Chapter 15: Chapter 8.2

I thought my polite smile had worked, but Adrian’s faint chuckle turned out to be a mocking sneer. No mercy from this guy. Deciding I had nothing to lose, I pretended to lift the teacup but “accidentally” spilled its contents all over the floor. The tea drained out completely, leaving nothing but the barest sheen behind as I belatedly cried out in mock dismay.

“Oh no! The tea! I’m so sorry, Young Master! It just slipped out of my hand!”

Breaking the teacup outright might have seemed more natural, but that would’ve led to another round of Adrian demanding reparations. Even if this felt awkward, it was the only choice I had. Feigning panic, I grabbed a rag and began wiping up the mess. With The Eye of Insight still active, I could see the malevolent red energy clinging stubbornly to the rag as I soaked up the tea.

“Oh dear, what a waste of such precious tea. I can’t believe my clumsiness…”

“It’s fine. I can just pour you another cup.”

“….”

“Hand me the cup.”

This bastard. Even after all that, he’s still pushing.

“Why won’t you drink it? Is the tea I made not to your liking?”

Though he didn’t say it outright, I could practically hear the unspoken ‘How dare you?’ hanging in the air. With a trembling hand, I took the refilled cup, now brimming with fresh poison, and stared at it, my fingers nervously fidgeting along its edges.

“I am unworthy of being served another cup of tea by you, Young Master. But what can I do? After finishing the first cup, I no longer feel thirsty. Perhaps I should save this one for later…”

“It’s freshly brewed. The taste will be different. At least take a sip.”

A sip, huh? Just enough to kill me outright, I bet. With how persistent he’s being, if I keep refusing, I might actually end up like some historical drama heroine, force-fed poison until I keel over.

What do I do? I’ve been racking my brain since this nightmare started, but no solutions are coming to me. Even my usual antics won’t get me out of this one. His piercing gaze is suffocating, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

Am I really going to die here? If I do die, what happens? Does the game reset? Can I even come back?

“Drink it. Now.”

Adrian’s commanding tone cut through my spiraling thoughts. For a collection of pixels, he exuded a truly terrifying aura. Every excuse I tried to muster fizzled out under the weight of his words. My chest pounded with anxiety, cold sweat trickling down my back. The tension was suffocating.

Honestly, I hadn’t expected Adrian to go this far—deducing, testing, and cornering me like this. My calculations had assumed he’d be stuck repeating programmed behavior, unable to adapt. But here he was, thinking, planning, and acting on his own.

If the AI in this game were sophisticated enough to allow Adrian’s level of autonomy, developers wouldn’t need to work themselves to death with overtime and emergency patches. Hell, they’d probably skip straight to taking over the world. But this game isn’t even an online service; it’s just a standalone package.

Fine. I’ll just take a sip. Poison won’t magically disappear if I hesitate, and dying is probably inevitable at this point. Whether I succumb to the tea or he strangles me afterward, it’s just a matter of timing.

More importantly, I can’t let him know about my skills. If he finds out, he’ll find ways to counter them.

Alright, let’s do this. Just one sip. I can handle that. How bad could it be?

I clenched my teeth and braced myself, closing my eyes as I prepared to lift the cup to my lips. But my hand… wouldn’t move. My body froze as if paralyzed, my survival instincts overriding my reason.

Damn it. I can’t. I can’t drink this malevolent crap. I’d rather die fighting than go out like this. I can’t let myself be the only one to die—I’ll take him down with me if it’s the last thing I do.

“Why aren’t you drinking? Is there a problem?”

“I don’t want to.”

“…What?”

“I don’t want to drink this tea.”

His finely drawn eyebrows arched sharply, his disbelief clear. I knew I was playing straight into his hands by refusing, but my body refused to betray my instincts.

What’s he going to do now? Strangle me? Shoot daggers at me with his eyes? Pry my mouth open and pour the poison down my throat? Every scenario I imagined ended in my death, and the sweat on my palms only grew worse. Maybe I should’ve just dipped my tongue in the tea…

At that moment, a knock at the door broke the suffocating silence. My head whipped toward the sound, but Adrian remained focused on me, his intense gaze unwavering. His lips moved, cold and sharp.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Retisha, Young Master.”

“If it’s not urgent, come back later.”

His voice was icy, like frost creeping across a windowpane. No! Don’t leave me! Save me! I bit my lip to hold back the urge to scream for help, my heels lifting slightly off the ground as I fought the impulse to bolt for the door.

Should I run? Just make a break for it? He’s too frail to chase me. Maybe I should knock him out? Use one of the self-defense moves I practiced?

“…Forgive me, Young Master, but the Countess has ordered me to bring Hilda to her immediately.”

“…Sigh.”

