Holy Palace.
The Deus Temple, the white sanctuary that half the continent dreams of setting foot in at least once.
There are three main entrances to this place.
One is the front gate, where regular believers gather, hoping for a chance to enter.
Due to the influx of pilgrims from across the continent, the front gate is usually crowded with tourists.
The second door is for members of the Holy Palace—priests, servants, archbishops, and others who belong to the institution.
And the last door…
— Clang!
“Move!”
…Is the underground passage, built to transport criminals.
The cold stone floor seemed to drop in temperature just by entering, the metallic clank of the guard priest’s boots echoing, sending a chill through the body.
‘Nice, it’s cool in here. It was so hot outside.’
Lloyd muttered to himself, as Yulia sidled up next to him.
“Lloyd!”
Yulia’s voice, a mix of whispering and suppressed anger, was sharp, but Lloyd replied casually.
“What?”
“It’s not ‘what’!”
Glare.
The guard priest shot a look back, and Yulia quickly bowed her head with an awkward smile.
“You have cooperated without resistance, so you aren’t bound. But if you cause more commotion, we won’t make any more exceptions.”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
Seeing the Third Princess of the Empire smiling apologetically to a foreign guard made Lloyd mutter to himself again, wondering how far the Empire had fallen.
“This is all your fault.”
Yulia hissed under her breath, shaking her head.
“Anyway, what were you thinking, getting caught like this?”
“This was the fastest and easiest way to get into the Holy Palace. From here on, everything in the succession struggle will be a race against time.”
“…You’ll need to explain this ‘race against time’ later. But isn’t this situation far too dangerous?”
Though the guard priest had reacted slowly, the entire Holy Palace had issued a warrant for Lloyd.
Someone had been eager to catch him, and he had walked right in.
From Yulia’s perspective, it was hard to understand. It was like he had voluntarily surrendered.
“We’re not in any danger.”
“Why?”
“Because they can’t punish us.”
“I don’t want to keep asking, but why?”
“The Seventh Death Squad is a well-known criminal organization across the continent. We took care of them. They can’t punish us for that. Not if they have any sense of justice.”
Everyone knew the Seventh Death Squad was a criminal group.
It wasn’t possible for them to punish us for taking them down. And besides, wasn’t the Holy Palace supposed to be righteous and moral? That was Lloyd’s argument.
Throb.
A vein bulged on Yulia’s forehead—
She was quite angry.
“Lloyd, isn’t that a bit naive? These people are politicians. They don’t interpret everything morally.”
Had she trusted Lloyd too much?
She hadn’t expected him to act this recklessly, without any backup plan.
Lloyd was always bold but also made safe decisions.
‘Maybe… he’s lost his edge.’
Switching bodies with Ortega each time might be making him more impulsive and less calculating…
“You’re not thinking something disrespectful, are you?”
Lloyd’s sharp question caused Yulia’s pupils to dart nervously.
“N-no?”
“Yes, you are. I know it.”
“…….”
“But you’re wrong. The reason I think we’re safe is because this is political.”
“…Political?”
“Yes. Ugh.”
Lloyd leaped over a pile of blood-stained rubble. Yulia and the village chief followed, walking around it.
“It’s a long explanation, but to summarize: the person trying to catch us at the Holy Palace is deeply entangled in shady dealings. They’ll come at us strongly, but…”
—Creak!
Lloyd’s words were drowned out by the sound of a heavy iron door being opened.
Beyond it lay a long corridor lined with cells.
It was unmistakably an interrogation room.
Seeing Yulia and the village chief turn pale, Lloyd spoke up.
“Don’t worry. They won’t be able to do much. If it comes to it, Yulia, just reveal your identity. And as for you, Chief, you can withstand t*rture, right?”
“Well, I suppose so. Wait, what?”
“Yes, in case something like that happens, just hold on. But I doubt it will. All you have to do is tell the truth.”
Though Lloyd said this, he wasn’t really concerned about the chief. After all, the chief’s past was likely no ordinary one.
In the end, whoever had brought them here had only one real target.
“You two go that way. Lloyd, you’re over here!”
Lloyd smirked.
“See you all upstairs.”
◆
Unlike the left path Yulia and the village chief took, the right hallway had a much more ominous atmosphere.
The deeper they walked, the sign “Interrogation Room” gradually changed to “T*rture Chamber”. It wasn’t a coincidence.
What would come next?
Lloyd’s curiosity was quickly satisfied.
[Heresy Interrogation Room]
A guard priest shoved Lloyd inside, then left, closing the door behind him.
“Hmm.”
Lloyd looked around.
There was no need to heighten his senses. The stench of blood permeated the place.
On one side of the wall hung saws and hammers, tools that seemed unnecessary for any legitimate purpose here.
‘Are they interrogating heretics or making them?’
Though Lloyd couldn’t fully discern the room’s purpose, he had a good idea of who it belonged to.
