Most of the transparent holy water landed on the pale face beneath the Black-Clothed Woman's hood, suddenly taking on a faint golden glow.
The light was not dazzling. It was as though sunlight had been compressed into every droplet. A faint sizzling rose from the Black-Clothed Woman's pale cheeks, the corners of her eyes, and her lips, and a wisp of illusory black smoke quickly curled upward.
The Black-Clothed Woman, who had been silent all this time, finally let out an uncontrollable scream.
She abruptly retreated half a step, covering the side of her face splashed with holy water with her left hand. Her hood slipped back with the movement, revealing a jaw illuminated by golden light and a lock of black hair pressed against her neck. The holy water clinging to the edge of her hood soaked into the black fabric, yet produced neither golden light nor scorch marks, as though it really were ordinary water.
At the same time, a few drops of the transparent liquid splashed onto the back of Charlotte's hand and her cuff.
Her heart clenched. She thought she, too, would feel searing pain, but the drops merely rolled slowly down her fair skin. Aside from a slight chill, there was nothing unusual.
So it isn't a strong acid, or simply poison... It's a liquid created through supernatural power specifically to dispel sinister forces, and it won't harm ordinary people? But do I really count as an ordinary person... The possibility that had worried Charlotte ever since she accepted this bottle of holy water had finally been ruled out, putting her somewhat at ease.
Meanwhile, the fighting on the other side of the Storage Room briefly stalled.
Roselle, Green, and the Gray-Clothed Attacker disguised as a beggar were all drawn by the sudden scream and the black smoke that vanished unnaturally as it rose. They stared at Charlotte in shock.
But Roselle reacted faster than the other two.
Seizing the instant when the Gray-Clothed Beggar was distracted, he snatched up a small wooden box of movable type by his feet and hurled it at him. The box tumbled through the air, its heavy metal type spilling out with a clatter and forcing the Gray-Clothed Beggar to dodge sideways. Green immediately turned his attention back as well, swinging his ink-stained iron rod and pressing in from the other side.
Without exchanging a word, the well-coordinated pair understood that they could not let this astonishingly fast attacker escape the confines of the cramped space.
The Gray-Clothed Beggar let out a low growl, his short blade flashing repeatedly as he tried to rush past Roselle. But Roselle used a thick stack of paper and the gap between the wooden racks to force him back. Green seemed to have finally found his rhythm. He never competed with the attacker's speed head-on, only swinging his rod to interfere whenever the man tried to close in on Roselle, turning the heavy iron ink-stirring rod into an obstacle that was not particularly sturdy, but troublesome enough.
Charlotte had only enough time for that one glance before the Black-Clothed Woman advancing on her again dragged her attention back.
The holy water had indeed worked. Smoke kept seeping between the fingers covering the woman's face, as though she had truly been corroded by a strong acid. One eye was squeezed shut, dark yellow fluid leaking from its corner, and even her breathing came with a hollow, leaking hiss.
But she had not fallen.
Instead, she slowly lowered her left hand, revealing half a face blackened and shriveled as though licked by flames. She fixed her remaining eye on Charlotte, anger appearing on her previously expressionless face.
This holy water isn't quite as effective as I imagined. It didn't bring her down outright-it only enraged her completely... Charlotte grumbled inwardly, retreating until her shoulder hit a wooden rack and she heard metal type knocking together in the boxes behind her.
She was not far from the doorway now, but the Black-Clothed Woman stood directly in her way. Behind her, Roselle and Green were tied up by the Gray-Clothed Beggar, barely maintaining a stalemate through their coordinated efforts. There was no way they could break away to rescue her immediately.
And all she had left in her hands were genuine perfume bottles.
The Black-Clothed Woman seemed to recognize her despair. Her footsteps grew light again, and she lowered her body slightly, like a shadow poised to pounce, gradually closing the distance between them.
Charlotte's throat tightened. She reached toward the wooden rack beside her, trying to find anything that could buy her time.
Suddenly, a white figure appeared at the Storage Room's doorway. It was a slender woman wearing a white cloak, its hood concealing her blond hair and most of her face, leaving only a softly contoured jaw exposed.
From her familiar figure and the gentle smile at the corners of her mouth, Charlotte immediately recognized Viève, the woman who had heard her confession at the cathedral and given her the holy water.
Sensing Charlotte's eager gaze passing over her, the Black-Clothed Woman paused and abruptly turned to look behind her. A slender dagger slid from her right sleeve into her hand.
But before she could do anything else, Viève swiftly approached, raised her slender arm, and punched her in the side of the abdomen.
Already burned by the holy water, the woman's movements had noticeably slowed. Now, turning hastily, she had no time to dodge. Golden light seemed to flash at the point of contact. The next instant, as though struck by an invisible sledgehammer, the Black-Clothed Woman's body bent almost at a right angle. Before she could even scream, she toppled sideways and slammed into a wooden rack.
Then Viève recited a short, forceful sequence of syllables in her gentle voice. Charlotte could barely make out that the language was entirely different from the Intisian, Feysac, and Loenese she knew.
Drops of golden liquid, as though refracting sunlight within them, appeared out of thin air above the Black-Clothed Woman's head and fell like rain.
