I Thought I Was the Monster Duke’s Fake Tranquilizer

“What is the matter, Saintess Sepina.”

Just then, the very person who had taught her that truth entered the room with a benign expression.

The father of the entire temple, overseer of all temples in the empire.

The Pope.

“You have come, Your Holiness.”

The maids brightened at the arrival of their savior, yet they bowed their heads deeply, as though they had never expected someone so exalted to come in person.

“Sisters, you may leave.”

And at the Pope’s words, they fled in a swarm, as though they had been waiting for exactly that.

‘His Holiness came in person to soothe the saintess.’

‘He is truly a kind man.’

Indeed, they thought, what a good man he was, one who cherished the saintess and cared even for lowly maids like themselves.

Thud.

The door closed, and the Pope seated himself on the sofa in the center of the room.

“Father!”

The moment the watching eyes vanished, Sepina burst forth with all her pent-up anguish.

And she ran to the Pope, clinging to him and fussing like a child.

“I’m so upset!”

“Now, now. Your pretty face is all ruined, my daughter.”

The Pope spoke smooth, honeyed words as he stroked Sepina’s hair.

That the two were father and daughter was a secret known to few within the temple.

Priests who had devoted themselves to the temple were strictly forbidden from marriage or siring children.

But not all clergy were so incorruptible.

The higher one climbed, the more common it was for some to engage in transgressions or keep secret mistresses.

Sepina, too, was the product of a transgression the Pope had committed back when he was still a high priest.

The Pope stroked Sepina’s hair and thought to himself,

‘Fortunate that she doesn’t resemble me too closely.’

Originally, he had intended to kill her at birth, seeing her as a stain upon his honor.

But the moment the child had been born and opened her eyes, his mind had changed.

Even if she didn’t resemble him much, seeing a baby with eyes the exact same color as his own had stirred his greed.

‘She is my child, born of my noble bloodline, and none other’s.’

Wasn’t it a waste to simply dispose of her?

Wasn’t this an opportunity to leave a trace of his superior self upon the world?

Moreover, the baby was a girl with low holy power.

Her holy power was scarcely different from that of an ordinary person, making it difficult to link her to him. And the fact that she could later be “sold” whetted his appetite.

‘If her holy power had been high, others might have suspected our connection. No matter how regrettable, I would have had to dispose of her.’

He had no desire to be dismissed over a single moment’s mistake. Much less now, when he had become Pope.

Even as he thought coldly, the Pope chuckled benevolently and patted Sepina, playing the part of a kindly man.

He had always played the doting father to Sepina.

For it was far easier to handle her that way.

“It’s all right, Sepina.”

“It’s not all right! His Grace has gone off like that… and now the last test subject has escaped!”

“That is…”

It was a bitter loss even for the Pope.

The last test subject the temple had poured the most effort into—gone.

‘And of all things… with Duke Thesseron.’

It was as though they had been robbed of the sole means by which they could hold the duke.

But still, there were ways yet…

“It’s all because Father’s holy knights are incompetent!”

“…”

“I hate it! The hair on Father’s head ran away because it hates you too!”

“…Kehm.”

At Sepina’s impertinent, nonsensical outburst, the Pope’s mood immediately soured.

‘If only she had seduced him properly with her body, as I taught her from the start.’

He had spared her life because she was his daughter, born of his bloodline, but she had nothing but that body of hers—and yet her insolence pierced the heavens.

The Pope forced a smile and soothed Sepina.

She was still a useful daughter, after all. He couldn’t allow her to slip beyond his control.

If she learned that the duke had left with the test subject, she would grow even more agitated. It seemed best to keep that fact hidden.

The Pope pressed his wig down firmly and whispered,

“Worry not. We can simply acquire another test subject, can we not?”

“Children with holy power are hardly born these days!”

“As it happens, our order has invited numerous scholars and is researching methods to transplant holy power.”

Naturally, such research was illegal.

Transplant was a misleading term. It was research in which a person’s holy power was torn away by force and given to another. And the one robbed of it died.

Sepina, who had not known that the Pope was conducting such experiments, widened her eyes.