The Doll and the Black Apostle
The moment Orsini fell, Canna left the inn without looking back.
It's over now.
She had fed him poison.
She had been certain it would work. After all, she knew he could never refuse her.
I took the antidote beforehand, so I'm fine, but he... he'll probably...
Die.
Suddenly, Canna's steps halted.
It felt strange. Why had she stopped just now?
What did it matter if that bastard died?
She started walking again almost immediately.
Well. He might survive.
Just as the sleeping incense had no effect on Sylvien, the poison might not be fully effective on him either. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would live.
Perhaps one day she would regret not making sure to end Orsini's life for good.
Canna recalled the childhood she had spent with him.
The boy who had grabbed her as she tried to run and slapped her across the face.
"Trash like you should just die!"
And her own trembling voice, begging for mercy.
"I-I'm sorry, Orsini. Please don't hit me. I'm sorry."
Back then, Orsini had terrified her.
Canna let out a cold, hollow laugh. To think that same Orsini had been reduced to something like a dog.
Especially today—he had been so ridiculous that watching him felt like sitting through a comedy.
She looked down at her own hand. That foolish man hadn't even been able to hold it properly.
He had touched it as if it were a glass flower that might shatter at any moment—pitifully, carefully, with heartbreaking caution.
He must have noticed.
From the very instant she reached for his hand first, he would have realized she had an ulterior motive. Yet he hadn't let go.
How utterly stupid.
The great Orsini, destroyed by a woman.
And not just any woman—the very one he had once despised, the one he had even believed was his sister. Both Orsini and Calian were truly fools.
It's over now.
Canna sighed and sat down on a park bench. From her travel bag, she pulled out a red leather card case. Inside were sheets of paper covered in spell circles from ancient alchemy.
She selected two of them.
One would generate a powerful gust of wind.
The other would create sharp shards of ice.
Used together, they could turn the ice fragments into arrows that would pierce like a volley of deadly bolts.
But I don't want to kill anyone else.
Canna lifted her head with somber eyes.
The person who had been tailing her since earlier had finally revealed himself. A black cloak fluttered in the wind.
"...I had a feeling."
Canna frowned.
That voice just now.
"It really was you."
This voice.
She had heard it somewhere before.
No, but that couldn't be...
"Canna, daughter of the Holy Spirit."
The man raised his hand and slowly lowered the hood that had been pulled low over his face.
The moment she saw his face, Canna nearly screamed.
It was a face she knew.
"...How are you...?"
Scenes flashed through her mind in rapid succession.
Pailon Island. The madness. Rye bread. Rachel. The burning at the stake.
And then—
"Jerome?"
Rachel's knight escort. A Black Apostle. The man who had died at Raphael's hands.
That very man was now standing before her.
But hadn't he definitely died?
She had clearly witnessed Raphael's hand piercing straight through his stomach!
At that moment, Jerome smiled softly.
"This is our first meeting, Lady Canna."
"...What?"
"It is an honor to meet you."
First meeting? Canna stared at him in blank confusion. First meeting? What did he mean by...?
Ah. I see.
In the next instant, everything clicked into place. Realization washed over her like a tidal wave.
So that's how it was. Of course.
"The one I met was your doll."
"Correct."
The person she had encountered on Pailon Island—the one who had died at Raphael's hands—had been a doll.
Just as her own doll had deceived Calian, Claude, and everyone else, Jerome had done the same.
It was a doll.
A chill ran down her spine. She hadn't suspected a thing. She hadn't noticed anything strange at all.
But how?
Creating dolls was one of the highest-level techniques in ancient alchemy. Did that mean there was someone else in this world besides her who could use it?
"What a truly remarkable coincidence. I never imagined I would find you here, Lady Canna."
Jerome smiled politely. The man before her was different from the Jerome in her memories. He was far more courteous and refined than that doll had been.
"It seems the goddess of fortune has smiled upon me."
"You wanted to see me?"
"Of course. After all, I was the one who ordered my doll to bring you to me."
That was right. Back then, Jerome had tried to take her somewhere.
But he had collapsed after being hit with her defensive drug, and when he woke up, he had died at Raphael's hands.
"Unfortunately, the Holy Spirit's successor interfered..."
Canna narrowed her eyes. What had this man just said?
"Who interfered?"
"The Holy Spirit's successor. That defrocked priest who follows you around."
"What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"
Raphael being the Holy Spirit's successor? That was ridiculous.
Canna's mood soured instantly at his absurd claim.
"You weren't even there. What would you know?"
"I was connected to my doll. Whatever it saw, I could see as well."
"..."
Canna was at a loss for words.
In truth, according to the ancient alchemy texts, exceptionally well-crafted dolls could form a link with their creator.
However, even Canna had never been able to produce a doll of that caliber.
Who the hell is this guy?
Who could create a doll of such quality?
No, wait a second.
If what Jerome was saying was true...
If he had been connected to the doll and had witnessed Raphael killing it...
And if Raphael truly was the Holy Spirit's successor...
Wait. Just wait.
Her head was spinning.
