Sister, I Hit You Because There Was a Ghost Behind You - Chapter 5

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 5. The Waltz Beats in Three-Four Time—Until Death
“You’ve arrived? You’re a bit late. I finished cleaning already.”
“This… what on earth is…?”
Demian Lyart felt vertigo wash over him. The delicate young lady he had come to rescue was nowhere to be found. She was a beast.
“Assassins. They appear to have been sent by Laura.”
Violetta casually shoved the iron mace under the bed, then scurried over and positioned herself in front of Demian Lyart.
“Anyway, welcome. I was just about to call for you.”
“…Pardon?”
“I exerted myself a moment ago and my energy is depleted.”
She peeled away the face mask and tossed it into the waste bin with a flick. Her face, revealed beneath the moonlight, was so luminous and pristine that one could scarcely believe it belonged to someone who had just reduced three people to near-corpses.
“I need to recharge.”
Violetta slipped inside without hesitation. Before he could protest, she seized both of Demian Lyart’s hands.
“…!”
“Ahh… yes, this. This refreshing sensation.”
She pressed his hand against her cheek and rubbed it gently.
Like a cat intoxicated by catnip.
Demian Lyart’s heart plummeted. Her soft cheek met his calloused palm. The sweet aloe fragrance emanating from her overwhelmed the metallic stench of blood.
“V-Violetta. What is this…?”
“Just stay still. One of the spirits earlier spat poison and my eyes stung a bit. Your holy power is the perfect antidote, you see.”
She closed her eyes entirely and buried her face in his hand. She was utterly defenseless. The savagery from moments before had vanished without a trace. In her nightclothes, she appeared so small and…
And honestly, rather endearing.
‘…Dangerous.’
Demian Lyart sensed it instinctively.
More so than those assassins, this woman before him was far more lethal to him.
* * *
The following night. Nocturne, the most exclusive social club in the Imperial Capital.
A secret masquerade among the nobility was underway this evening. Yet the scene before my eyes was nothing short of hell itself.
The ornate chandeliers appeared as glistening masses of bleeding entrails, and the crimson carpet beneath my feet writhed like a demon’s undulating tongue.
“Loosen your grip a little, partner? At this rate, you’ll snap my forearm.”
I whispered upward at the man whose arm was clamped around mine.
Demian Lyart, clad in a pitch-black tailcoat and silver half-mask, cut such a striking figure that his suit seemed on the verge of splitting at the seams.
The only problem was that he stood rigid as a beast desperate to draw his blade at any moment.
“…Had I known what manner of place this was, I would not have come. I can scarcely breathe.”
Demian Lyart surveyed the ballroom with an expression of utter revulsion.
The Heretic Inquisition’s acute senses had detected the viscous, ominous miasma saturating this space.
“Bear with it. We came to catch something big, didn’t we? This isn’t a party—it’s a demon’s buffet. We’re here to overturn their table.”
I confirmed the presence of my weapon hidden within the dress’s side slit—a three-section staff with excellent flexibility and satisfying impact.
Just then, the orchestra shifted from their current piece into a brisk waltz.
My eyes gleamed. The perfect rhythm to begin the hunt.
“Do you know how to dance, your grace?”
“I know the basic steps, but…”
“That’s enough. Though today’s steps might be a bit different from usual?”
I led him toward the center of the dance floor.
I placed my hand on his shoulder while my eyes rapidly scanned for targets. To my right, beneath the hem of the Countess’s dress, I spotted a dark, rat-shaped demon lurking in the shadows.
“Turn right.”
“Pardon? So suddenly?”
“Just turn! Now!”
I yanked his hand and spun us roughly to the right. In one fluid, graceful turn, my sharp stiletto heel came down precisely on the edge of the Countess’s voluminous skirt.
Or rather, on the tail of the rat demon hiding beneath it.
The demon shrieked in agony before dissolving into black smoke. Demian Lyart looked bewildered, but I didn’t stop.
“Next, behind us. Four o’clock!”
I practically dragged Demian Lyart across the dance floor.
To everyone else’s eyes, it must have looked like a passionate, dazzling waltz between lovers lost in romance.
But in reality, it was a rhythm game of demon-stomping disguised as dance steps.
Thump, snap, snap. Crunch, squeal, shriek.
The demons’ screams harmonized perfectly with the music’s beat.
“Miss Violetta, your dancing is… rather too vigorous. People are staring.”
“Let them stare. We’re madly in love right now.”
Then, abruptly, the music stopped.
The ballroom’s lights shifted to a deep crimson, and a man with an unsettling aura appeared on the stage. He was the club’s owner—and today’s primary target, the host of an intermediate-class demon.
“Welcome, lost little lambs.”
The man slowly removed his mask.
The crowd cheered, but my eyes saw something different: sagging facial skin and massive goat horns bursting through his forehead. The goat demon’s head glowed with crimson eyes, fixing its gaze directly on us.
[What a stench… such an irritating, repulsive holy aura.]
As the Goat Demon’s voice echoed, the brainwashed nobles surrounding us began closing in like zombies, their eyes vacant and unfocused.
Demian Lyart instinctively stepped in front of me, a low growl rumbling from his throat.
“…It was a trap. Damn it, I should have brought a sword.”
“It’s not a trap—we walked into the tiger’s den of our own accord. Do you know what that means?”
“This is no time for riddles!”
“To catch a tiger, you must enter its den.”
I gripped my three-section staff in one hand while roughly seizing Demian Lyart’s necktie with the other.
Caught off guard, he lost his balance and stumbled toward me.
I rose onto my toes, bringing my lips close to his ear, and whispered.
“Let me recharge. That one looks pretty strong.”
Demian Lyart, flustered, asked back.
“…What?”
Smack.
Without hesitation, I pressed my lips firmly against his cheek.
My body possesses a unique constitution that absorbs the holy power of others and converts it into energy.
When thin, pulse-thrumming skin or lips make direct contact rather than simple embraces or hand-holding, the absorption speed and efficiency increase exponentially. The more intimate the physical contact—where another’s body heat and life force are most concentrated—the more powerfully the conduit of holy power opens.
It was essentially a rapid charging port.
Through the cheek where her lips had touched mine, an enormous surge of holy energy flooded into my body with an electric tingle.
Demian’s pupils trembled violently, as though an earthquake had struck them.
His face flushed crimson beneath the mask.
“Y-you…! What are you doing…!”
“There, all set. Let’s go, partner!”
An immense torrent of divine power surged through my veins.
Energy roiled and churned throughout my entire body. I spun the three-section staff ablaze with holy flames and charged headlong into the horde of shambling zombies.
“Aktan! Start the music again! The most energetic and deafening track you’ve got!”
Crash—! My elegant and merciless hunt had begun anew.

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