My Possession Became a Ghost Story - Chapter 200

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Could it be that Miss Rohanson hasn’t arrived yet because of her role as the ‘sacrifice’?

“Your Grace, Duke Hosaquin….”

Just as Rafaela was about to ask Duke Hosaquin about Evangeline’s whereabouts, before she could even broach the subject, murmuring sounds arose and the commotion grew intense. Rafaela turned her gaze toward the source of the disturbance. She wondered if Evangeline had arrived, but the identity was someone else entirely.

“His Majesty the Emperor has arrived.”

The Emperor stepped onto the carpet while being escorted.

At the Emperor’s procession, the nobles lifted their heavy bottoms from their seats, stood up, and bowed their heads. The same went for the two dukes who had been childishly fighting while nitpicking, and Mayfield’s representative.

“Raise your heads.”

The Emperor commanded. Rafaela straightened her bowed head.

At the end of her gaze, she saw an old man who looked particularly weary. Though the Emperor was remarkably healthy for his age, he didn’t feel as imposing as before. Perhaps she felt this way because the Emperor’s current location was the temple, not the imperial palace.

“The Emperor has grown old too.”

Duke Baal muttered quietly enough for only Rafaela’s ears to hear.

Of course, even though the current Emperor was nothing more than a puppet who couldn’t go against Bishop Marik’s will, the achievements she had built up didn’t disappear. Especially those who had experienced the purges of decades past would be even more unable to forget the Emperor’s authority.

The Emperor had built her foundation by spilling blood. She had usurped the throne through brutal succession competition, and even after placing the crown on her head, she had massacred those who fell out of favor to strengthen imperial power and expand her influence.

She borrowed the temple’s hand to claim that countless killings were justified. Those the Emperor killed became heretics who deserved to die.

The temple acknowledged the Emperor’s legitimacy and created reasons for the killings. The Emperor gave the temple special privileges, turning a blind eye to Bishop Marik’s heretic massacres. It was truly an ideal symbiotic relationship.

Everyone believed without doubt that such was their relationship. However, the temple began to gradually grow its influence under the Emperor’s protection, and now a mere bishop had the Emperor in his grasp, manipulating her at will. The empire’s sole ruler, who once boasted absolute power, had now conversely become subject to the temple’s control.

People speculated and criticized that the temple was trying to devour the imperial family, but everyone kept their mouths shut in front of Bishop Marik. Who would dare oppose power backed by God’s name?

Duke Baal observed the setting sun. Trapped in twilight, it seemed she couldn’t distinguish between a tail-wagging dog and a drooling wolf.

“Bitten in the throat by the hunting dog she raised.”

When the hunt is over, the dog should be killed to prevent future troubles….

Of course, the Emperor must have known this fact too. It’s just that the Emperor was too entangled with the temple to separate from it, and had given the temple more weaknesses, becoming the subordinate party.

The rising power figure followed behind the Emperor. Gazes that had been watching the Emperor shifted. Someone, surprised by an unexpected color, couldn’t help but mutter unconsciously.

“…Princess Jeremiah?”

What first caught his eye was a necklace set with a vivid emerald.

“Princess Jeremiah? That’s impossible!”

“Not Prince Oratorio, but Princess Jeremiah?”

People’s speculation about the next throne’s owner went awry, and commotion spread in an instant. The hall became as noisy as a street.

The Emperor strode forward and took his seat at the head table on the altar. The Princess also sat beside him. With the view now clear, everyone could finally see the vivid emerald necklace clearly.

The topic had been who would take Bishop Marik’s hand and wear the crown. However, most had speculated that the owner would be Oratorio.

From early on, the Emperor had shown favoritism toward Oratorio, and there were no other candidates. Of course, there was Jeremiah, but there were many opinions that the Princess was too gentle and dull by nature to be suitable as a ruler.

However, it was Princess Jeremiah who had taken the seat.

The sacrifice ceremony was like a rehearsal for the coronation. Jeremiah would ascend to the next generation’s throne.

The Emperor, who would normally demand silence, showed no reaction as if she couldn’t hear the commotion. It was a tacit expression of approval.

