Night fell over the Prison Tower.
The Maid of Orléans, who had been sent back to her cell, knelt before the window as usual, praying beneath the bright moonlight.
As the Warden departed, ripples spread through the air like waves. The figure blending into the darkness stepped out from the corner, folded his arms, and lazily leaned against the wall as he snorted at Joan of Arc in irritation.
"You still have the mood to whisper sweet nothings to that slab of bacon? You wouldn't even know if someone sold you out."
The Saintess, with her back to the demon, stiffened slightly. She did not respond, merely clasping her hands and lowering her head in prayer, reciting the psalms in which King David praised God to calm her troubled heart.
"Jehovah is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul..."
Seeing this, Samael raised a hand to his forehead and decided to lay everything bare.
"Those files were not merely records of conversations. They also included your confession. Would you like to read the specifics yourself, or should I read them to you?"
Joan of Arc's body trembled again, but she still did not turn around and continued chanting.
"Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For thou art with me!"
Bathed in the hymn's sanctity, the Maid of Orléans was suffused with a faint golden holy radiance, sharply divided from the darkness in the corner.
"Don't want to hear it? Fine by me."
Samael leaned sideways against the wall with his arms folded, shaking his head with a sneer as a trace of mockery surfaced in his eyes.
"But a friendly reminder: