Episode 7.

The doll—the woman—didn't say a word.

"Please say something."

I was terrified, but I forced the words out. "That's the only way I can help you."

"……"

"Why were you clinging to Sir Liam?"

Liam. The doll reacted for the first time to the name I had hesitantly offered.

"Li…… am."

"You loved him, didn't you?"

"……"

"I can tell just by looking into your eyes. You loved him, right?"

Though her gaze burned with resentment, a deeper affection lingered beneath it.

"He's not the kind of person to commit a murder like this." Even in the original story, Liam was someone who acted strictly according to his convictions.

The doll slowly nodded her head. The seething malice in her eyes softened for a fraction of a second, an unspoken confirmation that Liam was not the one who had taken her life.

At that moment, the status window I had shoved to the corner of my vision popped up and expanded.

"……Yes." I parted my parched lips, barely managing a whisper.

A roulette wheel materialized in the air, spinning rapidly before snapping to a halt.

The news that the sleepwalking Saintess had wandered the grounds and discovered a corpse quickly reached the Pope.

"A corpse?"

"Yes, Your Holiness. The Saintess was severely shocked and is currently resting."

"To think they'd bury a body near the temple… how bold." The Pope chuckled, but his eyes were deadly cold. It seemed the culprit was quite cunning; they likely assumed the Imperial Knights wouldn't dare search the sacred grounds of the temple to uncover it.

"Fortunately, the body hasn't decomposed, so we were able to identify it," Cardinal Michael said in a low whisper. "It is the daughter of Baron Triel, who went missing three days ago. She is twenty-two years old, and though she has a fiancé, they have not yet married."

"Hmm."

"Shall I investigate further?"

"Conduct a thorough autopsy and narrow down the cause of death. We must inform the bereaved family."

"Understood." Michael hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Also, Your Holiness—"

"I will go check on Diane myself."

"……Yes! She is in her room."

The Pope, who had already turned away, whipped his head back around to stare at Michael. "What do children usually like?"

"Pardon?"

"……Never mind."

The Pope went down to the kitchen and procured a few sweet candies. He remembered hearing that Diane had happily eaten the lemon candies given to her by Liam, the Holy Knight Commander, so he figured this was a safe bet.

Arriving in front of the Saintess's room, the Pope knocked softly.

"Yeees."

Hearing the nasally reply, he opened the door. She must have caught a cold wandering out in her pajamas on such a chilly night; her face was flushed bright red, and she was sniffling.

The Pope recalled their intense first meeting yesterday. She had surprised him with a demeanor entirely unlike a child's. Yet as he watched her now—a little being nodding off while loudly blowing her nose into a tissue—she was undeniably a five-year-old.

"Oh dear. Diane, are you alright?"

The Pope's lips stiffened as he realized he had unconsciously called her by her name. Come to think of it, it felt too awkward to keep calling a five-year-old "Saintess."

Fortunately, Diane didn't seem to harbor any aversion to her actual name. Then again, despite shouldering the massive duty of being the Saintess, she barely showed any signs of anxiety. She just seemed indifferent to everything in the world.

The Pope did not like that.

He wanted to lift the shadow looming over Diane, though he knew it would take time.

To ensure he didn't frighten her, he softened his voice. "It seems you have a fever."

"Your Holiness……" Diane mumbled, her pale, chubby cheeks squishing together.

In the Pope's eyes, she was nothing more than an incredibly thin and fragile little bird.

Diane rubbed her sleepy eyes and spoke clearly. "I'm alright."

"……!"

"Because the people who lost their family will hurt far more than my slight fever." Diane's gaze briefly shifted to the bunny doll sitting on the nightstand before returning to him.

The Pope glanced at the doll and let out a deep sigh.

"That is for me to handle. Right now, my biggest concern is—" He sat on the edge of the mattress and gently patted her back. The child's eyes went wide at the sudden contact, but she quickly relaxed. "—that you witnessed a corpse firsthand."

"Yes."

"Weren't you scared?"

"……"

She must have been terrified. His expression hardened, cursing himself for asking an unnecessary question that forced her to relive the memory.

"From now on, you should drink some warm milk before bed so you don't wander out like you did today. We will also tighten security."

"I-I'm fine. I won't do it anymore."

"It's not something you can control, is it?"

"I can do better. You don't have to worry."

For some reason, his chest felt tight. He wished this child would rely on him just a bit more.

"I have one request," Diane said softly.

The Pope smiled, an expression that suggested he would grant absolutely whatever she asked.

"You haven't informed the bereaved family yet, right?"

"They were likely notified this morning. They should be arriving here soon."

"……Can I go there too?"

To the funeral hall? The Pope furrowed his brow. "No. There is nothing good for a young child to see there."

"There's something I need to check."

"……"

"Please? I'm begging you……. Yes?"

Ahem. The Pope cleared his throat and gave a defeated nod. "Yes. Understood."

And so, clutching the haunted bunny doll to my chest (it was slightly less scary than before, but still unnerving), I stood just outside the hall where the funeral was being held.

Before long, carriages slowly began to arrive.

The Baroness stumbled out of the first carriage, sobbing violently with swollen eyes. The Baron supported his wife, his own head hung low in grief. Everyone, including the trailing servants, looked thoroughly devastated.

"Ah, aaah!"

Upon seeing the wailing Baroness, whose knees buckled with every step, the doll in my arms trembled. I stood quietly and hugged the plush toy tighter, telling her without words that I understood how she felt. Perhaps my thoughts reached her, because the trembling slowly subsided.

Behind the carriages carrying the Baron's family and retainers, another carriage arrived—one so excessively decorated it bordered on gaudy. Temple knights stepped forward to perform a background check, and a tall man practically threw himself out of the cabin.

It was a man with blue hair. His cravat hung loose and his shirt was wrinkled, carefully styled to look as though he had rushed out the door in a panic. He scrubbed at his red, puffy eyes, feigning the look of a devastated lover. A few nobles approached him, murmuring their deepest condolences.

It was then.

Startled, I looked down at the doll. A phantom shriek of incomparable rage and sorrow tore at my eardrums. Just as I instinctively raised a hand to cover my ear against the psychic noise, I froze.

I locked eyes with the blue-haired man climbing the stairs.

Goosebumps erupted down my spine.

"Is it true?" Gordon dropped to his knees, his face a perfect mask of disbelief. "Madam. Please don't lie to me. Is Camila really, truly dead?"

The Baroness collapsed beside him, wrapping her arms around the wailing man's shoulders. The nobles watching them whispered with pity and sympathy.

Except for me.

"Your Holiness."

"Hmm? Yes."

"Hold on a second."

Mindful of the murmuring crowd, I gently tugged on the Pope's pristine white hem. He obligingly lowered himself to one knee so we were at eye level.

"I have something to tell you."

The Pope's deep green eyes quivered slightly.

I didn't have the time to care.

"I received an oracle last night," I whispered.

"……What in the world?"

"I know who killed Lady Camila Triel."

Leaning in close, I pointed a small finger at the wailing Gordon. "It's him."