Tenebray glared at the bustling hall and poked the side of the knight guarding beside her.

“Count Azael, Count Azael.”

“…Yes, Your Highness.”

Jeremiah carefully pushed away Tenebray’s hand and answered.

The real Jeremiah stood guard beside Tenebray in Azael’s body, dressed in temple attire, listening to his own name being mentioned everywhere. Since being led to the imperial palace by Bishop Marik’s hand, Jeremiah had been playing the role of Tenebray’s knight.

“Do you hear that noise?”

“Noise?”

“Yes. The sound of them babbling whatever they want just because they have mouths.”

Cold eyes rolled around, briefly taking in the people. The gaze held unconcealed contempt.

Tenebray clicked her tongue in displeasure, then suddenly turned her head to look at Jeremiah.

“Is it so shocking that I’m becoming Emperor?”

Tenebray was quite puzzled inside. It wasn’t the gloomy and sinister Tenebray, but someone bearing ‘Jeremiah’s’ name ascending to the throne.

Didn’t people love and adore Jeremiah? At least everyone Tenebray had seen so far loved Jeremiah. So if ‘Jeremiah’ ascended to the throne, shouldn’t they bless her with joy?

However, the people in the hall couldn’t easily accept the fact that the next Emperor would be ‘Jeremiah’ and were quite confused.

Seeing Azael, Bishop Marik’s guard, attached to the Princess’s side, some worried about the future, thinking Bishop Marik’s influence on the next throne would be considerable.

The hall was noisy with people chattering restlessly. From their incessant babbling tongues, Oratorio’s name occasionally popped up.

Hearing Oratorio’s name, Tenebray scowled deeply.

“They must not have heard the rumors that Oratorio has disappeared. For people with such loose tongues, they’re all so deaf….”

Tenebray’s voice was louder than expected, so Jeremiah glanced at the Emperor sitting nearby. The Emperor showed no interest, as if Tenebray’s voice was buried in the noise and couldn’t be heard.

Oratorio had scars on his face. It was the real Azael from the past who had left the unhealable scars. Since the face wouldn’t heal even with holy water, the Emperor, who valued public appearance, would never put Oratorio on an official stage.

Jeremiah’s stomach somehow ached. It was because he remembered when Azael had stabbed Jeremiah’s stomach. Wounds made by demons never heal. When their bodies switched, the wound disappeared, but only the pain remained, staying as phantom pain without healing.

Those who had supported Oratorio felt chills on the back of their necks and began looking for ways to survive. Though Jeremiah’s nature was said to be good, no one knew how someone who gained power might change.

Some speculated that the recent change in Jeremiah’s personality was actually because she had become unrestrained after being designated as Crown Prince. One count who had early on aligned himself with Oratorio even bit his nails, worrying about how to handle the situation.

The nobles present began calculating their own interests. Tenebray looked around at them and snorted.

“They’re all so stupid, when it was the Bishop who chose me.”

She had killed the father who abused Tenebray, stolen the name from her clueless and innocent sister, and crushed the face of her brother who had nothing but looks. The one remaining anxiety factor, her uncle, would serve his purpose at today’s sacrifice ceremony.

All of this was thanks to Bishop Marik extending a helping hand to Tenebray. Therefore, Tenebray too had to perform her assigned role well. Tenebray thought of the pure white figure who must have received a role as important as her own.

“That woman didn’t come, I see?”

“Who do you mean?”

“The woman who was captured for the crime of killing my father.”

And the nemesis personally chosen by the respected Bishop.

Reading Evangeline from those words, Jeremiah also looked around the hall. As she said, Evangeline was still nowhere to be seen. Jeremiah was greatly flustered. He had recently heard from the ‘rats’ that Evangeline would attend.

And before Evangeline could arrive at the hall, the clock hands didn’t wait and moved. Both hands pointed upward toward the sky. The priests who confirmed the time rang the bell tower. It was the bell announcing noon.

When the time came, Bishop Marik revealed himself.

“It’s Bishop Marik.”

“It’s the Bishop.”

Bishop Marik wore nun’s robes even at the sacrifice ceremony. He didn’t dress up specially just because it was in front of an audience. Some people admired this appearance.

