Chapter 24

Chapter 24

A chill wind whipped at her skirt. Lyle stepped on the gray pelt that had rolled to her feet, then tore another strip from her dress to bandage her forehead. There was no helping the blood that seeped through layer by layer; she could only soak it up with her long hair first, then wrap on a few extra layers.

Even though she had blocked her ears quickly, the sacred prayers laced within the monk's words had still injured her. The health bar on her personal panel dropped by 8 points.

But it didn't matter. She could endure it. The vampire had no intention of leaving just yet.

Above her, the werewolf seemed to be pulling the charred Banshee from the wall. Lyle heard the sound of the Holy Restraining Rings being smashed and smelled the acrid smell of burning drifting in the air. It sounded as if the werewolf was venting all its dissatisfaction with the monk here.

"Filthy, stupid fat ghost," she heard the werewolf mutter lowly. "Once Mr. Dalton finds another monk to replace him, I'll definitely bite his throat out!"

The werewolf didn't seem skilled at tidying up. It wasted a great deal of time up there before finally settling down with a rustle on the soft couch.

More sounds came through the walls into Lyle's ears. The monk seemed to be explaining the earlier commotion, gently comforting the frightened servants, and even promising each of them could come to him tomorrow to receive 5 Holy Gold Coins as thanks for their hard work at the manor.

The poor humans were utterly unaware of the sinister intent hidden beneath the monk's smile. They cheered excitedly, embraced each other in joy, and many wept for joy, promising the Monk they would sleep soundly tonight.

Only Afra's personal maid was an exception. She forced a smile before the monk, and even through layers of brick walls, Lyle could still hear the barely perceptible tremor in her voice.

The personal maid insisted on taking her mistress away, stating that the Penggeli family's carriage was waiting in the stables, and she only needed two people to help carry Afra onto it.

But how could Barbavin let her go?

A dull thud echoed like a muffled thunderclap from underground. A human body hit the floor with a new impact, and the air was tinged with a faint, sweet scent.

The old butler's voice was very low. "My lord, what should we do next?"

"Take Tracy. The three of us will stay at the small monastery tonight. Tomorrow morning, we'll just hire a new batch of servants."

"Yes."

Under the cover of night, Barbavin dismissed all the servants. He put the exhausted, sleeping Tracy into the carriage and slipped out of the courtyard discreetly with the old butler.

The ignorant servants were still cheering and rejoicing over tomorrow's 5 gold coins, unaware that the guillotine above their heads would arrive before their desires were satisfied.

A cold wind swirled past the pale cheeks of the vampire in the tunnel. Beneath her dark irises, she slowly bared her teeth, gently licking the fangs that had unsheathed themselves at some point.

"So hungry."

She lurked in the darkness, waiting patiently. When midnight came, the last candle in the manor was extinguished, and humans fell into deep slumber, finally, faint footsteps sounded in the secret room above.

The werewolf was on the move.

Her satiety had dropped to 38. Tormented by hunger, the vampire opened her blood-red eyes as well.

Time for scavenging had arrived.

The werewolf moved faster than imagined, seeming quite practiced at this. It didn't kill with brutal violence. Instead, it slipped into each room, and while the humans were lost in sweet dreams, covered their mouths and snapped their necks in one quick motion.

There was no messy splatter of blood to deal with, nor any commotion to alert others.

The servants all slept in large communal quarters. After silently finishing off an entire room, the werewolf would haul all the humans onto its back and transport them into the secret room.

No one would know where these lowly servants had gone, nor would anyone care.

Even if a few troublesome individuals came knocking, demanding the truth, Bababib could easily placate them with a handful of Holy Gold Coins and send them off with beaming smiles.

After all, who would doubt a noble monk over a few commoners? An excuse like "a disease sent by the Holy Father as punishment for the unfaithful took their lives" would be enough to shut everyone's mouths.

It might even harvest a new wave of faith consolidation. For a monk, this was as simple as eating a piece of fig bread.

