Blasphemous Affairs

"I want to run away~ but I can't get away~"

"Ugh! Why is this goddamn mess still following me..."

Honestly, Herbert was getting rather speechless.

He had deliberately come to this secluded corner to fetch water precisely because he didn't want to stumble across that scene in the kitchen again.

Buddy, could you show a little restraint?

I'm softhearted. I can't bear to see a poor grass carp subjected to that kind of abuse.

Besides... seeing the aftermath is one thing. At most, I'd be speechless for a while.

But if I caught you in the act, wouldn't that be awkward for everyone?

"Ugh, what a creep! Ugh, you longsword main..."

Herbert took one final look at the grass carp's dead, unblinking eyes, then silently walked to the other side and tossed his bucket into the well to draw water.

"Don't look at me. Take it up with the one responsible. I didn't see anything. I didn't see anything..."

Although he had stumbled across this twice now, Herbert still had no intention of reporting it to anyone.

First, he remained understanding of other people's preferences and respected every unusual hobby.

After all, every kind of love existed in this world.

Some people were into Puff-shrooms, some were obsessed with attack helicopters, and some even liked plastic bags...

It's just a grass carp!

At least it's a living thing.

That's already pretty good.

Compared with those other people, his condition is much milder.

Second... Herbert wasn't exactly clean himself.

Neither had any right to judge the other. They were all in the same boat.

Even setting aside his identity as someone contracted to an Evil God, what he planned to do next was already deeply questionable.

From anyone else's perspective, what Herbert was doing probably wasn't much more respectable than what Grass Carp Guy was doing.

Washing a woman's hair, then hiding in his room to savor it...

Is that something a decent person would do?

Even imagining that scene felt deeply wrong.

To avoid drawing trouble onto himself, Herbert decided that the less he got involved, the better. He would simply pretend he had discovered nothing.

None of my beeswax.

Once he had drawn his water, he immediately hurried away without trying to search the grass carp for any clues, ignoring its existence entirely.

He wasn't the least bit curious about Grass Carp Guy's identity.

Not one bit!

The Tribunal.

"Your Honor, Chief Inquisitor."

Inside the cold, forbidding hall, Herbert calmly bowed to the burly man seated with his head lowered.

The bald, burly man wore a strange, spiked crown that covered his eyes, leaving only the expressionless lower half of his face exposed.

Thick, dark-red thorns coiled around his body. Their sharp spikes pierced his clothes and burrowed into his skin, continually drawing nutrients and mana from his flesh and blood. It was a deeply unsettling sight.

Although he hardly looked like a good person, he was one of the senior figures at the Misty Monastery.

Besides the elusive Archbishop, the Misty Monastery had three Cardinals who served as its publicly known leaders.

They were the [Chief Inquisitor], who presided over the Tribunal's affairs; the [Keeper], who guarded its various archives and treasures; and the [Knight Commander], who commanded all the Holy Knights, Monks, and other ascetics.

The man before him was the Chief Inquisitor known as the Bishop of Thorns, responsible for managing all the Tribunal's affairs.

The Tribunal served much the same function as the religious inquisitions of Herbert's previous life, handling the imprisonment, interrogation, and punishment of heretics and the fallen.

In a sense, the Chief Inquisitor was Herbert's immediate superior as a prison warden.

He was also the person Herbert, a traitor destined to follow the path of the Inverse Trinity, least wanted to approach of his own accord.

Blasphemy, oathbreaking, corruption-if any of Herbert's secrets came to light, this man would undoubtedly judge him personally.

Yet Herbert had still come before him voluntarily.

The Bishop of Thorns slowly opened his eyes. Riddled with scarlet veins, they stared impassively at the white-haired youth standing before him with his head respectfully lowered.

After a moment, he finally spoke. "...It's you, Herbert Albert."

"I remember you. But you should be reforming the heretics in the prison right now. Why are you here?"

"Have you come to see me about something?"

The Bishop of Thorns had a deep, resonant voice, but surprisingly, it did not match his fearsome appearance. Rather than sounding cold, it carried the warmth of a spring breeze.

If Herbert had to describe it, he would probably call it a rich, mature man's voice that would send plenty of voice enthusiasts into a frenzy.

He wasn't taciturn, either. In fact, he was unexpectedly talkative.

Herbert wondered whether he had been bottling things up for too long. Herbert had said only one sentence, yet the bishop had already spent quite a while talking all by himself.

Herbert raised his head, looked at the Bishop of Thorns, and reported quietly, "Your Honor, I have something I wish to report to His Grace the Archbishop."

"Something you need to report to the Archbishop?"

The Bishop of Thorns paused, then his expression shifted slightly as his brows furrowed. "What is it that you must report directly to His Grace the Archbishop? Can't you tell me?"

Although the bishop hadn't said it outright, Herbert could still read the hidden meaning in his eyes: What, do you think I'm not good enough?

"Yes. This matter is of grave importance, and I'm afraid only His Grace the Archbishop can handle it."

Seeing that the Bishop of Thorns was about to grow displeased, Herbert wasted no time and explained directly, "Here's what happened. During my inspection yesterday, I discovered some changes in the third area of the Foreign Races' Prison."

"The Lightless Prison has become a space in which it is completely impossible to advance. Not only am I unable to find the prisoner confined there, I also cannot enter the fourth area."

Herbert quickly gave a detailed account of his discoveries and attempts. He even shared his conjectures, holding nothing back.

Once he had finished, Herbert looked at the Bishop of Thorns with sincere eyes and asked earnestly, "Your Honor, may I leave this problem in your hands?"

"..."

The Bishop of Thorns fell silent, his gaze wandering slightly as he looked elsewhere.

Herbert kept his expression firmly under control, not daring to betray the slightest hint of his thoughts.

I think you're not good enough?

You must be joking.

Just tell me whether you can handle it.

"Ahem... I understand the situation."

Only after quite some time did the Bishop of Thorns nod without any change in expression and say calmly, "This is no major matter. There is no urgency in dealing with it. I will inform His Grace the Archbishop later."

No major matter? No urgency?

Herbert caught the implications, but tactfully refrained from exposing him. "Understood. Thank you for taking the trouble to see to this, Your Honor."

The Bishop of Thorns waved a hand, looking perfectly composed. "Mm, it's nothing. This is my duty."

"Very well. I'll take my leave, then."

Just as Herbert finished his report and prepared to leave, the Bishop of Thorns suddenly spoke in a low voice. "Wait."

"...Your Honor?"

The Bishop of Thorns fixed his scarlet eyes on him and slowly asked:

"You..."

"Have you encountered anything blasphemous lately?"

!!?