12 O’Clock Marionette

Chapter 25

"Both of you, accompany Sir Lucas."

Ro Blue seemed eager to borrow Cruello’s strength.

No matter what, he was powerful. Perhaps Ro Blue decided that having him was better than nothing.

Though whether it was truly better remained to be seen.

The situation was urgent, and we hurried down the corridor.

As we ran, following Lucas's lead, my mind wandered.

What exactly is Recanon?

The poisoning incident was orchestrated by the Elder Council.

Then was this riot also their doing?

Calling it a mere hunt for heretics seemed like an overreach.

Was there something more they were after...?

A faint chirp.

The Winter Lynx let out a small cry from within my arms.

That uneasy sound made me realize—

There was something to gain!

I shouted at Lucas.
"Where is the sacred beast?"

"What? Why would you suddenly—"

His voice wavered, as if he, too, felt an ominous premonition.

"It's in the opposite direction of the chapel," he finally answered.

"And the guards?"

"At least eighty percent of them have been reassigned to the chapel."

So this was it.

Recanon was the bait.

They were using the chaos simply to reclaim the sacred beast!

A vision from the Harvest Festival flashed in my mind—

The sacred beasts submerged in liquid, their dying forms, the Winter Lynx transformed into Beatitudo.

And the emotions that surged into me back then.

No.

I spun around, ready to bolt—only for a firm but gentle touch to stop me.

It was Cruello.

"I'll go," he said.

"What?"

"I won’t be too late this time."

His voice carried certainty.

I hesitated for a moment but then nodded.

"...I’ll trust you."

Even though those words came from my own mouth, they felt strangely unfamiliar.

***

Mamic – To cause disorder.

Mamic’s life unfolded just as her grandfather had named her.

Even now, when she thought she had finally found peace.

"Your sword skills are decent, but your mind is pathetic. Falling for such an obvious trick—what a disgrace."

The hooded man kicked Ro Blue aside.

Mamic trembled as she watched.

The earlier events played out vividly in her mind—

The sudden battle, the magic that flew toward her, the moment Ro Blue shielded her, only to collapse from poison.

"Lady Saint... run."

"Hah! ‘Saint’ my ass."

This temple was supposed to be the safest place in the world.

And yet, here it was, in shambles once again.

Curling into herself, Mamic shut her eyes tightly.

She had been born in a nameless, poor farmstead.

Her mother died giving birth to her.

Her father had died a month earlier in an accident.

"You beast! You devoured your own parents!"

Her grandfather, the man who raised her, never let her forget those words.

She had feared and despised him.

But when even he died, life became even more unbearable.

At fifteen, she was too old for an orphanage.

Undernourished in childhood, her body was weak, her features dark and unremarkable.

She had no education, no skills, no way to earn a living.

But she had to survive.

So, she ransacked the house, looking for anything of value.

That was when she found it—

A pristine, white donkey’s head sculpture.

And a letter beside it.

"This is a sacred relic of Recanon."

The letter recounted the story of her ancestors.

How their faith had once clashed with the Recanon Church, how they had emerged victorious, and how they had taken this relic as a trophy.

It was a symbol of their faith’s triumph, a precious heirloom meant to be preserved.

But amid all the complex history, only one word stood out to Mamic.

Recanon.

The ancient faith had crumbled.

Yet among all the fading religions, Recanon’s name still held some recognition.

At first, she planned to sell the relic.

But she soon realized—no adult would ever pay a fair price to an undergrown girl.

So, she came up with a better plan.

She scoured the village library for theological texts.

She visited the temple.

And she made her gamble.

"My ancestor was the last saint of Recanon. If you use that name, you can unite the heretics under your faith."

Mamic was not a descendant of Recanon.

But she knew that pretending to be one would fetch a higher price.

So, the temple—desperate to integrate the heretics—granted her the title of Honorary Saint and showered her with wealth and comfort.

She had thought she made the right choice.

Until now.

Why is this happening?

If these were real Recanon followers, they would never leave a fraud like her alive.

So She Offered Up the Relic and Fled in the Opposite Direction of the Chapel

But why?

Why were the sacred beasts asleep?
Why was the temple’s outer wall breached?
And why did she have to face an enemy even Ro Blue couldn't overcome?

"P-please, spare me!"

Mamic desperately pleaded, but her captor only sneered.

"Thank you, Lady Saint. Because of you, I can claim that the rioters who came to capture you tore a hole in the temple wall. And people will assume the sacred beasts escaped through there."

A massive vine slithered up from the ground at the intruder’s feet.

A thick, thorn-covered tendril, deep violet in color.

At its tip, a rose unfurled, its petals parting like the jaws of a beast.

Dark venom dripped from its center.

The very same poison that had incapacitated Ro Blue.

"Then, farewell, Lady Saint."

The vine coiled toward her neck.

Mamic shut her eyes in despair.

And then—

Crunch.

Something shattered.

"Just one?"

A familiar voice reached her ears.

Just one? How underwhelming.

Cruello’s voice was utterly bored.

Behind him, a trembling saint.
In front of him, a hooded intruder.

