Chapter 117: Chapter 117

"You're coming with me, right?"

Cruello narrowed his eyes slightly instead of answering right away, studying me.

"Sometimes, I get confused, darling."

"Whether you say things because you trust me or because you don’t."

What is he even talking about?

He murmured something cryptic and then stood up.

"You're not feeling well, are you?"

"Denying something unfavorable right away isn't exactly a good habit."

"...What makes you say that?"

"I'm not trying to argue with you."

Since I did have a tendency to deny things outright and push back, I closed my mouth.

With so many secrets...

It was a little embarrassing.

When he asked if I was unwell, I nodded slightly.

"I can tell just by looking at your complexion."

"It's not like I plan on overexerting myself. Given the situation, I just think I should check on Gavotte."

The Elders were all dead—even Eden—so the key was technically in Cruello’s hands, but something about the situation felt off.

Despite the rising tension and all the buried truths coming to light, there was an eerie sense of peace.

It felt like the calm before a storm, making me hypersensitive to even the slightest anomaly.

I hoped it was just me being paranoid.

"Going to Bonetti isn't difficult, of course. But before that, there's something I want to show you."

Cruello led me somewhere.

His demeanor was strange, so I followed him in silence.

I had no suspicion that he would take me somewhere dangerous.

Even though he had deceived me, it had been for the sake [N O V E L I G H T] of bringing back Viga—of bringing back me.

His steps didn’t lead outside the duke’s estate.

Instead, he went deeper. Further downward.

Even though he said nothing, midway through, I began to realize where he was taking me.

The basement where Eden had summoned me.

The place where Viga had died.

I trusted Cruello, but my body reacted separately from that trust—every hair on my body stood on end.

It felt as if the memories I had regained were surging back to life in vivid detail.

But Cruello didn’t stop in the basement.

He walked toward a dimly lit wall, hidden in the shadows, and spoke.

"I came here quite often."

"Because this is where Viga died."

A name I had always lumped together under the vague title of ‘maid’ rolled off his tongue precisely.

I hesitated, debating whether to ask who he meant or just listen in silence.

"At first, I didn’t even know this place existed, but she showed me. Very kindly."

"Are you saying... you saw her in a dream?"

Cruello let out a light chuckle and placed his hand on the wall.

For a brief moment, I thought I saw something dark flicker in his palm.

Was that the key to opening this hidden space?

The wall slid open, revealing a blindingly white chamber.

He stepped inside without a word or gesture, and I cautiously followed.

For a moment, I recalled the vision I had seen when I retrieved my soul fragment, but this was not the place where Morion was kept.

The space was filled with white, like an endless desert.

And I knew exactly what made up those countless grains.

Passing by the frozen Cruello, I strode forward and scooped up a handful of the pale material.

As expected—it was Beatitudo.

"This... What exactly—"

The moment I turned my head to ask about this place, I froze.

"She might have lived. On the night she died, she came to my chambers. I think she must have known she was going to die."

In his hand was a golden object.

It was something I had given him before.

"The final key to Morion."

Cruello tossed the golden key toward me, and I instinctively caught it.

Why is he giving me this?

What is he trying to say?

I had no idea how to react.

Like the endless white around me, my mind went completely blank.

"I’ll ask you one last time, darling. Is there really nothing you want to say to me?"

His voice carried no sorrow, no anger.

It was devoid of emotion, nearly colorless.

Yet, why did it sound like he was pleading?

My mouth opened reflexively.

At that moment, that wretched prophecy overtook my mind.

I had something to say.

I had wanted to say it for a long time.

The command filled my mind endlessly.

It didn’t offer wisdom—it only sought to obstruct my thoughts.

I couldn’t string together a single word.

Gripping my head, I lowered it, overcome by the black haze of a headache.

"You really have nothing to say."

I lifted my head abruptly, locking eyes with Cruello.

Despite his words, there was no trace of expectation on his face.

As if he had already known I would stay silent.

I have to say something.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

I have to say something.

