My Possession Became a Ghost Story - Chapter 237

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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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First, I need to send Harut away.

“Priest Harut. It looks like you need to treat your hand.”

“Pardon?”

“Go get it treated. Quickly.”

I urged Harut on. Though puzzled, Harut nodded. Having said everything he needed to say, perhaps finding it too painful to witness his mentor’s further fall into ruin, he left without complaint. It was fortunate that the holy water the knights had brought was running low.

Only after Harut had gone far enough that he couldn’t hear my voice did I look at Bishop Marik. I absolutely couldn’t ask this question in front of Harut.

“Bishop Marik.”

As I stepped closer, I could feel Bishop Marik’s body stiffen. Perhaps he was tense, wondering what I intended to discuss after sending Harut away.

I moved close to Bishop Marik and whispered in his ear.

A thought suddenly occurred to me.

The secret behind Bishop Marik’s maintained youth. Perhaps there wasn’t any special method at all…

“…Are you, by any chance, Saraka?”

What if he was simply a different person altogether?

The moment I finished speaking, Bishop Marik’s breathing stopped. When I pulled back and saw his face, I knew instantly.

“…So it’s true.”

I had never seen a person with such a face filled with despair.

Even when I had played all sorts of tricks on Bishop Marik, even when his entire body was engulfed in flames, even when he held a blade to his own throat, this person who had only been filled with rage and thoughts of cutting me down was now acting as if his breath had been cut off just from hearing a single name.

“Ah, you…!”

Bishop Marik couldn’t even compose his expression. This must be what someone’s face looks like when witnessing the end of the world.

“Saraka.”

“No, no…!”

Seeing him reject his own name, I recalled the past when he had introduced himself as Saraka at Viscount Hükel’s mansion. I had cursed him for using the name of a child he had killed, but it turned out to be the opposite.

Saraka thrashed about as if having a seizure. The knights looked at me as if wondering what on earth we had discussed in that brief moment, but I couldn’t answer them.

This was for Harut’s sake, who had helped me despite being a priest. It was truly fortunate that I had sent Harut far away so he couldn’t hear. If Harut learned of Saraka’s true identity, he would probably never recover.

Harut had assumed Saraka was long dead. Heretics were usually executed immediately, and he hadn’t been able to see her face again after their one encounter.

But what if she had actually survived and continued living imprisoned in the basement? Since Harut didn’t know the way to the basement, he would never have encountered Saraka again. It was understandable that he would misunderstand.

All those times when he referred to himself in third person as if speaking of someone else – he was actually referring to ‘Bishop Marik.’ The puzzle pieces that had been jumbling in my head finally clicked into place.

“I’m… Bishop Marik. Bishop Marik is me…”

Saraka muttered as if brainwashing herself. No, she was probably actually brainwashed.

I suspected that the one who had raised Saraka this way was definitely the real Bishop Marik. Young Saraka couldn’t have chosen this path herself. She probably wasn’t given any choice to begin with.

Imprisoned in the basement under Bishop Marik, who regarded heretics as beasts, enduring abuse for a long time… she would have been raised according to Bishop Marik’s preferences.

“I’m not some filthy… heretic…”

While viewing herself, a heretic, as the most abhorrent thing of all.

“The only way for heretics to atone for their sins is to become fertilizer for the sun.”

All those words expressing hatred for heretics were probably what Bishop Marik had said to Saraka.

Now I could guess why she had shown jealousy toward Harut and occasional shame. She must have been jealous of Harut, who was beloved by Bishop Marik, unlike herself who was being abused. That’s why she felt so miserable when pitied by that same Harut.

“…I… am.”

Saraka was like a wind-up doll whose spring had unwound and stopped moving. Muttering in terror, she seemed more afraid of having her identity discovered than of dying.

Seeing her loathe herself so much, I could understand why Saraka had imitated Bishop Marik.

I did feel sorry for her, wondering how much gaslighting Bishop Marik must have done to make her like this. But that didn’t lessen Saraka’s crimes.

Killing people under the charge of heresy. Laying hands on the people of Rohanson Manor, stabbing Jeremiah, torturing Jelly and Gabriel – it was undoubtedly Saraka standing before me who had done all this. I wasn’t a saint who forgave others out of pity. After all, Evangeline Rohanson is a villainess.

