TBR CH54

Edwin’s biological clock was precise. He opened his eyes just as the cool, faint morning light slightly dampened the sky.

Sleep could not only numb the mind and soften the nerves but also smooth out a fragile heart. All the chaos and unease seemed to have stayed in yesterday. His gray eyes were fresh and sharp.

This was how the bishop endured those precarious nights on the verge of collapse. Since childhood, he had known how to abandon his weaker self in yesterday—only by doing so could he continue to survive. It was a biological instinct.

…But today was different. He couldn’t pretend nothing had happened.

Before he fully processed everything, he first became aware of a comfortable scent—like the cool morning air mixed with the sweet fragrance of roses. Edwin’s fingers moved involuntarily, his fingertips gliding over something smooth and soft.

Silk sheets, he thought at first. Then he realized they weren’t.

The bishop’s entire body stiffened, and even his gaze became slightly lost.

That was when he noticed—he wasn’t lying in bed. He was in the demon’s embrace.

Tal’s soft, sleek black hair spilled over the bishop’s shoulder, tickling slightly. The fine strands brushed against his skin, sending a tingling sensation coursing through Edwin’s nerves.

His left hand was still in an overstepping embrace, and even in sleep, he hadn’t let go in the slightest.

The demon’s eyes were closed.

Edwin wasn’t sure if Tal had simply decided to fulfill his sleeping obligations because Edwin had refused to let go no matter what the night before. Lesser demons hadn’t evolved to completely abandon rest—though even a brief sleep was enough to sustain them for a long time.

They were too close. Edwin was entirely pressed against Tal, their skin intimately entwined. The bishop instinctively slowed his breathing.

He remained motionless, cradling his “gift,” and silently lifted his eyes to observe the sleeping demon, careful not to wake him.

This was his demon.

Tal was breathtakingly beautiful. With his eyes closed, he looked unexpectedly obedient. Edwin knew the demon was at least a hundred times more cunning than his outward appearance suggested, yet his heart still softened against his will, feeling as if everything Tal did was easily forgivable.

The bishop couldn’t categorize the overwhelming surge of emotion rising within him under any known concept.

But the desire to possess him was unmistakably real.

Their soul-binding contract ensured they could not be separated nor betray each other. The pact was a demon’s trick. There were times when Edwin desperately wanted to break it, believing that Tal’s presence did him no good.

Yet at this very moment, a dangerous thought occurred to him in reverse:

What if one day, Tal decided he didn’t need him anymore?

The mere possibility sent a stinging, swollen pain through his fingertips, as if he had been stung.

Edwin knew exactly what kind of person he was—ruthless, insatiable. He could, of course, keep Tal by force, just as the demon had bound him through their contract.

But that wasn’t enough. He could do better.

He wanted Tal to stay willingly.

For example, the bishop thought, he could use everything he already had—and everything he would soon acquire. Prince Anchero could sustain a demon lord with power and souls, and whatever Tal desired, Edwin could find and offer him.

He had no moral boundaries. The words sacrifice and murder slid through his mind, colored with a strangely sweet hue.

But what if Tal insisted on leaving?

Edwin was in the habit of imagining the worst possible outcome for everything.

His fingers twitched uncontrollably, and a dark, venomous thought surged in his mind—perhaps he could pretend to happily dissolve the contract, only to then use the Grand Bishop’s powerful light magic to forcibly keep Tal by his side. It wouldn’t be difficult.

Just the mere thought of it triggered the contract’s effect, sending an unbearable sharp pain slicing through Edwin’s body. But since he had no actual intent to harm the demon, the pain did not reach his soul—for now.

It was a viable plan, Edwin thought.

At that moment, his unintended movement finally woke Tal. The newly awakened demon’s beautiful eyes were veiled with a thin mist of moisture, like damp red agate. Within those gem-like pupils, Edwin’s reflection appeared faintly distorted.

Tal curved his lips into a smile.

“Good morning, dear bishop… Do you not intend to let go of me yet?”

The question made it sound as if Edwin were a greedy customer, unwilling to relinquish a free trial of something he had grown fond of. Which—truthfully—was exactly the case.

Flustered, the bishop hurriedly loosened his arms around the demon. The warmth vanished instantly, leaving behind an inexplicable emptiness that seeped from his fingertips to his heart.

“…Hmm,” the demon murmured, gazing at him.

Edwin tried his best not to look too lost.

And then he failed.