“She insists. It must be Hilda, and it must be now.”

Adrian let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Relief surged through me like a tidal wave, and I had to fight the urge to cheer out loud.

I stood there, eyes wide and shining like a kindergartener about to go on a field trip. Adrian leaned back in his chair, tilting his head up slightly. Even though I was standing over him, his aura was so intense it felt like I was the one being looked down upon.

“Hilda, you’re incredibly lucky. Since my mother is personally calling for you, you should go. It’s a shame you won’t get to enjoy the tea, but there will be other opportunities.”

His words sounded perfectly innocent, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that what he really meant was, ‘I’ll figure out your secret another time.’ Even so, I was too ecstatic about escaping to dwell on it. My grin stretched ear to ear, my joy barely contained.

Not only was I thrilled to survive, but I was also relieved I wouldn’t have to resort to violence against a sickly noble. Adrian said I was lucky, but honestly, he was the lucky one. If I weren’t so scared, I might’ve actually fought back. You hear that, Adrian? Don’t underestimate me! I’m not going down that easily!

“Then I’ll take my leave, Young Master. I’ll leave this precious tea for you to enjoy.”

Like a small dog barking furiously while hiding behind its owner, I silently shouted my defiance as I darted out the door the moment Retisha opened it. I could feel Adrian’s sharp gaze piercing my back like arrows, but I ignored it and shut the door firmly behind me.

Finally, the tension in my right field of vision began to subside, and I let out a shaky breath. That was way too close.

“Hurry and change into something appropriate for going out,” Retisha said as we descended the stairs. “The Countess has her reasons for wanting you specifically, though I don’t know what they are. Since we’re headed to the temple, make sure you’re neat and quiet in the carriage, understood?”

“Yes, Retisha.”

“It’s a long journey to the temple. Bring some needlework to pass the time, and if you encounter other nobles, mind your manners. You know the Countess hasn’t been well lately, don’t you? If this trip stirs up any gossip, the blame will fall on you. Keep your wits about you, understand?”

As she rattled off her warnings like a well-rehearsed script, I nodded eagerly, still riding the high of surviving. Of course, I’ll take responsibility. Thank you for saving my life.

“Retisha, I really appreciate this.”

“…What? Why all of a sudden?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I just do.”

I couldn’t exactly say, Thank you for saving me from drinking poison. Instead, I clung to her side like a child seeking refuge under a shady tree in summer.

“Good grief. You’re acting ridiculous. And stop clinging—it’s already getting warm!”

“Hehe, yes, ma’am.”

Even as she complained, she didn’t push me away. I couldn’t help but feel a rare warmth as I lightly held onto her arm. For the first time since I arrived in this cursed game, I felt a glimmer of safety.

As we boarded the luxurious carriage—its ride so smooth it put real-world imports to shame—I couldn’t help but feel both awe and unease. While the ride was pleasant, the thought of the Countess potentially snapping like last time kept me on edge.

To my surprise, the Countess remained calm and composed throughout the journey. Her appearance was immaculate, without a single trace of the chaos I’d seen before. No blood, no decapitated goats—she almost looked… normal.

Her platinum blonde hair, usually disheveled like a ghost’s, was elegantly styled. Her lashes, always tear-streaked, now curved upward gracefully. Her crescent-shaped brows framed golden eyes that gleamed like molten honey. If not for her slightly pale complexion, she was stunning—beautiful enough to silence time itself.

Wow, no doubt she’s Adrian’s mother. They definitely share the same otherworldly looks.

The Countess stared out the window at the passing scenery, her gaze distant. I busied myself with needlework but occasionally stole glances at her. Something told me that seeing the Countess like this—a picture of grace—was a rare sight indeed.

“…”

Was she conscious of my gaze?

The Countess turned her head, and our eyes accidentally met. Since I had been unintentionally admiring her face as though it were a piece of fine art, I quickly averted my gaze, flustered. I pretended to focus intently on sewing, but there was no salvaging the moment.

"He's very similar, isn't he? To that child."

"Pardon? Oh, yes."

There was no need to ask who she meant—it was obvious. Adrian could very well be the younger, more masculine version of the Countess. Unthinkingly, I nodded, then covered my mouth and swallowed hard.

Would the Countess lose her temper, yelling about someone wearing her child's skin again? I had no interest in witnessing her losing it and flailing about like a possessed puppet inside the carriage.

"When will that be finished?"

Surprisingly, the Countess remained calm, lowering her gaze to ask another question. Realizing she was referring to the goat plush I was making, I quickly held it up for her inspection.

"At this pace, it should be ready in about two weeks. What do you think of the size? I considered making it identical to an actual goat's head, but I figured that might be impractical, so I adjusted it to be more huggable."

