12 O'Clock Marionette-Chapter 57

So this was the purpose of all their desperate efforts to create Beatitudo.

If someone could wield Morion, they could surely handle Beatitudo as well.

The Black Serpent’s goal was to conquer death.

Whether through immortality or resurrection, they needed an immense amount of energy to grant their followers everything they desired.

Well.

"They won’t get the results they’re hoping for."

The outcome wouldn’t be eternal life, but ruin.

And I was the only one who knew it.

I shut the record before realizing something—

Wait. I wasn’t the only one reading this.

"Cruello…?"

I looked up, but he was no longer beside me.

He had already moved on, rummaging through something else.

That bastard?

He asked me to read it, then left because he got bored?

Honestly, though, nothing suited him less than this kind of abstract nonsense.

I shoved the record back into the bookshelf and called out again.

"You look free enough, so come open this drawer, Cruello."

"It’s locked?"

"Yeah, the last one over there."

Perhaps he really had nothing better to do, because Cruello walked over to the desk right away.

His long, pale fingers traced slowly over the surface of the drawer.

They were slender, well-defined, with neatly trimmed nails.

I stared for a moment before quickly averting my eyes.

Wait, why did that look weirdly suggestive? I must be losing my mind.

Unaware of my absurd thoughts, Cruello pulled his hand back.

And then—

"I can’t open it."

"Haven’t you been admitting incompetence more often lately?"

"If I make even one mistake, the whole thing will break. But if you’re fine with that, I can try."

I promptly removed Cruello from the drawer’s vicinity.

A security system this strict for a desk drawer?

That meant whatever was inside was important.

How was I supposed to open it? What method would work?

"Ah."

A good idea came to me.

At the same time, footsteps echoed in the distance.

The sound of approaching boots.

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It could be just someone passing by, but my gut told me otherwise.

Cruello started to move, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head.

Understanding my intent, he slipped behind the shelf.

I crawled under the desk, tucking myself into the shadows.

The presence outside had reached the door.

"Damn it, where did Kent go?"

A grumbling voice.

Then the door swung open.

Judging by how naturally he entered, he had to be the owner of this office.

How considerate of him to walk in by himself.

"Seriously? You didn’t even lock the door? Hey, are you just drinking yourself stupid in here? I told you to guard the office, and this is what you’re doing?"

"……."

"Completely passed out. Didn’t you just catch a rat recently? Tsk, tsk."

A man, likely in his thirties or forties, walked closer.

He was approaching the desk.

"Kids these days have no discipline. They don’t even know how to respect their superiors."

He finally came into view.

For all his talk about ‘kids these days,’ he didn’t look that old himself.

Curly brown hair, a scruffy, unkempt beard, deep frown lines between his brows. His clothes were in disarray.

From an outsider’s perspective, he’d easily be mistaken for some low-ranking grunt.

He lazily pulled out the chair and was about to sit down—then suddenly tilted his head.

"Huh?"

His gaze landed on the second drawer, which I had forgotten to close.

Shit. That was a mistake.

"Did I… leave that open?"

"No."

"Mmgh?!"

I moved immediately.

First, I clamped a hand over his mouth.

Then, twisting his arm behind his back, I slammed him against the desk.

I pressed my weight down.

Pinned.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!"

While the man thrashed, Cruello approached.

"You’re quick today."

"That’s all thanks to ho—uh, never mind. That."

I couldn’t reveal anything about holy power in front of a church member.

I waved my empty hand in a vague gesture.

Sparkle, sparkle. You get it, right?

Cruello nodded.

Good. I gestured toward the flopping man.

"Tie him up."

"Mmph! Mmph!"

His wrists and ankles were bound, and a rope gag was stuffed into his mouth.

Cruello hadn’t even touched him.

A mere flick of his fingers, and the ropes had moved on their own, wrapping around the man like dancing vines.

Magic had no limits, apparently.

After making sure no noise escaped the office, Cruello loosened the gag.

Spit dribbled onto the floor.

Ugh. Disgusting.

The man’s face was red with fury as he shouted.

"You bastards! Are you from the Imperial Secret Investigation Unit—aaagh! Ow, ow, ow!"

I had grabbed a fistful of his beard and yanked his head forward.

So, he had a low pain tolerance.

The moment I let go, he spat out angrily.

"Cowards! You resort to torture the moment you see me? You’ll never get what you want!"

"You said something about the Imperial Secret Investigation Unit. Why do you think that’s who we are?"

"Hah! You think I wouldn’t know? You must be here for that rat we caught a few days ago."

Oh? So that happened.

I let my expression shift slightly, as if I were suppressing rising anger.

Like someone from a secret investigation unit would.

"What did you do to my comrade?"

