"Speak of the devil..."
Shortly after the call with David, two cult executors rushed in to report to Celia and the elders.
Celia's eyes narrowed as she listened to the report. "Demon mercenaries have appeared outside the city? In significant numbers?"
"And..." She looked suspiciously at Ansu. "Their envoy specifically asked to see me by name?"
"Who do they think they are, seeing our leader whenever they want?" Elder Matthew cursed, then frowned. "What do those demon idiots want? To loot a burning house?"
"We worked hard to take this city. They probably want to reap the rewards without effort," another elder said coldly.
"Since they sent an envoy, they likely want to negotiate..." Elder Barnes analyzed with a grave expression. "Barcas has always been like this. When there is profit to be made, he moves faster than anyone, and any grudge can be set aside. Our 'ally' probably wants to discuss the terms for dividing the spoils."
Celia sneered, a flicker of mockery in her eyes.
She turned her head, her gaze passing over Count Alston before landing on Ansu.
"If you want to ask Alston anything, just go ahead. He is incapable of lying now."
"Alright," Ansu smiled.
"Handle your business first. I will see you in a bit." Celia's tone was soft, but as she turned to the elders, it became cold and sharp. "Let's go. We will see what they want!"
"Yes!" Barnes and the others nodded and followed her out of the hall.
...
After they left, silence returned to the castle hall.
Ansu turned back to the dull-eyed Count Alston. He had already asked most of what needed asking; he just needed to confirm a few details.
The remaining simulation time ticked away silently.
Ansu planned to use these final moments to organize the massive amount of information in his mind while waiting for the return.
"Lord Ansu!"
The doors were pushed open again.
Freya's figure appeared at the entrance, her silhouette blurred against the dim light.
"Freya?" Ansu looked at her, and his brow furrowed when he saw her state.
She gripped the doorframe tightly, her chest heaving from running. Her pink hair was matted with sweat against her forehead and neck, and her iconic pure white dress was now covered in splatters of dark red blood.
She looked completely disheveled, yet possessed a desperate urgency.
Ansu could sense that the little Holy Maiden's state was very wrong.
"I finally... finally found you!"
Freya let go of the doorframe and hurried toward him, stopping right in front of him.
She tilted her face up slightly, her rapid breathing still not settled.
Up close, Ansu finally saw what was wrong.
When they had parted ways earlier, her eyes were clear and lively. Now, they were bloodshot, and a storm of intense emotion swirled in the depths of those eyes that usually held a gentle smile, as if she were about to unleash something upon him.
He knew what she wanted to ask.
"Lord Ansu!" Freya's voice trembled uncontrollably, as if she were using all her strength. "What exactly is the Echoes of Truth cult doing? Why have they been killing people from night until morning? Whether they are good or bad... they just keep killing! Has Celia gone mad?"
The hellish scenes—the prisoners' frenzied slaughter, the cries of the innocent, the blood and desecration within the cathedral—refused to leave her mind.
Freya took a deep breath. "Those atrocities outside... were they her orders? Did she command all of it?"
After she spoke, her heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from her chest.
As she had prayed countless times before, she desperately hoped to hear Ansu say firmly: "Yes, none of this has anything to do with me. It was all that mad witch's doing! I am still the Lord Ansu you know."
She looked up, the last flicker of light in her eyes stubborn yet fragile, reflecting Ansu's face.
Ansu looked at her in silence.
He had anticipated something like this might happen from the start, which was why he had intentionally sent her away.
He truly was caring more and more about Freya's thoughts. He didn't want to see disappointment, fear, or alienation in her eyes, even in a simulation.
He looked at her bloodshot eyes and her trembling yet straight back.
His hesitation lasted only a moment.
Ansu confessed honestly, his voice echoing clearly in the silent hall. "It wasn't Celia. I did it."
Freya covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening instantly. The massive shock caused a ringing in her ears.
Something solid deep in her heart completely shattered, and dark emotions surged out like a cold tide from the cracks.