Then what was Raphael's relationship to the Holy Spirit—her own biological father?
The Great Temple only permitted marriages between close relatives. If he was the successor to the one who led that organization, the chances were high that he was a direct descendant.
If that's the case, then Raphael and I...
A sharp shock pierced through her skull. Her mind went completely white, but she clenched her teeth and forced herself to regain control.
No. Not now. This wasn't the time to think about that.
She shoved every disturbing thought aside and glared at him.
"So? Why did you want to see me? What's your business?"
"My business, you ask."
The corners of Jerome's mouth curved upward. His face was filled with deep, unmistakable joy.
"Would you come with me?"
"Why would I?"
"I am a Black Apostle."
"I know."
"You are a Black Apostle as well."
Canna stared at him with an expressionless face.
Black Apostles. The group known for worshipping the Black Fog. But...
I'm a Black Apostle?
Of all the ridiculous things she had ever heard in her life, this had to be the most absurd. Canna didn't even feel it was worth responding to.
Then Jerome suddenly asked,
"Do you know the origin of alchemy?"
What kind of nonsense was this now?
Canna frowned in irritation, but he continued without concern, speaking rapidly.
"Though it is called alchemy, it is actually a far greater art. It is a mysterious power capable of changing the properties of matter and creating something new."
"So what?"
"It is not a power that belongs to this world. It is knowledge and power from another world."
"I know that. Why are you telling me this?"
"Do you truly believe there would be no side effects when forcibly bringing something from another world into this one?"
She couldn't understand what he was trying to say.
But one thing was certain—it felt ominous. She didn't want to hear any more.
It seemed like something truly terrifying was about to come out.
"In the process of forcibly pulling things from another world, this world develops cracks. It splits open with jagged lines."
"...And?"
"Through those cracks, foreign substances flow in. Sometimes things from other worlds spill out. One of those phenomena is what we call the Black Fog."
Canna bit her lip hard. Jerome continued in a gentle, coaxing tone.
"In other words, every time alchemy is performed, the cracks in the world increase little by little. And through them, the Black Fog seeps in."
This uncomfortable truth.
"The Black Apostles, who are known for revering the Black Fog—they are all alchemists."
Jerome smiled brightly and pointed at her.
"Just like you."
Damn it. A curse lodged in her throat.
Canna clenched her fist tightly. She glared at Jerome as if she wanted to kill him. But she couldn't say a word.
"In that sense, Lady Canna, you could be called the strongest Black Apostle currently in existence."
Jerome knelt before her. Looking up with eyes full of reverence, he said,
"Since you inherited your mother's blood, you must possess her talent. She too was a Black Apostle."
Ah. Mom.
"It was Lady Seon-hui who created my doll."
Mom.
Mom. Mom.
Canna let out a long sigh. A throbbing pain pressed against her skull.
But strangely, she wasn't all that surprised anymore.
She had been shocked by revelations about Seon-hui so many times that now she only felt empty and dumbfounded.
"What do I gain if I follow you?"
"We possess an enormous collection of alchemy materials."
Perhaps thinking she was tempted, Jerome spoke quickly.
"Most alchemists cannot draw out the power of magic stones. So we sought other methods. And we succeeded. We discovered how to use a different kind of energy instead of magic stones."
His eyes began to burn with fanatical heat.
"After endless research, we developed techniques that will shock the world. If you join us, we will share all of our data with you."
"And?"
"Pardon?"
"It's not going to be free, is it? You must want something from me, right?"
Canna had a rough idea of what they wanted.
"You want my blood, don't you?"
For a brief moment, raw desire flickered across Jerome's face. Canna let out a small, bitter laugh.
"What if I refuse?"
At those words, Jerome's eyes darkened. But it seemed the answer had already been decided, because he spoke without hesitation.
"Then I would have no choice but to be rude and take you by force."
"Fortunately, that won't be necessary."
Canna stood up from the bench.
"I was looking for a faction that would accept me anyway."
"...Are you serious?"
"Yes. I have nowhere else to go. As you probably know, I'm supposed to be dead."
Of course, it was a lie.
If she refused, he would drag her away by force anyway. So she would pretend to go along with him, lower his guard, and then kill him.
Perhaps her mother had done the same.
Canna was finally beginning to understand, one by one, the shocking actions Seon-hui had taken in this world.
I have to kill him. There's no other way.
Jerome had been surprised to see her. That meant he hadn't known she was still alive.
If she let him go now, the Black Apostles might come after her.
Those alchemy-obsessed lunatics would never give up on her golden blood.
Especially now that I no longer have the Addis family as a shield.
Canna gripped the card engraved with the spell circle. The moment she tried to prick her finger on the edge to draw blood—
"...!"
Jerome inhaled sharply and quickly stepped backward. Had he noticed she was about to attack him with alchemy?
No. That wasn't it.
Jerome's gaze was fixed on something behind her.
Beyond Canna's back.
Is someone there?
Whoever it was had instantly put Jerome on high alert. Canna slowly turned around.
There stood a man who should not be here.
A man who had no business being in this place right now.