"Like I’d ever tell you—ow, ow, ow! The underground prison! He’s in the prison!"

And yet, this cult still functioned fine despite putting a loose-lipped fool like this in a high position?

For the first time, I found myself understanding Nigellia.

If I were in her place, I would’ve wanted to burn it all down too.

“A-alright! I get it, you want answers from me. Then let me make a proposal.”

“Go on.”

“I have questions too. Let’s take turns—one question each.”

I could just yank his beard again and get my answers, so why would I bother?

But I could always do that later. So I decided to play along.

“Since I made the offer, I’ll go first. Lately, we’ve had more intruders sneaking into the cult. How did you get in?”

“Your Elder told me.”

“You think I’d fall for such a pathetic attempt at sowing discord?”

“Ta-da, look at this.”

I raised my hand, flashing the snake-shaped ring on my finger.

There was no way an ordinary trinket would have a gate spell engraved on it.

As expected, the man’s jaw dropped.

He knew the cult was connected to the Elder Council—and he recognized this ring?

He wasn’t just some grunt, then.

His tone immediately turned more respectful.

“Could it be… one of the Elders has betrayed us?”

“One at a time, remember? Now it’s my turn. How do I open that drawer?”

“Hah! You think I’d actually tell you? You’ll never open it in your lifetime!”

“Oh, come on. At least put some effort into making your lines original.”

“Talking won’t get us anywhere.”

Cruello, who had been watching in silence, finally spoke up.

He was holding a straw doll—the same one I had seen in another drawer earlier.

I had also seen him use it before when creating decoys.

“These types think kindness is weakness. Inflicting pain is much more effective.”

“Hah! No matter how much you pull my beard, I will never talk!”

“You call that torture?”

Cruello murmured flatly, then casually tore the doll’s arm off.

Straw scattered everywhere.

He flicked the severed limb toward the bound man.

“For someone working here, you’re surprisingly naïve. You’ve got an underground prison, yet you’ve never seen something like this?”

Then came the other arm. The left leg. The right leg.

One by one, they were tossed aside.

The effect was chilling—not because of the doll itself, but because of how effortlessly Cruello dismantled it.

“Well, if anything, this should be an educational experience for you. I might be a little inexperienced since I’ve never actually tried this before, though.”

The doll was now just a head and a torso.

Cruello twirled the head in his fingers before tossing it lightly into the air.

With a whoosh, it burst into flames.

Ash rained down onto the bound man. His eyelids trembled violently.

“But it’s fine, isn’t it? The Black Serpent Cult believes in immortality, after all.”

“T-that’s only possible if He descends—”

“Oh, come on. When the time comes, won’t ‘He’ just bring you back? Isn’t that right, C… Code Name R.”

Since I couldn’t say his real name, I just made something up.

It seemed like the kind of thing a real secret investigator would say.

Cruello raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t question it.

Oh, this was getting fun.

“So, where should we start?”

Cruello pulled a dagger from his belt.

The smooth rasp of the blade leaving its sheath filled the room.

The cultist turned deathly pale.

The moment Cruello took a step forward, he screamed desperately—

“R-reverse pentagram!”

“Hmm?”

“You have to draw a triple-layered reverse pentagram on the drawer! First, draw a circle, then a five-pointed star inside it, and then a smaller circle that touches all five points of the star—”

“You do it.”

If one mistake could destroy whatever was inside, why should we be the ones to do it?

Since his hands were bound in front of him, there was no need to untie him.

Trembling, the cultist drew the intricate symbol onto the drawer.

The moment he finished—

Click.

A satisfying sound.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

I shoved him aside and pulled the drawer open.

Lately, everything I found had been a stack of papers, so I expected more documents.

Instead, what I found was a sealed pouch filled with pristine white granules.

“This is…”

“S-seasoning! Heh. The cult’s dietary discipline forbids strong flavors, so I secretly kept some for myself.”

“Do you put Beatitudo in your soup?”

Was this guy insane? He could at least come up with a believable excuse.

Cruello burst out laughing.

I shook my head and tucked the Beatitudo into my robe pocket.

The moment the cultist realized he’d been caught, he looked momentarily flustered.

But then—shockingly—his expression changed.

He looked smug.

For what reason?

“Hmph. I didn’t want to say this, but you should just leave that Beatitudo alone.”

“Oh?”

“It won’t do you any good. Even if you present it as evidence, the higher-ups will just dismiss it.”

“You sound confident.”

“Heh. You know as well as I do. The Empire doesn’t want to clash with us. If you submit that as evidence, it’ll be you investigators who disappear.”

“……”

“Now that you understand, untie me immediately. If you cooperate, I might even let you walk away ali—”

“Then we just won’t report it.”

“W-what?”

“Then I’ll just have to kill you.”