Chapter 578

In fact Erice already had the Answer, but she found it hard to believe, or perhaps she couldn't accept it.

After all, back in Tokyo, when 'Poimandres' guided her, Erice had a vague feeling that the tone of his voice, the unintentional concern he showed, was so similar to that of the "Demon King".

But yesterday...

Just yesterday, deep inside, the "Poimandres" that was screaming and roaring madly manifested itself as a completely different being.

All I can say is...

Erice slowly raised her gaze and looked at Novia.

No more words are needed, nor any further explanation.

Erice slowly lowered her eyes, exhaling a long, long breath, as if she were exhaling all the confusion and pain that had been building up for nearly seven years.

"I see."

She spoke softly, her voice not loud, but exceptionally clear and steady.

This sentence,

She was speaking to Chitose, who was looking at her with concern, and also to Novia, but even more so to herself and to the girl named "Utsumi Erice".

"Please... give me some time." Erice looked up, her face now calm. "Please, let me be alone, calm down, and sort out... all my emotions."

Chitose gave her a deep look, and in the end simply nodded slightly to indicate her understanding, then gave Novia a knowing look.

And so, the two of them quietly left the room.

Erice Eri was left in the room, along with the quiet sunlight streaming through the window and falling onto the large carpet.

Utsumi Erice sat on the bed in a daze for a very long time.

Over time, the position of the sunlight gradually shifted from the east side of the carpet to the west side.

This time did allow Erice calm down and process her emotions, giving her a chance to reconsider her decision.

The first resolution is--

Go and meet Luce.

The next morning, the sun shone brightly, casting a perfect warmth over the entire Akihabara.

Following the address she had received from Luce, Erice walked through several familiar yet unfamiliar streets and finally found a small breakfast shop with a very cozy and cute decor on an inconspicuous street corner.

On the handwritten wooden sign at the store entrance, there's a smiling Cross ice cream cone drawn in cute lettering.

Under that sign, a petite girl with blue hair skillfully packed steaming buns, dumplings, and fresh soy milk for the customers queuing up.

Luce.

The moment Luce saw Erice, her already vibrant face blossomed into an even brighter, sunny smile.

"Good morning Erice- neechan!"

"Um."

Erice didn't join the queue; she simply stood quietly to the side, waiting for Luce to finish.

Luce was quick; a few minutes later, she handed the last breakfast, along with a big smile, to the guest in front of her.

She took off her apron, hung it on the hook by the door, and then, without saying a word, pulled Erice's hand and walked into the small but spotless shop.

"Erice, what brings you here? Did you come to play with me? Or... are you hungry?"

Luce asked with a grin, skipping and hopping around to the back of the counter. He took out two chilled, cutely packaged glass bottles of milk from a small household refrigerator and handed one of them to Erice.

Erice held the cool bottle, looked at Luce's pure, innocent smile, and at his clear, sky-blue eyes, and couldn't help but chuckle.

So she chose the most direct approach.

"I'm your older sister, Luce."

This sentence is less of a question and more of an unquestionable statement.

Luce blinked his long eyelashes, seemingly unsurprised by Erice's conclusion.

"You already knew, Erice- neechan."

The Blue-Haired Girl still had that same grinning expression, as if this wasn't some earth-shattering secret, but just a trivial matter of "you finally found out." She opened a bottle of milk, gulped down a big mouthful, and then let out a satisfied burp.

"That's right," Luce said casually, wiping the milk stains from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're Poimandres, aren't you? You're 'Soul'!"

Having received an affirmative answer, Erice nodded, finally feeling a weight lifted from her shoulders.

So, just like Luce, I unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp of the ice-cold milk.

"But..." Erice frowned, her face showing distress, "I don't know why, 'Poimandres's' emotions... seem to be very, very easily agitated. You could even say... easily out of control. This is somewhat... no, very troubling to me."

Erice was still a little embarrassed and didn't directly voice her crazy thoughts from the night before—wanting to destroy everything and possess Novia.

After all, her initial purpose in approaching Luce was to protect her from being hurt by that "scumbag" Novia.

Now, I've become the most dangerous and unstable factor.

Although Erice didn't say it explicitly, Luce was no ordinary girl who couldn't read the room. Her brain, "strictly taught by Yahweh," could probably guess the truth of the matter quite well from the awkward expression on Erice's face.

Most likely, it's related to his father, Novia.

Luce tilted her head, thinking back to the many things she had learned during the initial days when she was created by Yahweh as Novia's "left hand" and strictly disciplined by him. Among them, the ancient knowledge from the Hermes Corpus clearly surfaced in her mind, especially the most core prayers:

'Promise my request, give me strength; with this gift I will enlighten the Ignorance, my people, I am your son.'

This is what I believe and have witnessed; I have ascended into life and light, Father, you are blessed.

Who (I) am your son? Who (I) desire to be united with you in the work of sanctification, for you have given me full power?

Thus,

The Lord's Mind, Poimandres, so longed to connect with the "Father" as the source and to receive "all power" from the "Father".

This desire, stemming from the most fundamental source, when catalyzed by intense emotions, will evolve into a possessiveness and love that is so strong, so pure, and so unquestionable. Luce could easily guess this with just her little head.

As the Erice sister of "Poimandres," Eri, in a state of extreme despair and longing, it's not All Things to understand what earth-shattering things she might do to her father, Novia, who is always surrounded by countless powerful and beautiful women like the core of gravity.

But,

The father cannot be entirely blamed.

