Sailulu was clearly up to no good.
Loki could sense it—the girl was like a beautiful plant, slowly releasing a toxin that numbed the mind, corroding his spirit bit by bit.
He would have preferred if she were an avenger, constantly plotting to poison or stab him in the dark. At least then, he could mount a decent defense, instead of being left utterly powerless like this.
Loki felt a lingering guilt toward Sailulu, who was, after all, his victim.
He had snatched her from her warm home and thrown her into a cold dungeon, turning her into a “test subject” at such a tender age, and in the end, to destroy the Hand of Truth, he’d nearly used her as a sacrifice.
She shouldn’t be entangled with him any further.
When it came down to it, Loki wasn’t truly a cold-blooded villain.
“I don’t want anything to do with the Holy Church.”
“…I am me, the Church is the Church. Does that put your mind at ease?”
“No.”
Loki was confident that even if Sailulu stripped naked and lay on the bed in nothing but stockings, he’d still be able to say those two words without hesitation.
Not that he intended to become a Sigma man—it’s just that Sailulu was not a suitable object of his affection.
Not even passively.
That was his bottom line as a human being.
Once she grew from an ignorant child into an adult, she’d surely come to realize, belatedly, that Loki had once been ready to trade her life for something else.
His time with the Hand of Truth had inevitably left a mark on his psyche. If he hadn’t come to his senses at the last moment, he would have done something he’d regret for the rest of his life.
“Then forget it.”
To Loki’s surprise, Sailulu gave up the offensive without hesitation.
She got up, humming what sounded like a monotonous hymn, and with practiced ease, walked into Loki’s room.
She didn’t close the door.
Maybe that was a hint—no, don’t overthink it, Loki.
“…Looks like I’ll be sleeping on the sofa from tonight.”
He muttered to himself.
The technology in this world lagged about two centuries behind Earth’s, so people’s ways of entertaining themselves hadn’t fundamentally changed.
Books, newspapers, or maybe wandering the streets or the park, breathing in air so fresh it was hard to believe industry even existed, then watching a recent murder or ritual scene, admiring the way newspaper reporters broke through police cordons and slipped away from the cops.
Peace and chaos coexisted here. Even just staying home, lying in bed and zoning out, one could get swept up into some inexplicable danger.
After spacing out for a while, Loki decided to go out and meet Christine Peron.
This house was already full of the scent of girls. Every extra minute he stayed was a test of his sanity, not to mention how Sailulu was constantly tempting him with her body, expressions, movements, and eyes.
It was unbearable.
If this kept up, she’d reap what she sowed sooner or later.
Surely she didn’t actually want him to do something, right?
“I’m going out.”
Loki stood up.
“Come home early, okay—are you eating lunch at home?”
From the bedroom came a muffled voice, as if she was lying face-down on the bed, her mouth and nose pressed into a pillow or blanket, thumping the mattress with her feet.
“I’ll eat out.”
“Okay—”
After hearing her lazy reply, Loki quietly closed the door that the girl had completely taken over.
The faint, peculiar smell unique to old buildings in the apartment corridor was what he was familiar with. It felt like a fish back in water.
“Meow.”
A black cat called softly from the shadows.
Loki curiously looked at the cat, which hadn’t left and seemed to have been lingering at his door all along.
Those gem-like heterochromatic eyes glowed in the dim corner. It neither ran away nor approached affectionately, just sat there, quietly watching Loki.
A strange cat.
Only now did he notice—the Black Cat wore no bell or tag to mark it as a pet, only an old bow tied to its tail.
Could it have been abandoned…
No, that couldn’t be it.
That glossy, immaculate fur—someone clearly took great care of it, nothing like the strays running wild outside.
Loki reached out and patted the Black Cat’s head.
Compared to the woman inside, this kind of pet was much easier to get along with.
“Sorry, I don’t have anything to feed you. Maybe next time.”
“Meow?”
Without playing with the docile cat any longer, Loki headed downstairs and made his way to the nearby tram station.
Kaisania’s city rail was barely faster than running. These iron boxes, plastered with advertisements, rattled along the main avenues, carrying people packed in like sardines to all sorts of destinations.
If you ignored all the things that defied common sense and science, the city was no different from Earth in the early twentieth century. But unlike the filthy, reeking scenes poisoned by industry, this place was much closer to the “ideal” in people’s minds.
…Though, in the end, that was only “on the surface.”
Loki got off at the headquarters of the Kaisania Knights.
“Good morning, Loki.”
Someone was already waiting for him at the gates of the medieval, castle-like building, ringed by tall red brick walls.
It was a beautiful woman clad in light armor.
Her flaxen hair was tied in a ponytail behind her head, her handsome face expressionless. Her deep brown eyes sized up everyone who approached, making people want to flee her presence.
The combination of short skirt, tight shorts, and over-the-knee socks suited her long, straight legs, while her leather boots accentuated her tall, slender figure.
But what stood out more than her beauty was her aura.
The aura of a “warrior.”
Christine Peron.
Known as the “Black Sword,” a female knight famed for her ruthless style. If anyone in this world deserved to be called a “hero,” she was surely among them.
“Good morning. Have you been waiting long?”
“Just got here. There was a bit of traffic.”
The female knight glanced at the huge clock hanging from the castle’s tower.
Whenever they made plans, Loki and Christine would always default to meeting around nine.
Though Christine had her own private lounge in the castle, she always preferred to wait outside, saying the air inside was too stuffy and the incense wasn’t to her liking.
As if she sensed something, Christine twitched her nose and suddenly frowned.
“That scent on you… Did you go see another woman after yesterday?”
Loki stopped in his tracks, looking at her in confusion.
Was it his imagination?
Something seemed off… Christine had never asked such “personal” questions before.
Their relationship was like that of superior and subordinate. Loki had never thought about developing anything deeper with her.
After all, Christine’s personality was completely unsuited to being a girlfriend or anything like that. She was like a mother T-Rex who really would chop someone in half.
Loki could imagine that, in an intimate moment, the man would be so terrified by Christine’s murderous aura and the scent of blood that he’d go limp—or even wet himself.
So it was better for her to stay single, rather than go out and torment other men.
Loki’s ideal type was ordinary: gentle, beautiful, kind, and considerate. Unfortunately, these once commonplace traits had become as rare as endangered species in this day and age.
“No.”
Loki answered decisively.
He really hadn’t gone looking for women… If anything, it was women who came looking for him. Both the Hand of Truth assassin and Sailulu were like that.
“It’s probably the scent from the one I caught yesterday. She disguised herself as a seductress and threw herself at me.”
“I see.”
Christine narrowed her eyes.
“I didn’t expect the Hand of Truth’s remnants to get their hands on church-exclusive incense. Looks like I’ll have to find out which merchant had the guts to sell it.”
“……”
Crap, I walked right into that one.
Loki’s face stiffened.
“Y-yeah, those merchants are terrible, selling church goods wherever they please…”
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