A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 007

The hideout of Jack, as Zilla had indicated, was not far.

There was a lone cabin standing on a gentle hill path.

"Hmm, inquisitor. You have a plan, right? If you need, I can help out."

Ran didn't answer and instead looked around. There was no sign of any demonic energy. Even if someone was hiding their presence, there were no landmarks suitable for an ambush. The most likely scenario was that the target was off guard.

"Wait, inquisitor. You really don't have a plan?"

Ran stared silently at Dante. Dante opened his mouth hesitantly.

"No matter how secretive the Revolutionaries are—even among themselves, one-armed Jack is famous. You don't not know him, right?"

"So?"

"So? Hah, look at this. You still don't get it. Even among the Revolutionaries, Jack's a real heavyweight. You can't just get lucky like when you took down that demonic beast in one blow last time."

Ran glanced at Dante but said nothing more.

Near the cabin, Ran came to a halt. He surveyed the terrain again. He was wary of traps, but nothing seemed amiss.

Creak.

With each step, the old wooden floorboards groaned. The two carefully inspected the inside. No one was there, though traces of habitation remained here and there.

"What the? Don't tell me he's already fled?"

Dante scratched his head. Ran took off his gloves and reached into the fireplace. Warmth lingered.

'Away from home?'

From the look of the interior, Jack didn't seem to have left suddenly. Ran glanced around the house again. Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to a spot. There was an old book on the table. He unconsciously flipped open the cover. It was so old the pages looked ready to crumble to dust. Narrowing his eyes, Ran began reading the text.

It was One-armed Jack's memoir.

Jack had dreamed of becoming an imperial guard since childhood. He had talent, was brave, and brimming with a sense of justice. The people of his territory held him in high esteem. His father was proud of Jack. It pained him that, as Jack was the second son, he could not inherit a title. The eldest son was too gentle-hearted and unsuitable to lead the estate.

'Support your brother.'

That was his father's dying wish. Jack loved his family and his land. Giving up on his dream was not difficult for him. He chose to remain and help his elder brother, who became Baron Russell.

Then, one day, Jack gained a new friend—Fabien. A fellow young man hired as a retainer, and the same age. Fabien was from the southern continent: cheerful, optimistic, and good at hunting. With such a witty companion and reliable sparring partner, Jack felt a new zest for life. The two became close very quickly.

Jack always took Fabien everywhere. They did everything together: eating, strolling, reading, hunting, patrolling the domain. Fabien was Jack's shadow.

A year passed that way, and a quiet rumor started circulating in the territory.

'Jack is in love with his male attendant.'

Though well past marriageable age, Jack had no spouse. Given his status, the opportunities were many, but Jack himself refused every time. He couldn't even articulate why. Simply a feeling of rejection. Instinctively, he pushed everyone away.

It was a worry he could confess to no one. He prayed ceaselessly. God never gave him an answer. Only guilt and self-loathing piled up.

'Even if God does not help you, I will remain by your side.'

Fabien murmured. It was the moment the shell encasing Jack's soul shattered. The two became passionately entangled. His redeemed soul soared freely.

Their passionate trysts continued until one day, a civil war broke out. Baron Russell declared allegiance to the imperial army. Jack had no choice. The time had come to fulfill his father's will.

'After the Liberation Army's victory, our paradise will be there.'

Fabien spoke of opposing the Emperor's ambition and the righteousness of the Liberation Army. In the end, Jack abandoned his family and chose his redeemer.

Our paradise.

That was enough.

The two fought beneath the Liberation Army's banner, side by side across the battlefield.

A friendship that transcended status, a love free from restraint, a brotherhood where each entrusted his back to the other.

Jack felt his soul was complete. The price of betraying his blood was half his soul.

'I'd like to visit my hometown, just once, before the end.'

As the war drew near conclusion, Jack lost an arm and Fabien was gravely wounded, showing no sign of recovery. They had survived countless brushes with death, possible only because they were together. The idea of standing alone on the battlefield without Fabien was unbearable.

Fabien had often spoken of his home since they were in the estate. When he did, Jack would close his eyes and listen.

A sunset sea.