People often said that bad children got rewarded with candy.

But that wasn’t true. The only reason bad children ever received anything was because someone cared.

So, he received an unexpected embrace—a gesture of good morning.

The demon wrapped his arms around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him in a sticky manner, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He seemed to chuckle softly.

“You’re really not very good at hiding your emotions from me.”

Tal had been awake for a while. Or rather, the Dark God had no need for sleep in the first place. But the body of a lesser demon made rest an optional experience.

Edwin had been in a terrible state last night. He had even developed a fever and, at some point, was lucidly rambling nonsense while clinging tightly to Tal, refusing to let him take even a step away.

He had murmured, his gray eyes wet and unfocused, “I’m doing terribly. Not good at all. I’ve never been good.”

The god had listened patiently, stroking Edwin’s damp hair in a soothing motion.

Other times, the bishop had sounded sharp and cruel: “He’s dead. They’re all dead. I did it. I’ll live better than any of them. The highest place, the supreme crown—it will belong to me alone.”

Tal had found it amusing. But truthfully, he liked that kind of ambition.

Edwin had spoken of many past events, many desires. As he climbed upward, he had killed many people. The bishop remembered each of their dying expressions, yet he could no longer recall their names.

Only those he had yet to kill remained etched in his memory. Those names were steeped in poison, waiting for the day the world would forget them.

The bishop had said many things about himself. Someone like him could only center the world around himself—there was nothing else worth mentioning. It was an inevitable selfishness.

That was why the god hadn’t expected that, on this night, from dusk to the fall of night, and finally under a sky scattered with countless stars, Edwin would ask a question that felt strangely familiar:

“Tal,” he said, “I want to know about you.”

It was wrong. This sentence was different from everything Edwin had ever said before.

It signified that the bishop wanted to understand another existence. And that desire for closeness often became a weakness. He had to know he shouldn’t have asked.

Tal did not answer immediately.

Edwin repeated himself, “How have you lived? Do you have things you like? I want to know. I want to know everything, Tal. Tell me everything.”

His voice grew weaker and weaker, fading as he received no response. At last, his consciousness was claimed by the fever, pulling him into a hazy slumber.

Tal sighed softly. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Edwin murmured an indistinct response. Having received a promise, he seemed reassured enough to drift off in Tal’s arms.

“…And what about you?”

The demon suddenly asked, “If you were the one who lost, what would you do?”

But the question had come too late.

Even a god did not receive an answer.

On this night, they each owed the other a question. That, at least, made them even.

Then, the next morning, neither of the two questions was brought up again.

Prince Angelo’s failure had been too disastrous, and because of that, Edwin was able to return to his usual schedule.

For the prince, this was clearly terrible news. The spies he had planted within the church were mercilessly rooted out by the archbishop one by one and sent back to his residence in their original condition. The church once again became an impenetrable fortress, leaving no room for interference.

Under such circumstances, even if he still had other weapons to target Edwin’s succubus bloodline, they would now be difficult to deploy.

He couldn’t even monitor Edwin’s situation. Meanwhile, the archbishop’s people somehow bypassed the prince’s estate defenses and, while he and the summoned demon were away, placed two corpses on his bed. Since this matter could not be made public and the dead were his own people, he had no choice but to swallow his anger.

Even the demon Sata had grown distant from him.

At the time, when Angelo realized his plan had failed, he stared at the demon before him in disbelief. He had always lived a life of luxury, where anyone who defied his will faced dire consequences. But for a moment, he forgot just how much of his power and status depended on the archdemon standing before him.

The demon certainly wouldn’t feel guilty for a poorly executed strategy. Its sharp, clawed fingers sliced open the skin on the prince’s face. Anq’s expression turned grim, and those blue eyes could no longer feign innocence.

“Are you blaming me, human?”

The archdemon’s oppressive presence bore down upon him like a tidal wave, making it impossible to breathe. No, he wasn’t foolish enough to offend an archdemon—such a powerful being was beyond anything a human could contend with. They didn’t even belong to the same plane of existence.

This reasoning had always been enough to make him willingly endure Sata’s insolence.

But then, Prince Angelo suddenly recalled what had happened at the exorcism ritual. At that moment, the holy light had swept over him like a storm—

Before he even had time to react to how the archbishop had managed to turn the exorcism ritual against him, he had heard the deep, agonized roar of the archdemon he had made a pact with—Sata.

