TBR CH51

A good night’s sleep was only relative. It clearly did not include being woken up before dawn by loud knocking the next day.

Edwin silently opened his gray eyes, a trace of alertness within them.

Tal was not in the room.

The discovery was startling, but with just a slight turn of his head, Edwin could see that the demon had left a note on his desk. The bishop pretended he didn’t feel a slight sense of loss.

Opening his eyes to see Tal—it seemed to have become a small part of life.

The scent of roses still lingered, though it could easily be explained as the fragrance from the bouquet on the desk. Edwin only needed a glance to scan the note the demon had left.

Tal was a clever demon, so he knew very well that it was best not to stay in the room.

“Don’t worry,”

The elegant, rounded script read, “I’m just hiding for a while. I even prepared a surprise for them.”

Edwin rarely looked forward to anything.

But this sentence certainly fell within that “rarely.”

Angelo paced anxiously, while the demon inside him sneered at human worries and shallowness.

“What exactly are you so concerned about—”

The demon lord, Sata, was full of confidence:

A newly awakened incubus could never forcibly suppress his own bloodline and would remain incapable of resisting for quite some time. Surely, whoever had been lying in wait in the room had already ended up in bed with him, and because the pleasure was too overwhelming, they had forgotten to open the door for others.

If that were not the case, then the bishop himself would have lost his reason and opened the door, begging for the mercy of those waiting outside.

The plan still sounded flawless.

Prince Angelo had not slept all night. In the end, he could not wait until dawn and hurried to the Holy See before the first light of morning, secretly requesting an audience with the Pope to demand a search of Edwin’s room and expose the bishop’s true nature.

“As long as you open the door, you will see the terrible sins he has committed.”

The older the Pope got, the more he adhered to a policy of appeasement, maintaining a careful distance from the royal family. He knew that breaking into the bishop’s room over a baseless accusation would not be convincing.

But Angelo was adamant. Moreover, it was said that yesterday’s exorcism ritual at the palace had indeed encountered some issues…

In the end, the old man relented.

Yet, in the dim candlelight, the Pope’s deeply wrinkled face showed a sharpness in his aging eyes, like a hawk—so piercing in the night that it made the prince feel a weight upon him.

This was his most critical opportunity, enough to completely crush his opponent underfoot. But if he failed, trying to shake the bishop’s position again in the future would be much more difficult.

A strange sense of unease welled up inside him.

Angelo had done many ruthless things in his life, had caused countless deaths, including those of high-ranking individuals. But rarely had he ever felt this way.

The last time this emotion stirred within him was when, under the guidance of a demon, he had laced his own father’s wine with an undetectable poison. That had been a life-and-death moment.

If the old king had spoken a word about his deeds back then, he would have been finished…

Yet, in the end, he had won his gamble.

Hesitation was nothing more than a blade aimed at the weak.

Unconsciously, Angelo stroked the large gemstone on his ring, following behind the procession toward the White Tower of the Holy See. The massive gem, gleaming like a pigeon’s egg, sparkled under the lantern light held by the leading clergy.

He was allowed to follow the verification team, but of course, the actual search had to be conducted by the clergy.

Before dawn, the White Tower stood under the dim night sky, still exuding its sacred, inviolable presence. The messengers of God, clad in white, walked soundlessly, drawing closer to Edwin’s room step by step.

The bishop’s room was veiled by deep purple drapes, concealing whatever lay within.

Until Edwin opened the door.

He had clearly just been woken up, still dressed in his nightgown. Yet, even his nightgown was no different from his usual attire—fully covering his entire body, buttoned up from top to bottom.

The moment Angelo saw him, he knew—he had just suffered a colossal, terrifying failure.

This was not the demeanor of an incubus—a being overwhelmed by its own bloodline.

Finally, the bishop raised his eyes to look at the uninvited guests before him, their torches lifted as if they had come to burn a demon. Angelo, standing in the second half of the group, found Edwin’s deep, mist-like gaze effortlessly locking onto him.

I see. That was what Edwin’s eyes seemed to say.

“Go ahead,” the bishop gathered his sleeves and took a step back.

“Search all you want, look for whatever you wish. I will take full responsibility and conceal nothing.”

“—God is watching all that you do.”

The search, of course, yielded nothing.

In such a situation, all struggle was almost futile. Prince Angelo could no longer articulate what exactly he was trying to expose, and Edwin’s room was laid bare. Even the demon within him could not detect anything amiss.

The priests, however, whispered in reverence and astonishment, “As expected of His Excellency the Bishop.”

They were referring to the bishop’s bookshelf, filled with books on combating demons, all of which showed signs of being frequently read.