Bishop Marik walked up with the bell sound as background music, reaching the altar before all twelve bells finished ringing. A halo of light descended upon Bishop Marik.

The sight briefly looked as if he was wearing a brilliant golden crown. Someone sighed at the seemingly sacred spectacle. The priests and holy knights in the hall, as well as the devoted followers among the nobles, never stopped being moved while watching Bishop Marik.

Bishop Marik looked up at the sky for a moment.

“What is the Bishop looking at?”

People wondered and followed Bishop Marik’s example, then reflexively covered their eyes and teared up. Jeremiah also unconsciously turned his gaze and nearly went blind.

This was because there was a circular window cut in the ceiling above the altar, with sunlight shining directly down. Bishop Marik could look at the sky without wavering entirely thanks to the veil.

Some who admired Bishop Marik closed their eyes and only pretended to look at the sky to imitate that behavior. It was truly ridiculous conduct.

Bishop Marik looked at the sun until all the bells finished ringing. Only after the bells rang twelve times did Bishop Marik lower his head.

“We cannot look at the sky with our naked eyes.”

Bishop Marik opened his mouth gently. His voice without inflection was soft and benevolent. Those who had been raising their heads to look at the sky flinched and blushed.

“Since we cannot see with the naked eye, there may be people who don’t believe in the sun’s existence.”

Bishop Marik didn’t call them foolish. No reproach could be felt in his gentle tone. It was an attitude that couldn’t be seen as belonging to someone with merciless hands that massacred heretics.

“But sunlight actually exists. Above all, it warmly embraces us. Holy water is the same. The Sun God loves us and sent down holy water to prove His affection.”

In step with Bishop Marik’s words, the priests moved busily. Holy water and a sword for the ceremony were prepared on the altar. Those who weren’t priests had no opportunity to see the holy sword, so they couldn’t immediately recognize that it was a holy sword.

Bishop Marik grasped the sword. The holy sword was well-maintained with a sharp edge. It was thanks to thorough maintenance since it was used at every baptism ceremony. Bishop Marik reflected his image on the gleaming blade and continued speaking.

“But just once, there was someone who tried to betray the sun.”

Perhaps because of the sunlight shining down from the sky, it was difficult to look away from Bishop Marik.

“The arrogant one committed the sin of rebelling and opposing the sun, so we must rightfully atone for Lea’s sin, reflect, and be vigilant.”

The story Bishop Marik was telling was a past anecdote and about the background of why the sacrifice ceremony was held. The words he calmly recited were exactly like someone reading stage directions before entering a play.

“The sacrifice ceremony is held to convey apology and gratitude to Lady Rahel.”

Holy water and the holy sword, and finally what went up on the altar was the sacrifice playing the role of ‘Lea’. Most called it the offering.

Bishop Marik brought the sharp blade to the offering’s neck. Of course, it was merely a performative show, but the viewers unconsciously swallowed dry saliva.

Of course, the offering at the sacrifice ceremony didn’t actually shed blood. It was a religious event after all, and its foundation was in sacred drama. On a good day with noble guests present, blood couldn’t be spilled.

So the offering was dealt with after the sacrifice ceremony ended.

Therefore, naturally the role of the offering was decided to be those who deserved death. Looking at historical records, the offering was sometimes a death row prisoner, sometimes a prisoner from an enemy country, and most often a heretic.

Then the current offering should have been Evangeline Rohanson.

It was an important role that Bishop Marik had personally invited using ‘Saraka’. However, what ascended to the altar was not a pure white girl.

With eyes covered and mouth gagged with cloth, it was difficult to identify the person. However, through the appearance, at least the gender could be clearly distinguished. The person was a man.

The one most shaken by seeing the offering was Rafaela.

Rafaela almost bit her tongue. No, perhaps she had already bitten it, as a metallic taste filled her mouth. Why was that person on the altar? Even with eyes covered and mouth blocked, it would be stranger not to recognize who it was.

“Captain….”

Rafaela quickly covered her mouth as her voice involuntarily escaped.

Gabriel was the sacrifice.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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