It was unmistakably the sound of a wounded beast, and that thought alone sent chills down his spine.

He had tried to probe into Sata’s injuries afterward, but the demon was evasive about the details of that ritual. High-ranking demons held themselves in extremely high regard and would never admit failure before a lowly human.

Angelo’s mind gradually formed a terrible suspicion. But no, it was impossible. Edwin was merely a human—an outstanding one within the church, at best. To harm an archdemon, even in theory, the church would need to mobilize vast resources, rally countless forces, and request the explicit blessing of the God of Light.

This world had its own natural order.

Power and supremacy belonged only to those with noble blood. Just as someone like him could never be compared to a high-rank demon born with overwhelming strength.

Swallowing the bitter taste of failure, Angelo had no choice but to accept that even the demon’s share of resentment would ultimately fall on him. Fortunately, though Sata would never lower itself to admitting it had been harmed by a mere human, its hatred for Edwin had multiplied—just as much as Angelo’s had.

The powerful demon strode into Prince Angelo’s chambers, embodying every terrifying thing known to mankind—eyes blazing like fire, a tail like a whip lined with blades.

But this time, the demon was laughing, as if victory was within its grasp.

Prince Angelo had been napping, but he had no choice but to wake and entertain Sata’s enthusiasm. The demon sat down brazenly on an opulent, plush chair in the bedroom and cheerfully announced:

“Human, your church is not as impenetrable as you think. For example, I have a friend whose beloved holds a high position within it.”

“A friend?”

Angelo instinctively repeated, a sense of foreboding rising within him. But that ominous feeling was quickly overtaken by interest in the words “high position.” In mere seconds, countless possibilities for leverage and influence raced through his mind.

What he needed most right now was an informant.

“Oh,” the demon dismissed his thoughts as insignificant. “You’ve seen him before. The last time, I asked you to introduce a stranger into the church. Do you remember? He is, in fact, the King of the Blood Clan—Edward.”

Sata often made demands without explaining them clearly—like last time. Bringing an unknown person to meet the Holy Son had been risky, but the demon had assured him that there would be no issues.

They were allies bound by mutual interest. In matters like this, Angelo had no reason to go against Sata’s will.

But… the King of the Blood Clan? That sounded far too unbelievable.

Prince Angelo hadn’t even recovered from the shock of learning this information when a sudden realization struck him. He hesitated, then asked in disbelief:

“Then… the lover you’re referring to… is the Holy Son of the church?”

For the first time, Sata’s expression darkened slightly. He warned Angelo:

“This was meant to remain a secret. However, given the current circumstances, I thought Edward might be persuaded to help. He cherishes his beloved dearly. He agreed to assist us, but since the Holy Son remains loyal to the church, he will only pass along information about the archbishop’s movements. He won’t betray the church outright.”

“You haven’t told him Edwin’s true origins?”

Angelo pressed further, a glimmer of hope in his voice. If the Holy Son began to doubt, perhaps there was still room to turn things around. But the demon’s expression made it clear—this was a futile effort.

“Edward demanded more evidence. Human, you must admit, we have lost the upper hand in this matter.”

Most of their cards had already been played. Edwin had reacted too quickly. The witnesses from that year had been eliminated, and the archbishop’s blood and body showed no abnormalities. Now, requesting another examination lacked justification.

Besides, there was reason to suspect that Edwin had other hidden aces. He had survived an impossible transformation, evaded their manipulations, and even sent two corpses to the prince’s bed.

A perfect hand had somehow turned into nothing.

If even those bound by contracts couldn’t be entirely trusted, then cooperation between vampires and demons was certainly not something to be relied upon. Getting the Holy Son to relay useful information from within the church was already the best they could hope for.

“Alright,” Angelo murmured, beginning to think.

His incredibly innocent blue eyes turned again.

Yes, there was still a chance. There was still evidence that could prove Edwin’s bloodline secret, except it was scattered across the world.

As long as he found it and exposed it, he could break the high and mighty Archbishop’s spine.

Noah had been unbelievably successful lately, and seducing the God of Light was a completely new experience. The lofty deity greatly satisfied the Holy Son’s vanity—he knew the God of Light had already taken the bait.

The god’s gaze was fixed solely on him. No matter how the other believers prayed desperately, they could not earn even a single glance.

During the second divine descent, the God of Light reached out to caress the young man’s exquisite face with familiarity, listening to the Holy Son swear allegiance with devotion, promising to give him everything, while gazing at him with love.

