TBR CH51

Chapter 51: No Need to Worry

A good sleep is only relative. It certainly doesn’t include being woken up before dawn by noisy knocking.

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

Tar was not in the room.

This discovery was frightening, but a slight turn of the head revealed a note the demon had left on Edwin’s desk. The Bishop pretended he didn’t feel a slight sense of loss. Waking up to see Tar seemed to have become a small part of his life.

The scent of roses still lingered, but it could also be explained as the fragrance from the bouquet on the desk. Edwin scanned the note left by the demon in just a few glances.

Tar was a clever demon, so he knew it was best not to stay in the room.

“Don’t worry,” the beautiful, rounded script read, “just hiding for a bit. I’ve also prepared a surprise for them.”

Edwin rarely held expectations for anything. But this sentence was definitely among those “rarely.”

Angelo paced with some anxiety. The demon on him, however, sneered at human worries and shallowness.

“What on earth are you worried about—” Demon Lord Satha was full of confidence about this:

A nascent succubus could absolutely not forcibly restrain their bloodline and would remain unable to resist for a considerable period of time. The person lying in ambush in the room must have already tumbled into bed with him. They were so lost in the ecstatic pleasure that they had forgotten to open the door for others.

If not, the Bishop would surely lose his mind and open the door himself, to beg for the favor of those waiting outside.

The plan still sounded flawless.

Prince Angelo hadn’t slept a wink all night. He ultimately couldn’t wait for dawn. Before the morning light had even touched the sky, he hurriedly visited the Holy See, secretly visiting the Pope to demand a search of Edwin’s room and expose the Bishop’s true face.

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

The older the Pope got, the more he adhered to a conciliatory strategy of keeping a distance from the royal family. He knew that if he pried open the Bishop’s room based on groundless accusations, it would probably not be convincing.

But Angelo was adamant. At the same time, it was said that there had indeed been some problems with the exorcism ceremony at the palace yesterday…

The old man finally relented.

However, under the dim candlelight, on the Pope’s wrinkled face, his once-aged eyes became sharp again, like a falcon’s, enough to make His Highness the Prince feel a sense of gravity in the night.

This was his most crucial opportunity, enough to completely crush his opponent. But if this matter failed, it would be very difficult to try to shake the Bishop’s position later.

A feeling bordering on unease inexplicably rose in his heart.

Angelo had done many ruthless things in his life, committed many killings, among them people of high status. But he rarely felt this way. The last time such an emotion had stirred was when the prince, at the demon’s behest, had put an imperceptible poison in his own father’s wine glass. That was also a life-or-death moment.

If the old king had spoken out about him then, he would have been completely finished…

However, he had won the gamble in the end.

Hesitation is just a blade for cowards.

Angelo unconsciously caressed the ring set with a large gemstone. He followed the crowd towards the white tower of the Holy See. The pigeon’s-egg-sized gem glittered under the light of the lamps held by the leading priests.

He was permitted to follow in the confirmation party, but, of course, this matter still had to be handled by the priests.

Before dawn, the white tower stood under the dim night sky, still possessing a sense of sacred inviolability. The god’s messengers, clad in white, moved without a sound, approaching Edwin’s room bit by bit.

The Bishop’s room was obscured by deep purple curtains, making it impossible to see the specific situation inside.

Until Edwin opened the door.

He had clearly just been startled awake, so he was still wearing a sleeping robe. But even a sleeping robe was no different from an ordinary person’s attire, completely covering all his skin, with buttons fastened from top to bottom.

The first moment he saw him, the prince understood that he had finally been struck by a huge and terrible “failure.”

This could not be a succubus—an attitude that a person whose bloodline was out of control could display.

And the Bishop finally raised his eyes to look at this group of uninvited guests, holding torches as if they were coming to burn a demon. Angelo was in the latter half of the group. Those eyes, as deep as mist, fixed on him without much effort.

So that’s how it is. Angelo felt Edwin’s eyes seemed to be saying this.

“Please, go ahead,” the Bishop gathered his sleeves and proactively took a step back. “Search for what you want to search for, find what you want to find. I will take responsibility for everything, without the slightest concealment.”

“—The god will be watching what you do.”

The result of the search, of course, was nothing.

In this situation, almost all struggle was futile. Prince Angelo couldn’t say what he was trying to expose, and Archbishop Edwin’s room was open for all to see. Even the demon on him could not detect any clues.

The priests beside him whispered in awe and surprise: “As expected of His Excellency the Bishop.”