Angelo’s face darkened further as he caught a glimpse. He kept rubbing the gemstone on his hand—a meaningless motion that helped him regain composure. Yet, in this setting, which was nothing less than a formal declaration of his failure, such an action was already pointless.

There wasn’t even a corpse.

Angelo could not openly claim that there had been someone in the room. As a prince of the palace, he could not explain how he had inserted himself so deeply into this matter. He could only swallow his own confusion.

But… thinking about it this way, the prince instead grew calmer.

Sata had been right—there was no way Edwin could have overcome the desires of a newly awakened incubus alone. The room was missing not just one person but perhaps two.

“I demand to verify the bishop’s coachman from yesterday,”

The prince raised his hand, the gemstone reflecting a dazzling light under the lamps. His voice was hoarse. “I accuse His Excellency of committing an unspeakable crime, forcing him to kill to silence witnesses.”

For a moment, the room fell into a strange silence.

Leaning against the window, Edwin merely lifted his gaze and smiled slightly.

“Go ahead and verify it. Prince Angelo, I believe you must have misunderstood me. Let’s calmly wait here for the results.”

Angelo’s fingers twitched.

This was impossible. He had already arranged for the original coachman to be replaced, and there was no way Edwin could have killed and remained so composed afterward. His hired assassin wouldn’t have betrayed him overnight—it didn’t align with their interests.

Yet, the messengers who rushed back reported urgently:

“The coachman from yesterday is still in the church. His identity has been confirmed, and the other nobles’ coachmen can vouch that he spoke with them yesterday. According to him, he simply drove the bishop back to the Holy See, and His Excellency was perfectly normal. He also said—”

“Enough!”

Angelo cut him off. His voice carried a cruel iciness, forcing the reporting priest to stop mid-sentence, though resentment flickered in his eyes.

Prince Angelo was abusing his power, while their bishop, who had done nothing wrong, had been forced to endure this interrogation and suspicion.

Angelo raised his fingers somewhat helplessly, clenching his left hand with his right. He tried to assert dominance:

“I want to see that coachman myself. This must be—tell him Prince Angelo demands he speak the truth—”

He opened his mouth, but upon seeing Edwin’s expression, he knew that after a string of failures, this demand carried no weight anymore.

Edwin smiled at him with a touch of pity.

“I’m afraid not,”

He said, “Your Highness, your actions today have already offended the authority of the Holy See. I believe both the Pope and His Majesty will handle this matter accordingly. As for that coachman…”

The young bishop, already in a position of great power, had the right to make this decision.

His tone was soft and slow, yet left no room for argument:

“There’s no need for you to worry about him. He is my man.”

In this city, scandals spread like sparrows—taking flight quickly and becoming everyone’s favorite topic of gossip over meals.

This time, the protagonist was Prince Angelo.

The news was bold and sensational enough to ignite people’s passion for discussing the affairs of the powerful.

People spread the news eagerly: from the prince’s bed, two dead men had actually been carried out overnight!

Mockery, astonishment, sighs, and condemnation—rumors could only ferment little by little. And the person at the center of the incident finally experienced what it felt like to be the subject of gossip, yet had no way to defend himself.

By the time Edwin received this news, Tal had already returned to his room.

That was how it should be. The room was once again filled with the unique rose fragrance of the demon. In this scent, Edwin felt an indescribable comfort and relaxation.

He glanced again at the demon reading a book and couldn’t help but wonder if he was really reading it.

It was a “Directory of Clergy Throughout the History of the Church of Light,” recording the names of every pope, bishop, saint, or saintess over the past millennia. The most recent name was Edwin’s, while the older names had been forgotten by most, reduced to cold and lifeless symbols in a book.

No one would read such a book—only overly devout old clerics would bother memorizing the names inside.

The last time, Tal had been flipping through this book. And now…

Edwin thought for a moment but decided not to criticize the demon’s taste in books.

Tal, however, sensed his gaze. His beautiful pomegranate-red eyes shifted from the cold pages of the book and looked at the bishop with a bit of mischief. He knew what Edwin wanted to ask—

“Two men?”

“The one in your room, and the assassin who wanted to replace me.”

The demon wobbled his outstretched finger. “Anyway, your prince and the demon in him are both out of the residence. I just took the opportunity to deliver a gift. It was very safe.”

It was certainly a well-prepared surprise, whether for Angelo or for Edwin, in both meanings of the term.

Edwin chuckled slightly.

Only in moments like this, when he laughed purely because he was in a good mood, did he truly look like a twenty-year-old young man. On other days, his smile was too deliberate—always tied to his position and responsibilities, drifting among the social circles of nobles, preserved as a relic of piety in the eyes of devout believers.

