In a narrow alley of Trier, the figure of the Red Saintess Margaret suddenly appeared out of thin air. Immediately afterward, she crushed a silver ring on her finger.
However, her body seemed to lose all strength—she barely managed to remain standing by bracing herself against the wall.
"Fortunately, I had the talisman granted by the Emperor. Otherwise, I really would have been caught by that 'Lust' bastard and suffered the same horrifying fate as Katarina…
"But why is my stamina so depleted? My spirituality is nearly dry… could that space actually absorb a person's vitality and mind?
"Hmm, the 'Chaos' effect should last a little longer. Owen shouldn't be able to pursue me right away…
"And Daphne is nearby. Once she receives my signal, she'll come soon."
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a burst of fire flashed before her eyes—and the figure of the Scholar of Yore Daphne appeared before her.
"What happened?"
Daphne asked calmly, though in truth, a single glance was enough for her to understand what Margaret had gone through—after all, she had experienced the same thing not long ago.
"It's not convenient to talk here. Take me somewhere safe first," Margaret said weakly.
"Alright."
Having already received the Divine Emissary's orders, Daphne helped the Red Saintess to her feet, and with several Flame Jumps, they arrived at a prearranged safe house.
After one hour of deep meditative sleep, Margaret finally recovered most of her physical strength and spirituality.
At that point, she took the cup of coffee Daphne handed her, sipped it, and began recounting her experience:
"...In the end, I had to use a talisman imbued with Angel-level Chaos authority to break the rules of that space and escape… Otherwise, I'd already be Owen's puppet by now!"
Hearing this, Daphne kept a serious face, though inwardly she almost laughed. What Margaret described was completely different from what truly happened.
Of course, Margaret wasn't lying. After capturing her and extracting her blood, Owen—under Ebner's control—had used his Manipulator powers to implant false memories into her mind.
And since she had blind faith in the Emperor's talisman, the hypnosis worked perfectly. She truly believed it had gone that way.
As Margaret spoke with visible resentment, Daphne remembered the task assigned to her by the Lord and casually asked,
"So, how do you plan to respond to Owen Delien's unprovoked attack? Will you retaliate?"
"Of course!" Margaret slammed her cup down, eyes flashing. "I had no intention of involving myself in his dispute with the White Saintess, but since he attacked me first, I'll naturally take revenge!
"I'll report this to the Sect and request that several other Saintesses be sent to Intis to deal with that 'Lust' bastard together!
"Also, I know the secret of Delien's Black Knight, Sero. I can use it to make him act as an inside agent in our crusade against Owen. And if he refuses, I'll expose that secret to the world!"
The Red Saintess had already drafted the outline of her plan within moments.
"Sero Delien? He's a demigod from the same family as Owen. You really think he'd attack his kin over some secret?"
Daphne's tone carried curiosity, though she mainly wanted to gather more information.
"Of course he would!" Margaret's tone was resolute, though she didn't elaborate. After a moment, she turned toward Daphne and said,
"By the way, Daphne, I hope you'll join me as well. I'll pay you accordingly. And once the Delien Family is destroyed, I'll ensure the Secret Order gets first pick of their industries."
"That…"
Feigning hesitation, Daphne thought for a while, while Margaret continued explaining the Delien Family's crumbling state and all the benefits that could be gained.
Finally, as if unable to resist temptation any longer, Daphne bit her lip and said,
"Alright, I'll join you! But you'll have to sign a contract with me—and keep me informed of your plans at all times. I have no intention of becoming what your Demoness Sect calls… hmm, in Roselle's words—'cannon fodder.'"
"No problem!" Margaret agreed readily.
Then she walked to the window, gazing toward the distant Delien Castle on the outskirts of the city, her eyes cold and determined.
Owen, you made me waste one of the Emperor's precious talismans… prepare to pay for it with your life.
Meanwhile, where she couldn't see, Daphne cast her a subtle, pitying glance.