Noah had merely mentioned in passing that someone in the church disliked him. When the god inquired, he hesitated before reluctantly naming Priest Bart, and the god immediately delivered punishment.

The feeling of holding the power of life and death was simply exhilarating.

Moreover, the God of Light’s favor meant he was being worshiped by the entire church.

The position of Holy Son did not come with real authority, but there was no doubt he was one of the highest-ranking and most revered figures in the church. Now, countless flowers and gemstones surrounded him, and most clergy members prostrated themselves in reverence at the sight of him. Every day, believers from distant lands requested an audience upon arriving in the royal city.

And beneath the pure white veil, he had already set the next time for the divine descent with the God of Light.

The god proposed holding the ceremony earlier, and Noah happily accepted. He knew the deity couldn’t resist approaching him—this was the power of his “Heartthrob” halo.

Speaking of the halo… Although everything seemed to be going well, the system remained deeply concerned.

[Host,] the system reminded him in its usual flat mechanical voice, [Seducing a god is the most difficult challenge in this world. You should be more cautious. And as for your plan to seduce the Dark God—]

“I have it all planned out.”

But Noah quickly cut off the system’s warning with a single sentence. His progress with the God of Light was completely within expectations—he just needed the god to willingly step down from his pedestal. In this process, seducing the Dark God was theoretically impossible, especially since the latter had lost his memories and reverted to his former self from a thousand years ago.

However, Noah still remembered what the system had told him about Tarksius’ past.

He had already devised a method, though he had yet to put it into practice.

The flow of time made returning to the past possible. In that case, once the stage was set, re-enacting the past would also become an option.

Seducing a god was difficult. But Noah believed that seducing a demon who had lost most of his memories wouldn’t be complicated at all.

His only concern was that if he succeeded too early, the system, with its extreme caution, might prevent him from continuing to challenge the God of Light. So, for now, Noah kept his distance from the Dark God.

In fact, he carefully kept his distance from all the other fish in his pond.

Right now, the reasoning was solid—since divine descents were happening more frequently, as the Holy Son, he had to endure the pain of parting from those dark lovers. That way, he wouldn’t endanger them, nor would he risk getting himself into trouble.

The last time Edward brought him news, it caught him a bit off guard.

Edward said that his “friend,” the demon lord, wanted Noah to pay attention to the current Archbishop’s movements. Noah had not forgotten how, following the system’s prompt, he had indeed stopped outside the Archbishop’s chamber, and the demon had been so close.

So, he agreed to the plan without hesitation.

This was an opportunity.

At the end of this opportunity, the deep red stage curtains stretched upward, silently waiting for all the props to be prepared.

He was full of confidence for the future.

“What do you want to know?”

A demon’s eyes could enchant the soul. Edwin heard him ask and lifted his pomegranate-red gaze to look at him.

It was the most leisurely of settings—the scent of roses filled the bedchamber, as if flowers had been crushed here, and the bedding was a mess.

Once again, he had offered himself up to the demon. But this time, Tal’ touch was sweet, and the end was no longer so abrupt.

All of this had happened tacitly after that embrace. The distance they had once carefully maintained had now completely melted away. So Edwin was no longer lying in bed alone. The demon allowed himself to be embraced, stayed in the bed, and later, even shared an ordinary sleep.

It would have been wrong to keep Tal sitting in that chair outside forever.

The Archbishop admitted he craved that bit of warmth, that sense of truly possessing something. But it was more than that. He knew the demon had already avoided his questions twice—though both times, the circumstances had been special. He didn’t understand why he was so driven to learn about Tal’ past. He only knew that the thought of “understanding him” kept swirling in his mind, leaving a faint aftertaste.

“What do you want to know, Edwin?”

Even Tal sounded a little helpless. He had avoided the topic because, after a thousand years, the Dark God felt he had long forgotten his life as a demon.

And when he thought about it, all he could recall was running and running. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Anything,”

Edwin hesitated for a moment but finally decided to be honest.

“I just want to know more about you.”

This was hardly the best way to start a conversation. Tal sighed.

Edwin truly had no idea how to start a proper chat—so he seemed a little clumsy.

However, there seemed to be no reason to avoid this topic any longer. If he could remember, he might as well share a part of it with the Archbishop.  

Something about himself.  

Tal thought this as he tried to recall—  

…something about the demon who had died a thousand years ago.