Chapter 8: Confession Magic(1)

A secluded villa owned by the Holy See.
Contrary to its sacred image, debauched festivals were often held here.

Exploiting devotees was commonplace.
Especially female followers, frequently drugged and violated.

But last night’s festival was entirely different.
A deer-like monster, a Wendigo, emerged from the dark forest.

Its massive claws tore through the drunken Paladins effortlessly.
Two of the three great Paladins vanished into history in an instant.

The Holy See’s powerbrokers, hearing the grim news, fell into chaos.
They all suspected the culprit.

The Saintess broke her sealing necklace and is rampaging.

They’d been developing a new restraint to control her.
But she’d grown far faster than they’d anticipated.

As if suddenly injected with a catalyst.

This incident prompted a grand council in the Northern Palace.
The Holy See, as victims, couldn’t avoid attending.

The meeting was chaired by the coldest of royals.
The empire’s First Princess, Camillia Andalusia.

“A grave matter. A being capable of controlling monsters has appeared.”

Golden hair symbolizing the empire’s golden age, blue eyes like a lake.
At just twenty-three, she sat at the head.

“The Holy See must be quite rattled. Is the situation under control?”

She knew how sharp and cold the figure before her was.

“Yes. But we still haven’t identified the perpetrator,” replied a black-haired man in priestly robes.
A man who rose to archbishop in his middle years with keen wit and eloquence spoke gravely.

“This wasn’t a mere attack. It feels like a deliberate challenge to our order. Our Paladins will handle it.”

He aimed to exploit the crisis, using the pretext of catching the culprit to spread more Paladins across the North.

“We’ll scour the North like hunting lice.”
“I see it differently,” Camillia interjected.

Her blue eyes gleamed haughtily under her white uniform cap, catching his intent instantly.

“There’s no guarantee the monster only targets the Holy See. And your devotees are still our empire’s citizens.”

Her imperious gaze, unyielding to anyone, commanded respect.
High nobles nodded, including the IRS chief who’d just visited her uncle, the Elder.

“Our imperial forces will handle it. The Holy See should focus on its religious role.”

Calyx wanted to argue but shrank under an indescribable killing intent.

“Understood, Archbishop?”

The golden-haired Princess rose from the head.
Behind her, a massive mural depicted the founding emperor trampling the banners of rival kings.

“The victim seeking the culprit themselves? As the emperor’s proxy, I can’t allow it.”

The eldest daughter, inheriting the emperor’s absolute might, stood out in her form-fitting slacks.

“And, frankly, I’m a victim too.”
“Your Highness, a victim? What do you mean?”

Calyx, robbed of his pretext to mobilize Paladins, asked blankly.

“Two tragedies in my jurisdiction. I’ll take responsibility myself.”
“But you have many state duties. Let us handle this…”

Camillia slammed her hand on the table, cutting off the Holy See’s scheme.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Calyx Angard.”

The archbishop’s true name silenced the vast hall.
No matter the Holy See’s power, she rivaled the crown prince.

“Wait quietly for news. This meeting is over.”

Having reached the pinnacle of magic, she could sense the aura around her.
With focus, she could use Confession Magic to force self-incrimination.

“Everyone except the IRS chief, leave. We have private matters to discuss.”
“…Understood. I hope the culprit is caught, Your Highness.”

The archbishop retreated, wary of her Confession Magic.

The vast hall was left to just Camillia and the IRS chief.

“The archbishop will surely plot revenge in secret. No telling what he’ll do.”
“Indeed. He might use this to eliminate nuisances.”

“Who do you think is responsible?”
“The Saintess is the prime suspect. Though there’s no evidence.”

A woman who brainwashed a town to kill its lord.
Camillia only knew the Holy See subdued and imprisoned her.

“But isn’t she sealed? I heard a powerful artifact necklace controls her.”
“True, but the new warden recently met with her.”

“So the warden might have freed her for a price.”
“Exactly. Here’s his profile.”

Camillia frowned while reading Derek’s details.
The Minster family’s infamy and his roguish deeds were vivid.

“Not exactly quality stock.”
“He was even set to face the slain Paladins in the tournament. Could’ve eliminated them preemptively.”

“What does the Elder think?”
“He believes if no evidence surfaces, even misdeeds show skill. I agree.”

In politics, good and evil don’t exist.
But as a royal governing the empire, Camillia saw differently.

“Still a politician at heart.”

She didn’t fully trust her uncle, the Elder.
She analyzed everything coldly on her own terms.

“Derek Minster. If he’s using prisoners for grander ambitions, we must uproot him early.”
“You’d use Confession Magic?”