As a Scholar of Yore, she couldn't help but think:
At this rate, our great Lord might just end up gathering all seven colors of the Demoness Sect's Saintesses.
.....
"Since Bornova already knows the Delien ancestral vault is extremely dangerous, other factions—like the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun or the followers of the True Creator—must know as well. They probably won't risk it.
"But with the Primordial Demoness still asleep, the Demonesses themselves make for perfect trailblazers.
"Let's hope Margaret proves useful. If she can bring in even one Saintess at the Angel level, that would be ideal."
Within the Delien Family manor, Ebner mulled over his scheme while recalling the memories he'd seen within the Red Saintess Margaret Constantine's mind.
"Margaret was an orphan adopted by Roselle. Her surname, Constantine, was actually granted to her by Old Huan himself—and she revered him deeply, always making a point to emphasize it.
"But she has no idea what that name truly represents. Even after discovering that the earliest Demoness family also bore the name 'Constantine,' she merely thought the Emperor had given it to her as a 'hopeful blessing.'
"Hmm… judging by the timeline, the Emperor gave her that name after obtaining the Book of Calamity, retrieving the God Box, and sealing Cohinem inside the Temple of Trials.
"Which means—she was originally meant to serve as a living 'blood reservoir' to help free Cohinem!
"I just don't know where Old Huan found her, or how many Constantine 'remnants' still exist out there…
"Ah, Roselle—you really were full of contradictions in your later years. Always leaving me both help and headaches."
Ebner sighed—but quickly realized he had no right to complain. His past selves had left him far worse messes.
"Forget the others—just thinking about how to get along with those Angels and Deities in the future is enough to give me a headache…"
.....
In Backlund's North Borough, outside No. 160 Berkland Street, rows of servants lined up on both sides to greet their returning master.
With graying temples and deep blue eyes, Dwayne Dantès—wearing a tailcoat, silk top hat, and holding a gold-handled cane—walked forward, accompanied by the butler Asnia and his dark-skinned southern servant Ludwell.
He held the hand of Miss Sharon, who had transformed into his "pregnant wife," and passed through the line of servants toward the entrance of the three-story townhouse.
As for a female housekeeper, Klein hadn't yet hired one. For now, Sharon could handle the accounting as the lady of the house.
Besides, he instinctively wanted someone prudent and economical to manage household expenses.
"For some reason, the first person I think of is my sister, Melissa…"
Klein smiled bitterly to himself.
"Too bad Melissa doesn't understand high-society spending. Letting her manage finances would turn a rich man's life into that of a thrifty commoner."
He shook off the thought. Even though Melissa had become extraordinary, he didn't want her too close to his affairs.
"The best candidate would actually be Lina… she's a believer of the Fool, trustworthy, and as a former noble's son, she's familiar with upper-class expenses.
"And the best part—hiring her would cost nothing!
"But since she's still hiding with the Prince in the Disi Bay area, it wouldn't be appropriate to call her back.
"As for my 'Gourmand' believer… she can stay in the culinary world and keep shining."
As these idle thoughts ran through his mind, Klein and Sharon—now restored to her true form after dismissing the servants—entered the half-open master bedroom on the third floor.
The most eye-catching object there was a full-length mirror framed in silver.
After sending the butler and servants away, Sharon stood before the mirror, returning to her original appearance. Even her small bonnet and matching court dress appeared again—though in reality, it was just an illusion. She was still wearing Daly's outfit underneath.
Klein stepped out onto the wide balcony, gazing over the neighborhood and sighed:
"Being rich really has its perks. That 315-pound rent doesn't feel like a waste anymore.
"Waking up to a view like this every morning—it does wonders for the mood."
He'd already paid a full year's rent the previous afternoon, so he had to convince himself it was worth it.
Sharon blinked, her ethereal voice drifting softly from behind:
"When a wife is pregnant, husband and wife should sleep in separate rooms.
"Your bedroom is downstairs."
(End of Chapter)