Her laughter still echoed in the air when the door was gently pushed open, and a figure as warm as the sun appeared in the doorway.
Her laughter was cut off instantly, as though severed by a sharp blade.
In the dim corridor light, the figure’s face was blurred, yet she knew—the gentle emerald eyes definitely did not belong to the Reaper she had been expecting!
The Resurrection Church priestess froze, her gaze stiffening like a stone statue. Her expression turned blank, as if she could not understand why the one who appeared wasn’t the Count.
As Lan Qi entered with Huperion by his side, a cold wind swept in from the corridor, chilling the priestess to the bone. She didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she knew one thing clearly—this was a nightmare she would never wake from.
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
Lan Qi’s voice was gentle, clearly audible in the silence of the night.
Yet—
Those words struck the priestess’s heart like a bolt of lightning. Her body shuddered violently.
The more softly this strange man spoke, the more terrifying he became.“The Count? So the Count hasn’t arrived yet!?”
The muffled sounds from the priestess’s bound mouth vibrated in the air, full of despair and urgency.
And then she understood.
It wasn’t yet time.
Just endure a little longer, and the Count would come. He would kill them all!
At that thought, she broke into manic laughter again. The sound was crazed, hollow, so chilling that even Huperion shivered.
Huperion dragged in tables and chairs, quickly transforming the torture chamber into something resembling a normal interrogation room.
Her eyes swept across the bloodstains splattered across the room, and she could hardly imagine how three clergy members had been trained into such ruthless torturers—or what state the priestess’s mind was now in.
“……”
Lan Qi, however, made no move to reveal the truth. He simply remained polite, calm, and seated himself opposite the priestess, notebook in hand, ready to record.
Not long after—
The Poet of Love hummed a strange little tune and wandered into the room.
She circled around the priestess, who was slipping further into madness, then whispered softly in her ear:
“Is it the Count Palocas you want to see?”
“？”
The sound of her voice sent the priestess’s emotions surging again, raw and turbulent.
Just one small question completely unsettled her mind.
She couldn’t understand what this meaningful smile from the Poet of Love meant, but dread wrapped itself around her heart.
“Come now, let’s open the door.”
Smiling faintly, the Poet of Love waved her arm.
The next second, the door of Room 202 creaked open again.
Three clergy dragged in what looked like the desiccated corpse of Count Palocas.
“Blood… give it back to me…”
The Count’s raspy moan was like the wail of a damned spirit from hell.
The three clergy holding him glanced at the priestess, their lips curling into hideous grins, like children finding a new toy. Their fingers twitched eagerly.
“Heh heh…”
One of the torturers even lifted the Blood Pressure Resuscitator, as though half explaining how the Count had ended up this way, half suggesting they try it on the priestess as well.
“！！！”
The priestess’s heart pounded like a hammer. She whimpered in horror, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, her whole body slick with cold sweat as though plunged into an icy lake in midwinter.
“Kill me! Kill me! Kill me, please—!!”
Her bound lips stammered the same words again and again, her voice breaking into hysterical sobs.
“Well? Do you see the Count’s state clearly now?”
The Poet of Love leaned over from behind, whispering sweetly into her ear:
“Do you want them to keep you company for another night? Or perhaps four days and four nights?”
“No! No, no!!!”
The young priestess thrashed violently, as if punishing herself.
If only she had trusted the World of Shadows’ time panel earlier—she should have realized the Count had already come. But her mind was too broken now to tell obvious truths from lies.
Yet even so—how could a Seventh-Rank Vampire Count have been captured and tortured into such a pitiful state by this brutal gang? It was beyond comprehension, more unreal than any nightmare.
“That’s why you have only one choice… Do you want to answer Lan Qi’s questions honestly, or spend four more days and nights with those three?”
The Poet of Love’s voice was soft, almost like a lullaby.
The priestess’s wide eyes trembled, tears streaming down.
Finally, facing the heaven-and-hell choice before her, she collapsed completely.
“I’ll answer! I’ll tell you everything…”
“If I catch even the slightest hint of a lie,” the Poet of Love murmured, her fingers trailing along the priestess’s bloodied scars, sending a shiver down her spine, “I’ll let those three have you again. Understand?”
The priestess nodded frantically.
She knew her magnified emotions made any trace of deception obvious.
The Poet of Love straightened, shot Lan Qi a triumphant smile, as if to say She’s all yours now.
“Poet of Love, you’re perfect in every way—except when it comes to housework.”
Lan Qi glanced at the priestess, now docile under the Poet’s “affection,” and sighed.
His summoned creature possessed miraculous skills that many self-aware epic summons could never match. And yet for the simplest chores, she absolutely refused to lift a finger—making him serve her instead.
Fortunately, unlike Talia the glutton, the Poet of Love rarely ate, lived frugally, and even earned money for him by creating cards.
“Heh. Unless you let me out 24 hours a day, I might consider doing half the housework.”
The Poet of Love stuck out her tongue at him.
“I have to think of the safety of all the students.”
Lan Qi remained unmoved. He knew perfectly well she couldn’t freely wander the Academy, and his mana recovery wasn’t nearly high enough to sustain her constantly in the material world.
Without further banter—
Lan Qi allowed the priestess a moment to calm down.
At last, in a gentle tone, he asked:
“It’s late today, so let’s keep this brief. I’ll return later for more details. But as long as you answer honestly, I promise you won’t be harmed again. Understand?”
The priestess nodded desperately, like a tamed animal.
To her eyes, Lan Qi now looked like the only angel in sight.
Though she knew full well that he was the true source of her terror, her heart clung to him uncontrollably. If only he would not hurt her again—
She was ready to betray the Resurrection Church.
Even if, back in the real world, she would be imprisoned in the Empire’s high-security dungeons, hunted and punished by her church, she could no longer bear to oppose Lan Qi.
“……”
Seeing her trembling so hard she couldn’t even meet his eyes, Lan Qi worried briefly that he had pushed her too far.
“Tell me—how can one join the Resurrection Church?”
His question was simple, direct.
“……？”
The priestess froze, wondering if she’d misheard.
Before her dazed mind could process it, Lan Qi continued:
“Help me join the Resurrection Church. Once I reach the Empire, I’ll save you. You’re not an abandoned pawn—I’ll protect you.”
His voice was calm, his gaze warm, like a teacher guiding a student.
“…!!”
The priestess lifted her head in disbelief, then slowly seemed to understand.
Of course. This lunatic, this embodiment of madness and evil, was one of their kind all along!
Though she trembled at the thought of what horrors he might wreak inside the Resurrection Church…
“I believe you are a talent worth cultivating. You have potential, a bright future ahead—only lacking proper guidance.
Even if the Princess Alexia, even if the Church itself no longer wants you—I still need you. You are indispensable. With my support, my aid, and my strength, you’ll rise again…”
Under his words, one after another, like a spiritual mentor—
The priestess still shook, her eyes clouded by fear and despair. Yet now, amidst the tears, a flicker of fervor and twisted dependence began to grow.
“……”
Huperion’s eyes widened from the side.
She already knew of Lan Qi’s plan to infiltrate the Resurrection Church.
But watching him persuade the priestess like this, it felt like witnessing a crime against the heavens themselves.