A scene straight out of a stage play, and yet—it was painfully dull.

Cruello crushed the frozen petals beneath his boot.

"…Duke of White Desert."

"You know me? Well, I suppose it’d be hard not to."

"Why are you here?"

"Worried about the sacred beasts?"

Ah, right—I shouldn’t forget the finishing touch.

"My oh-so-affectionate darling asked me to."

A lovesick lunatic.

It meant nothing, really. But playing this role for the first time was oddly amusing.

The intruder wasted no more words and stretched out his hand.

From the floor, the air, the ceiling—

Vines erupted from all directions, surging toward Cruello.

The outcome was the same.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

"Are you going to keep this up?"

How boring.

At Cruello’s dull voice, the intruder grit his teeth.

A massive surge of mana gathered at his fingertips, taking root.

The bud of a lethal bloom began to unfurl.

But before it could fully blossom—

"I told you. Boring."

"Urgh—!"

Cruello snuffed out the magic with laughable ease and seized the intruder by the throat.

The air had grown frigid from the magic.

But his gaze burned hotter than ever.

Cruello smirked and whispered.

"Did you graduate too early from the academy, Julian?"

The sheer shock rippling through him was palpable.

Did he really think I wouldn’t know?

Because of a concealment spell?

Because he used magic he had never revealed at the academy?

What a joke.

I had known for a long time.
Knew that his inferiority complex drove him to become a lapdog for the Elder Council.

And yet, I let it slide.

"Thought you’d be fun. What a disappointment."

"S-so the brainwashing was…a lie after all…!"

"I Have No Idea What You're Talking About."

Cruello swung his arm, slamming Julian into the wall.

It was a rough move, but in reality, he had let him go.

As expected, behind Julian, a massive gate began to open.

It must have been prepared to smuggle out the sacred beasts, but only one was being granted passage.

"Cough... Yeah, I figured."

"Oh? Happy that I gave you certainty?"

"No! I was sure of it from the beginning. The idea that you'd fall for that pathetic woman was the most absurd thing I'd ever heard!"

Cruello’s lips tensed slightly.

"A monster who doesn't understand human emotions... I'll make sure you regret this day."

How laughable.

Just like always.
No, actually—this time, it was slightly more irritating.

Cruello opened his hand.

"You really shouldn’t say things like that."

"What—Kgh!"

From the wall behind Julian, spindly white legs sprouted, resembling the limbs of a spider.

Cruello slowly curled his fingers.

The ice magic that bound Julian was on an entirely different level from what he had cast earlier.

"Gah—!" Julian choked as his limbs were constricted.

"I hate regretting things."

Finally, Cruello clenched his fist.

The ice spider drove its fangs into the center of its own web.

A piercing, chilling sound rang through the air, and the entire space was covered in frost.

But where its prey had been—there was nothing.

"He escaped."

Cruello glanced at the now-useless gate.

He had let Julian go since there were things worth uncovering through him, but it didn’t mean he liked it.

***

"This Is Your Final Warning—Have That Woman Bring the Relic!"

"S-she’s not a priestess!"

"Shut up and comply!"

So this is what it feels like to be the protagonist.

Everyone’s eyes were on me.

Because I was "that woman."

The rioters crowded the temple’s outer grounds.

Each of them was clad in black robes and masks.

The insignia of Recanon was scrawled across their garments—but whether it was real or just for show was anyone’s guess.

Behind them, a fully activated gate loomed.

And beside it—six hostages, kneeling in submission.

At the forefront stood a man holding the final hostage, the apparent leader of the group.

"If you don’t move now, I'll kill them for real!"

He was threatening me to bring the relic.

I had sent Cruello away because I couldn't use divine power in front of so many witnesses, and yet—here I was, right in the middle of the action again.

"Don’t listen to them, follower! If you go near them, they’ll kill you too!"

"What?! So you don’t care about these hostages, then?!"

"Tsk!"

"Do not touch the hostages! I will bring the relic myself. Does it matter who delivers it?"

"A mere priest touching our sacred relic? Unforgivable!"

Ugh. So noisy.

I sighed and nodded.

"I’ll just go."

"You mustn’t, follower!"

Ignoring the priest, I took the relic from her arms.

I stepped forward, clutching the donkey's head, and silence fell over the area.

I could hear the sound of people swallowing nervously.

Now what?

Honestly, this all felt like a third-rate play—not particularly immersive.
But still, it wasn’t an ideal situation.

If I handed over the relic, what would happen?

That leader bastard would seize it first.

Then he’d swing the sword in his hand.

At me.
And then at the other hostages.

That way, the temple would fall into further chaos, buying time for their escape through the gate.

Even knowing this—I had no options.

What could I do? Use divine power? Draw my sword?

Ugh, if only this relic had some kind of function left.

Recanon, what the hell? Doesn’t this offend your pride?

"I am ashamed to say that by the time I found it, only traces of divine energy remained. I do not know what miracles the relic was once capable of."

Right, right. What kind of pride does a dying god have—

...Wait.

Wait a second.