The sizzling of burning flesh sounded again. Several wisps of sooty smoke curled upward. The Black-Clothed Woman, who had been trying to struggle up and slip into the surrounding shadows, once again let out a scream that rang throughout the Storage Room. She clutched her head with both hands and curled into a ball, trying to escape the holy water that purified evil and filth.
But the liquid found its way everywhere, soaking through her hood and passing through her gloves, gradually covering her entire body. She collapsed limply to the floor, soon reduced to faint breathing and twitching.
Almost simultaneously, the Gray-Clothed Beggar on the other side noticed the change in the situation.
He abruptly lowered his body, slashing his short blade rapidly through the air to force Roselle and Green back. Then he sprang up from a nearby wooden box, caught the narrow ledge of a high window, and slipped outside as though his body weighed nothing.
"He got away!"
Green shouted instinctively.
Viève glanced at the high window and said calmly:
"Someone outside will handle him."
No sooner had she spoken than several dull impacts came from outside the window, followed by the crash of wooden boxes toppling and someone's cry of pain.
The Storage Room fell quiet for a moment. Roselle held half a wooden ruler, his chest heaving beneath the slashed front of his coat. Green still gripped the ink-stirring rod with both hands, his face pale. Clearly, he had yet to recover from the life-and-death struggle.
They looked at Charlotte and Viève, then at the Black-Clothed Woman curled motionless on the floor, their eyes full of shock.
Viève pulled back her hood, revealing long golden hair, green eyes, and the gleaming Sun Holy Emblem at her neckline. Without giving them a chance to ask questions, she spoke first:
"I belong to the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. Miss Charlotte Sauron previously sought help from Saint Roch Cathedral. The Church judged that the person who attacked her might still have accomplices, so we arranged covert surveillance and protection."
As she spoke, she glanced at the Black-Clothed Woman on the floor, a faint smile appearing on her lips.
"It seems our judgment was correct."
Roselle opened his mouth as though he wanted to ask something, then closed it again thoughtfully.
As for Green Randall beside him, only bewilderment remained on his face.
He was merely a merchant's son. Though his family was well-off, he had never truly experienced being attacked and rescued. Until now, his mind had been occupied with his family's unsellable printing factory and the sudden opportunity to make money. In the blink of an eye, a beggar wielding a sharp blade, a woman in black robes, and a beautiful woman claiming to be a member of the clergy had appeared in the factory one after another. It clearly exceeded his understanding.
"Go outside for now," Viève continued. "Leave this to me."
Charlotte knew she was ushering away the other two, who had never encountered the world of mysticism or supernatural powers. She immediately nodded, steadied herself against the wooden rack, and led the way out.
When the three returned to the workshop housing the enormous printing press, the place was already in turmoil.
The workers who had been waiting in the corners had tried to approach after hearing the commotion, only to be stopped nearby by a man in a gold-trimmed brown coat. He was not tall and wore a gentle expression, yet none of the workers dared move past him. They could only crane their necks and look around in alarm and uncertainty.
Green stood in the middle of the workshop, looking at his printing factory and workers as though he still could not understand how things had come to this.
Roselle looked at Charlotte, his gaze holding surprise and suspicion, but more than anything, concern and curiosity.
Meeting his gaze, Charlotte carefully chose her words:
"After that night, I was worried and frightened, so I went to Saint Roch Cathedral to listen to a sermon and make a confession.
"The Church believed there might be other people behind Etienne who could attack me again. So they told me to maintain my usual schedule as much as possible and not behave too unusually. They would protect me from the shadows and act when those people exposed themselves.
"Of course, today's attack really did catch me by surprise. I didn't expect them to be so bold as to try kidnapping me in a printing factory where workers were still present... Fortunately, Miss Viève arrived in time and saved us all.
"Praise the Sun!"
Her voice went from subdued to buoyant, and that final praise came straight from her heart.
As for the bottle of holy water that looked like a strong acid, or why the slender Viève could knock the Black-Clothed Woman down with one punch, Charlotte felt she had no way to explain them. She simply kept quiet, lest she inadvertently reveal knowledge ordinary people should not possess and end up harming them instead.
Smart people are the best at filling in the blanks, anyway. Maybe he'll convince himself... Watching Roselle ponder and eventually even nod slowly, Charlotte muttered inwardly with a touch of malice.
A short while later, Viève came out of the Storage Room. The man who had been standing guard outside had gone in at some point, and now followed behind her with the unconscious Black-Clothed Woman slung over his shoulder.
The woman's hood hung to one side, her black hair falling over most of her face. Only the side burned by the holy water occasionally showed between the strands, horrifying the watching workers.
"She will be taken back to the Church for questioning. We will establish whether she has any other accomplices." Viève looked at Charlotte, her expression and tone exactly as they had been when they first met. "In the meantime, we will continue to protect you to prevent anything unexpected from happening."
I don't think this will end so easily either. Perhaps this attack was also 'bait,' and their real follow-up move has yet to come... Charlotte nodded in agreement.
Viève paused, then added:
"Come to the cathedral again this weekend."
The words sounded like an ordinary notice, but to Charlotte, they were nothing short of heavenly music.
She remembered what Viève had said in the confessional, remembered that the Church had confirmed her connection to the Eighth Sacrifice and that she had been involuntarily drawn into a supernatural incident. She also remembered the golden light that had flared when the holy water burst across the Black-Clothed Woman's face.
Her chance had finally come.