Humans were so foolish and hypocritical.

The werewolf snorted a puff of turbid white air and threw the third servant onto its back.

The once lively manor quickly became empty and desolate. Under the moonlight, only the grunts of the werewolf and the scrape of corpses being hauled could be heard.

Soon, the humans in the secret room were piled into a small, pointed mountain.

While the werewolf left again for another haul, the trapdoor silently lifted. From the endless darkness, two pale hands reached out, quietly dragging away the two nearest corpses.

Under the pitch-black night sky, the Holy Doves had already returned to the embrace of the Sacred Utterance. Only the pale, knife-like moon remained, casting a stark, eerie light that sliced through the ink-dark earth.

Making her way through the seemingly endless tunnel, Lyle finally emerged from a long, narrow shed that smelled of damp earth.

Wood was everywhere around her. Freshly cut logs, thick and long, were stacked one upon another against the walls. Row upon row of blunted axes hung along the window frames.

Wood chips covered the ground, clinging to anything with the slightest movement.

The humid air was filled with raucous snoring.

Lyle saw a shirtless man already asleep on one of the carts. He had the same smell as the gray-haired man. Fortunately, werewolves didn't seem to have sharp senses. The heavy double doors were slightly ajar, a slanted beam of moonlight falling through the crack, stretching into a long strip.

Holding the two corpses as if they were suitcases, Lyle slipped out along the edge of the gap like a cat.

This seemed to be a lumber mill run by werewolves. There were several similar long sheds for storing wood. Her nose was filled with the warm scent of wolf fur.

Unfamiliar with the area and fearful of raising an alarm, she didn't dare take the main roads openly, keeping only to the darkest alleys.

Strangely, the area around the werewolf lumber mill seemed extremely impoverished. Dilapidated brick houses were everywhere, with straw stuffed into the gaps of damaged roofs. The streets didn't even have a single intact cobblestone, just dirty, muddy sand and gravel.

Several ugly, dark gray walls enclosed the entire area. Peering into the darkness, Lyle noticed these walls weren't even leveled properly. They looked like sandcastles haphazardly piled by a child, giving off a rushed 'good enough' feel.

"A strange place." She had no time to investigate. Finding the gate beneath the gray walls, she slipped out.

It was already deep into the night, a time when even the chirping of insects had ceased. Skillfully avoiding the patrols on the streets, the vampire drifted like a wraith into Black Pigeon Street. She could be home in less than a blink.

Then, she froze in place.

Leaning haphazardly against her front door were two people, two Crusaders clad in silver-white chainmail.

Crusaders!

The vampire's blood ran cold instantly. Without time for further thought, she "swished" back into the corner behind her, casually dropping the two still-warm corpses backward.

What were they doing here? Had she finally been discovered? Had the Church's forces come to arrest her?

No, wait. Something didn't seem quite right.

The pitch-black night hid Lyle, masking her scent and making her feel secure enough not to act rashly.

She cautiously craned her neck to look toward her home.

Slender silver swords were firmly sheathed at their waists in sacred belts. Simple prayer words formed holy crosses engraved on their chests.

Moonlight spilled down, illuminating two remarkably young faces with tightly closed eyes. One, sleeping too soundly, even had drool trickling from the corner of his mouth, down his neck, soaking the yellowed, starched cotton collar beneath the chainmail.

The other kept his mouth shut, but the half of his face pressed against his arm was distorted, exuding a sweet, cloying scent like orange petit fours.

Lyle: "...Good thing I had my fill in the tunnel earlier."

But when they're hunting vampires, would they really be this relaxed?

What are these two really doing here?

Her gaze fell on the "Harvey Clinic" sign hanging on her front door, and the vampire's expression suddenly looked odd.

No way...

She cautiously checked out the area. The nearest patrol was two streets away, and no members of the clergy were lurking in the shadows. Only then did she confirm that these two Crusaders were probably just here for medical treatment, not to capture her.