"Why, Lord Ansu..." Her eyes reddened as desperate tears fell. "Why would you do this? Aren't you the Chosen One? Aren't you my Lord Ansu?"
She lowered her head and began to mutter to herself frantically, her voice broken and chaotic.
"No, that's not right."
"My Lord Ansu isn't that kind of person. My Lord Ansu is the best, the absolute best."
"I must have misunderstood. It's my fault."
"This wasn't Lord Ansu's intention... It's all my fault. I'm to blame for everything."
Freya's eyes were hollow; she was on the verge of a total breakdown.
For a moment, Ansu felt an impulse to reveal the truth—that this was just a simulation.
But in the end, absolute logic prevailed. He would never reveal his secret.
"Freya..." Ansu finally spoke, his voice deeper than expected. A thousand words condensed into one sentence: "Trust me, Freya!"
His tone was incredibly firm.
Hearing this, Freya froze, as if pinned to the spot by his words.
"Trust..."
She kept repeating the word.
"Trust, trust, trust..."
The tear stains on her face weren't dry, but she slowly looked up, lost in thought.
Her pale gold eyes stared unblinkingly at Ansu, as if trying to pierce through his pupils to see the answer deep within his soul.
Ansu's expression was more serious than ever before—no evasion, no pretense.
I trust him.
I of course trust Lord Ansu, but...
Conflicting emotions collided violently in her heart, and a strange yet stubborn logic began to spread.
She started to think, to deduce.
First, my Lord Ansu is not the kind of person who would do such things.
I know him. I acknowledge him. This is beyond doubt.
However, Lord Ansu admitted it himself and told me to trust him... to trust that what he did was right.
But the blood and brutality I saw along the way were real.
Could it be...
An absurd thought—the only one that could prevent her mental world from completely collapsing—suddenly lit up.
"Lord Ansu..." A strange light appeared in Freya's eyes, and she began to giggle foolishly. "All of this... everything I've seen is fake? Right?"
She suddenly grabbed Ansu's hand, gripping it tightly.
"The blood is fake? The screams are fake? This city is fake? I... even I! I'm fake too, right?"
Ansu stared at the suddenly delirious Holy Maiden, his gaze flickering almost imperceptibly.
Amidst his shock, a corner of his heart was deeply touched, and an indescribable complexity of emotions surged within him.
She was always like this.
Trusting him unconditionally, almost blindly.
This trust was so extreme that she would rather believe the world was fake, or that she herself was fake, than believe he was wrong.
Ansu sighed and reached out, gently stroking her soft hair and smoothing the messy strands on her forehead.
"Thank you."
"Thank you for trusting me..." Ansu felt helpless; it seemed "thank you" was the thing he said most to her.
But besides that, he really didn't know what else to say.
"Just think of it..." Ansu paused, searching for words. "Just think of all this as a dream, as something fake. All the bloodshed was only to obtain necessary information, an unfortunate necessity."
Freya's eyes lit up instantly, like a drowning person catching a final piece of driftwood. "I knew it!!"
"I knew it, I knew it! Lord Ansu isn't a bad person! Lord Ansu would not do such bad, bad things! It's all fake, an illusion, a dream! Even I am fake!"
Her mental state was clearly compromised. Ansu chuckled bitterly to himself, remembering a premonition he had long ago, and suddenly felt like slapping himself.
Who the hell would have thought the little Holy Maiden could turn dark too?
While his thoughts were in disarray, Freya suddenly lunged forward joyfully.
She wrapped her arms tightly around Ansu's waist, burying her face deep into his chest.
"My Lord Ansu is kind and righteous... My Lord Ansu is gentle and handsome..." She muttered repeatedly into his chest, her voice muffled. "Lord Ansu, Lord Ansu, Lord Ansu..."
Each call carried a hint of happiness and sweetness.
"Lord Ansu is the best!"
She suddenly stood on her tiptoes and, to Ansu's surprise, planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
Rate on N.U.