The Heretical Inquisition.
This group within the Holy Kingdom of Constantine sought out heretics to either convert or eliminate them. In the Empire, they were akin to the Emperor’s personal guard, but…
‘These people are more terrifying because they’re fanatics.’
Essentially, they were the Holy Palace’s executioners. Their fanatical faith in Deus was so intense that they’d bite even with severed limbs if it meant defending their god.
Their individual combat abilities were legendary, said to rival the Empire’s Knight Commanders.
Of course, there weren’t many of them. According to rumors, only two or three inquisitors were currently active.
“They should focus on hunting the Blood Cult instead.”
Lloyd grumbled to himself as he waited. Soon, the sound of a creaking iron door interrupted his thoughts.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!”
A youthful, energetic voice echoed through the door.
Shortly after, a boy stepped in.
He looked about thirteen or fourteen.
He wasn’t tall, even for a boy, and his frame was slender.
The only thing that stood out was his bright golden hair, shining like a small sun in the dark underground space.
“Nice to meet you. You must be Lloyd?”
The boy extended his hand. Lloyd hesitated but took it reluctantly.
Lloyd took his hand nervously.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Asmail. I’m one of Deus’s chosen servants, fortunate to serve in the Holy Palace.”
“…Lloyd.”
“Haha! I like you! Great attitude!”
The boy smiled brightly and twirled in place, just that movement alone making Lloyd’s hair stand on end.
It wasn’t fear—just an instinctive reaction.
The kind you get when you stand before an overwhelming predator.
‘Inquisitor Asmail.’
Lloyd rummaged through his memories. He’d vaguely heard of him before.
There was a story about a twelve-year-old who had wiped out an entire village of the Blood Cult, including two of their leaders—and his own parents.
The boy had reportedly shouted.
– For Deus!
After that, the boy disappeared.
It was understandable.
Even though he had acted in the name of God, the Holy Palace couldn’t openly protect him.
He had been a devout follower of Deus but was too fanatical to become a priest.
And now, the protagonist of that not-so-tragic tragedy stood before Lloyd, wearing a bright smile.
“Heh. You’ve got good eyes, Lloyd.”
“I hear that a lot.”
“You don’t need to be so formal with me… I’m not that old, you know.”
“Alright, I’ll do as you say.”
“You’re just letting go that easily?”
Of course, if someone tells him to let go, he’ll do it.
Lloyd had a knack for adapting his responses to the situation.
But the real problem was…
‘Why is he the one interrogating me?’
A Heretical Inquisitor.
Lloyd hadn’t expected someone of this level to be sent to question him.
After all, Heretical Inquisitors served those closest to Deus himself—in other words, the Holy King.
‘The possibility that the Holy King is in league with the Blood Cult… is very low.’
Lloyd’s assumption had been this.
The person interested in him must be someone within the Holy Palace who was working with the Blood Cult.
His plan to get caught was intended to quickly identify those heretics inside the palace.
But for a direct subordinate of the Holy Pope to show up here?
‘This just got a lot more complicated.’
Lloyd’s head throbbed as he tried to assess the situation while staring at Asmail.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m innocent.”
It was worth claiming his innocence, at least for now.
Asmail might be smiling, but Lloyd knew he could easily be reduced to dust with a single punch from him.
This was why dealing with lunatics was never pleasant.
“Is that so?”
Asmail casually flipped through the stack of papers in his hand and asked.
“It says here that you killed people.”
“They were from the Seventh Death Squad, a criminal assassination group targeting key figures across the continent.”
“Ah. You’ve done quite a remarkable thing then—taking down an entire crime syndicate.”
“I just did what needed to be done.”
“But murder is never good. After all, you don’t have a license to kill, do you?”
“If we’re going down that path, then the Holy Palace has no right to judge me for something that happened in the Empire.”
“That’s true.”
Asmail continued to flip through the report without any particular comment.
His perpetual smile made it impossible to read his true intentions, which was increasingly unsettling.
“Besides, they were part of the Blood Cult.”
“…Blood Cult?”
Asmail’s gaze shot up from the papers, locking eyes with Lloyd.
“Yes, I found the symbol of the Blood Cult on the leader, One’s, shoulder.”
Asmail’s was a devout follower of Deus.
Sure enough, at the mention of the Blood Cult, his eyes seemed to ignite with fervor. It was clear that, for him, heresy was something he could never tolerate.
“Well done.”
“Thanks. So, how about you release me, and we can talk more?”
Lloyd rattled the shackles that bound his feet to the chair.
Asmail grinned.
“But…”
“?”
“This report here says that you, Lloyd, are also one of the Blood Cult members.”
“…What’s that?”
Before Lloyd could even fully respond, Asmail was already approaching him.
“Roll up your sleeve.”
His arm. The spot where the Blood Cult’s symbol would be.
“Before I tear all your clothes apart.”
Asmail’s smile faded, replaced by an icy expression.