Realizing this, the vampire turned back into the alley, retrieved the discarded bodies, and quietly stepped over the sleeping Crusaders, inching closer to her own window.

She pressed an eye to the glass, quietly observing the interior of the house.

Immediately, her heart leapt into her throat again!

On the square table right in the center of the room, a Dove glowing with a pure white light stood quietly. Its black, beady "eyes" shimmered with a faint glow.

What is this? Who put this here? Is it supposed to be spying on her?

But who puts a surveillance device right in the middle of the foyer table?

The vampire's mind raced. What on earth was going on tonight? Did the clergy decide to hold a meeting at her house?

Running through her every move, Lyle was certain she hadn't left any clues.

She stared at the Dove, and after some thought, decided to go in through the second floor.

The bedroom on the second floor happened to be out of the Dove's line of sight.

With the bodies in tow, Lyle climbed to the second floor. After confirming nothing strange was in the bedroom, she quietly slipped inside.

Then, crouching at the top of the stairs, she hid her body in the darkness, watching the small glowing form downstairs, and tentatively tapped on the floor.

The Dove remained motionless, like a statue.

The other rooms were also quiet, with not a sound of breathing or a heartbeat.

If her identity had truly been discovered, then what should be here now wouldn't be a single Dove, but an entire city's worth of Crusaders. The moment she poked her head out, a massive blast of white light would hit her. And those two outside wouldn't be sleeping.

Even if Anthony's death was definitively blamed on her, at least a few priests should have shown up.

But the house was quiet, with no sign of any other intruders.

Huh? Lyle stroked her chin. Something seemed off.

And most importantly, "surveillance devices" move toward sound and light. In response to movement, the Dove actually acted more like a living thing—a pattern she had discovered long ago.

But this one on the table... The vampire narrowed her eyes, her gaze carefully sweeping over the pure white wings. Sure enough, she spotted faint writing on the paper it was made of.

The handwriting even looked somewhat familiar.

Could it be... a messenger pigeon?

Lyle grabbed a small wooden washbasin from the bedroom, silently approached, and slammed the basin down over the Dove.

An angry "puffing" sound came from inside the basin. The paper wings were glowing brightly, but the washbasin remained firmly in place.

Once she'd calmed down, Lyle placed a heavy object on top of the basin to ensure the Dove couldn't escape. Then, she searched the house as fast as she could.

No one.

And no signs of anyone having broken in.

So what was the deal with this suddenly appearing Dove?

Lyle closed the windows tightly and drew the curtains before slowly lifting the washbasin. Then, the moment the Dove's eyes were revealed, she grabbed the little thing by the head with a hand wearing a weasel-skin glove.

The newly freed Dove didn't try to fly away as she expected. Instead, it stood quietly in place.

As the angle changed, Lyle saw there was also some small writing on its belly.

[Anthony is missing. The Abbey of Preparation determined you were the last person he saw via the Dove, so they will come to Black Pigeon Street to pick you up tomorrow morning at nine. Don't worry.]

Pick me up? Pick me up to where?

But the Dove's wings ended there.

Lyle could only pinch the wings and unfold them. Sure enough, on its abdomen, she found the next sentence.

[Don't worry, they are good people, just made a bit anxious by Anthony's disappearance. You only need to recount the situation before the statue of the Holy Father at the Abbey of Preparation. They won't give you a hard time. —Vig]

Lyle's face cracked.

*This* is what you call "don't worry," little brother?!

Don't be ridiculous! Entering the Abbey of Preparation and recounting the situation before the statue of the Holy Father? That's no better than blasting her to smithereens with Holy Words! The result would be about the same! She'd just be dead, that's all!

The vampire felt like her head was swelling with terrible lumps.

Although she had anticipated what would happen next when she killed Anthony and had already made plans for it—telling Vig about the Corruption Water was part of that—she never expected the priests to be this serious, insisting on dragging someone to the abbey.

Couldn't they do it in her own home? She was just a fragile woman who had recently lost her husband!

