"No, no…"
Early the next morning, when Herbert finally struggled out of his dream, he was still muttering words filled with sorrow and emptiness.
"Minotaur isn't allowed either. There's a cow. A cow!"
"No, don't—ha!"
He jolted awake, eyes snapping open, quickly covering his mouth.
"Urgh—"
He leaned against the table and dry-heaved for a long while, trying to vomit out those horrifying memories along with last night's dry bread.
Was it scary?
Yes. Very.
It took him quite some time to recover and bury those forbidden images deep in his memory.
That evil god… is way too damn dark!
Just as Herbert was tearfully condemning the wickedness of the evil god, a color that shouldn't be there flashed in the corner of his vision.
Hmm?
"What's this?"
He looked down.
On the back of his hand, intertwined with the holy mark, faint pink lines formed a strange heart shape.
A huge question mark appeared over his head.
?
Hey… now that he looked at it, this little thing seemed familiar.
He had definitely seen plenty of it on his hard drive before.
Gulp.
"…Lew—no, silver pattern?"
No, that's not right!
This thing shouldn't appear on a man, right!?
People can't. At least, they shouldn't!
After flailing wildly in his mind for a long while, Herbert finally calmed down.
He narrowed his eyes and stared at the back of his hand. The pink lines had already disappeared. No matter how he tried to trigger them, they didn't show up again.
But he was certain—what he saw wasn't a half-asleep illusion.
It was still there.
Not on his body.
It was carved deep into his soul.
Why was he so sure?
Because he had just experienced this feeling yesterday.
Yes.
The feeling after swearing an oath and receiving a blessing.
Good news: he gained a new blessing.
Bad news: it wasn't from a righteous god.
He had been generously blessed by some unknown evil god—and marked.
Let's call it a demonic sigil.
Great.
In less than half a day after officially becoming a Holy Knight, he had already become an evil god's lackey.
Half a day. That was his record for unwavering faith.
"What is this? Forced love…?"
Herbert scratched his head in frustration.
Brother, you're ruining my life here.
No one heard his silent cry—because he didn't dare make a sound. He just wept quietly inside.
A gentleman is cautious even when alone. Walls have ears.
The moment he realized he might be an evil god's pawn, Herbert immediately adjusted his mindset to "criminal suspect." Extreme caution mode activated.
He sniffed hard to stop the tears from falling.
One purity blessing tormenting him wasn't enough—now he had an evil god's blessing too?
Why me?
Bitter.
My life is bitter.
After sighing over his tragic fate once more, he calmed down again.
He had been unlucky his whole past life. His mind was used to sudden disasters.
As long as he wasn't dead, life went on.
"So now there are only two paths."
Continue the Holy Knight route and report himself?
As a Holy Knight, the proper choice would be to seek help from the monastery's higher-ups and let them deal with whatever was happening to him.
But honestly… he hesitated.
Reporting himself might clear suspicion—but it would also hand over his life and death to others.
Could he really trust these ascetics?
The cases recorded in the holy code were a glaring reminder of what happened to those who broke the rules.
These monks might seem peaceful, but when it came to evil, they were ruthless. Their style was simple:
Better to kill ten thousand by mistake than let one slip through.
Even extremists would call them extreme.
If the evil god's blessing could be removed, that would be perfect.
But if it couldn't?
Then what awaited him was either death—or endless imprisonment.
He turned toward the mirror and saw his pale, exhausted face.
And in his light gray eyes, deep unwillingness.
Death or prison—he wanted neither.
He wasn't a true Holy Knight.
At least not yet. He didn't have the resolve to sacrifice himself for order and justice.
Once his thoughts were clear, the choice became obvious.
"Dive in."
He picked up a pen and quickly wrote, offering respect to the nameless existence.
"I've drifted half my life without meeting a wise lord. If you don't despise me, I'm willing to call you father!"
The evil god did not respond.
No matter what he wrote afterward, there was no reply.
Maybe pretending to be aloof. Maybe unable to answer.
"…Only online after midnight?" Herbert guessed, helplessly accepting the unreliable silence.
To avoid attention, after burning the "chat logs," he went straight back to work early in the morning.
Even though he really didn't want to.
Sure enough, the moment he pushed open the prison door, a loud stream of curses exploded toward him like a tidal wave.
Valentina had clearly been waiting.
She started instantly, no delay, unleashing everything.
After being played yesterday, she tried to let it go—but the more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
She had prepared insults all night.
Now she released them in one go.
It was powerful. Cathartic.
Herbert didn't argue back. He simply smiled and waited.
After a long while, when she finally ran out of steam, he calmly removed the simple earplugs he had stuffed in beforehand.
"Feel better?"
Go ahead and shout. I can't hear you.
If I don't hear it, my family won't get hurt.
Valentina: ?
"You're messing with me!? You actually—huh?"
She inhaled deeply, ready for round two.
Then her nose twitched.
Her furious expression froze.
Eh?
Her eyes widened. The slit pupils slowly expanded into round ones, oddly blank.
Herbert blinked, unsure what she was doing, ready to put the earplugs back in.
"You… how…"
She stared at him for a long time. Sniffed again. And again.
Finally, she said in shock—
"You smell so good!"
Herbert: Huh?