This was in reference to the Bishop’s bookshelf, which was filled with books on how to deal with demons, all clearly showing signs of having been read.

Unconsciously glancing at it, the prince’s face darkened even more. Angelo continuously caressed the gem on his hand. The meaningless action could help him regain his calm. Although in a situation that undoubtedly declared his failure, doing so was already useless.

There wasn’t even a body.

Angelo couldn’t say that there had been someone in the room. As a prince of the royal palace, he couldn’t explain how he could have possibly interfered to that extent. He could only swallow his confusion.

But… thinking about it this way, the prince actually calmed down. Satha was right. Edwin could not have possibly resolved the nascent succubus’s heat on his own without anyone’s help. It wasn’t just one person missing from the room, but perhaps two.

“I demand to confirm the situation of the coachman from the Bishop’s trip yesterday,” the prince raised his hand, the gem reflecting a dazzling light under the lamplight. His voice was hoarse. “I accuse His Excellency the Bishop of committing an unspeakable act, and thus had to kill to silence the witness.”

The room instantly fell into a strange silence.

Edwin leaned against the window. Upon hearing this, he just raised his eyes and smiled slightly. “If you want to confirm, then go confirm. Prince Angelo, I think you must have some misunderstanding about me. We might as well wait quietly here for the results.”

The prince’s fingers twitched spasmodically.

This was impossible. The original coachman had already been replaced by his men, and Edwin couldn’t possibly act so nonchalantly after committing murder. The assassin wouldn’t betray him overnight either; it wasn’t in their interest.

However, the person who had rushed in reported hastily: “The coachman from yesterday is still in the Church. It has been confirmed that it is him. The coachmen of other nobles can also prove that this coachman spoke with them yesterday. According to him, he only sent the Bishop back to the Holy See. His Excellency the Bishop was perfectly normal. He also said—”

“Enough!”

Angelo interrupted his explanation. There was a cruel coldness in the prince’s tone. The messenger priest stopped abruptly, but a bit of indignation rose in his heart.

His Highness the Prince was throwing his weight around, while their Bishop Edwin had clearly done nothing, yet had to be forced to accept investigation and suspicion.

Angelo raised his hand rather wretchedly, his right hand gripping his left. He tried to forcefully demand: “I want to meet with that coachman. This must be… Tell him Prince Angelo demands that he speak the truth—”

He opened his mouth, looked at Edwin’s expression, but knew that this demand, after a series of failures, was already powerless.

Edwin indeed smiled at him with a bit of pity. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “Your Highness the Prince, your actions today have already offended the authority of the Holy See. I believe the Pope and His Majesty the Emperor will come to a reasonable negotiation result for this. As for that coachman…”

The young Bishop, already in a high position, was qualified to give his opinion on this.

His tone was soft and slow, yet brooked no argument: “Please do not trouble yourself. He is my person.”

In this city, scandals grew wings like sparrows, quickly becoming the talk of the town over tea and meals.

The protagonist of this period was Prince Angelo.

The news was bold and spicy enough to stir everyone’s desire to discuss the great and powerful.

People vied to spread the news: from the prince’s bed, two dead men were carried out overnight!

Scoffs, surprises, sighs, rebukes. The rumors would only ferment little by little, and the person at the center of the event finally tasted what it was like to be discussed, yet was unable to defend himself.

When Edwin learned of this news, Tar had already returned to his room.

This was how it should be. The room was once again filled with the unique scent of roses from the demon’s body. Within this scent, Edwin felt an inexplicable comfort and relaxation.

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

It was a copy of the Registry of the Church of Light’s Clergy Through the Ages, which recorded the names of every pope, bishop, holy son, or holy daughter for thousands of years. The newest one was Edwin, while the old names had been forgotten by most, becoming cold symbols in a book.

No one would read this kind of book. Only overly devout old priests would go and memorize the names inside.

Last time Tar was flipping through this book, and this time…

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

But Tar sensed his gaze. His beautiful pomegranate-red eyes moved from the cold pages of the book and looked at the Bishop with a cunning expression. He knew what Edwin wanted to ask—

“Two men?”

“The one in your room, and the assassin who wanted to replace me.” The demon waggled a finger. “Anyway, your prince and the demon on him were no longer at the residence. I just went to deliver a gift on the way. It was very safe.”

This was truly a qualified surprise, both for Angelo and for Edwin, in two different senses.

Edwin smiled.

Only when he smiled purely out of a good mood like this could one see that he was just a twenty-year-old young man. Usually, his smile was too deliberate, always tied to his position and responsibilities, floating in the social interactions of various dignitaries, and preserved as a weathered relic in the eyes of devout believers.

“Bishop,” so Tar said, “do you know you look very handsome when you smile like this?”

Edwin clearly didn’t know. And obviously, in his upbringing, no one had ever praised him for the reason of “looking handsome when he smiled.” He had always felt his smile was hypocritical and not to be taken seriously.

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

The smile was fleeting. The Bishop felt uneasy for not having controlled his emotions, and also felt strange and panicked by a new, sour feeling in his heart.

“…Thank you,” he still replied, hesitating a little on whether to respond politely. “Your eyes are also very beautiful.”

He was clearly not a person clumsy with words. Edwin had risen to this position, had dealt with all sorts of people, and was familiar with how to handle the most difficult ones. But exchanging compliments with a demon at very close range was not within any of his preparations.

And looking into the demon’s eyes, he was embarrassingly aware that everything that had happened last night was reflected in those bright red pupils, and his repeated loss of control had also been seen by the other.

He couldn’t pretend to have forgotten.

But he found that he did not further condemn or shatter himself because of these memories. Tar’s attitude—Tar hardly had any attitude towards what had happened. He still interacted with him as usual, with the unique friendliness of a demon.

Edwin had said during the day: He is my person.

This thought inexplicably lingered in Edwin’s mind. The Bishop knew that he could not trust anyone. In his upward climb, he had never expected to rely on any existence.

Summoning a demon meant sacrificing one’s own soul. This was supposed to be an unequal transaction. You had to offer many things in exchange for what was, to a powerful being, insignificant help.

But that was Tar, a low-level demon. He even needed his own help to hide from his enemies.

In that case, Edwin’s misty gray eyes fell on Tar. The demon was clever but weak, had a pair of beautiful eyes, and smelled of roses. They could not harm each other, but the Bishop could lock him in the room through non-malicious means.

Could this mean that he could truly possess something?

Being stared at inexplicably by Edwin for a while, Tar only felt the mist in the Bishop’s eyes grow deeper. He was completely lost in thought, so he waved his right hand in front of his eyes.

The mist was shattered in that instant.

The thought of needing anything was dangerous, especially for a living being.

Edwin knew this principle.

He couldn’t be complacent because of a brief victory. The problem of his bloodline had not been completely resolved. His awakening had a first time, and there would be a second. He had to find a solution as much as possible before the next time he couldn’t suppress his bloodline’s transformation.

At the same time, Prince Angelo would definitely not give up easily. The prince was trying to track his blood relatives. If possible, Edwin had to find him first and assess his risk.

The Bishop thought coldly: perhaps patricide is necessary. This is an acceptable price.

Once this storm passed, the Pope would also compensate him. Angelo’s fruitless troublemaking today had placed him in the public’s sympathetic gaze. Perhaps by tomorrow, a portion of his stolen authority would be returned.

The next ceremony prepared for the Holy Son would also require his presiding.

Also, he had a piece of cloth taken from the demon lord. Although it was just cloth, a demon’s clothing was merely an externalization of magic, so it could also be seen as him obtaining a small fragment of demonic power. And on it were Angelo’s bloodstains.

The thing he had brought back hidden in his palm was the sharpest blade to stab the enemy.

A lord-level demon was not absolutely unbeatable. Edwin had read a great deal of information these past two days, and some of it had caught his attention.

For example, there was a period when the Church of Light’s strength and power reached its peak. The Church seemed to have used some mysterious weapons, enough to contend with the most evil and ferocious dark forces of that time. They had killed the infamous Seven Pillar Demon Gods of that era.

But this record ended abruptly, followed by what was known in history as the “Luminous Havoc,” the greatest trauma the Church had ever suffered in its history. The Holy See headquarters at that time was directly destroyed, and more than half of the priests in the central domain were killed or injured. The remaining survivors were deeply reticent about this matter.

The Bishop could guess that using power that did not belong to oneself must come at a price.

Humans cannot directly use magic; they must rely on external objects. He didn’t know if this information was useful, but at least it provided a possibility for exploration.

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

The demon watched as Edwin went from a rare moment of relaxation back to a dangerous, tense state. He could almost read his mental state, so he smiled silently.

Tar’s knuckles unconsciously tapped on the pressed page of the book, leaving a crescent-shaped mark.

If Edwin had noticed the name his sharp knuckles had just traced, he would have discovered:

The page he had turned to in that great registry of clergy was precisely the complete record from the period of the “Luminous Havoc.”

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