The chime of the clock sounded the hour. The slender hand pointed to the "Holy Two" position.

It was already two in the morning. The priests would arrive at the ninth holy hour.

The vampire anxiously wrung her hands. Upstairs, the two still-warm corpses lay quietly.

What should she do?

Lyle took a few seconds to calm herself down.

She had no intention of running. Even though she had imagined this scenario a thousand times—as she'd thought from the start, running was pointless.

In this world, vampires were hunted everywhere.

Even in places where the abbeys' influence was weak, the human population would certainly be sparse and chaotic.

She had no identity, no foundation. Trying to start over would likely be even more difficult than her current situation.

Not to mention the system tasks. She absolutely did not want to waste a chance to level up.

"There's always a way."

Lyle looked down at her own leg. Maybe... break one of them? Pretend she was hit by a passing carriage?

Those priests wouldn't be so insane as to drag a widow with newly broken legs into the monastery, would they? They'd have to give her some time to recover, right?

If absolutely necessary, she could just break both legs.

But that would require fabricating another lie to deal with the two Crusaders waiting outside her door, who had been waiting for who-knows-how-long.

Hmm? Wait a minute.

The vampire suddenly turned her head, her eyes curving as she stared at the door.

Two silvery figures were faintly visible through the crack in the door.

These two were practically a 'solution' delivered right to her doorstep.

But before that, she had to deal with other, more important matters first.

The vampire's crimson pupils shifted to the Dove, which stared back unblinkingly with its beady black eyes.

How to handle this little thing... destroy it outright?

No, that wouldn't work. She wouldn't be able to explain the Dove's disappearance to Vig. Too many things had gone missing lately; even if Vig was missing a few screws, he should start noticing something was off.

Looking at the flowing script on its wing, Lyle suddenly remembered something.

In the dimly lit entrance hall, the vampire, having just finished a night of strenuous physical labor, quickly put on her weasel-skin gloves, pinched the Dove's wing, and headed toward the basement.

She also casually picked up the two generous corpses. Thanks to the blood they provided, the vampire's injuries had completely healed, and she felt a warm sensation in her stomach and abdomen. She even had a surplus of 'provisions' equivalent to more than half a human.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the deathly silent basement.

"There's still some left in the lower limbs and torso, can't let it go to waste." Lyle skillfully hung one of the bodies by its leg, placed a wooden basin underneath, and then burned the tattered dress she was wearing along with the clothes from both corpses.

The bodies were buried in the garden. Even though it was already autumn, the rose bushes in her garden were still in full bloom, like drops of blood fallen upon the earth.

During this time, she also checked her Deception Hat. The loyal crow hadn't left behind a single drop of vampire blood. Perhaps it had been licked clean by the tongue-like ribbons, or perhaps the crow's feathers—the hat's soft fabric—possessed a self-cleaning function. In any case, as its owner, she didn't need to spend extra time on it.

"Good boy." Lyle patted the head of the crow, which had already transformed back. "Once I'm done here, I'll bandage you up."

Then, she set the other good baby down.

It seemed the divine power had imbued the white paper with a bit of consciousness. It didn't cry or fuss; even when its wing was pinched, it didn't run around or squawk, lying obediently in the vampire's palm.

When laid flat, its small, pointed head even gently nuzzled the delicate silk glove.

However, none of this stirred any pity in the vampire's heart. She carefully unfolded the Dove, placed the Sacred Scripture she had retrieved from Anthony beside it, flipped to the page for 'Surveillance Prayer,' forced herself to focus, and compared the holy words on the page with those on the Dove.

After three lines, the vampire's ears drooped. She gulped a few mouthfuls of blood and continued.

After ten lines, she supported her slowly recovering broken hand, tossed aside the second corpse, which had almost flattened into another sheet of paper, and let out a low "Ha."

"There are no sentences for surveillance in these holy words. This Dove can only be used for messaging; it cannot record what it 'sees.'"

So, the Paladin Commander really had only used this Dove to deliver a message.

