Episode 8.

"Please, my Lord, get ahold of yourself!"

The nobles surrounding Gordon were frantically shaking him by the shoulders, reacting to his theatrical, near-fainting spell.

Watching the grieving man's performance, a seed of doubt unexpectedly sprouted within me.

However, I quickly remembered the vicious murderous intent exuding from the doll, and the phantom shriek of pure agony I had heard moments before.

"I am certain," I whispered up to the Pope. "Please, believe me just this once."

"I believe you," the Pope replied in a hushed tone. "But we need evidence to convince the others. Do you happen to have any proof?"

It was an expected question.

Last night, I had gone to the knight order in tears, claiming I had found a body. Though it was late at night, the discovery had caused a massive uproar. Out of concern for me, Liam had told me to go back to my room and get some more sleep.

That was when the ghost had first shared her story with me.

"Yes, I do. I have evidence."

From my pocket, I pulled out the piece of paper I had been hiding all this time.

"It's a torn piece of a letter. I picked it up yesterday while finding my way out of the forest," I explained, handing the dirt-stained paper to the Pope. The deep, crumpled creases proved just how tightly the victim had gripped it in her final moments. "It's a letter arranging a meeting between Lady Camila and Lord Gordon at the time of her disappearance. It even has the date written on it."

"This is……"

The Pope looked around cautiously before grabbing my hand and ushering us to a secluded corner of the hall. As soon as he confirmed no one was eavesdropping, he let out a heavy sigh.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I wanted to confirm it with my own eyes."

"There's probably a brooch belonging to Gordon inside the corpse's clenched fist," I added quietly. "It was torn off while they struggled."

The Pope rubbed his chin with one hand, deep in thought.

"It seems he even borrowed money to gamble. The promissory note should still be in his desk drawer."

"I have never heard of an oracle this detailed," the Pope murmured.

Feeling a sharp prick of guilt, I hastily changed the subject. After all, there was no such thing as an oracle in the first place.

"It's all an act."

I glanced back at Gordon, who was still wailing as he embraced the Baroness. Yet, when he buried his face in his hands, his eyes remained completely dry. Through the gaps in his fingers, his gaze darted around the room, meticulously calculating the crowd's reaction to his performance. A cold shiver ran down my spine. It was a sickening display.

"Understood. I will handle it from here, so you should go back and rest now." The Pope nodded and gently patted my head.

"……!"

"You've been through a lot. Seeing things you shouldn't have had to see."

"O-oh, no. I just told you because there shouldn't be any unjust deaths."

The Pope smiled, his expression softening for the first time. Only then did my tense shoulders relax.

"What?" I blurted out.

"Pardon?"

"Ah, nothing……"

"Diane. Go hug your doll and get some sleep. You probably haven't slept much because of your sleepwalking."

"I'm fine. Really." I waved my hands to stop the Pope from worrying.

Time was running out. My palms grew clammy against the fabric of the doll. I roughly wiped the area around its button eyes with my sleeve and glanced at the grandfather clock.

It would be starting soon.

The Pope sighed as he watched Diane scurry away on her short legs, tightly clutching the bunny doll.

To think such a young child was being crushed by this kind of pressure, forced to keep quiet even after receiving a divine oracle. He felt like a failure as a guardian.

While he was berating himself, he heard approaching footsteps and gave a stiff nod. "Michael."

"The Saintess's words were correct," Cardinal Michael murmured softly, handing over a blood-spattered brooch wrapped in cloth. "It belongs to the Black family."

"……!"

The Pope pressed his throbbing temples. "Contact the Imperial Knights."

"Should we apprehend him immediately?"

"It would be better to leave him be until the knights arrive. Causing unnecessary chaos in the middle of a funeral might blow things out of proportion."

"I will instruct them to search his estate."

"Check for a promissory note. She said it is in his drawer."

"Yes, Your Holiness."

Michael bowed and was just about to leave when the Pope spoke up again.

"Usually…"

"……?"

"It's usually uncommon for children to see a corpse."

"That is indeed the case."

"It bothers me that she seems too calm."

He was referring to the Saintess, of course. Even to Michael, the child was different somehow. She was indifferent and unnervingly unfazed by death.