Luce thought about it again. Based on her careful observation over this period of time, it seemed that most of the women who had such a deep connection with their fathers were the type whose emotional intensity and way of expression were far different from ordinary people.

Erice- neechan, in essence, is perhaps... just one of them.

However, Erice is her older sister.

It is Poimandres, it is "the mind".

Therefore, as the younger sister, I have the responsibility and obligation to let my older sister's overly excited and pure "heart" know what a "normal" way of getting along with our father is.

Thinking of this, a sly yet absolutely confident glint flashed in Luce's blue eyes.

She reached out and, with a commanding presence completely out of character for her petite frame, forcefully patted Erice's shoulder with a loud "smack." She then puffed out her not-so-ample chest and, in an incredibly confident tone, loudly proclaimed:

"It's okay, Erice- neechan! I'll take care of it!"

"Tomorrow! Just tomorrow! I'll show you what the most correct, healthy, and happiest way for my father and me to get along really is!"

580: Sister, let's get Novia to kiss us together! (8k)

A small breakfast shop.

Wearing a yellow raincoat, Luce was busy at work, attentively watching each customer who came to buy something.

Meanwhile, Erice hid herself in the shadows across the street, leaning against the cold wall, her face mostly covered by a mask, her gaze complex as she watched, like Lion patrolling its territory.

Is this what Luce meant by "normal" interaction?

Erice's gaze passed over Luce's figure and landed on the man standing behind the steamer.

Novia, who is regarded as the Demon King, is his... father.

Luce would occasionally turn around and say something, and without her having to raise her voice, Novia would instinctively stop what she was doing, either handing her a fresh basket of steamed buns or adding hot water to the thermos. There was an unspoken understanding between them, as natural as breathing, shutting out the noisy world around them.

Last night, when Luce extended the invitation for this "one-day trip," Novia accepted without hesitation and arrived at the shop that evening.

Aside from agreeing to Luce's request, Novia could guess that the reason she acted this way was probably because of Erice.

So it's alright.

Erice's fingernails dug deeply into her palm.

Are Jealousy Luce?

Somewhat, but Erice knew even better that this Jealousy was completely unreasonable; it was simply that her true nature, 'Poimandres,' had kicked in again.

Just as Erice was immersed in her complicated thoughts, an old man appeared, walking with difficulty, leaning on an exquisitely carved cane, and dressed in a luxurious outfit.

Erice frowned.

The most troublesome guy has arrived.

Erice knew Pope Alexander VI, not only because she and Novia had done his request when they were children for the Holy Grail Elimination Tournament, but also because this guy always made things difficult for Luce.

As expected, the gaunt-faced Alexander VI slowly walked to the stall. He did not speak immediately, but carefully examined Baozi and Luce with his deep-set but unusually sharp eyes.

"Luce," Alexander VI finally spoke, his voice hoarse, "Was the soy milk kept warm for too long today? I could smell the burnt smell of overheated beans even before I got close. This will affect the richness and smoothness of the flavor; remember that."

Luce remained as earnest as ever. She nodded and even took out her notebook and pen, ready to write it down:

"Yes, Grandpa Borgia, I will be careful."

Alexander VI was very pleased with Luce's attitude. After accepting the breakfast Luce offered, he took a small bite as usual.

The next second,

The chewing motion froze.

Those brows, which were always habitually furrowed, tightened once again.

But this time, it wasn't because of dissatisfaction, but rather confusion.

There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not so delicious as to be irresistible—after all, it's just a steamed bun—but there's something indescribable about it; in short, it makes me feel very happy.

How did they manage to do that?

Alexander VI was in turmoil.

How can making steamed buns be done to this extent? This is practically a magic potion! Is it some kind of culinary Noble Phantasm or skill?

However, Alexander VI quickly found a Perfection explanation for his lapse in composure.

So that's how it is. It seems my tireless nitpicking every day has been effective. Without my strict guidance, how could he have improved to this extent?

Thinking of this, Alexander VI's pleasure from the food was immediately replaced by a sense of pride as a "mentor." The old man cleared his throat and decided to continue his daily work.

After all, gaining his approval isn't so easy.

"That being said, but the pleats on this bun..."

"Um," Luce suddenly interrupted him, "Grandpa Borgia, I didn't make breakfast today."

Alexander VI's prepared speech suddenly caught in his throat, leaving him stunned:

"Not you? Then who is it?"

"It was my father who did it."

"Father?"

Alexander VI's face instantly darkened, and he slammed his cane heavily on the ground.

"What have I always told you? You need to understand what independence means! Running a business is your own career, how can you always trouble your family? Young people, you can't always rely on your parents! You need to understand responsibility! Moreover, if you have disagreements with your family, it will not only affect your business but also your family relationships, which is a big taboo. Sometimes, you can hire help to do these things! It's not good to create conflicts!"

Instead of getting impatient with the old man's endless lecture, Luce listened more attentively than ever before, his pen flying across the small notebook in his hand.

This greatly satisfied Alexander VI's Desire to preach. After muttering a lot of things, he felt a bit thirsty and coughed twice before stopping.

Then, looking at Luce again, and remembering what she had said about "father," a thought suddenly came to mind.

In fact, he had long felt that Luce's words and actions resembled those of a devout believer, and that the father who could raise such a child must also be a believer of high moral character.

"Ahem," Alexander VI puffed out his chest and said in a slightly benevolent tone, "Luce, would you like me to meet your father? After all, I am the Pope. It wouldn't be unreasonable for me to meet a believer who could raise such outstanding children as you."

As he said this, Alexander VI couldn't help but think of his two troublesome children.