My goal was to create a soft cushion that could sit comfortably on one’s lap while reading. It was designed to be cozy for hugging or leaning against, and I hoped it might even bring some comfort to the Countess, who would undoubtedly clutch it all day. Despite her penchant for turning every encounter into a horror show, I couldn’t entirely blame her given the context. If it could help soothe her scars, even just a little, it would be worth it.

Initially, I thought it’d only take a few days to complete, but I had underestimated how challenging it would be without prior sewing experience—or a sewing machine. My lack of skill meant I constantly pricked my fingers without making much progress. Thankfully, the thick calluses on my hands prevented me from bleeding.

Even as I showed the goat plush to the Countess, she didn’t comment on whether she liked it. She simply turned her gaze back to the window. Hmm. Did she not like it? That’s fine. It's not finished yet. After all, the highlight of the goat plush will undoubtedly be the crimson streaks of "blood" I plan to paint along its neckline. She’s bound to love that detail.

I resumed sewing, stabbing my fingers about ten more times before the rhythmic sound of horse hooves slowed to a halt. The coachman opened the door, and I realized we had arrived at the temple. Once the Countess had stepped out with his assistance, I grabbed the goat plush and hurried after her.

The moment I stepped out of the carriage and looked up at the temple, my mouth fell open.

“Wow.”

I had thought, "How special can a temple be?" Apparently, very. The temple stood radiant, emanating light as if it were the sun itself. Columns soared impossibly high, etched with divine scriptures and sacred relics. The expansive ceiling bore frescoes exuding holiness, adding an almost otherworldly quality to the place.

Adrian’s presence darkened and chilled his surroundings, a natural-born embodiment of malice. The temple, in contrast, felt inherently sacred and warm, simply by existing.

So, this is the temple where Hilda grew up.

With a sense of awe, I followed the Countess inside. Priests dressed in white and yellow robes bustled about, each carrying a thick tome. Some were deep in theological discussion, while others knelt before statues, offering prayers. The priests' faces radiated peace, tranquility, and enlightenment.

A quick glance revealed that the temple worshipped a monotheistic deity. The numerous statues lining the grand hallway, meant to embody the divine, each bore different expressions: joyful, serene, wrathful, and even malevolent. Some statues depicted animals, plants, or natural disasters instead of human forms. Was this meant to signify that the deity wore many faces and existed alongside us in various forms?

I wasn’t sure how devout the Countess was, but even someone like me, without a shred of faith, couldn’t help but feel a sense of reverence in this place. Briefly, I paused and clasped my hands before a random statue.

Dear deity, any deity, please take the demon living in my house away. I promise to worship the first one who answers. Deal?

"Lady Priscilla."

"Lady Priscilla, you've arrived. Thank you for traveling such a great distance. His Grace, the Archbishop, has been awaiting your arrival."

I snapped out of my irreverent prayer and quickly fell into step beside the Countess. Two young priests approached, clearly out of breath, as though they had been anxiously anticipating her arrival. The Countess greeted them with a polite bow, which they answered with a prayer. I awkwardly imitated her gestures.

"The Archbishop has been deeply concerned since your last visit, especially with the chaos caused by the recent string of murders. He wondered if the... 'companion' you live with might be responsible."

"We’ve also prepared the item you requested. Ah, but there are too many listening ears here. Please, follow us to the Archbishop's chamber to continue this conversation."

The priests trailed off as they noticed me standing nearby. They hesitated before leading the Countess through the ivory columns. Just before following them, she turned to me.

“Wait here for a moment.”

Retisha had warned me not to leave the Countess’s side, but surely it’d be fine if she was just meeting the Archbishop. Surely someone of his stature wouldn’t start rumors about her. Besides, the Countess seemed relatively stable at the moment—though I wouldn’t bet on how long that would last.

While I waited, I wandered toward a quiet corner of the temple. The sacred light and the serene atmosphere lulled me into a false sense of security, making all the danger and death threats I’d been dealing with feel distant and irrelevant. If only I could stay here forever. Surely Adrian wouldn’t burst in here to force-feed me poisoned tea, right? Being a demon, he’d probably find the air here unbearable.

“…But what if he does try to poison me again?”

Retisha’s interruption had saved me last time, but I couldn’t count on such luck again. Should I start carrying antidotes? Maybe a dagger? Nunchaku? Ugh, all of that would cost money. If only there were a gacha system—

Wait. There was a gacha system. Every three days, I could pull a free item, ranging from common to legendary. It had been a while since I’d last used it, sulking after pulling a useless weed. Surely enough time had passed by now.

Desperate, I accessed the sparkling rainbow icon.

“You can pull a free item once every three days.

Item rarity: Common to Legendary.

Higher-level players can unlock advanced pulls.”

