The aura of the Underworld faded.
Pansy's figure appeared again.
"Everything is arranged. Damian, just you wait."
She had made all the arrangements; by tomorrow, Damian would be gone.
She had chosen to infiltrate the Sanctuary's cemetery precisely because it held a passage to the Underworld, and she could enter the Underworld at any time if she wished.
The Sanctuary's Pope had wielded divine authority for a full two hundred years, and his Cosmo remained powerful, undiminished—stronger even than before. So she had to operate while avoiding the Pope.
The cemetery lay on the Sanctuary's outermost edge; even if she entered the Underworld, even if a Specter appeared, it could perfectly evade the Pope's perception.
This transit ability leaked traces of the Underworld's aura and could easily be detected by Saints with keen senses, so she would never use it unless absolutely necessary.
Pansy never imagined she would use it after only a few days in the Sanctuary.
It was all because of that cracked-brained gravekeeper, Damian.
She could no longer bear being around such a lunatic.
"I... got lost? Tch!"
Pansy stopped and narrowed her eyes.
Yes, there were countless graves in the Sanctuary cemetery, jumbled and chaotic, the terrain complex. She hadn't walked long at all and had already lost her way.
Even this damned graveyard was against her!
By the time Pansy felt her way back and reached the stone hut where the gravekeeper lived, dusk had fallen.
Aphrodite sauntered out of the hut, cheeks flushed, features strikingly lovely, making Pansy's heart give a jolt.
So beautiful!
Damn it—clearly a man, yet better-looking than most women.
Now that he had women's clothes on, there was basically no room left for women.
Wait—why would a Gold Saint spend so long with a gravekeeper?
What on earth had those two men been doing in there?
Seeing sour-faced Pansy, Aphrodite smiled, popped a yellow, tower-shaped pastry into his mouth,
then licked his finger and walked up to pat Pansy's head a few times, comforting her: "Pansy, Damian may be strict, but it's for your own good. Listen more to his guidance from now on. All right, I've got business, so I'll be off."
His high heels tapped lightly, and with a few nimble steps Aphrodite became a red streak riding the wind, swiftly vanishing from sight. Only that bovine voice drifted faintly from afar: "Damian, next time I'll wear an even prettier outfit!"
After a pause another line came: "Don't forget to take Pansy to the hall tomorrow for the prayer ceremony."
Truly, he came in a rush and left in a rush.
Watching the cross-dressed big shot disappear, Pansy was completely dumbfounded, a chill settling in her heart.
It felt like the last straw she'd clutched had just blown away.
She had thought she'd found someone to back her up. Aphrodite was a Gold Saint, after all; punishing a mere gravekeeper like Damian shouldn't have been a problem.
And yet...
Aphrodite had tossed her back to that cracked-brained senior brother over some egg tarts and vanished without a trace.
And from their conversation there'd been no sense of rank or deference; their relationship was definitely unusual.
Looking at the dejected Pansy, Damian clasped his hands behind his back, bearing noble, but his voice was cold: "I don't like gossipy women, whether they chatter to my face or bad-mouth me behind my back. Remember this: your senior brother doesn't have much of a temper. If I happen to go mad and beat your little butt raw, I won't bear any responsibility, so don't blame me for being heartless."
Classic lunatic logic.
Faced with such naked threats, Pansy's delicate body trembled; she lowered her head at once as tears streamed down, sobbing pitifully: "Senior brother, Pansy knows she was wrong. I misspoke just now."
Who would have guessed you had an unspeakable relationship with a Gold Saint—no less than the most beautiful Saint in the Sanctuary.
"Mm... good girl, it's enough that you know your mistake. It's late. Your punishment today is to clean the pigsty. Go clear out all the pig dung."
Damian gave the order.
What?
Clean the pig dung?
I don't want to!
Pansy's hairs stood on end.
Feeding chickens, ducks, and pigs was already her limit, and now he wanted her to clean excrement too.
No way!
Damian suddenly added, "If you're unwilling, you'd better be careful after your next meal—some unimaginable things might happen!"
"For example, three days of diarrhea."
"For example, your lips will turn into sausages and you won't be able to speak."
"For example, you'll have nightmares several nights in a row—really terrifying ones."
"For example..."
"S-Senior brother, I'll go clean the pigsty right now."
Pansy couldn't help a shiver and spoke up at once: "I'm willing to clean the pigsty..."
"Very good. And also clean the latrine!"
"I haven't cleaned it in weeks. The stench is overpowering, and every time I go I see lots of maggots. The smell is really hard to take."
"Don't slack off. If it isn't clean, you'll be punished by going without food."
"Or by eating in the latrine."
Pansy felt tears betray her at the corners of her eyes.
Under the eaves, one must bow one's head.
If she dared say no, she'd either starve to death later or be tormented to death.
At that moment, Pansy wanted to kill the Underworld intel-gatherers.
Damian was more than mentally abnormal; he was a lunatic who abused children.
No, if this went on, this lunatic would play her to death.
I can't wait for tomorrow!
There was no other way—she would have to use hypnosis!
The hypnotic art she possessed was a special divine technique of the Underworld; humans had virtually no way to resist it unless their will was extraordinarily strong. Each use consumed some of her hidden divine power.
So Pansy valued her chances to use it and wouldn't invoke it unless absolutely necessary.
Previously, she had used it only once on Shaina, to make her accept Pansy as a disciple and bring her into the Sanctuary graveyard.
Though she had already made arrangements to eliminate this damned gravekeeper, she could no longer endure.
Enough—no matter her noble identity, she would never clean a filthy pigsty and latrine.
Thinking this, an eerie black gleam flashed in Pansy's eyes.
She looked at Damian: "Senior brother, do you think I'm beautiful?"
The hypnotic divine art required eye contact to take effect.
She needed him to meet her gaze.
"Beautiful what..."
But Damian didn't turn around. Holding his stomach, he muttered oddly, "Huh, did I eat something wrong today? My belly feels awful."
Before the words were out, Damian, still with his back to Pansy, suddenly stuck out his rear. His trousers billowed and a tremendous pffft resounded.
Facing that rear head-on, Pansy suddenly felt a warm, moist gust surge at her. She inhaled before she could react, and the stench made her feel as if her very soul had been blasted out of her body.
"Th—this is the third damn time!"
Overwhelmed by the stench, the little girl's eyes rolled back, stars swam in her vision, and she toppled flat to the ground.
She fainted once again...
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