high-quality black cloak he was wearing quivered along with him. There was a bowler hat perched atop his head, and his face was hidden behind a gaudy mask. It was covered in silver, jewels, and goose feathers, no doubt to capture the attention of any who looked at it and get them to forget the rest of his appearance. However... "Oh, how long I've dreamed of this day... Why, you're even more beautiful than I imagined! How splendiferous!" "Ah. Is that so? Goodness me." ...his voice was obnoxiously shrill. He could dress himself up however much he liked, but it meant nothing when he had such a distinctive characteristic right there in the open. Elisabeth looked at the man with lifeless eyes. She hadn't expected the person waiting for her to be quite such an idiot. The two of them were standing in the forest down beneath the desolate hill her castle stood on. It was the exact spot that had been written on the parchment. Elisabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose. Her head hurt. "You wake a person at this ungodly hour, then have the nerve to say I'm 'gracing you with my presence'? If every word that comes out of your mouth is going to be this insipid, I've half a mind to slice you in two where you stand." The man stiffened up. Apparently, he'd hoped for them to get off on a better foot. A few seconds later, he feigned having to cough, then let out a questionable laugh and tried once more. "Hyoh-heh, I suppose that's the Torture Princess for you. That pride, that arrogance...how fitting for the one who will guide us and share our path!" "What? No, a rebuttal such as that hardly scratches the surface of the Torture Princess's arrogance. Good heavens, how tepid did you think I was going to be? What are you, some wet-behind-the-ears noble? If the Church found out you were saying such things, they wouldn't just stop at seizing your assets, you know. They'd subject you to a full-on inquisition. And looking at you, that's not an experience you'd much relish..." Elisabeth put a quick damper on the man's excitement. He shook violently. However, he rallied once more. He then let out another laugh. Elisabeth almost made a quip about the limited range of his responses, but she decided it wouldn't be worth the trouble. Instead, she shifted her gaze behind him. Waiting in the trees was a black-lacquered carriage. Its horses' glossy coats were the same hue, and his lamp-carrying driver was clad all in black as well. At a glance, it was impossible to tell what family the man belonged to. On further inspection, however, the relief of the carriage's coat of arms was still identifiable even though it had been painted over. Not buying a new carriage when one was trying to travel incognito was an amateurish mistake. Everything about the man seemed downright farcical. His is a common type...too common, I daresay. And a headache each time they pop up. As Elisabeth muttered internally, the man continued his outlandish hyoh-ing and heh-ing. He seemed to have little intention of ever getting to the point. Elisabeth spoke in a tired tone in hopes of getting the ball rolling. "So can I leave now?" "Of course not!" "Then I shall ask you thusâ€”are you a demon worshipper? An organization that stands against the Church? Or perhaps the leader of a religion all your own?" "O-oh my, to think you'd hit the nail on the head with such accuracy..." "What? Given the way you delivered your message, it'd have been odder for me not to have figured it out. No matter, though." Elisabeth let out a long sigh. At this point, there was little meaning in getting fed up. This wasn't the first time she'd been called for in this way. The Torture Princess was a pawn of the Church, tasked with killing the fourteen demons and slated for execution. Yet even so, there were no small number of heretics and blasphemers who still saw her as someone to be idolized. To them, the way she'd killed her people in gross defiance of God and her battles with the knights were feats to be lauded, and the atrocities she'd committed at the Plain of Skewers were considered particularly praiseworthy. Now, though, that ideal woman had been reduced to a lapdog in service to God and the Church. Some of them refused to accept that fact, and as such, they came calling on her from time to time. The man before her was probably no different. He bowed as he began speaking once more. "It would seem I don't need to introduce myself, I see... Very well! Then let's talk, you and I. As you surmised, we stand against the coercive brainwashing the Church conducts on the masses, and we hold demons in the highest regard in their stead." "I don't doubt it for a moment. You're as black a lot as they come; that much is clear enough from your garb. You people do love that color, don't you?" "The way they shout for us to believe in God and the Saint, the way they insist their doctrine is the one true creed...it's unnatural, isn't it? And their legends are all full of holes. The more research we do, the more we find to question in their dogma. But, ah, you're the Torture Princess. Surely, I don't need to tell you about how twisted the Church is." "True enough. The specifics of the Church's legends are too vague to warrant the blind faith they ask for, and the accounts of the Saint vary dramatically from book to book. Between that, some of their more suspect inquisitors, and the very existence of saints, the Church has no shortage of notable perversions. So?" "So it's our noble duty to rectify the failings that come from their unjust control of the world! And to do that, we have to offer our faith and devotion to demons, the beings who stand