"Doesn't that imply she has lived a hard life up until now?" Michael asked gently.

No reply came. Michael noticed the lemon candies in the Pope's hand—the ones that had been left undelivered the night before.

"You can simply treat her well from now on, Your Holiness."

"……A child." The Pope stared blankly ahead. "I've never raised a child before."

"……Ah."

The Pope looked down at the candy, a small comfort he hadn't quite managed to pass on, and quietly slipped it back into his pocket.

The atmosphere in the funeral hall was suffocatingly solemn.

Because the bereaved family couldn't calm down and burst into fresh tears over and over, the starting time was repeatedly delayed. However, none of the guests complained.

In the center of the hall lay a beautifully carved coffin surrounded by white flowers. The corpse had to be inside. My stomach churned at the thought.

I casually scanned the room and spotted Liam standing stoically by the wall.

"Haa……"

Before long, a priest stepped up to the podium and began to pray.

The funeral had finally begun.

"My baby… Mommy is so sorry. Alright?"

"……"

The Baroness collapsed over the lid of the coffin and sobbed. The Baron silently wiped his own tears as he laid a white chrysanthemum down beside her.

Just then, Gordon stepped forward.

Dabbing his dry eyes with a silk handkerchief, he fumbled inside his coat and pulled out a rolled parchment.

"This is truly devastating, but I have some news to share with everyone."

I hugged the doll tighter. A deep sense of unease washed over me.

"Exactly one day before she went missing, Camila and I stamped our thumbprints on a marriage vow."

"……!"

"I apologize for not informing you beforehand. I was too preoccupied with tracking down Camila's whereabouts to mention it properly……"

"Therefore, according to this contract, forty percent of her wealth will be inherited by me."

My heart dropped to the floor.

"I will handle the disposal of the assets slowly, at a later date," Gordon finished smoothly.

"……You, what on earth……" The Baron choked out.

Gordon held the document out to the devastated father. "It is an unfortunate turn of events, but—" I distinctly saw the corners of his lips twitching upward into a smirk. "—that is how it is."

A psychic scream that only I could hear echoed through the hall. Viscous red tears began to leak from the bunny doll's button eyes.

"You bastard."

Did I mutter it too loudly in the silence? All eyes converged on me. I gasped and clamped both hands over my mouth, but Gordon's facial muscles had already contorted in fury.

"Who do you think you are, interrupting, you little brat!"

He shouted fiercely, rolling up his sleeves as he stomped toward me. Before he could take three steps, Liam blocked his path. Behind the Holy Knight Commander, a dozen Holy Knights uniformly leveled their swords and spears at Gordon, their stances perfectly synchronized.

Tucking his tail between his legs like a frightened puppy, Gordon lowered his gaze.

"She is the Saintess," Liam warned, his voice dangerously low.

"……?"

"Show some respect."

When a cold blade was pressed directly to his neck, panic set in, forcing Gordon to stumble backward.

"S-Saintess?" Gordon stammered. "Such a young child? She looks barely three years old at most!"

"I am indeed the Saintess."

I closed my eyes, letting a perfectly timed breeze flutter my silver hair. Then, I opened them slowly, projecting the solemn image of a prophet who had just received a divine revelation.

I locked my gaze onto Gordon, letting every ounce of the murdered woman's rage fuel my voice. The words tore from my throat, sharp and undeniable.

"I heard an oracle last night. That man killed Lady Camila. I am absolutely certain of it."

"……!"

The Baroness trembled violently and let out a horrified shriek. "I-It can't be……"

"N-No, Madam! I didn't do it! P-Proof! You need proof, right? Cornering me like this without any evidence is―"

"Oh, my."

The Pope, who had been watching silently from the back, stepped forward. He called out to me affectionately. "Diane."

He beckoned to me, opening his arms.

I ran to him and threw myself into his embrace, playing the part of the beloved, infallible Saintess.

Only then did the expressions of the skeptical nobles change. A child held securely in the arms of the Pope himself carried undeniable authority.

"She really is the Saintess……"

Starting with a single gasp of realization, a fierce murmur began to spread through the crowd.