Vig hadn't employed the surveillance Dove they favored.

The vampire's lips curled into a smile. Her guess was correct; this esteemed younger brother had indeed placed his complete trust in her.

A reliable backer... wasn't this exactly what she needed?

After confirming there was no 'surveillance system' on the Dove, she left it alone. She simply fetched a dusty bird stand from the storeroom for the little thing to stand on, lest Vig arrive and see his good child hadn't been properly cared for.

The Deceitful Crow cast a few disdainful glances at this glowing, foolish bird, suppressing the urge to kick it off and reclaim its territory.

Lyle had already stepped outside, thoughtfully covering the two foolish children, who were sleeping like logs, with soft, thin blankets each.

For the entire remainder of the night, she spent her time dealing with the corpses and any traces.

It wasn't until the first golden rays of light seeped through the heavy curtains that she finally finished everything and found time to begin the final step.

[Clinic Establishment Permit:

'The tabernacle of the Father is among men, and He will dwell with them. They shall be His people; the Father Himself will be with them and be their God.

The Father will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying, nor pain, for the Father has granted them the power to heal.'

In accordance with the will of the Holy Father, after prudent consideration and the judgment of the minor monastery monk Baba Wen Bababib, Lyle Thomas is permitted to establish this medical residence. This document hereby grants the permit approved by the Holy Father.

Adjudicator: Baba Wen Bababib

Recommender: Vig Thomas]

The room was quiet and dark, the brilliant sunlight completely shut out.

Floating dust settled on the smooth floorboards. The black skirt fell and spread with each step forward. Pale, bloodless fingers tightened the lace gloves as she hung the framed permit on the wall of the workroom.

The vampire stared at the name she had filled in on the scroll and couldn't help but curl her lips into a smile.

"Hello, Doctor Lyle. We meet again at last."

Of course, she wasn't foolish enough to not use the Thomas surname, rather than reverting to the system-given original name for this character, Lyle Gangro.

Come on, Vig hadn't left yet.

This surname was Vig's soft spot. It would constantly remind Vig of Lyle's identity, constantly prodding the softest part of the Paladin Commander's heart—she would never forget the look in Vig's eyes as he stared at Harvey's tombstone during the funeral.

And the Paladin Commander's trust could often help her avoid a lot of trouble. That Dove, meant only as a reminder, was still watching her gently from its perch!

Lyle was happy to utilize any means at her disposal.

It seemed this wasn't enough. She took two more steps forward and hung Harvey Thomas's clinic establishment permit right beside her own. Then, she also hung the marriage certificate issued by the monastery, which had been carefully preserved in the bedroom, above the two permits.

On the marriage certificate, 'Harvey Thomas and Lyle Thomas' were surrounded and embraced by holy angels, making the two names below seem like scattered stardust, appearing so beautiful and worthy of remembrance.

Lyle was finally satisfied. Just as she was debating whether to commission a 'Prayers for the Thomas Family' plaque or directly hire a painter for a family portrait to utterly shatter Vig's heart, a sudden exclamation came from outside the door.

"Bogey! How did we fall asleep?! Oh no! Look at us—has Mrs. Thomas already returned?!"

"What? What? Who's back?" The Crusader named Bogey was startled awake by his companion's loud exclamation, instinctively springing up from the ground, drawing his longsword, and struggling to open his bleary eyes.

"Idiot!" His companion suddenly smacked him on the head. "Put that sword away! Are you trying to blind your own brother?!"

Bogey yelped in pain, fumbling to sheathe his sword. Only then did the young man finally wake up properly, noticing the thin blanket that had slipped to the floor.

"Bota, brother, it really seems like Mrs. Thomas has returned. Heavens! Does that mean the Captain might be saved? Quick, quick! We..."

Before he could finish, the door behind them creaked open. A pale, gaunt figure appeared in the shadows within the doorway, her black pupils gazing at them with utmost gentleness.

"You're finally awake?"