The belated sense of duty surged within me as I tried to push away the divine words filling my mind. But my lips wouldn’t part.

A lifetime of obedience to the will of my god weighed heavily on my jaw, locking it in place.

Without another word, Cruello moved further into the space. I hesitated before following.

A vast, white desert of Beatitudo.

At its center sat objects that seemed entirely out of place.

A round table. A teapot. Teacups.

Exquisite white porcelain, adorned with delicate patterns—items that would be more fitting in a greenhouse than in this underground void.

They had clearly been prepared in advance.

Despite the unsettling wrongness of the scene, I sat down in the chair Cruello pulled out for me.

The divine command still reverberated in my mind, over and over.

It felt as though either I—or my god—was malfunctioning.

Cruello poured tea into the round cup.

"Now that I think about it, I’ve never really asked you anything, darling. Maybe because I already knew I wouldn’t get an answer."

"Sometimes, I was afraid of asking at all. What if something terrible came out of your mouth? Maybe it was easier to believe whatever I wanted instead."

He slid the cup of pale green tea toward me.

But in front of him, there was nothing.

"You’ve been unwell for a while, haven’t you? Drink it. You’ll sleep soundly."

"Then what did you put in it? A sedative?"

His brazen honesty made me scoff.

I stared at my own reflection in the clear tea before exhaling a heavy sigh.

"Oh, by the way, I lied earlier. Something has happened at the Bonetti estate. I’ll go check once you’re asleep."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Who knows? Is it a threat?"

I knocked the cup over, letting the tea spill onto the ground, then rose from my seat.

Cruello did not stand, but his crimson eyes tracked my every movement.

"What happened to Gavotte?"

"And what will you do with that body if something has?"

"Are you planning to die on your own terms again?"

It was like white paint had been poured over my mind.

A jarring impact exploded at the crown of my head, washing through my consciousness, turning my vision white, sealing my throat, drowning my heart.

The sensation, freezing me from head to toe, was eerily similar to time stopping.

I had thought it was strange.

The way Cruello had acted since I woke up. His expressions. His words.

But I hadn’t had enough proof.

I couldn’t defy Pebula’s will and spill everything.

I assumed he didn’t know my silence.

No—deep down, I hoped he didn’t.

I stared at Cruello, dazed.

"Isn’t it funny when you think about it? Just how much of an idiot I must have looked to you."

His lips twisted into a bitter smirk.

It was an expression that felt utterly unfamiliar.

I felt as though I had become Viga, looking at Cruello anew.

But this wasn’t the past.

"I have one question—was it only Viga? Or was it Amy, too?"

"Oh. It was all of them."

My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might burn from the inside out.

Meanwhile, Cruello only smiled.

He pulled his empty teacup toward himself.

Warm tea poured from the pot, filling the cup once more.

"You never answered me before, so I won’t ask this time either. It’s easier for both of us to just think what we want, isn’t it?"

"Sit down, Siora. And drink the tea."

"I... I have something to say."

My head was still filled with Pebula’s words, but they didn’t matter anymore.

I just wanted to escape this feeling—this impossible, indescribable weight pressing down on me.

"Cruello, I... I wanted to tell you. I really did. I—"

"...Then what does? What do you want from me?"

My words broke apart, falling into pieces before they could form properly.

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say anymore.

Cruello watched me in silence.

Then, without warning, he grabbed my face.

Something warm pressed against my lips.

A liquid slipping past them.

I came to my senses only after he pulled away.

He had tried to smile, but the expression faltered, his lips trembling before his face twisted with something unspoken.

And then, Cruello glared at me.

A faint, wet sound. A blood vessel must have burst in his eye.

His sclera turned red in an instant, the color melting into his crimson irises until there was no distinction between them.

And from those round, crimson eyes—something I never thought I’d see in the grown Cruello—fell.

Even though they came from such red eyes, his tears were so clear.

Even as he glared at me with such intensity, why—

"You knew what I wanted. And yet, you still went off to die."

Cruello’s face twisted into a ruined, broken smile.

"So this time, I won’t let you."