies even more.

Up until this moment, Tal hadn’t seriously considered how Edwin intended to solve this problem. In the demon’s mind, the bishop’s plan was doomed to fail—because his plan had included him.

And even as a mere low-ranking demon, sneaking past all prying eyes to find the bishop a temporary solution for this chaotic night, only to erase their memory the next day, would have been enough.

But Edwin clearly didn’t agree.

The bishop leaned against the demon, who helped him onto the sofa. His voice was hoarse as he asked for a glass of water.

It wouldn’t help.

Even so, Tal still brought him the water. Edwin took the cup, but his trembling hands couldn’t stop shaking, and the water splashed onto his clothes.

He spilled the cup again. But at the same time, he barely managed to drink a few sips, so Tal didn’t stop him.

Edwin thought, This is too pathetic, too powerless.

“Tal,”

The bishop heard himself speak. He was surprised that his voice still sounded so steady, as if nothing had happened. His reason colored his words, and he still had control:

“I need your help.”

“I don’t have time to find a suitable, trustworthy person.”

The demon was momentarily stunned and lowered his head to look at him.

Tal’s soft, pitch-black hair fell over his face. His beautiful red eyes flickered with uncertainty, clearly at a loss for how to respond to Edwin’s request.

The bishop suddenly found himself ridiculous.

Was he really making this request?

Asking for something like this?

“I thought, Edwin,”

Tal spoke softly and slowly, “that you knew the difference between humans and demons…”

“So am I.”

Edwin interrupted him. The words were difficult to say, but he forced them out. “Right now, I am also a demon.”

Tal—or rather, the dark god behind him, Tarksius rarely found himself in such a tricky situation.

He had always assumed that, no matter what, the bishop would insist on a human as his bottom line. And gods had no intention of forming relationships with any being in the world based on emotions or anything resembling emotions.

There was no need to agree to help a human in this way.

“…It’s a transaction.”

Edwin let his gaze lose focus, drifting along the ceiling. He looked utterly dazed, but his words rang clear in Tal’s ears.

This version of himself was shameful. But if this was what had to be done, then it was the most acceptable sacrifice—

“I will give you a part of my soul in exchange for your help.”

Although they were already forcibly connected by a soul-binding contract, they both knew the truth: that contract would never be fulfilled. In the end, Edwin’s soul would never fall into the demon’s hands, because a low-ranking demon couldn’t possibly bear the weight of his ambition.

They were fated to be entangled in vain, until the day Tal was finally willing to take back his freedom.

But this—this was a real contract.

The demon blinked, then slowly smiled under Edwin’s gaze.

Like a rose, Edwin thought dazedly. He couldn’t tell whether the feeling was real or if his eyes had simply landed on the vase on the table behind Tal by chance.

“There’s really no need,” Tal’s voice was steeped in honey, carrying a kind of innocent cruelty.

“You’re being so formal, Your Excellency. Why must everything be a transaction? I don’t think I’m losing anything from this—”

“This is a transaction.”

Edwin repeated, stubbornly clinging to the concept, unwilling to let it go.

“Alright, dear bishop, this is a transaction.”

Tal, as if he had no other choice, obediently and kindly indulged Edwin’s unreasonable insistence. His tone lifted slightly at the end, like a tiny hook, stinging at Edwin’s already crumbling rationality.

He had agreed.

As the demon’s words fell, Edwin felt a faint burning sensation in his chest—Tal had taken a small piece of his soul.

At the same time, the demon knelt before him on one knee, reaching out to touch his hair.

The bishop didn’t know what would happen next.

He only knew that an indescribable thirst suddenly surged through his body again, and the skin beneath his clothes was already burning. In this state, his gaze flitted around without focus, until he had no choice but to settle on Tal’s eyes.

They were as brilliant as garnets.

And they were looking right at him.

Unblinking.