against not just the Church, but against God himself!" "Well now, that doesn't make a lick of sense. God proved Himself unworthy, so you turned immediately to Diablo and its brood? You're simply exchanging one extreme for another. But no matter, that. Let me then ask the question that bears asking. That is the reason I answered your insipid summons and came all the way here, after all." Elisabeth let out yet another sigh. She closed her eyes, then opened them. When she did, they gleamed crimson, and she spoke in the stern tone of a seasoned interrogator. "That meat was fresh. Were they yet living when you sliced it off?" "Ah, so you enjoyed our little present!" Elisabeth's tone was now as cold as ice, but the man didn't seem to notice the change. His mask gleamed ominously as he enthusiastically went on. "Our group holds rituals, which involve human sacrifices, to deepen our bonds and to further blasphemy against God. We take the offering alive and make beautiful artwork out of them. Just like youâ€”just like the Torture Princess!" The corner of Elisabeth's mouth twitched upward. The man still didn't notice. She shook her head from side to side. Then her demeanor did a complete about-face, and she curled her lips into a sweet smile. "I see. So you claim to be imitating me, of all things... Very well, then. You lot possess skill enough to craft a familiar, but you lack the strength to summon an authentic demon. Yet though you have no such entity at hand, you offer up pain to them nonetheless. But even that failed to distinguish yourselves among other such groups, so despite my being shackled by the Church as I am, you wish to install me as your figurehead. Is that about the gist of it?" "Goodness, it's like you know us already." "'Tis the desire of most who come seeking an audience with me and asking for my cooperationâ€”but very well. First, I must confirm something. Bring me to this meeting place of yours, and I shall see for myself if you've prepared a throne befitting the Torture Princess." "Y-you're serious? You'll become our sponsorâ€”our figurehead?" "Enough blathering. 'Tis rude to make a lady repeat herself." Elisabeth gently raised her fair hand, and the man extended his in kind. His fingers were tremblingâ€”perhaps in fear, and perhaps in delight. Ignoring how ridiculous he looked, Elisabeth elegantly took his hand in hers. Then out of the blue, she yanked him toward her, bringing her lips to his ear and letting out a sultry whisper. "If I deem you worthy, then I shall take your dull destinies and forever alter them." Her words were as sweet as honey and as piercing as venom. The man jolted. Then, fearing she might change her mind, he hurried over to the carriage with her hand still in his. The driver dutifully opened the door. Elisabeth boarded with a gallant leap, then majestically plopped down on the leather seat within. The man excitedly sat down beside her. Without sparing him a glance, Elisabeth crossed her legs. All the while, the catlike smile on her face never faded. With a crack of the whip, the horses set off, and the carriage began moving. The moment it did, though, its frame rocked in a peculiar manner. The driver tilted his head to the side a little. However, the irregularity didn't persist, so it must have just hit a rock or something. The carriage continued on. The dawn was yet unbroken. Under the cover of night, Elisabeth and the others quickly made their way through the forest. The sound of water dripping echoed out. Cramped earthen walls were faintly visible in the small area illuminated around them. The driver at the front of their group was holding a lantern, and each time it shook, the ground faintly shone. It was wet with pooled water, and the flame's light reflecting off the water's surface made it look like the land was burning. Elisabeth and the others trampled that golden flame underfoot as they advanced down the corridor. After passing through the village that had been destroyed by the Knight, the group had reached a dilapidated house, then passed through it and gone underground. The building, as Elisabeth discovered, had originally been built as a noble's suburban villa. Its owner was a devout member of the Church, and the villa's main building was connected to an attached chapel. And hidden beneath that chapel's altar was a staircase leading underground. It appeared to be set up that way so people could move between the main building and the annex in case some sort of emergency happened. However, it was unclear how devout someone could really claim to be if they went out of their way to build an altar with a secret passageway beneath. Elisabeth had frowned, and the man, sensing her doubts, had answered them. "The manor's owner, fool that he was, was a devout believer like his father and grandfather before him. However, his son rebelled against their pious lifestyle and gave himself to a life of debauchery. When the debts he'd incurred began coming due, he scraped together the last of his money to build this as an escape route to flee from his debtors. Not that it did him much good, mind you; they caught up with him in no time. Later, when the debtors started selling off his assets, I discovered the manor's secret and ended up purchasing it. I left the building mostly as is, but I completely renovated the hidden chamber. I think you'll like what I've done with it." After he explained the situation, they set off down the dark underground tunnel. The passageway seemed straight enough, but even so, there was no end in sight. Elisabeth sighed for the umpteenth time. "We've still yet to reach it? This hidden chamber or whatnot