Confession Magic is effective but has clear side effects.

Prolonged exposure drives people mad.
Forcing out secrets inflicts severe mental damage.

“I’m against it. If he’s innocent, the consequences for you are too great.”
“I can’t ignore a suspect just because of future burdens.”

Camillia Andalusia strode to the terrace.
Her silhouette in the noon sun resembled an ancient goddess statue.

“Could you assassinate Holy See knights without leaving evidence?”
“That… would be difficult, even for me.”

The IRS chief admitted honestly.
In that regard, Derek’s assassination-famed family was a likely suspect.

“As heir to a rival clan, I’ll see how grand his ambitions are.”

With a resolute expression, Camillia donned her white jacket.
She folded the report and tucked it into her crisp shirt pocket.

“Leaving now?”
“Yes. He wanted to meet me, didn’t he? I’ll grace him with my presence.”

Beyond the terrace, the snow-capped mountains stretched.
She pictured a prison beyond the horizon.

Everyone avoided her due to her Confession Magic and sharp senses.
Yet he wanted to meet her.

“Definitely an odd one.”

“Definitely odd.”

That afternoon, the prison’s clearing echoed with clashing blades.

“Your swordsmanship is clearly imperial, but your movements are light like a thief’s.”

Clea’s blue hair, tied to one side, danced elegantly.
Tie undone, she’d been sparring with me for hours.

“And it’s unnerving how you read my mana flow.”
“A compliment?”

“Yes. You’re not all talk.”
“Praise me freely then.”

Clea pulled out graphite and jotted down imperial knight training methods.
Cold in speech, but meticulous in action.

“Don’t get cocky. Even if you beat two knights, the youngest is the strongest in pure combat.”
“No worries, I’m stronger… Wait, who beat what?”

My eyes widened, and she wagged her finger with a cynical Northern beauty’s smirk.

“No need to play innocent with me. You can’t hide those scheming eyes.”

She looked pleased at the Holy See’s ambush.
A smile finally graced her shadowed face.

“I’m satisfied that those who drugged and violated devotees are gone.”

Come to think of it, Clea was demoted for assaulting a lustful royal obsessed with her.
Even veteran players failed her romance route, so it’s no surprise.

“The drug that prince tried to feed me came from those filthy zealots.”

In a rare good mood, she smoothed my crumpled sleeve.
Despite her cold demeanor, her touch was gentle, buttoning my shirt delicately.

“I’ll even put sugar in your coffee today.”

Sugar, no less.
For someone who scrimped on the prison’s budget, sneaking sugar cubes herself, this was a big misunderstanding.

If even her high intelligence stat misread this, others must already see me as the culprit.
Good thing I secured an alibi.

In my past life’s memory, the three Paladins, despite their shiny titles, were notorious for debauchery.
I thought they’d be manageable, but two dying so suddenly…

Circumstantially, it’s the Saintess’s doing. Why’d she kill them now?

While pondering this unexpected variable, Clea brought coffee.
Savoring its sweeter-than-usual aroma, I joked, “No spit, right?”

“Want me to?”

She stuck out her tongue slightly.
I quickly shook my head and went to sip.

But then…

Rumble—

My face, reflected in the dark coffee, began to vibrate.
The entire old prison shook.

We both turned toward the entrance, the source of the tremor.
In that moment, we knew instantly who’d arrived in this remote exile.

White armor and steeds gleamed in the noon sunlight.
The empire’s elite, who crushed the kingdoms of Bakal and Epina at the Northern border.

At their forefront stood a woman in a form-fitting combat outfit.

“Derek Minster.”

Her golden hair fluttered beautifully in the Northern wind.
She planted a massive spear in the ground, pointing at me with her other hand.

“Prime suspect in the deaths of two Holy See knights and a head guard.”

Her voice alone carried mana so potent it warmed the air.
The Northern chill vanished, as if a fiery inferno had opened.

“Come to me now.”

She beckoned like taming a dog.
Anyone else would’ve instinctively backed away.

But, having met her in my past life, I stayed calm.

“As expected, you’re composed even against Her Highness. I trust you.”

Clea clenched her fists, cheering stoically.
The Elder, watching from a distant window, felt the same.

“He asked me to introduce her, and he summoned her himself. Utterly unpredictable.”

A white crow perched on a tree savored the spectacle.
Proud, as if the Prophet’s rising status thrilled it.

“Daring to harbor wicked ambitions in my North. You’ll pay today.”

I blinked my snake-like green eyes blankly.
Who’s harboring what ambitions…?*