BVIB 13

Chapter 13

“Have you decided to be righteous and kind in this life?” Gueran asked with a hint of laughter in his voice as soon as they stepped out of the boutique.

After all, Pluieure Boutique would close down in a year, embroiled in a drug smuggling scandal. It wouldn’t be Madame Pluieure’s fault, but she’d still be considered an accomplice—because her fabric supplier would end up smuggling drugs inside the bolts of cloth.

“I’ve always been kind,” Roselyn replied flatly, not bothering to put much effort into her answer.

As Gueran escorted her to the carriage waiting just outside the shop, he lowered his voice, murmuring, “A truly kind person could never take a life, you know.”

Roselyn’s lips curled into a faint, cool smile. “I’m not so sure about that. The righteous and the kind are the ones you should really watch out for. When their sense of justice or kindness is broken, they’re the ones most capable of picking up a sword.”

There’s nothing more dangerous than fierce justice or obsessive kindness, she thought as she climbed into the carriage.

“So, how did it feel? Dying, I mean?” Gueran asked suddenly as the carriage started moving.

“It was liberating,” Roselyn answered without hesitation.

She’d been relieved, thinking she wouldn’t have to live any longer—only to be unceremoniously thrown into this strange new world by Gueran, which she still resented.

Narrowing her eyes, Roselyn looked at him. “You know, your counterpart in this world is quite a timid fellow.”

Gueran let out a low, amused laugh, clearly entertained by her observation.

“I was taken aback when I heard people call you ‘Stuttering Roselyn.’ There’s hardly anyone as articulate as you,” Gueran remarked.

Roselyn didn’t reply, and when she fell silent, Gueran only shrugged and let the quiet settle between them.

The Marquis’s estate was located in a particularly tranquil part of the capital. As the surroundings grew quieter and the house came into view through the slightly open carriage window, Roselyn finally spoke.

“In this world, the Marchioness is still alive, isn’t she?”

Gueran froze at her words.

“Was that the relationship you wanted to change?” she asked, her eyes fixed on him.

Gueran offered no response.

Roselyn hadn’t just sat idly by after arriving in this world. Naturally, she had investigated her own circumstances, studied the current political climate, and looked into the man known as Gueran Wilbred.

And she had discovered something significant: in her previous world, the Marchioness had passed away after a long illness. But here, she was still alive.

“I hear rumors of discord between the Marquis and his wife are the talk of the town these days,” Roselyn added, lifting her gaze to meet Gueran’s.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve? There’s no need to look so grim. People only realize what they’ve lost after it’s gone, isn’t that right?” she said, noticing that even his trademark smile had vanished.

Roselyn watched him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You once told me that I was too interesting a villainess to kill off, but let’s be honest—we were never that close, were we? Unless, of course, we were the kind of people who wanted to drive a blade into each other’s throats.”

Her words, though tinged with biting content, were delivered with a dry, brittle laugh and a hint of resignation.

“I never went so far as to think that way, but it seems you saw me as that kind of person,” Gueran replied, watching her lips curve into their habitual, ironic smile.

Roselyn let out a brief laugh. “Still, I never imagined we’d end up in a parallel world. What happens to the original owners of these bodies when we’re here like this?”

“The principle for crossing dimensions was that the bodies we’d inhabit had to be in a world where they had already died—completely intact, physically,” Gueran explained.

“Dead?” Roselyn echoed softly.

She’d already learned that her counterpart in this world had tried to take her own life, so she wasn’t shocked. But Gueran Wilbred was a different matter.

Would he really be the type to end his own life? she wondered.

She shook her head at her own question. No, that didn’t fit him at all.

So in this timeline, was he really that weak, that vulnerable…?
The thought made her feel almost ill, and she grimaced, shaking her head again to dispel the mental image.

“We’ve landed in one of countless possible worlds. It just happens to be one where both you and I had already died,” Gueran said.

Roselyn nodded once in response, accepting the explanation.

“As far as I know, your ‘Abyss’ was a skill related to tracking, wasn’t it…?” she asked, turning her gaze to him.

Before she knew it, Gueran had regained his usual composure, watching her with that sly, enigmatic smile and a look of genuine curiosity.

“How do you suppose it was possible to travel to a parallel world together with someone who had already died?” he asked.