So then, where is the real Bishop Marik, who must be the root of all evil?

With Saraka crying out so desperately, where could he have gone? Surely she didn’t already kill the person who abused her in revenge?

Ah!

Come to think of it, Rico had told me that the person in the basement was practically a living corpse. I had been puzzled about why the cruel Bishop Marik would bother keeping a living person imprisoned in the basement…

I had speculated that Jeremiah was Bishop Marik’s family member because his entire body was covered in burns. There happens to be someone who comes to mind when I think of burn scars.

“Is Bishop Marik the one currently in the basement?”

“…Evangeline Rohanson…!”

Sharp ears indeed. Saraka must have caught my muttering.

Whether my guess was correct, Saraka’s unfocused eyes suddenly snapped to me. Her reaction confirmed it. That was the real Bishop Marik.

I had thought Bishop Marik’s weakness might be hidden in the basement, but I never expected him to be there himself. I raised my voice.

“As Priest Harut testified, let’s go to the basement to confirm what evil acts Bishop Marik committed while hiding from God’s eyes.”

“Then let’s hurry to the basement!”

“Right, right. Whether it’s false accusations or not, checking first should be the priority.”

Most nodded in agreement.

“Then to Bishop Marik’s chamber…”

“No!”

A piercing scream cut off my words. Saraka shrieked as if possessed by evil. It was a desperate cry like grasping at a last lifeline.

“Have you all lost your minds, deceived by the wicked demon’s silver tongue? You want to investigate the room as you please? No. Without permission, you absolutely cannot enter my room. Absolutely not!”

Saraka shouted, filled with venom.

My room… Was that room Bishop Marik’s chamber, or the basement where Saraka had grown up?

The knights tried to silence Saraka, but her resistance was even more violent. Her fierce struggling was so intense that even the knights holding Bishop Marik’s arms were overwhelmed. The contrast was even more stark since she had been in a daze just moments before.

“Evangeline Rohanson, those who follow this demon’s commands and enter my room will all have their feet cut off and must crawl on their ankles! They’ll have their eyes gouged out for the sin of seeing illusions, and both ears cut off for the sin of listening to wicked words. If we bind their tongues for the sin of spouting lies, they won’t be able to utter any more nonsense about this Marik being a demon!”

Despite no longer having such power, there was force in Saraka’s cries. As if she would accomplish it by wielding a blade herself, or if her hands were useless, by biting with her teeth.

Indeed, the people who had seemed ready to rush to the basement were now hesitant at Saraka’s intimidation. The more ferocious Saraka became, the more welcome it was for me.

Now at least no one will spout nonsense about Bishop Marik being benevolent.

Someone made a groaning sound, perhaps imagining themselves in that state.

Finally, Saraka burst out at the top of her lungs.

“I am… I am! Marik, God’s chosen one!”

Though there was no trace of tears, to me at least, Saraka sounded like she was wailing.

Unlike me, who felt Saraka’s threats were merely final desperate struggles, the people showed a passive attitude different from before, as if terrified. That’s how chilling Saraka’s words were.

“…If Bishop Marik is really such a… demon-like being, wouldn’t it be dangerous to go to the basement…?”

Having vividly witnessed Bishop Marik brutally murdering heretics right before their eyes, I could understand their terror.

“I’ll go take a look.”

Then an unexpected volunteer appeared.

“Bishop Jabaniya!”

Who is this? It’s Jabaniya, who receives infinite trust from our Gabriel!

Rafaela, with a sullen expression, followed behind Jabaniya. Come to think of it, Gabriel had sent Rafaela to bring Bishop Jabaniya.

How long ago did she go to fetch him, and he’s only coming now? I’m certain Jabaniya was waiting patiently, calculating when to make his dramatic entrance. What a cunning old fox.

But his timing was good.

“I shall check Marik’s room myself.”

Jabaniya solemnly declared as if he had decided to make some great sacrifice.

There are no traps in the basement, and he obviously knows there’s nothing much there, yet he’s putting on airs. As I glared at Jabaniya for no reason, I spotted Rafaela making the same flounder-like expression as me.

With even Gabriel welcoming him, only Rafaela and I view Jabaniya unfavorably. Most people clung to him in jubilation as if seeing a savior.

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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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