Normally, I’d offer a sacrifice before a major pull, but the temple’s sacred aura would have to suffice. With a determined finger, I tapped "Free Pull."

The pachinko animation whirred energetically, toying with my nerves as it hovered near the legendary tier. Hands clasped, I sent up a desperate prayer.

Please, just one good item. A legendary weapon? A broad-range antidote? I’ll be the most loyal player ever. Just save me.

“Lucky Critical!”

For the first time, unfamiliar words flashed on the roulette screen. Critical? Did that mean I’d hit the jackpot? Was I about to receive a legendary item?

With bated breath, I watched as rainbow-colored lightning struck the screen, and the roulette came to a dramatic stop. A glowing item descended onto my clasped hands. As its brilliance faded to reveal its form, my expression soured.

**“You have obtained: Fragrant Herb (Rare).

Effect: Heals 1/10,000th of the Countess’s mental scars.”**

What the hell? Another herb? The bold text seemed so proud of itself, but I felt like a squirrel robbed of its acorns. Healing 1/10,000th? Did that even count as healing?

Annoyed, I nearly threw the herb to the ground, but it clung stubbornly to my hand, as though glued.

“Please read the description fully.”

The text scolded me before continuing:

“Steep the herb in boiling water for 15 minutes before serving.”

The system vanished, leaving me fuming. If this system ever manifested in human form, I’d punch it square in the face. Begrudgingly, I stuffed the useless herb into my pocket.

“First-time rare item obtained! You’ve gained 500 EXP!”

“Level up: Level 11 achieved (Title: Devil’s Dutiful Minion).”

My health bar filled slightly, but my mood didn’t improve. Slumping, I resumed sewing the goat plush, only to be startled by a sharp slap on my back.

“Hi—Hilda! It’s been so long!”

Startled, I fell backward, landing hard on my rear. The old woman, however, smiled warmly, her wrinkled lips curving up in a way that resembled a grandmother delighted to see her long-lost grandchild. Her radiant expression only left me more flustered since I had no idea who she was. I could only mouth silent words, unsure of what to say.

The old woman, seemingly oblivious to my confusion, crouched down and patted my shoulder affectionately.

"Where have you been all this time, huh? You seemed so thrilled to go off to the Paltsgraf estate, but then you just disappeared, not even showing your face once. Was it so great there that you couldn’t even write a letter? This old lady was so heartbroken, you know."

"I—I'm sorry! Things have been so busy that I didn’t have the time!"@@novelbin@@

"Ah, I know, I know. It’s a grand household you’re serving, so of course, you’d be busy. That’s why I didn’t go looking for you. I thought, ‘She’ll write when she remembers me.’ But look at this—time’s flown by while I’ve been waiting."

Wait a second… Is this Hilda’s grandmother? As I smoothed out my startled expression and met her gaze, her eyes, lined with soft wrinkles, curved gently, radiating affection.

"My Hilda, how have you been? It feels like just yesterday you were running around the temple, laughing like a little rascal. And now, look at you. You’ve grown into a fine young lady. Why, you could marry someone wonderful any day now!"

"I’ve been well, thank you. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch. How have you been? Are you feeling okay? No aches or pains?"

"I’m alright, alright. Seeing you like this is all the medicine I need. At my age, though, there isn’t a single part of my body that’s completely fine. A while back, my stomach hurt so much I finally went to see the doctor. Would you believe it? They told me I’ve got some kind of growth inside."

"Oh my goodness. What did they say? Can they treat it?"

Wow, this game setting is disturbingly detailed. I couldn’t help but feel a little shaken as I asked. The old woman gently traced her stomach with her hand.

"Sadly, they can’t. But the kind doctor gave me some medicine to ease the pain. Before, I could barely swallow because of the discomfort, but now it’s more manageable."

"That doctor sounds amazing. But… are you sure it’s okay for you to keep working when you’re feeling like this? Don’t you think it’s time to rest?"

"I’ve already decided to leave the temple soon. That same kind doctor arranged for me to stay somewhere until the end. He told me the Paltsgraf family has a small hospice for people like me. He said I could live there peacefully."

The hospice at the estate… that must be the facility Hubert ran in the past. If I recall correctly, no one but Hubert is allowed to enter. Though it was built for charitable purposes, I always felt an inexplicable chill pass through me whenever I walked by. Maybe it’s because so many people died there in the past?

"I truly owe them so much. When I leave the temple, I’ll have no money, no family. If it weren’t for the Paltsgraf family, I might’ve died on the streets and been greeted by a demon instead. Perhaps the gods sent their apostle to spare me from such a cruel end."

"A demon...? Oh, come on, that’s not possible," I said with a nervous laugh.

Demonic beings definitely existed, but I highly doubted they’d be lurking around the temple’s alleyways.