He had always wanted to see it together. Jack decided now was the time. They would sleep forever within that scenery.

Jack regretted it. They should not have come.

Fabien's wife, Nuria, and six-year-old daughter, Emma, greeted them. Fabien introduced Jack to Nuria as a comrade irreplaceable to him. This was a family he had built before coming to Russell Estate.

In the days that followed, Jack harbored a little resentment toward Fabien, jealousy toward Nuria, complicated emotions when looking at Emma.

Fabien's condition improved—a miracle.

'The war isn't over.'

The two joined the Revolutionaries.

Again, Jack had no choice. He didn't even know what sort of organization the Revolutionaries really were. Fabien, so desperate, was all he could see.

Whenever he and Fabien confronted the imperial army together, he felt good. It reminded him of old times. Even covered in blood, laughter wouldn't leave him.

They would come home for dinner with Fabien, Nuria, and Emma. He grew to hate the sound of their laughter. Sometimes, he would nearly retch.

That life kept repeating. Jack suffered from auditory hallucinations. Whenever he heard his father's voice, it was so painful he would shudder.

'Sinful child.'

At last, Asriel called him. Jack endlessly chased after a voice pulling away. He couldn't hear it clearly.

God's voice grew faint.

Between the crack of the door could be seen Fabien and Nuria, writhing like beasts. Nuria's moans and Fabien's ragged breathing filled the room. The air was stifling. Jack's pupils dilated, his heartbeat thundering. He lost all reason.

The blood of the two soaked him.

'Repentance. Atonement.'

Here, it ended. Dante closed the book and looked at Ran's back.

Ran handed Dante the memoir and gazed quietly out the window.

Dante wondered what was on Ran's mind.

Creak―

The cabin door opened. Footsteps approached. Dante tensed, moving his hand to his sword hilt. Ran remained unmoved.

"Nghh?"

A slow, awkward voice came. Only then did Ran turn. A haggard man stood there, and a young girl clung to the man's only hand.

"Is that child Emma?"

Ran asked, tilting his head a bit. The man's gaze suddenly grew savage. The girl slipped behind him, hiding.

"Aaau―

The man gaped his mouth and pointed inside it with his finger. He had no tongue. Surprised, Dante muttered beside him,

"Tongue... There are some in the Revolutionaries who cut out their tongues to leave the group. It's a method of resignation I've heard about."

"Zilla really gave us a troublesome job."

Ran didn't know exactly why she'd called Jack a traitor. Perhaps there was more not written in the memoir.

Ran didn't care. He spoke in a calm voice.

"It's time for you to be redeemed."

A deep shadow fell over Jack's eyes. It seemed he had lost all will to live long ago. Hanging his head, he looked at Emma. His blistered hand gently stroked the girl's hair.

Dante's heart felt heavy. Ran held out his hand to him.

"Lend me your sword."

Dante hesitated for a moment, then undid his belt and handed over the sheathed sword.

In the meantime, Jack knelt down and looked Emma in the eye. The young girl sensed their impending farewell.

Ran and Jack stepped outside the cabin alone.

They faced each other from a distance.

Ran took out a cigarette and lit it. Pale smoke draped over them.

"You look a mess."

Outside, Jack's wretched state was even more apparent. His tangled hair was oily, lips cracked and pale, his body nothing but skin and bones, no better than a walking corpse.

It was pitiful, in a way. In Ran's eyes, the young lord of the estate was still there. What had turned him into this?

"I wanted to hear so many things from you. It's a pity."

Ran flicked away his cigarette. Rolling his neck and shoulders, he strolled as if on a walk.

'So this is the infamous inquisitor I've heard about.'

Jack watched Ran with his eyes only. His grip tightened on the sword's hilt.

'Strong. Maybe even beyond imagination.'

Had it not been for the mask, he might have recognized Ran's face. Back in the civil war, the strongest from all over the nation had gathered. So few exuded this kind of presence.

"Ooooo!"

Dragging his sword low, Jack charged. Ran stopped at a slant in his stride.

Clang!

Steel clashed and sparks flew. Ran blocked Jack's strike without even fully drawing his sword. The two pressed close, blades locked.