Roselyn just shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Come on, you must have a hypothesis. Share it with me—we’ve got a little time before we reach the estate, and I could use the entertainment,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Resting her elbow on the window sill and her chin in her hand, Roselyn replied, “And if I say no?”

“That would disappoint me. After all, you just fleeced me for ten billion olang,” he teased.

“It’s hardly enough, considering you brought back someone who tried to die,” she shot back.

“Most people would give anything for one more chance at life, but you really are something else,” Gueran said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

Roselyn glanced at him, her tone dry. “Gueran.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you make a deal with a demon?”

Gueran’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face as if she’d struck a nerve. He hesitated, then brushed his hand over his mouth before answering.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because… just before I died, I think I saw a green flame,” Roselyn murmured quietly.

Their eyes met—his violet and hers crimson—tension crackling in the silence between them.

“A green flame is the symbol of a demon. And from what I’ve learned, there are demons capable of crossing dimensions,” Roselyn continued.

Gueran was silent, his expression unreadable.

“So, just as you suggested, I formed a hypothesis,” she went on. “Gueran, you aren’t really an ‘Abyss’ who awakened a supernatural power, are you?”

He hesitated for a moment, then offered a deeper, more enigmatic smile.

“But you’ve seen me use my powers several times yourself,” he pointed out.

“I’m not saying you don’t have powers,” Roselyn replied, her voice calm. “I’m just saying… they’re not the powers of the Abyss.”

“Oh?” Gueran prompted, intrigued.

Roselyn’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “You’re a demon’s contractor, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, Gueran let out a low, amused laugh.

“Well, what do you think?” he replied cryptically.

With that elusive response, the carriage arrived at the marquis’s estate.

“Come on, let’s go,” Gueran said, stepping out first and extending his hand to help Roselyn down.

“So, the twelfth Bishop has been captured at the ducal estate?”

A strange, distorted voice—like metal scraping on metal—emanated from the figure cloaked head to toe in a pitch-black mantle.

“Yes, Master,” came the reply.

“Useless,” the master spat, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“It’s a shame. Their abilities were at least somewhat useful. Dispose of them.”

The order was delivered coldly by the hand that had been idly tapping the table beneath the long, trailing robe.

“We’ll do our best, but the security at the Bellion ducal estate is extremely tight right now,” the subordinate replied.

Silence.

“Also, everyone going in and out of the prison seems to be carrying soul stones. It’s likely that our abilities have been discovered.”

The tapping abruptly stopped.

In the dark room, gathered around a round table, the other robed figures held their breath, anxiety palpable in the air.

“Discovered? How could they have found out?” the master demanded.

“I… I apologize. Information has been tightly controlled—we haven’t been able to uncover much.”

A non-answer, really—there was nothing to report.

The man in the robe made no effort to hide his displeasure as he spoke again.

“What about the other locations?”

“They’re still secure for now.”

The master clicked his tongue again, this time more quietly.

This was an unexpected development. The Bellion estate was a crucial element in their grand plan going forward. They had even planted someone there who had been brainwashed since childhood, just to ensure success.

“Find out exactly what happened and how we were exposed. Leave nothing unchecked.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And as soon as the opportunity arises, make contact with that useless pawn and eliminate them—before they can say another word.”

“Yes, Master.”

The master spoke with open contempt. This was the operation he’d invested the most effort in, personally overseeing each detail despite the hassle. He never imagined their agent would end up captured.

Foolish as they were, I didn’t think they’d be incapable of handling even this much…
Utterly useless.

He clicked his tongue in frustration and continued, “We will drag the lofty ones down from the heavens and grind them into the dirt.”

At those words, four figures rose from their seats.

“Even if some must die, the cause will be fulfilled in the end. I will see your wishes realized.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Of course.”

Light, almost amused responses echoed through the gloom as shadows pooled beneath their hoods. Each of them was smiling beneath the darkness.

“When the time comes, do not hesitate to die. The moment of our great plan draws near,” the master declared, rising from his seat.

“That will be all. Dismissed.”

He was the first to leave the dim room, lit only by a single flickering candle.
Moments later, someone blew out the flame with a soft breath.
In the darkness, there was a faint rustling, and then—only silence remained.