Every time the Witches saw "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa," they blushed furiously.
The emotions expressed by this sculpture struck them far harder than Salomon's usual sweet nothings, harder than letter after letter filled with earnest language and veiled desire between the lines. It was a perfect work of art. Even as an unpainted marble sculpture, it conveyed a vivid sense of breathing through its understated colors and the natural grain of the stone. Every curve carved from hard marble possessed a soft texture, as if Saint Teresa in the sculpture would breathe out a warm breath the next second and lift the gauze covering her face.
Jeanne had once made a joke, claiming they could bury the sculpture beneath the manor and dig it up again centuries later. By then, no matter their financial circumstances, they could rely on this statue to return to high society. It was only a joke. Neither Bayonetta nor Jeanne wanted the sculpture to disappear from sight, as though they wanted to confirm the Emperor's feelings. It was like how the Emperor needed the Witches' inexplicable jealous squabbles to confirm their feelings for him: an amusing little seasoning in their emotional lives, nothing either side found intolerable.
Salomon was an exceedingly mysterious man. He would never voluntarily reveal all his secrets—in fact, the Witches could freely enter the Emperor's study and examine documents that even Hammurabi lacked the authority to read—but they never did so, because they had little interest in tedious government affairs. Only when the Emperor brought it up himself and invited them to look would the Witches "deign" to glance at those mountain-like piles of papers, because whenever the Emperor took the initiative, it meant an Outer Dimensions threat was imminent and the Witches' abilities were urgently needed to resolve the