'Wh-what strength?!'

Jack was slowly pushed back. The bird-beaked mask filled his field of vision.

Everyone has their own story. Perspectives differ. The world is full of people in all colors—it's a fact he realized only after leaving Quersa.

"Why did you bring Emma with you?"

He asked, knowing he would get no answer. No matter how much he tried to think in Jack's shoes, no answer came to mind.

Jack turned ashen. Through the mask, he saw Fabien. His grip slackened.

"Ah—"

Crunch!

Ran kicked Jack's shin. His frail body staggered several steps back.

"? Augh, ah."

Jack readjusted his stance and gave his sword a gentle swing through the air. His drooping eyelids trembled faintly.

Ran's eyes happened to fall on the sword hilt wrapped in rags in Jack's hand. It must have once been white cloth, now stained black with grime.

"Augh, ahhh!"

With a clumsy shout, Jack rushed in again. Once more he held his sword low.

The end came in an instant.

Ran struck Jack's hand with the bottom of the hilt. Bones crumbled like brittle leaves. With a short scream, Jack dropped his sword.

Ran's blade touched Jack's throat.

"I don't know you well. But I know you lived harder than anyone."

Jack's head snapped up.

He'd only heard such a voice once before. A voice transcending the mundane—it wasn't spoken, it was branded like a symbol.

All he wanted was to hear it again.

The moment the man before him spoke, the voice that had long sunk deep inside him revived.

'Ah, finally?'

Light appeared. The golden radiance he'd so longed for shone behind the inquisitor.

"Rest now."

Jack bared his blackened teeth and smiled. He felt warmth.

Thud.

His severed head fell from his trunk and rolled away.

* * *

The broker brought the news.

'So quickly, one-armed Jack is gone.'

Zilla's thoughts grew complicated. She was on the way to the meeting point.

'Jack was one of the top swordsmen among the Revolutionaries.'

He was a seasoned veteran. Experience and skill—few within the organization could match Jack. Before Dante left, Zilla had instructed him to report back on Ran's every action.

'So effortlessly.'

That's what Dante had said through the broker. There was no trick. Ran had confronted Jack one-on-one and beheaded him.

'Is this deal really safe?'

She wasn't certain, but it was too late to turn back.

Ran and Dante were already waiting when she arrived. Zilla composed herself and masked her expression.

"You finished faster than I expected."

As she spoke, her gaze flicked sideways. There was a girl with them. She had not been briefed on this. She looked at them, clearly asking who the child was.

"Some circumstances came up."

Ran handed Dante Jack's head, wrapped in cloth. Dante brought it before Emma, discreetly showing it only to Zilla before handing it back to Ran.

"The rumors weren't exaggerated. Very well, is it my turn now?"

Before coming, Zilla had considered what Ran might ask for in return. It would probably be something similar. She hoped it wouldn't be stabbing a comrade in the back. She'd been so stressed her head throbbed.

"Please take care of this child."

"... Pardon?"

"Zilla, take care of her wherever your influence reaches. However, you must not give her to the Church, nor raise her as one of the Revolutionaries."

"W-wait, what? Who is this child?"

Emma only bowed her head in silence. She wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. Dante averted his eyes from Zilla's, not answering her demand.

It was Ran who broke the silence.

"Until the day she can answer that question herself, you must watch over her."

Zilla gave a disbelieving, bitter laugh. Of all things, his request was taking care of a child? It was almost absurd.

War orphans appeared daily these days. Nobles would flaunt their charity, building care facilities for such children. They would place the children in suitable institutions and pocket the donations. The organization was not in such dire straits that even this would be a burden.

There didn't seem to be anything suspicious about the child. She wondered for a moment if the girl might be a vessel for a demonic beast, pulling some trick, but she decided otherwise.

'That mad dog wouldn't do something like that.'

That was the only reason.

Ran gently nudged Emma's back. She looked up at him once, buried her face again, and approached Zilla.

Dante shot a sidelong glance at Ran.

'What the hell is this guy doing?'

There had never been an inquisitor like this before.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
Wait, so Emma is not the disciple either?
So who is the disciple?
Or did I misunderstand the title?
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】