“Your Excellency,” Tal said, “do you know that you look very good when you smile?”

Edwin clearly didn’t know. And it was evident that, in his upbringing, no one had ever praised him simply for having a beautiful smile. He had always believed his smile to be insincere, unworthy of being taken seriously.

More importantly, he hadn’t even realized he had smiled just now.

The smile vanished in an instant. The bishop felt uneasy about losing control of his emotions and was further unsettled by an unfamiliar, sour feeling in his heart.

“…Thank you,”

But he still responded, hesitating over whether to return the compliment out of politeness.

“Your eyes are very beautiful as well.”

He was not someone clumsy with words. Edwin had climbed to this position by dealing with all kinds of people and was well-versed in handling even the most difficult individuals. But exchanging compliments at such close proximity with a demon had never been within his prepared responses.

And when he met the demon’s gaze, he was struck by an embarrassing realization: everything that had happened last night was reflected in those bright red pupils. His repeated loss of control had been seen entirely by the other.

He couldn’t pretend to forget.

Yet, he found that he did not condemn himself further or shatter over these memories. Tal’s attitude—Tal, in fact, showed no particular attitude toward what had happened. He still interacted with Edwin as usual, carrying the peculiar friendliness of a demon.

During the day, Edwin had said: He is mine.

This thought lingered inexplicably in Edwin’s mind. The bishop knew he could trust no one, nor had he ever hoped to rely on anyone while climbing upward.

Summoning a demon meant sacrificing one’s soul—a fundamentally unequal transaction. One had to give up many things in exchange for what was a mere trifle to a powerful being.

But Tal was a low-ranking demon, one who even needed Edwin’s help to escape his enemies.

In that case… Edwin’s misty gray eyes lingered on Tal. The demon was clever but weak, with a pair of beautiful eyes and a scent like roses. They couldn’t harm each other, yet the bishop could lock him in a room by means that were not ill-intentioned.

Did this mean that he could, indeed, possess something for certain?

Tal noticed Edwin staring at him inexplicably for a while. Seeing the mist in the bishop’s eyes growing heavier, as if he had completely fallen into thought, Tal waved his right hand in front of his face.

In that instant, the mist was scattered.

The desire to possess anything was dangerous—especially something that was alive.

Edwin knew this truth.

He could not become complacent just because things were going smoothly for now. His bloodline problem was still unresolved. If his first awakening had occurred, there would surely be a second. He had to find a solution before he lost control again.

At the same time, Prince Angelo would not give up so easily. The prince was attempting to track down his blood relatives. If possible, Edwin had to find them first and assess the risk they posed.

The bishop thought coldly: Perhaps patricide would be necessary. That was an acceptable price to pay.

Once this storm passed, the Pope would compensate him. Today, Angelo’s antics had failed, putting him in the public’s sympathy. Perhaps by tomorrow, some of the authority that had been stripped from him would be returned.

The next ritual for the Holy Son would also require his officiation.

Moreover, he possessed a piece of cloth taken from the Lord Demon’s attire. Though it was merely fabric, demonic garments were simply a manifestation of magic—so in a way, he had obtained a fragment of its power. And on it, there was Angelo’s blood.

Something smuggled back in his palm—the sharpest blade to wound an enemy.

A demon of lord rank was not entirely undefeatable. In the past two days, Edwin had read through an immense amount of information, and some of it caught his attention.

For instance, there had been a time when the Church of Light reached its peak in power. The church seemed to have used some mysterious weapons, enabling them to fight against the most wicked and fearsome dark forces of the time. They had even slain the infamous Seven Pillars of Demon Lords.

Yet this record ended abruptly. What followed was the event known in history as the “Light Cataclysm”—the greatest disaster ever suffered by the church. The Holy See headquarters was completely destroyed, the central clergy suffered heavy casualties, and the survivors refused to speak about it.

Edwin could guess that using power not one’s own required a price.

Humans could not wield magic directly; they had to rely on external objects. Whether this information would be useful, he did not know, but at the very least, it suggested a possibility.

There was nothing in the world that was absolutely impossible—only the question of whether he could afford the price.

The demon watched as Edwin transitioned from a rare moment of relaxation back into a state of tense danger, almost able to read his thoughts. Quietly, Tal smiled.

His knuckles tapped absentmindedly on the pages of the book, pressing out crescent-shaped imprints.

If Edwin had noticed the name under the demon’s sharp fingers at that moment, he would have realized—

The page Tal had turned to in the clergy directory happened to be the very record of the “Light Cataclysm.”